Dragon Ball/Z/GT Fan Fiction ❯ Legacy ❯ Laying to Rest ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: The Characters in this story are not mine. They belong to Akira Toriyama, Toei, FUNi, and Viz.

 

The song is “It Can't Rain All the Time.” By Jane Siberry it is on the original Crow soundtrack.

 

Song lyrics are in Italics and * . . .*

 

Thanks to Mia Skywalker, Rhianikki and Ane S. Thesia for betaing.

 

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Legacy

by LadyLark

 

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Chapter 3: Laying to Rest

 

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*I hear pounding feet in the,

in the streets below, and the,

and the women crying and the,

and the children know that there,

that there's something wrong,

and it's hard to believe that love will prevail.*

 

The brats had decided to bury her. Vegeta did not think they could bear the thought of reducing their once proud and forceful mother to a handful of ash. The only demand he had had was that his mate be buried beside her mother's rose garden. He was not about to have strangers around when he went to go talk to his mate or groundskeepers telling him what he could and could not do.

 

The brats had also insisted on a funeral. Vegeta had strongly objected to this concept. The Prince of All Saiyajins did not expose his grief to public scrutiny. But he had been overruled. Bra had gotten rather strident about it, he remembered with a wince.

 

******

 

“We will have a funeral, Daddy!” Bra's voice had risen to full-fledged screech. Goten had wisely already taken the babies back to the room he and Bra shared. Trunks had been sitting on the couch next to Marron, her hand tightly held in his.

 

“No,” Vegeta had replied flatly.

 

“Yes. We will. I am not going to deny Momma's friends their chance to mourn just because you are too chicken to show your feelings in public!”

 

“Watch your mouth, brat!”

 

“No, I don't think I will. I am going to win this one, Daddy! I am your daughter and I inherited yours and Momma's personalities. That includes a double dose of both of your stubbornness.”

 

Vegeta had grunted snidely.

 

“Father, I think that Bra is right. Her friends are going to need this. Her family needs this. A funeral is a chance to say goodbye. It gives closure for the survivors,” Trunks had said sadly looking up from his and Marron's clasped hands.

 

“Daddy, listen to us. You may have already said goodbye to Momma but we haven't. This ceremony is going to give us the opportunity to do this,” Bra had murmured.

 

“Another stupid Earth ceremony! How many more of these am I going to have to endure! You can have your ceremony, but I will not be there. I refuse to be a part of this.”

 

Bra then had looked at her brother and nodded.

 

“We understand, Daddy,” was all she had said.

 

******

 

It was the day of the funeral, and as he had promised, Vegeta had had nothing to do with it. Bra and Trunks had decided on the ceremony's contents while Goten and Marron had been relegated to dealing with the logistics of the event.

 

They had decided to have a closed casket wake, and the actual ceremony for the interment would take place on the Briefs' property.

 

Vegeta stood out on the balcony of the master bedroom and watched the proceedings quietly, his arms crossed. The sky was grey, blanketed in clouds. Occasionally there would be periods of light rain, as if nature herself could not contain her grief.

 

Bra led the procession across the lawn. She carried her daughter, Bulma-chan, in her arms. The infant's eyes were alert and clear. She had her mother and grandmother's hair, thought Vegeta sadly, but not her beautiful eye color. At only two months it was already obvious that the little girl had inherited her grandfather's coal black eyes.

 

Immediately behind Bra came six people bearing his mate's coffin. Vegeta scowled at some of the choices for the pallbearers. He had no objection to Gohan or Goten. Goten was family now and he made Bra happy in addition to being an adequate sparring partner. Gohan had been Bulma's friend and was another tie to Goku, Bulma's best friend. Marron, he understood. She represented Krillan who was too old and too short to fill the position. She was also Trunks' mate, or would be soon if he knew his son.

 

No, it was the other female pallbearer who Vegeta objected to. Android Eighteen had volunteered to carry the sad burden and Bra had agreed. Vegeta knew that the android and his mate had become friends, but he still had not forgiven the cyborg for defeating him all those years ago.

 

He also objected to one of the male pallbearers for entirely different reasons. Yamcha was almost as devastated by Bulma's death as Trunks or Vegeta. He had never married and Vegeta knew why. Bulma had been his first and only love. Even after their relationship had ended, he still had hoped that she would come back to him. But Yamcha had been immature and commitment phobic when the Saiyajin Prince had entered the picture all those years ago. In a way, Vegeta felt sorry for the weaker fighter. Yamcha always came out second best, a feeling Vegeta could empathize with. Even so, he still did not want the other man carrying his wife.

 

Trunks was the final pallbearer. Bra claimed that it flew in the face of tradition to have him carry his mother's coffin. But Trunks insisted. He said that since his mother had carried him emotionally and physically for years, he owed it to her to carry her just this once. Vegeta had sided with his eldest.

 

Chi-chi followed the coffin with her grandchild, Vegeta-chan, in her arms. The little boy had his maternal grandfather's face and eyes. His hair color, however, had come from his father and the style was eerily similar to Kakarot's own halo of spikes.

 

Videl, Krillan, Oolong, Master Roshi, Tien and Chaotzu were next. Behind them each carrying a single white rose walked a whole throng of people who Vegeta did not know. He assumed that they were Capsule Corps employees. This huge crush of people was why he did not want a ceremony. Mourning was a private thing. He did not see the need for all of this public outpouring of grief.

 

Vegeta narrowed his eyes at a small flash of light. A few reporters were mixed in with the mourners. He could not do anything about them now. But, he vowed that they would not leave the premises with their cameras and tape recorders intact.

 

Bra stopped before the rectangular hole in front of the rose garden. The pallbearers gently lowered the coffin into the ground and then stood protectively around the grave, hands clasped in front of them.

 

Bra handed her daughter to Goten before she spoke.

 

“We come today to honor this magnificent woman. She has touched so many of our lives with her inventions and her intuition. She was a mother, a fighter, and an inventor. But most importantly she was a woman. She was a woman who loved freely and completely.

 

“Bulma Vegeta-Briefs was a woman like no other. Even while fighting the most difficult of battles, she never gave up hope. She believed in leaving the world better than she found it and I believe she succeeded.”

 

Vegeta scanned the crowd surreptitiously as his daughter continued her speech. Krillan was silently wiping away tears. Yamcha was openly crying. Chi-chi and Goten were soothing the babies, while trying to listen to the rest of Bra's speech.

 

“But most of all, my mother loved her friends and her family. She fought to the end with her disease so she could spend as much time with us. Now her battle has ended. But take heart, for I feel that she will be with us still. Either through her inventions which have touched billions, or through her family who will touch the stars.”

 

Trunks stepped up next to his sister and addressed the crowd.

 

“We ask that as you pass her grave that you place the rose in your hands in it so that my mother will be surrounded by your final thoughts for all eternity.”

 

Chi-chi stepped forward and began the procession. Vegeta could see that her lips were moving but he could not hear the words. Then the rest of Z team followed each saying their final good-byes as they threw their flowers into the grave.

 

A flash of movement caught Vegeta's eye. The reporters, having gotten their story, were moving towards the grounds' exit.

 

Vegeta frowned and took off. The three reporters, two middle-aged and one young man, rounded the side of the house and stopped. The Saiyajin stood against the exit with his arms crossed and a fierce scowl on his face.

 

“Wh-what do you want?” one of the middle-aged ones stammered.

 

Vegeta gave him a withering glare. “You have desecrated my wife's funeral with your actions. I will remedy that. You will hand over your recording devices. And you will not speak of what you saw here.”

 

“Yeah right, jackass. If I believed that you were Ms. Briefs' husband -- which I don't -- I still wouldn't hand them over. The people have a right to know what happened here and who attended. And speaking of which, you weren't there, so you must not be her husband,” the younger reporter said cockily.

 

Vegeta turned his icy glare to the hapless man. He didn't say anything; he just stalked over to the man and calmly punched him in the face. He picked up the 35mm camera and crushed it in his hand as easily as if it was made of paper.

 

“Do any of the rest of you want to insult me or my mate?”

 

The other two looked at each other and shook their heads.

 

“Good. Now give me the other recording devices.”

 

“No!” shouted a voice from behind the Saiyajin prince.

 

Vegeta turned to face the young reporter who was sitting up holding his jaw.

 

“You can't bully the press. We have rights and we will print whatever we want! You have no say in this.”

 

“Wrong. Either you will give me your word and your devices or I will kill you. It is your choice. I am comfortable with either option,” said Vegeta in an offhand tone.

 

The three reporters gasped and the older two started to back away slowly. The younger reporter glared challengingly at Vegeta.

 

“You wouldn't dare . . .”

 

“I wouldn't, would I? Boy, I have destroyed entire planets. You are nothing,” Vegeta sneered.

 

“I don't believe you,” the man replied pugnaciously.

 

“So be it.”

 

Vegeta started to power up. He gathered a small blue ball of ki in his hand and readied it to throw at the young reporter.

 

“Stop!” cried one of the middle-aged reporters.

 

Vegeta flicked his eyes over to the man. “Why? He has insulted me and my honor. He deserves to die.”

 

“I give you my word nothing will be published about what happened today. I am his superior, Micah Bates. I can do this. I'll just tell my editor that the family forbade reporters at the ceremony.” He then chucked dryly. “It would even be the truth, if you are Ms. Briefs' husband.”

 

Vegeta let the ball dissipate.

 

“Go. But leave your devices here.”

 

Bates nodded and motioned for the other two to leave their remaining recording equipment on the ground.

 

“Are you actually Ms. Briefs' husband or was that a line of bull?” the younger reporter asked getting to his feet.

 

Vegeta scowled at the man but answered in a quiet voice, “She was my mate for longer than you have been alive, boy.”

 

“But that's not possible. You look younger than me!”

 

“Do you still wish to die today, boy?”

 

“No.”

 

“Then, be silent.”

 

Bates stepped in, “I apologize for him, Mr. Briefs. I promise that he will be punished.”

 

Vegeta nodded once then motioned for them to leave. He glared at the young reporter as he watched the trio leave.

 

“Now I know why the woman hated them. They are `annoying, obnoxious bastards.'” He paused. “I wonder why she said I was just like them?”

 

 

~*~

 

AN: Not a whole lot to say here. I did some minor revisions from the original I published years ago. There are parts of me that are not happy with the funeral scene - mostly because I hate funerals.

 

Let me know what you think!