I break chapters where I feel they fit, sorry for such varying lengths in the coming parts.
Chapter One: Pain of Loss
"You arrogant JERK!"
"Childish woman . . . LEAVE ME ALONE!"
Ten year old Trunks, silently watched his parents fighting, trying his best to remain hidden in the darkness of the stairs. Every night for the first few months, he would lay awake until the early morning hours due to their screaming matches. Over the past three years he had learned to drown out their voices, and no longer cried himself to sleep, this was just part of life at Capsule Corps. His parent didn't really hate each other, they were happier apart . . . his mother often muttered something about "immovable forces colliding" or something, to explain things like this, which happened a lot less since the separation. But tonight . . . tonight was different, his parents voices carried loudly upstairs and reverberated in his mind. This fight was vicious and cruel, the bulk of the insults coming, oddly enough, from his mother. . .
"Childish? Who the hell, are you calling 'childish'? You self-centered bastard, where the hell do you get off calling me 'childish'? Mister high and mighty, you think the world should bow to you. Only one small problem with that, Vegeta, you're a prince without a kingdom, a forgotten relic of a race long dead from their own stupidity." Bulma smirked proud of her poignant tirade and continued stressing every cruel syllable, making sure her target heard every word. "You're a joke, a fraud! . . . And the sad thing is that you are so pathetic that you can't even realize it. If I hadn't let you stay here you would have seen just how alone and insignificant you are."
Vegeta growled low in his throat, eyes shining with anger, but instead of continuing the battle, he turned his back to the irate woman, heading for his room, this fight was tiresome and a waste of energy.
"Excuse me! Where do you think you're going?" Bulma called after him, not happy that her attack had been ignored.
"I'm going to bed, stupid woman!" He yelled at her, not turning around. "And as far as I am concerned you lost the right to insult me. . . " he added in a cold, flat voice.
"Fine, leave like the coward you are! You're showing your true self now, Vegeta. You are just a coward hiding behind his pride, so no one can see how inadequate you are!" She crossed her arms over her chest.
The prince already infuriated by the blue-haired woman's tirades, could take no more. Before Bulma could realize what was happening, a gloved hand closed around her throat, crushing her windpipe and holding her aloft. Vegeta's ebony eyes reflected his pain and fury, his face contorted into a murderous scowl. "You forget your place woman, no matter your opinion of me, I can still kill you."
Bulma closed her eyes, waiting for death to come. But it never did. She fell to the floor roughly, her entire body shaking. She regained her senses just long enough to see Vegeta crest the stairs. Her tears began to flow freely, "Even if I cannot kill you, I will make you regret everyday you draw breath." She cursed silently at Vegeta.
"You already have . . ." Vegeta murmured, too soft for the now raving Bulma to hear downstairs, hardly realizing the words had crossed his lips. Engulfed in his own thoughts, he never even saw his son, staring at him wide eyed.
As he entered the dark room that he had once shared, his heart sank and his thoughts consumed him. 'There really is no point in staying here on this hellhole of a planet . . . Kakarott is always going to be stronger, and Trunks has surpassed Kakarott's brat . . . staying is useless . . . Nothing has changed . . . all the pain and suffering is still here, it didn't die with that monster. . .'
With a sigh the once proud prince strode purposely into the darkness. From a small box hidden well within his belongings he went to retrieve . . . Vegeta froze. It was gone. The only artifact he had left from his life before Earth, and before. . .
Suddenly it dawned on him. "DAMMIT BULMA!" Vegeta roared as he flew out the room, energy cracking around him, as his rage consumed any last bit of his self control.
"PAPA! NO!" Trunks flew after his father, knowing full well that his mother had almost certainly signed her own death sentence. If Vegeta heard him, he showed no signs.
Bulma steadied herself for an attack as she heard he ex roar he name from the second floor. She was perfectly aware of which nerve that she had hit, and knew that she was playing with her own life. In her hand she held Vegeta's past – a medallion – surface embossed with a large royal blue sun, a large crack marring its form. This was the Saiya-jin royal crest, the same one that Vegeta's father wore, when Frieza cut him down, and stole his only son.
"BULMA!" he now stood mere feet from her, the force of Vegeta's rage was overwhelming, the air crackled with his barely restrained power. Somehow Bulma managed to stand her ground, only barely flinching.
Vegeta stalked Bulma silently, his voice cold, flat and deadly. "What the hell are you doing, you idiot?"
Bulma shivered, but did not back down. She smirked, eyes shining enjoying the cruelty of her actions. "Little upset over a piece of jewelry, aren't you?" She let the heavy metal chain dangle from her hand, taunting him. "Go ahead, take it. Let it remind you of all your failures, Forgotten Prince."
"My little Forgotten Prince, from a forgotten race of failures, worthless. . ." It ran its clawed finger down the child's face.
Trunks, who stood only inches from his parents, could only stare at his mother in disbelief. His mother had a temper, and could be petty and cunning, but she was never this vindictive. But even more surprising Vegeta had not moved. He stood as still as stone, even his ki was stilled, as if. . . as if he wasn't there. Trunks looked at his father's eyes, they were blank, withdrawn, not even the cold spark of rage lit the ebony orbs. Something was very wrong.
"Some warriors . . . The little prince just sits there, while his father got himself killed." The green creature next to it said. "Here kid, a souvenir for a life lost" The beast mocked.
"Papa?" Trunks tugged on his father's gloved hand. No reaction.
"Father?" He held the crest unbelieving.
"What's wrong Vegeta? That rock you call a brain finally break?" Bulma mocked, smiling.
"Murderers!"
"Mom! Stop it, something's not right. . . Papa, Papa! Wake up!" Trunks shook his father harder. Nothing.
"HAHAHA! The little prince speaks! That's rich coming from a child trained to kill. You'll make a wonderful puppet"
"PAPA! Wake up!"
"The fool, finally lost his mind" Bulma giggled. "C'mon Vegeta, I didn't really mean it."
"Frieza! You Monster!" Vegeta lunged at the creature, blinded by rage.
In an instant, Trunks saw Vegeta's eyes finally focus, and he could feel his ki growing "Papa?"
"Doubtful. . ." Frieza easily swatted the prince out of the air, grabbed him and hoisted him by the throat, staring right into his tear brimmed eyes. "Because Little Prince . . . I'll destroy that spirit first, my Puppet." For the first time Vegeta was beat up to within a moment of death.
"Wake up, you moron!" Bulma smiled and reached to punch Vegeta playfully on the shoulder – but she never made it. Within an instant, Vegeta caught her wrist, and threw her across the room.
"Mom!" Trunks flew over to his mother. She seemed to just be knocked out. His father stared at them unseeing, eyes focused, but distant, showing no sign that he even recognized Trunks. Energy once again crackled around Vegeta's body, but his face showed no rage, it was blank. "I'll kill you, Monster." His voice sent chills down Trunks spine; he had never heard his father like this, every syllable forebode death.
"PAPA! Stop it!" Trunks charged his ki to its full Super Saiya-jin potential. Vegeta ignored it; he was searching the ground for something. He smirked when he found it, the medallion that Bulma had dropped when Vegeta threw her. He placed it around his neck, the coolness and weight of the medallion, a steady reminder of the pain he was mentally reliving. It was finally too much. Trunks could feel, as much as see the thin hold on his father's sanity snap. Vegeta charged his ki, as his son had just done before, but he didn't stop at a stable level. Vegeta's voice rang out, filled with anger, frustration and pain howling at the effort he was exerting.
Vegeta had tapped into himself, pulled every last bit of power from within, it was a move of desperation and Trunks knew only one other time Vegeta had done such a thing, and realized that his father had no intention of living. Reacting before really thinking, Trunks flew straight at Vegeta hoping that hitting him would startle him enough to stop the process. He couldn't even get close enough to touch his father. Vegeta simply flared the energy he was building and knocked Trunks back and out of the air. By the time Trunks regained his focus, Vegeta was gone - he'd flown right through the ceiling into the dark night outside.
He heard his mother moaning as she struggled to regain her composure, "What happened Trunks, why are you all charged up? Where's your father?" He could barley believe it, he knew she hit her head, but she sounded like she had no idea of the things she had just done.
"Mom? What was the medallion you had?"
"Medallion? Trunks what are you talking about?"
"It was big with a blue sun on it, and it was cracked."
Bulma looked shocked, she hadn't thought about that since her and Vegeta split. Then realization dawned on her. If she was right this was very bad . . . and she didn't remember any of it. "Trunks, where is you father?"
"He left . . . I couldn't. . . I tried…" Trunks stammered, looking between the hole in the ceiling and his mother.
"Trunks, stop! You got to listen to me. Go find Goku, I'll call over there and tell Chi-Chi to have him start looking. You're dad isn't your dad right now, but we have to stop him. There are most likely lives going to be lost tonight, but I don't know if he means to end his own, or the ghosts that he thinks he sees right now."
"Ghosts?"
"JUST GO! We don't have time to explain."
Bulma watched her son fly off, hoping desperately they were in time. "What did I do now. . ." Was her last thought as she dialed the number for the Sons' home.