After The Nightmare
(Disclaimer: I own buttkiss. This fic is part of a longer epic sooon to be posted, called 'Beneath the Surface". Please review, and be gentle... first time posters ok?)
Vegeta took off in the direction of the nearest mountain. He concentrated on flying for the moment, as fast as he could. He felt the structured, regulated use of his ki and enjoyed the feeling. He felt in control of so little in his life these days. He was so unsure on this planet.
He found the place and landed softly, sitting down and putting his head in his hands. He sighed. He felt so ashamed and embaressed. He-the mighty Prince of Saiyans- had been crying like a human brat. And Bulma had been there! Worse, he had clung onto her like...
He shook his head to dispel those thoughts. He remembered, instead the time of the dream. He hadn't been at Frieza's command for very long and had been disobidient, demanding to be treated like a Prince. They had taken him to Frieza.
He shuddered at the memories and stopped them quickly. He had had an obligation to kill Frieza...and a third-class Saiyan had not only beaten him to it, but had also achieved what Vegeta had strived his whole life to become, what he himself had always aspired to. The only thought that had kept him pushing himself on Frieza's ship, the only thing that had stopped him killing himself.
He suddenly gathered a ball of ki in his hand and shaped it into a blade. He thought. He had no planet, no people, he had been denied his heritage, his childhood, his revenge. He had been surpassed by a base-born baka, killed by his tormentor, brought back by accident. Overshadowed. Ridiculed. Pitied. Vulnerable.
He wanted to end it all, leave it behind him, evaporate into nothing...
He lifted the ki blade and let it dissapitate.
"I wonder if Kakkarott wants to spar."
There was no honour in killing himself.
(Disclaimer: I own buttkiss. This fic is part of a longer epic sooon to be posted, called 'Beneath the Surface". Please review, and be gentle... first time posters ok?)
Vegeta took off in the direction of the nearest mountain. He concentrated on flying for the moment, as fast as he could. He felt the structured, regulated use of his ki and enjoyed the feeling. He felt in control of so little in his life these days. He was so unsure on this planet.
He found the place and landed softly, sitting down and putting his head in his hands. He sighed. He felt so ashamed and embaressed. He-the mighty Prince of Saiyans- had been crying like a human brat. And Bulma had been there! Worse, he had clung onto her like...
He shook his head to dispel those thoughts. He remembered, instead the time of the dream. He hadn't been at Frieza's command for very long and had been disobidient, demanding to be treated like a Prince. They had taken him to Frieza.
He shuddered at the memories and stopped them quickly. He had had an obligation to kill Frieza...and a third-class Saiyan had not only beaten him to it, but had also achieved what Vegeta had strived his whole life to become, what he himself had always aspired to. The only thought that had kept him pushing himself on Frieza's ship, the only thing that had stopped him killing himself.
He suddenly gathered a ball of ki in his hand and shaped it into a blade. He thought. He had no planet, no people, he had been denied his heritage, his childhood, his revenge. He had been surpassed by a base-born baka, killed by his tormentor, brought back by accident. Overshadowed. Ridiculed. Pitied. Vulnerable.
He wanted to end it all, leave it behind him, evaporate into nothing...
He lifted the ki blade and let it dissapitate.
"I wonder if Kakkarott wants to spar."
There was no honour in killing himself.