This is an idea I've had kicking around for ages now, but I didn't want to write it and get distracted from my other story. I ended up starting writing it to get it out of my head and I figure if I'm writing it anyway, I might as well post it. The Cove is an all-human AU, primarily a B/V with mystery elements. G/CC and K/18 appear also, but this isn't a true ensemble fic like Have It All.
Chapter 1: Almost A Stranger
Bulma Briefs checked her roots in the mirror. Like the rest of the house it was clean, but small and worn with age. She put in coloured contact lenses then covered her pale eyelashes with dark mascara. The girl in the mirror looked almost a stranger.
"That's a good thing," Bulma told the mirror girl and packed up her makeup case. "It's really, really great."
Chichi smiled politely as Bulma walked through the tiny living area to replace her case and collect a handbag from the guest room.
"Are you sure you don't mind going out?" Chichi seemed torn between being polite and accommodating to her guest and keeping her own date. It was clear to Bulma that the other woman was also still bewildered by the more general situation.
"Of course. I need to explore the town some time, after all. The only places I've been so far are your house and work." Bulma practiced her smile. She had a special smile for while she was living here. When being natural, she had her mother's smile. Too recognisable. "I'll get something to eat, see you later tonight. I'll give a ring before I come back, to make sure you're not still busy."
Chichi smiled without releasing any of the stress from her face. Bulma couldn't blame her.
Bulma picked her way down the steep hill on which the town was built. There were no footpaths here, and the houses were all cheap little post-war bungalows like Chichi's. The road had a narrow unsealed shoulder which dipped sharply down to the houses, and Bulma couldn't shake the feeling that someone was going to come roaring up the hill and sideswipe her off the shoulder and into someone's front garden, where she'd lie broken until they came out to get their paper in the morning. Maybe that was the best she could hope for right now.
It was easier to walk in the town proper, although the dramatic slope continued right down until it hit the beach and Ocean Road, built to hug the coast. Cracking footpaths fronted the Main Street businesses, beneath sagging tin awnings and faded signs. Several local residents turned to look at her. It was unusual, Chichi had told her, to see strangers outside the tourist season. From the ill repair of the buildings, Bulma assumed it was pretty unusual to see strangers inside the tourist season, too.
She tottered down the hill until she reached Ocean Road, where little shops designed for local use gave way to formerly impressive structures built for the booming tourist trade of the early twentieth century. She took a table in a seafood restaurant housed in the lower floor of what had once been a beautiful art deco seaside hotel but now sat like an old movie star, faded and sad in outdated finery, hoping for discerning eyes to spot the fine bones beneath.
This was perhaps the most formal dining in town, according to Chichi, but Bulma's fish was brought to her in a paper basket and accompanied by plastic cutlery. Bulma had not often found occasion to eat food that wasn't served on real plates. She wasn't hungry anyway. From her patio table the view of the glassy ocean and imposing rocks beyond was interrupted only by the flat sweep of the road, giving way to the perfectly white sands of The Cove's pristine beach. The air was chilly, but people walked the beach anyway. Some walked in their winter clothes, accompanied by dogs. Others walked brown-skinned and shirtless, apparently immune to the effects of weather.
The sunset bathed them all in unnaturally warm light. Bulma couldn't decide if it was orange like a fond summer memory or red like a warning.