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He looked out the window. There, the sun was shining and the light breeze was shaking the leaves slightly, birds chirping and flying around. Black, sharp eyes scanned the grass that bowed slightly as the wind passed. He let out a slight sigh and observed as the scenario mocked him, his situation, his thoughts. He stared as it all laughed in his face. Such a sunny day for such a sorrowful situation. He would just love to go out and train, and fly, and laugh, and scream and push his muscles and energy farther until his pure soul felt so powerful that he'd turn into a Super Saiyan and feel the warmth coursing through him.

No, he couldn't do any of that.

"Vegeta." A soft, weak voice called.

"I'm here." He said, turning around. Bulma lay on the bed.

Blankets were pulled up to her chest. Her hair was gray, since her physical state had long ago made her incapable of dying it blue. Wrinkles of stress marked her beautiful, porcelain face and Vegeta smirked slightly as he acknowledged most of them from the angry expressions he had caused so many times. He sat next to her and looked into her blue eyes, which had faded slightly, giving way to grey orbs that looked into him. Thin, old lips curved slightly as she lifted a trembling hand and touched his face. He shivered slightly at the contact and put his own warm hand on hers, inhaling her scent that still lingered below the characteristic smell of aging. She coughed with her mouth closed as she looked back at the window.

"I envy you."

"Really?" he asked… again. It hurt how she wouldn't remember that she had said that same sentence over five times in the last hour. Her memory was fading as fast as her life. "Why?" he urged anyway.

"Because years have passed and you are not a year older."

"That only means I'll be the last to die."

"Exactly."

"And it will hurt, woman." He muttered. "To be the last one."

She sighed as she pulled her hand free and rested it on her stomach.

"Trunks and Bra…"

"Have their own lives." He said. "They will be there with me at first but then I'll be just a burden. Not like I'll let them pity me either. I'll just swat them away like flies and they know that. That won't make the pain any better." He said, looking down at his hands. He felt a knot in his throat and got up again, looking through the window and giving his back to her. She stared at him for a long while, almost feeling his sadness and apprehension. With all the willpower she could muster, she swallowed the big lump in her throat and fought back the tears in her eyes.

"You know," she spoke again. "I just remembered something."

"What?"

"The day you promised Bra that you would never go away." She said, and coughed. "You told her that she was safe because you were there. She was so worried because you would leave to train like Goku had, and never come back. And you said – "

"Calm down, little princess" he quoted himself. "A warrior never abandons his treasures."

Bulma smiled and sighed. "I wish I was a warrior like you. I wish I could live as long as you… Life was too short."

Life was too short.

It was true. He had spent years with her, yet it had not been enough. Well, he knew it would never be 'enough', because he'd love her until the end of time and space. He had fallen for her in the oddest ways one could imagine, yet he loved her with all his passion and he was willing to actually die for her. He had done that before and he would do it a million times more. She was the first person he had cared for since he started living with Frieza and she was the only one who had had the courage of inviting him into her house. Him, a mass-murderer, a destroyer of planets, the assassin of her friends and favorite puppet of an intergalactic warrior. She had given him a home, food, training, clothes and a real lifestyle. She was insane because she had trusted him, but he was insane as well anyway.

It was a different insanity, off course. She was insane because her father was a crazy little man and her mother an airheaded blonde. He was insane because he had worked for a bastard who had messed with his mind since he was a toddler.

"Don't think about that." He said softly, still giving his back to her.

She coughed again and sighed.

"Look at me." He turned around to face her and she smiled. "You are still the most handsome man I've ever seen, 'Geta."

"Woman…"

"I know, I know. I'm mocking your incredible name and therefore title of prince and blah blah."

Vegeta didn't find the strength to glare at her. He just sighed and sat at her side again, passing a finger along one of the deep lines that adorned her face. It was true that her face was not as wrinkled as other women of her age, but they were still noticeable. His finger went down to her pale lips and he traced them. He didn't know what he was going to do without them to kiss every morning and every night. He felt the lump in his throat again and he swallowed to make it go away, but it didn't work. It seemed that the fact would never sink entirely, and he would never overcome it. A pang of fear and pain clawed at his heart every time he looked into her face. What was he going to do without her calm face sleeping by his side, or worried when he had a nightmare of his past or even angry when he was purposely annoying to heat the atmosphere? He would be alone in the house. His kids were married; her parents had long ago passed away… He was without her. Without the reason he woke up every morning after realizing that he had nothing else to live for except watching her walk around the house. He felt a sudden desperation…

How on Earth was he supposed to live without her?

"I'm sorry." He whispered.

"For what?"

"I…" he sighed. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for Trunks when he was born." He said. "I'm sorry I was so angry all the time, and so demanding." He looked down at his gloved hands and he tried to keep his voice from cracking. "I'm sorry I was such an asshole when you were a great mate."

"Vegeta… There's nothing to apologize for." She said, almost in tears.

"No, Bulma. You know I was a terrible man." He looked away as rare tears formed in his eyes. "Since I started working for Frieza, I was taught that love was unnecessary and a terrible liability. I was taught to only fall for the blood and screams of my victims. Women were only for sex, nothing more. I was never given the chance to say or even consider that I loved someone, because in the end, everyone would end up killed, either by my hand, or Frieza's. Or by an enemy like Kakkarot." He smiled a little. "It hurts my pride to say that I love someone, because I learned the hard way that loving someone is depending on someone, and when you are dependant in a world where you must be alone at all costs, you end up getting hurt. Either if they die or if they end up betraying you." He took a deep breath. "When I started living here, I saw how my world changed entirely. Not only were all my tormentors dead, but I was finally free to roam the entire galaxy.

"At first it hurt, because my life goal was gone and achieved by my archenemy's hand. But then I realized that I was the prince once again. That's when I made my first mistake: Leaving you behind and missing Trunks's birth just to feel free and overpass Kakkarot by becoming a Super Saiyan. But that's beside the point…" he looked back at her. "I was afraid of getting soft, but I realized that I wouldn't get beaten and starved if I screamed at you and your parents to get me anything I wanted. I admit that was a great mistake as well. I realized that I could do whatever I wanted, and what I wanted was not to kill innocents. I obsessed with my strength, but somehow you…" he smiled "You got into me. Then I realized another thing: That I could love without fear of losing you in the hands of Frieza. At first it was degrading for me to mingle with an inferior race like humans, but then I knew that I just didn't care. You reminded me of Saiyans and I… well I… I fell for you."

Bulma smiled as he blushed and she grabbed his hand, kissing his fingers. "I fell for you as well."

"I love you." He said. "I'm sorry I can only say this when you're…" he couldn't say it and Bulma was surprised to see a tear escape his eye. She felt warm water falling down her white cheeks and she pulled him into an embrace. A little part of her died as she felt him sobbing into her chest and she cried as well, patting his tall, black hair. "I can't believe I will lose you, too." He said. "I'm not going to stand it."

"Vegeta…"

"I am alive because of you." He said. "You have to fight." He pleaded, lifting his head so that he was looking into her eyes and their noses were almost touching. "You can't leave me alone."

Bulma hugged him again. "You were never alone."

Trunks sighed as he stared at his father. He had not lifted his eyes from the grave of his mother. He was dressed in an elegant, black suit, with his hands in his pockets. He looked like an statue, not moving an inch. Trunks wondered if he was even breathing. The air ruffled his hair and finally the young demi-saiyan saw his father moving a little, to put his hand on the stone of the grave. He slowly shook his head and sighed.

"You should go and talk to him." His wife said.

"Nah." He answered. "My father is a very complicated man. Sometimes you must leave him alone with his thoughts. It suits him better."

Many thoughts raced through Vegeta's mind. All passed so fast and were so painful and devastating that only lingered in his mind for seconds, each taking a part of him and destroying him entirely. He was aware of the people around him, and he resisted the urge to drop on his knees and scream at the sky to give her back. But the truth was sinking in with every agonizing second. She was gone.

She was gone.

She was gone.

She was gone…

Gone. Forever. He would never hear her voice again, or the clicking of her heels at night as she arrived from the office and he waited for her sitting in the kitchen table. He would never put a blue strand of hair behind her ear or feel her skin as he woke up from nightmares. He would never smirk as he saw her hips swaying from side to side or her breasts sticking out from her dress. No more repairs on the Gravity Simulator, no more fights and sweet, cheesy words. No more Bulma… What would become of him now? He was… He was with her. He was her. She had changed his life and brightened up his days… She was everything to him. He had nothing now.

She was gone. For good.

And he could do nothing about it. She had died of age… He would not wish her back. She was a tired woman…

"Dad." Trunks said behind him.

"What."

"It's almost eight p.m. We should head back. You can stay with me and Tracy if you don't want to be alone."

"I can take care of myself, Trunks."

"I know." He put a hand on his father's shoulder. "I'll be waiting in the car."

He walked away and Vegeta looked behind him. Everyone was gone… How did that happen? He hadn't noticed anyone's ki fading away as they left the funeral. He growled low in his chest as he finally kneeled down, slowly, before the grave and sank his fingers into the ground. He found out that tears had escaped his eyes for hours without him noticing. A few fell on the dirt and he trembled. Raindrops began to fall on him and soon a fierce storm began. Cold wind ripped through him and the freezing drops seemed to pierce through his skin like a million needles, attacking his body. He closed his eyes shut. Let it wash away my pain, my sorrow, my pride. Let it wash her away… Let me leave her behind… The Prince of Saiyans prayed in his mind and suddenly, a roar escaped his throat. It was as loud as a thunder, and long enough to take all the energy from him. The trees around him shook and the scream slowly died into a soft sob.

And for the first time in decades, the Prince of All Saiyans cried for emotional pain. He was not hurt physically, he was not angry enough to let tears escape; he had not been defeated in battle or humiliated in front of a huge crowd.

The Prince of All Saiyans then realized that she had become something greater than his pride… She had become his everything.

Vegeta felt a pair of strong arms hold onto him and pull him into a tight embrace. His dazed mind at first thought of Bulma, who was waking him up from an awful nightmare, but he caught lavender hair and male muscles straining as they lifted him up and carried him into a car, where a beautiful lady he recognized as his daughter-in-law was waiting for them. He closed his eyes and slept as the engine purred and the car went on its way.

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