The grass was cool and soft on his feet, just like it had been back then. He hadn't felt this grass in two decades, it was here where they'd shared perhaps their greatest moment. He'd brought her here for no particular reason, it wasn't a particularly beautiful or meaningful spot, there were certainly far more special places in the countryside around his home. A simple ridge overlooking a wooded valley, it was just...nice.

She had been stood to his left and just a little behind him, a warm feeling had spread through his body as he felt her hand make its way into his own. Most people thought that she was moody and pushy, but they didn't know the real her, not like he did. She was kind and passionate and loving and everything in between, she was all he could ask for. Ever so lightly, so as not to hurt her, he'd squeezed her hand, rubbing one of her fingers between his index finger and thumb. He tried to tell himself that it had been her ring finger, which he had been aching to put a ring on but he knew it had really been her index finger, just the boring old index finger.

Just hours beforehand he'd loved her for only the fifth time, for some reason it had been the most special. Afterwards something had compelled him to bring her here, to share this not so special place with her. He'd dragged her out of the house before either of them could even put their shoes on.

"I'd follow you anywhere, Gohan," she'd spoken softly and he'd turned to smile at her. In that moment her eyes lit up in a way he could never imagine was possible, even for her. He'd never felt closer to another person, he'd never been happier. But sadly he couldn't make that same promise to her. Weeks later she was gone and he was still here.

Sometimes he wondered if it had all been a product of fate. His father had been rescued from the virus by a twist in time that should never have happened and to redress the balance she had been taken from him by the very same thing. Even the multitude of researchers that were working on it still hadn't managed a fully effective antidote, even having the sample from the future to reverse engineer from.

With a sigh he reached down to put his shoes and socks back on. He still had somewhere else to go.

He watched the large man lay his offering gently, with a tenderness that belied just how large and powerful he really was. There was an identical offering on the grave next to it, her mother. This was only the fourth time in 20 years that their paths had crossed on this day in this place. One in five; they'd been the same odds she'd been given. She'd defiantly tried to beat those odds but even a willpower as strong as hers couldn't overpower them.

He watched as the man rose slowly and said something inaudible. After a moment or two he turned and their gazes met. Her father gave one of those strange, sad half-smiles, one of those where the lips don't part. Out of instinct the younger man did the same. A few seconds later and they had closed the gap between themselves, both reaching out a hand to greet one another like old friends.

After their hands parted he felt an oddly strong yet gentle pressure on his shoulder. The same pressure that he had felt when he had called at her father's mansion - her home - unannounced twelve years previously to tell him something that he really didn't want to have to tell him.

"I'm glad that you're still coming here. It's getting late and I'd noticed you hadn't left anything yet..."

"She'd never forgive me if I didn't show up," he joked.

Her father laughed softly as he placed his hands into his pockets, "oh, I think she would. I know that I tell you this every time we meet but she really did adore you."

He smiled, "she had quite the soft spot for you too."

The man laughed again. "I was such a buffoon back then, I don't know how she ever put up with me. I suppose that's just the way she was," he nodded in agreement, "how's your family by the way?"

"My mother is still going strong and my brother finally seems to growing up, about 10 years too late of course. My dad's, well, somewhere." He shrugged.

"Good, good. I wouldn't expect your dad to change. How about..."

He gulped in preparation. Twelve years ago her father had told him that he shouldn't feel guilty, that she'd be happy for him, even proud that he was moving on. But he hadn't moved on, not really. There were two of him, there was one that stood right here, who remembered a departed friend and lover, but who had a wife and two daughters; a family that he loved truly and dearly, without question. But there was a second, someone that resided on that ridge where they'd experienced their finest moment, where he'd stay forever.

"They're fine, doing great actually." Her father had become an understanding man but he felt that he couldn't speak on the subject much more than that.

"I'm glad to hear that." Her father looked over at the setting sun, and briefly to his driver leaning patiently against his car. "You make sure to take care of them, you hear me?"

He nodded. "Of course."

"I'll leave you with her."

He stood and watched as her father got in his car and was slowly driven off. He wondered if this would be the last time they would meet.

After her father was out of sight he made his way to where she rested. He placed one set of flowers in front of her mother's grave, he'd never met the woman but he felt he owed something to the mother that had brought her into the world. He crouched in front of hers and gave her another set of flowers. He'd never found out whether she even liked flowers, they'd never celebrated her birthday together or had an anniversary and he'd forgotten Valentine's Day. It didn't matter though because she'd forgotten it too.

He looked around, scanning the area for any fellow mourners. Finding none he found his voice. "Hey, um, it's me again. I guess it's been a year but there's nothing much to report." He thought for a few seconds. "My eldest finished elementary school, I know I always say this but you really would like her, she's so tough. My youngest too seems to be taking an interest in fighting, I don't know what to do with them...you were the only girl I ever knew who was fascinated by fighting." He paused for a moment. "And before you say anything my mother doesn't count, she was only in it to get my dad to marry her. Eighteen doesn't either, she was always in it for the money."

He heaved a sigh after a protracted and pregnant silence. "Is it wrong that I come here? My wife knows, even if I hadn't told her about you she would have figured it all out years ago. I just don't know how I should feel, what's to be expected in this situation? I don't compare my wife to you and I never think about the children we might have had together but I still feel guilty. In fact I try not to think of you at all, even though I'm still so in love with you. I feel like you'd have all the answers. But to be honest I can imagine you'd just call me a baby and tell me to suck it up."

He let out a half-laugh half-choked sob and felt his eyes welling up. "I've never cried over you, not even the day you died. Oh God Videl, I just want to touch your face , or hear your voice. It's true what they say, you really do forget the sound of someone's voice so quickly."

He rubbed his eyes roughly and steeled himself. "I think that I should be getting home, but I promise that I'll be back next year. I'll try not to be such a baby next time." He stood gracefully. "I love you." With his left hand he reached out and grazed his fingers over her headstone. For a moment he imagined that it was her index finger that he was touching, just the boring old index finger.

I'd really appreciate feedback on this one, I was going for something a little different and I'm not sure whether I pulled it off quite how I wanted to.