Chapter 2: Failure

The battle was over and he'd lost it all. Kakarot was dead and his drive to surpass him, to be the best there was, had died with him. Then he'd failed to right the wrong perpetrated against Trunks, by Cell's monstrous hands. He'd failed to give the monster his comeuppance and in the end, the only credit he could take was managing to distract Cell with a Ki blast, long enough for his rival's whelp to obliterate the beast single-handedly.

He was nothing. Nothing but a footnote in this great battle. All the glory that should've been his was stolen from him. His pride was ground into the dirt and blasted away into the abyss. The third-class had humiliated him at every turn, first when he and his allies had defeated him on Earth, then when he'd been the one to avenge the Saiyan race by defeating Frieza and now, when both he and his son had surpassed his strength and left him in the dust. His mind was in shambles, clogged with only contempt, scorn and derision, directed solely towards himself. He'd failed, in every way and in the end, he could not avenge his son.

The Prince zoomed off, flying aimlessly until he finally decided to settle upon a rocky arch in the middle of nowhere. After a while of brooding desultorily, it began to rain, first in small dribbles and quickly afterwards, the water began to attack Vegeta in a heavy and violent flood that inundated him completely. He stood for hours on end, his clothes and body, a drenched mess.

It was only fitting, he guessed, the rain that covered every inch of him from head to toe, symbolizing a fine film of failure. Yes, that's all he was, a failure. He'd failed as a Prince. Failed to protect his father, his kingdom, his planet and his race. He'd failed as a warrior, unable to avenge his race against the tyrant that had enslaved and tormented him for decades and in the end, surpassed by a wretched third class warrior. But what hurt more than ever was his failure as a father. Trunks... He'd done nothing but scorn him from the beginning and cast him aside. The boy had followed him around like a lost little pup and did all he could to prove worthy in his eyes. And he did. But Vegeta had never conveyed it. He did nothing but keep his distance and on occasion, engage him in epic, heated spars that took their toll on the both of them. Of course, nearly all the time, he'd emerge the victor, but the demi-Saiyan boy had his moments and his level of strength, skill and vigour never ceased to amaze. In the end, he could not avenge him either. Every second that passed, every thrum of his heart beat and every twitch of his aching muscles, added more shame to his already overflowing stockpile. He felt like nothing but a waste of space. A weakling. He could practically taste the foul bitterness of the failure coursing through every vein and capillary and his face looked haggard and his eyes bloodshot.

He shook his head furiously and instantly flew off towards Capsule Corporation, inconspicuously headed straight for the window, hiding his presence from all those within and lying on his bed, to wallow in his own misery. It was just past midnight, when he'd felt the Ki of that wretched blue-haired woman headed right for his door. He used his Ki to press in the lock button.

Bulma knocked on the door.

"Vegeta, you in here?" She asked, knocking once again. No response. She tried opening it, but it wouldn't budge. Still, it gave her answer she needed.

"Hey, open the damn door!" She demanded, but had no success in garnering his attention. "Hey! This is my house and when I say open, you open, got it?!"

Again, nothing... She groaned in exasperation.

"Alright fine, if you don't open up in three seconds, I'm going to start singing as loud as I can." She threatened, "Three, two-"

"What do you want?!" Yelled Vegeta to the top of his voice. Goddamn wench was so rankling! She never failed to grate his nerves! How she was still breathing was beyond him. He didn't sound nearly as menacing, gruff or virile, as he always did. Bulma instantly knew something was off. Being neglectful, offhanded, uncouth and dismissive were his trademarks, but here, he just sounded lost and so... distraught.

"Are you okay?" She asked, solicitously.

"Go away." He replied in a low and weak voice.

Withdrawn and reticent, as always. And yet something was different. He sounded so empty and not like his usual animated and robust self. Bulma sighed and decided to let the matter drop, instead getting straight down to business.

"Listen, Trunks is leaving early in the morning, just after sunrise." She stated. Trunks had told her of Vegeta's bravery in battle, when he'd launched straight towards Cell, without a single thought of self-preservation. She'd known that deep inside Vegeta did care. She could always tell, but the news was still gobsmacking to say the least. She shook her head, deciding to ruminate some other time. "Look... I know you'll want to see him off and... I want you to be there... Vegeta?"

The Prince was pensive like never before... See his son? For what? To gaze upon the look of derision and repugnance on his face? To see the son he'd done nothing but disappoint at every turn, when he insulted him repeatedly in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber, bitterly rejected him again and again and as the icing on the cake of failure, been unable to protect and avenge him from Cell. He would not be there. Trunks was better off without him and so was everyone else.

A/N: Thanks all, for the reviews and favourites! I'll be sure to write up the next chapter very soon and it will be more than worth your while! As always, review!