Disclaimer: DB/Z/GT do not belong to me. I am not even worthy to lace the sandals of the honorary Toriyama-sensei (and no fooling!)

Epilogue: Family

"Ms. Briefs . . . Ms. Briefs?  Your son is fine.  Would you like to hold him now?"

"Shut up, you idiot.  Can't you see she's sleeping?  Leave her alone and give the brat to me."

Groggily, Bulma moaned and tried to open her eyes, but she was too exhausted.  She was hot, tired, and sore.  Especially sore.  She felt a hand brush her sweaty bangs off her forehead, and a gruff voice asked, "Are you awake now?"

Bulma forced her eyes to open, and she blinked a few times to clear her vision.  When she could finally see, an image of Vegeta swam up before her.  He was holding a small, blanket-wrapped bundle in his arms, and with that everything came rushing back.

"It's a boy," Vegeta announced, looking at the tiny creature he held, whom he had helped to create.  It was, perhaps, one of the only pure things to come out of his life . . .  "It's hardly stopped wailing since it got here, too . . . it certainly has your lungs."

"He, not 'it'," she scolded.  Bulma pushed herself to a sitting position and held out her arms.  "Let me see him," she begged.

Vegeta willingly handed the baby over, and Bulma took him in her arms.  She unwrapped the blanket and stared with joy at the perfect, sleeping infant, marveling that he was half hers. He had wispy, lavender hair, and he frowned in his sleep — just like his father did.  His small, furred tail reached up and coiled around Bulma's wrist, and she smiled.  She ran a finger down the child's face, caressing him gently.  "He's beautiful," she whispered.

Bulma looked up, tears in her eyes. "He looks like you," she remarked.

Vegeta made a face.  "I hope I don't look like that!" he retorted, but his expression softened a little.  "What are you going to call i — him?"

Bulma thought for a minute.  "How about Vegeta?"

The Saiyajin shook his head vehemently.  "Definitely not. It was bad enough sharing my father's name."

Bulma's mouth twitched.  "I should have guessed . . . O, I know.  Trunks!"

"'Trunks'?" Vegeta repeated incredulously.  "Trunks Briefs?  What is it with your family's fixation with undergarments?"

Bulma tried to glare, but she was too happy.  "Do you have any better ideas?"

"Not really . . ." Vegeta sighed. "But if by some freak of nature this ever happens again, I'm choosing the name."

"It's a deal," Bulma agreed, smiling.  She looked from Vegeta, to little Trunks, the two most important men in her life.  Trunks' birth hadn't actually been planned, but now that it had happened, Bulma wouldn't want it any other way.

Vegeta stood up from the chair in which he was sitting and picked Bulma up, careful not to jostle her or the infant.  "I'm sick of this hospital," he proclaimed.  "I'm getting out of here," he kicked open the window and flew out, raising his ki level enough to keep his mate and their son warm. 

Bulma held Trunks close to her and closed her eyes, feeling Vegeta's arms around her, protecting her.  Let those androids come, she thought dreamily, Vegeta can handle them.

Vegeta glanced down as he sensed Bulma begin to doze off, and a small smile crept unbidden across his features.  You were right, Father . . . the day did come.  And do you know what?  I don't care whether you would have approved or not.

*

Son Goku smiled to himself as three ki signatures — two familiar, one not so familiar — streaked across the sky.  "They're going home," he murmured to himself.

"What was that?" ChiChi glanced over at him. "What's happening?"

Goku shook his head, a small, mysterious grin on his face.  "Just one of those things that was meant to be, that's all."

******

You know ... I'm kind of sad to see this one go. This was the product of six months of solid writing and editing. *Sigh*... Oh, well. Tell me if you like/dislike it!