by DoraMouse
Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball/Z/GT but I do own this story.
Setting the Stage
" - am sure that he doesn't mean to be - "
ChiChis words drifted in from the kitchen. Why did it seem like that women was always in the kitchen?
Of course, Videl knew the answer. The amount of cooking that ChiChi did on an average day could feed a village for a month. But in this house, all her efforts would barely sate the appetites of... Well. Actually, that was part of the problem. The Son House frequently had visitors. ChiChi never knew how many people - or aliens or whatever - to expect for a meal.
" - sometimes they just - "
It was difficult to hear ChiChi over the various sounds of the kitchen. Videl would only catch a handful of words. The rest would be lost to the hum of a blender running or the ping of an oven timer or the noise of the dishwasher in rinse mode. But today, Videl didn't need to hear all the words. She had a fair idea of what ChiChi was saying.
There were some conversations that, for the sake of dignity, were best held at a distance.
So Videl was perched on a chair in the dining room. Fidgeting with the bracelets that kept getting caught in the long loose sleeves of her favorite red shirt. Admiring the embroidered flowers and vines that ran up each side of her pitch black jeans. Ignoring, for once, the few fluffed strands of dark brown hair that dared to hang over her eyes. Her bare feet resting on the rims of sandals that, to be polite, she had taken off before entering the house.
She could have gone into the kitchen. She could have offered to help. She didn't. Videl didn't want to see the expression on ChiChis face. ChiChis voice sounded calm enough, that was true. But they were speaking of things that pained the older woman.
ChiChi was apologizing for them. Again. Her sons. Her husband. The entire male population in general. ChiChi loved her family and was proud of them and yet... She felt the need to apologize for them. Constantly.
Gohan didn't mean to be insensitive - that's what his mother always claimed. He was just so accustomed to being strong and smart and everything else. Thus sometimes Gohan made the mistake of expecting other people to be capable of things that only he could find simple. Gohan was like his father in that regard, apparently. So willing to believe in other peoples potential that he occasionally seemed to forget their limits. And when reminded of other peoples limits then he became protective. Always so protective.
Too protective. Videl thought.
Prior to marriage, Videls life had been one of action. She'd been raised in and around her fathers dojo, practicing the mixed martial arts. Videl had always been good at fighting. She'd learned to defend herself at an early age and had swiftly moved on to defending others as much as possible. In high school Videl had been a part of the Junior Police Force. She'd worked as a volunteer to help solve crimes. At the age of 18, she'd entered the 25th Tenkaichi Budoukai. Granted, that tournament had been a disaster - although Videl couldn't quite remember why. But the point was that not many 18 year old girls were qualified to enter the worlds most challenging martial arts tournament. And Videl had been.
The vast majority of boys - and later, men - in Videls life had not been impressed by her fighting skill. Some had been afraid and had avoided her. Most had viewed Videl as a prize to be won, a challenge to be met, something to be conquered. But Gohan... He had treated her as an equal.
At first.
She wasn't his equal. Videl could admit that. She wasn't as strong as Gohan. She wasn't as fast. She'd never traveled all over the Earth, much less beyond it and... The list went on and on. Honestly, Gohan probably had her beat at everything from solving math equations to snoring.
Still. Was that any basis for leaving her out of things? What had happened to the concept of teamwork? What had happened to solving crimes together?
Videl hated feeling helpless, hated being left behind. She wasn't comfortable with sitting on the sidelines. All the good intentions in the world could not take away the sting of... Neglect, Videl decided. That's what it was. Neglect. Gohan might not mean any disrespect by fighting crime without her but well, it hurt. Videl felt as if Gohan didn't want to be around her anymore. Didn't have any confidence in her abilities. There she was, Videl Son. She had to be one of the strongest people on Earth by now - probably was one of the strongest women on Earth anyway - yet her husband didn't seem to think that she could defend herself.
Or at least, that's how he acted.
ChiChi entered the dining room, bringing with her a pair of steaming teacups. She studied Videls face for a moment and then nodded. ChiChi knew that expression. She knew exactly how Videl felt. Mentally, ChiChi resolved to have a long talk with her eldest son in the near future. Aloud, to Videl, she said. "Why don't you solve a crime without him for a change? Maybe he'd take the hint."
"Can't get there fast enough." Videl replied, accepting a teacup and sipping at the contents. "I'd have to commit a crime to beat him to the scene."
Silence. But ChiChi looked thoughtful.
Videl frowned sideways at her mother-in-law. "No."
"Why not!" ChiChi protested, "You could steal a - "
"NO!" Videl growled.
Before this debate could be continued, the back door swung open. A bundle of noise scampered through the kitchen then descended on the dining room. For a few moments Pan - who had been outside playing - was the center of attention, demanding treats and reciting adventures and basically being a hyper five year old. Videl found the behavior rather tiring. Just watching Pan gave her a headache sometimes. But ChiChi adored her granddaughter and was always happy to have a few moments with the child. Something about being around kids seemed to make ChiChi feel younger.
"Would you mind?" ChiChi whispered. She never spoiled Pan without Videls permission.
"If you don't mind." Videl shrugged then glanced down. There were still days when Videl could hardly believe that she was a mother. Videl was nearly twenty-seven. She didn't feel old enough to be a mother. She didn't feel prepared. At times, Videl wished that she could remember more about her own mother. Maybe that would help.
"Pan." Videl spoke in a patient business tone, she had never used babytalk around her daughter. She'd read somewhere that speaking in plain language was better for a childs brain development. Or was it Gohan who'd read that? "If Grandma lets you have cookies now then you have to promise to eat all your salad at dinner tonight. No fussing. Okay?"
"Okay!" Pan agreed. The child always agreed. She didn't always keep her end of the deal though. They would have to work on that.
Videl listened as Pan and ChiChi went to raid the pantry. She almost didn't hear the soft creak of the stairs behind her. Videl turned her head. "Hey."
Goten, who had been trying to sneak upstairs, froze in mid-step. "Um. Hi."
Videl guessed that either Goten had been out on another date or he was trying to avoid a training session with his father. Maybe both. It was hard to be certain. Videl resisted the temptation to pry directly and went with a subtle threat instead. "Pan will be glad to see you."
His expression was priceless. Although Goten was generally nice around kids, he didn't enjoy Pans company. Goten was eighteen years old. He didn't like to be reminded that he was an uncle. Videl suppressed a smile then blinked and sniffed the air. What was that smell? Perfume? She raised a questioning eyebrow.
Goten scowled mildly at her. "You're as bad as Mom." He muttered in a way that made the remark more of a compliment than anything else. He ran a nervous hand through his hair then folded his arms and stared down at Videl from his place on the steps, seeming uncertain of what to do next.
He didn't resemble his father as much anymore. Goten had grown out of that around age nine, with his first major growth spurt. These days... Videl was of the opinion that Goten looked more like Gohan had used to. Tall and sort of awkwardly lankly with the long dark hair and the intense dark eyes.
"Can't believe that I used to babysit you." Videl said wistfully, for no particular reason other than it was true. "Where does the time go?"
Goten was giving her the you-must-live-to-humiliate-me glare. Feeling that he couldn't yet escape the conversation, he opted to change the topic instead. "Whatcha been up to?"
"Nothing much." Videl inspected the tea leaves in the bottom of her cup. Searching for a pattern, a meaning. That's what her life needed these days, some meaning. "I'd like to do more." She added absently.
Suddenly seeing a way to end the talk, Goten said. "So why don't you?" And while Videl was contemplating an answer, he snuck off.
Females were strange. Goten had always known that much. But with Videl and also with his mother... He could sympathize. Much as he hated to admit it.
Goku was a good father. Gohan was a nice older brother. Yet at the same time...
Earlier this very afternoon, Gohan had asked Goten to please check on something. And Goten had checked and had dutifully reported the results to his brother. And then Gohan had gone ahead and double checked anyway. Which made Goten feel positively worthless, as if his own brother couldn't trust him to do anything right. Goten knew that Gohan probably didn't mean to be insulting. But didn't his older brother realize...?
No. Gohan probably didn't realize. So Goten made excuses for his brother, the same ones he had always made. The same ones that their mother had always made.
Gohan had grown up in hard times. Gohan was the sort of person who had to do things himself, it was just ingrained in his nature. Much as Gohan wanted to trust people, he didn't seem completely able to. That's just the way he was. Always on edge, always sort of expecting the worst to happen. It wasn't Gohans fault. It wasn't anyones fault. Gohan had been the victim of unfortunate circumstances, that's all there was to it.
And their father, Goku, was essentially the same way. Only worse. Gohan still asked for the odd rare favor. Even if he did more or less end up doing things on his own, Gohan at least tried to include other people. Goku... Had become more of a loner. Self-sufficient. Goten couldn't recall his father ever asking anyone for anything. If Goku wanted something done, he did it. Or tried to, at any rate.
Irritating was an understatement. Goten wished that his father and brother could understand the amount of damage they'd done to his confidence. And to his mothers confidence. And to Videls confidence. And to the collective dignity of every decent warrior on planet Earth. But there wasn't a gentle way to enlighten them. So perhaps it was better to let Goku and Gohan continue as they were. No point in making them feel as if family and friends had turned against them, that wouldn't improve anything.
Goten loved and respected his family, all the members. Even his niece, Pan - although he didn't often show it since the little girl tended to get on his nerves. But his father and his brother in particular... Were just hard to be around. They had a way of making virtually everyone near them feel useless.
Which was why Goten had gotten into the habit of avoiding them both.
His brother was easy to avoid. Gohan was so busy with work and crime fighting and college that - aside from phone calls and the standard blurb on the news - Goten didn't often see or hear from his elder brother.
Avoiding his father, that was a bit more tricky.
In a way, Goten thought as he scrubbed off the scent of perfume and grinned lopsidedly at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, I ought to be thankful.
Avoiding Goku had given Goten the motivation to acquire an active social life. Goten went to school early for one club and stayed after school for two other clubs and had a part time job on the weekends. When Goten wasn't preoccupied with work, homework or club projects then he was either sleeping, hanging out with friends or pestering Vegeta.
That was a dangerous hobby to have, pestering Vegeta. But Goten had his reasons. The main reason was that as long as Vegeta remained healthy, Goten didn't have to worry quite as much about sparring against his father. For this same basic reason Goten had also made a point of occasionally checking in on Uub, his fathers student.
Fighting wasn't all that bad. Goten was perfectly capable of fighting. He had fought in the past. Those memories were a bit hazy, Goten couldn't recall what exactly he'd been fighting for back then. Still. Goten felt that he would be able to defend himself from most threats on Earth. So why bother with training? Yes, there was room for improvement but... It was just that... Goten didn't want to end up like his father and brother. Excellent warriors, yes, but jaded. A touch nervous. Unwilling to forget what they'd been through. Unable to fully enjoy life. Unaware of how much suffering they inadvertently caused the people who loved them.
Goten was in his room now. He finished pulling on an oversized sweater. He checked his reflection in a full-length mirror, patted the pendant on his silver necklace and ran a comb through his bangs a couple times. This was a well-practiced routine but Goten never got tired of it.
He gathered up the clothes that he'd been wearing earlier - the faint scent of perfume clung to the fabric - and hurriedly escorted them to the washing machine downstairs. He had the speed to do this without being noticed. Once the washing machine had been started, Goten took a few steps towards the kitchen and raised his voice.
The rest was just automatic. Goten had been making polite excuses to leave the house ever since he'd learned to fly. His mother probably wasn't even listening to him anymore. ChiChi had heard his excuses for over eleven years now. And it was always the same sort of thing. Speaking rapidly, Goten would say that he was sorry but he couldn't stay long since he was late for something important. And he wasn't sure when exactly he'd be back but he had a house key so there was no need to wait up for him. And in case of emergency, he could be reached by phone.
By the end of this excuse, Goten would be at least ten yards away from the house. Privately thinking that if ever there was a true emergency, nobody would need to call him. He would notice. He could, after all, detect ki.
Crime fighting was not something that Gohan defined as fun. It didn't once occur to him that Videl might be upset at being left out because honestly - what was she missing out on? Stress, mainly. The daily parade of weirdos, petty thieves and idiots who tried to solve their problems with violence.
Where did these people come from? Hadn't Shenlong been instructed to leave all the evil people dead? Could the dragon have missed a few lunatics? Or had so many people gone evil within the last ten years?
It saddened Gohan to think that perhaps the latter was true.
Gohan was twenty-eight years old. Tall and broad shouldered - he'd gained some weight in the process of becoming an adult, had gained some height as well - with short dark hair and eyes that were softened by thick-rimmed reading glasses.
He did not enjoy crime fighting. Yet Gohan fought crime anyway. He felt obliged to. Even though he didn't train as much these days, fighting crime wasn't hard for him. So what excuse did he have? None. He couldn't just sit around and let people die, not if it was preventable.
Gohan had other reasons as well. He still blamed himself for certain events in the past, events that he thought should have been prevented. He felt as if he owed a debt to his father - among others. The crime fighting was an unspoken tribute to all the heros that Gohan knew. It was also a crutch, in its own way. People had always had such high expectations of him... It was a compromise, really. Gohan wasn't exactly following in his fathers footsteps but he refused to let anyone down completely. He had become a hero, of sorts.
He had also, in the last six years, become a husband and a father. Which had caused Gohan to become even more devoted to stopping crime. Every criminal that Gohan helped send to jail made the world a little bit safer for Pan. And Videl. And everyone.
So instead of rushing over to his parents house for dinner, Gohan sat alone in a classroom. His classroom. He was a teacher, working part-time. He enjoyed teaching. Especially since one of the benefits of working for the university was that it more than halved his own college expenses. And as Gohan sat checking through the stack of homework that his students had turned in today, a headset covered his ears. A headset that could only pick up police radio frequencies.
From time to time, Gohan would flick a glance at his watch. Knowing that all he had to do was press the tiny button on the side of the watch to trigger a change of costume. From school uniform to superhero, in less than a second flat. If needed.
He was always very careful to avoid pressing the button by accident. Once had been enough. More than enough. Even if the rest of the world had forgotten about the supermarket incident, Gohan could never forget. It had been far too embarrassing.
The Great Saiyaman was, Gohan knew, something of a joke to the other warriors on Earth. He didn't mind. In fact, he understood. The costume wasn't much of a disguise. And how strange it must seem, to the people who knew him and could recognize his energy signature. Yet Gohan kept the costume. Because the costume did serve a purpose. The media still had no idea who the Great Saiyaman truly was and all the various criminals, they had no idea either. Gohan intended to keep it that way.
He was in the midst of underlining a grammar mistake with red ink when some startling news reached his ears. And after all that Gohan had been through in his life, after all that years of listening to police radio frequencies had gotten him accustomed to hearing... It took Gohan a tense moment to recover. Because he was a little surprised that anything could startle him anymore.
He shook his head, listening to the staticky exchanges. Could he have imagined it? The message had been coded. Maybe he'd misheard. Maybe he'd translated the code incorrectly.
Gohan wasn't the only one that had been startled. Several police officers were requesting that the message be repeated.
Satan City - like every community on Earth - had security issues. And the local police had codewords for everything. If the problem was inside a certain part of the city, the police used a certain phrase. If the crisis involved explosives, the police used another certain phrase. This was done so that any criminals who happened to own a headset like Gohans wouldn't be able to easily understand the significance of what the police told each other.
Gohan listened carefully, scribbling the message down on the back of his hand. Taking it apart, codeword by codeword.
He hadn't misheard it the first time.
Not good, not good at all. Gohan wasn't sure what this meant. The message was a general - although rather urgent - order to increase security everywhere in the city. He understood that much but... Why? What sort of trouble were the police expecting? Natural disaster or man made? Had something bad already happened?
Gohan put aside the homework that he'd been grading and turned to the computer on his desk. He had a small computer built into his glasses - that's why the frames were so heavy - but that was mostly to help with navigation in times of low visibility. Right now, what Gohan needed was research. A chance to go online and look through current events.
He checked the world news website first, out of habit. The index of recent headlines showed that there had been a few crimes here and there but nothing too major. Nothing that really stood out. Gohan had only begun to sift through the plethora of lesser news websites when a familiar presence touched the edge of his mind.
Er. Gohan? Dendes telepathic voice betrayed only the faintest hints of anxiety. How fast can you get to West Capital City?
A burst of ki registered behind Gohan, a chubby hand grabbed one of his shoulders and for a split second, the world blurred away. Gohan barely even caught a glimpse of Buu. The pink creature giggled and blurred away again, leaving Gohan in... He checked the skyline, noted the roadsigns and read few things around him - the address on the side of a bus, the title of a newspaper in a rack that was labeled 'local', the names of several nearby businesses.
West Capital City. Hrm.
That fast. Gohan directed the thought towards Dendes distant energy signature and made a mental note to harass his father about the Instant Transmission technique sometime.
Oh. Dende seemed mildly exasperated. Great. Would you mind putting on that costume of yours and heading over to the Lotus Medical Center, then?