Here we are, this is the end of this story. Thanks to all of you for your support because writing in English hadn't always been an easy thing and it had me yelling out of frustration sometimes. I owe a special great thank to Kalebxdd who was on the front line yet never flinched.

So long.

Epilogue

Although summer had hardly begun, the heat was suffocating already. A bright sun was shining and its light was blinding to the point that the curtains had to be drawn at each window.

Trunks's skull was still giving his warning grin in the fresh twilight in the corridor but it looked less vivid, almost tired. Vegeta gave a knock at the door and entered his son's room without waiting for any reply. He froze on the go as he was struck by the orderliness of the place. It had been tidied up and the usual mess was entirely gone, with the slight odor of household products still floating in the air. A huge, full travel bag was resting on the neat bed and the room was deserted.

Vegeta's gaze wandered over the quiet decor. All the posters had been taken down, all the little notes and flyers pinned above the desk had disappeared. The desk itself had been cleared from any papers, there was hardly a pencil left on it. The whole room looked empty as if unoccupied, as if no one had ever lived there. The Saiyan felt an unexpected unease at the sight, like a sort of sour panic.

He knew his son was about to leave, it was nothing new to him, yet he couldn't help an odd, dull anguish from knotting his gut.

"Gosh, can you believe, my damn cell has just gone out of order?" Trunks's voice mumbled behind his back. The boy had just walked in and was tapping on the black screen of his laptop with the tip of his finger. He sighed and gave up with irritation. "I'll find a solution, but Mum will be mad if she can't call me for the two next days," he stated.

"She'll get used to it. The deal is not talking to her every single day on the phone, is it?" Vegeta replied.

Trunks chuckled. "Well, that's true, it's not the deal but Mum won't let go of me so easily."

The Saiyan couldn't help a weak smile at his son's laugh. Vegeta was aware that Trunks's voice wouldn't echo in his ears for a very long time and his mind was slow to admit how terrible this idea was. Moreover, the Saiyan was preoccupied with something much more serious than this soft, stupid nostalgia, and his face turned back to a wary expression. "Are you really sure that you know what you're doing?" he mumbled.

Trunks looked up at him. "Dad… Mum asked me that question a thousand times before," he hissed while slipping his cell in his pocket.

"You know my question isn't exactly the same as your mother's," Vegeta grunted.

The boy's smile vanished and he chased a strand from his forehead. "Bulla's fine and I'm sure she will be even better with me far away."

"She's fine because that witch taught her to control her senses and because you stopped messing around. Where's the need for you to leave?" his father objected with suspicion.

Trunks diverted his gaze from him with unease. "Dad… I'm almost eighteen by now, and done with high school. I feel like travelling a bit before deciding anything about what I should do in my life. I also do it for myself."

"I have nothing against that, I was just wondering if you felt strong enough. You had a hard time in the last six months."

"Don't you trust me?" Trunks asked with a defiant peek at him.

"It got nothing to do with trust, I want to be sure you will be safe."

The boy smirked. "My, I think I've never heard that from your mouth."

"Because I never feared the danger coming from outside, but I dread the danger coming from inside," Vegeta uttered with a stern voice.

Trunks frowned and rested a hand on the Saiyan's shoulder. The son was now bigger than the father but it wasn't enough to turn the tables. "Everything's gonna be alright. I know where I can find you in case I need some help."

Vegeta was still gauging the boy's eyes though. In the last six months he'd watched him very carefully to prevent him to go back to old toxic habits. It had been an unpleasant and demanding task. Despite Trunks's firm commitment by Gloria's body, things hadn't been so easy for the boy, and he had been on the verge of cracking up more than once. Vegeta had hated to guard him as much as Trunks had hated to be guarded. To say the least, both of them had craved to be freed from each other.

Nevertheless, as painful as it had been, watching his boy had changed something in the Saiyan. He couldn't explain exactly what it was but it was as if those months spent caring for Trunks had taught him everything he had failed to understand for years.

Before all this, Vegeta had thought he had done everything he could to fit in that Earthling life. He'd given up his old dream of might and conquest, he'd accepted locking his boiling fighting spirit in the Gravity Room, he'd resigned to protecting instead of destroying, he'd swapped his steady loneliness for a family life. What man could claim enough will to deal with such mending? That path had never been anything easy or natural for him, and he'd had to struggle with his pride and with his past's scars in order to make it. He had stumbled on the way but in the end, he'd thought he was done finding his place in this world, especially after helping Kakarott defeating Buu.

Yet, watching his son for endless weeks made him aware there had been something more to learn. That damn planet always had something new to teach.

In fact, giving a hand to defeat Buu by sacrificing his life had just been a way to kill his own Jabberwocky, and the past months had been a way to fulfill the void this killing had left in him, like a way to close the beast's grave once and for all and find his real place in this world.

Vegeta was staring at his boy's stern, blue eyes. Trunks seemed to be a normal young Earthling again, far from the cold, cynical hybrid who had killed freaky Gloria months ago. But what if Vegeta was missing something again?

Trunks gave him a shy, comforting smile.

Bulma's voice broke the silence all of a sudden. "Trunks, are you sure, you don't want… Huh… am I interrupting anything?" she asked, standing on the doorstep and gazing at her son and husband in disbelief.

Trunks beamed at her. "I was trying to hug Dad by surprise but he was giving his warning glare, so I guess you didn't interrupt much."

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Trunks, just take at least one credit card, you never know," she resumed while handing out a plastic card to him.

"Mum, not that again. I have some money," the teenager sighed while grabbing his bag.

"Money? Hardly three nights in a rotten hotel and a few meals. Notes are unsafe to travel anyway, just take the card, you'll bless me later," Bulma insisted.

He grabbed his bag and dodged her hand holding the card as he headed to the door. "No way, Mum."

Bulma chased him down the corridor when he exited the room. Vegeta could hear their talk about the card echoing in the whole house as they stepped downstairs. He sighed and sat on the bed. He watched the empty room again. It felt so weird.

He'd never given a damn. True. Or maybe, he did a bit. A tiny bit. His son wasn't even out of the house but he was already gone, and it was a missing part of his world. A loss was always a loss and you often realized it when there's no turning back.

Bulla showed up and gave a shy peer at the room. She entered the place with a hesitant step, glancing at the bare walls. Her locks were tied up with white ribbons and she was wearing a white lacy summer dress. She was looking like a doll again. Maybe the world needed sweet dolls as much as mighty warriors after all.

"It's so empty and weird, now," the girl stated with a low voice. "Why did Trunks take all the pictures down? Does that mean he'll never come back?"

"I don't know, Princess," Vegeta answered softly.

She walked to him and hugged him in search of comfort. He gave a slight jump but did his best to hug her back. Since the Jabberwocky was gone from her world, she had turned much more affectionate and she needed her father's attention even more. Vegeta had realized that this was indeed her natural way of being. "I will miss him so much," she added.

"I know, we all will, I guess," he replied while patting her head.

"Let's' go say goodbye, then," she offered.

She grabbed the Saiyan's hand and pulled him up and out of the room. When they arrived in the hallway, Goten was there too. Bulma and him were laughing with Trunks as if nobody was sad about his departure. Bulma was especially good at pretending she was joyful and relaxed.

She hadn't suspected anything about that Jabberwocky. For her, it had all been in Bulla's head, because of that convenient hypersensitivity, and the witch had been the one to put things right. Vegeta had been careful to hide the truth from his wife. It was for her own sake because she wouldn't have been able to deal with Trunks's issue. No Earthling would have.

Vegeta crossed his arms and watched each one hugging his son and waving frantically at him while he was disappearing in the clear sunny sky.

When he was gone Goten and Bulma still stood motionless for a while, gazing at the blank sky above. "I miss him already," Bulma murmured.

"I feel like following him so much," Goten replied in a sigh.

"You do? Huh, your parents are much smarter than me, they would never let go of you like that, especially Chichi," Bulma stated.

"Who knows? I think I could convince my mother and my father… Well, in fact, he never gives a damn."

Vegeta raised an eyebrow and peered at the boy. He never gives a damn.

Trunks had described Vegeta with the exact same words, but he wouldn't do it any longer. The Saiyan couldn't help an unwilling smile to stretch his lips. He'd done what he had to do, he had a hard time but he went through. It seemed that he'd been better than Kakarott for once, and it was all the more satisfying.

He was snatched out of his meditations by his daughter's excited voice. "Dad! Will you go for a dip with me? You promised you would teach me how to swim, remember?"

He looked down and met her hopeful eyes. He nodded and lifted her up to sit her on his shoulder. He was rewarded by her delighted chuckle and it sounded like a comforting music to his ears.

He had done exactly what he had to do and never would he let his kids say that he didn't give a damn.

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