A/N: this fic is inspired by the Prince's Jewel's Unforgivable. If you haven't read it, or any other of her stuff, DO SO NOW! I COMMAND YOU!
so... that taken care of.
This Story includes (and, to be honest, circulates around) my original DBZ character, Geena. yes, i know what you're saying.
"not another bloody mary-sue!" NO! it is not. don't worry, there is nothing special about Geena (except that she is saiyan... cough... c.c;), and you will understand the story anyway (i hope).
So, sit back and enjoy.br if you don't like it; sorry. if you hate it: tell me what i did wrong. if you think it broke some fanfiction rule(s): please inform me which.
Disclaimer: No, i don't own DBZ... geez, like i really have to say that... Akira Toriyama owns DBZ, he's a cool guy in Japan. I'm not cool, i'm not a guy, and i don't live in Japan.
Darkness. Weeks of dust stirred up in the wind from the open windows. The smell of sweat and tears was carried out into the dark night by rainy gusts which hurried away from the gloomy room. The room smelled of death. The wind threw tiny particles into the air and made photographs move listlessly across the old, wooden floor. One of the photographs made a short trip over the layers of dust and dirt, before coming to a sudden halt as it hit an uneven, yellow surface.
For the first time in many days, the person sitting against the bed moved. Two fingers reached out and grabbed the upside-down photo, bringing it closer to the person's raven eyes. The fingers left black marks on the white surface of the back of the photograph, as it was roughly turned over.
Three pairs of black eyes, one pair of beautiful, blue ones. They were so young, so carefree. Two pairs of eyes which glittered mischievously in the sun, making their smiles seem so much bigger than they actually were. Two eyes which told of annoyance and impatience, but also happiness and innocence. The last pair of eyes showed surprise and happiness, the young face pulled into a puzzled grimace.
Geena stared down at the photo in her hand, it was yellowed from age and parts of the photo had been covered with white spots, bleached by the sun. It showed a very young Bulma, giving Geena and Goku an annoyed glance as they mischievously pushed Kuririn down from the big rock on which they had been standing. It had been so long ago… Bulma must have been 17, Kuririn 14; Geena was 11 and Goku… Goku had only been 13 years…
Goku's face was blurred for a moment, invisible behind the wet tear that had dropped from the saiyan's black eye. In an attempt to distract herself, Geena quickly took her swollen glance off the photograph and locked it onto her yellow boot, under which the photo had been pinned only moment before. Like everything else in the small, dark apartment on the fifth floor, it was covered with layers of dust and leaves that had blown in from the open window. Its red sole was worn out from months on the road, carrying the only female saiyan left in any universe away from the only other two full-blooded saiyans alive.
The gloomy room disappeared from her sight, as the half dead saiyan shut her eyes and tried to keep the tears away. It had been days since she had eaten or drunk last, her muscular arms hanging limp by her sides, her baggy jeans so perfectly camouflaged against the darkness around her it seemed as though she had no legs. Geena opened her eyes again and once again shifted her glance to the old photo between her fingers.
Geena found herself staring back at her, the 11-year-old still grinning in the sunlight. She was so alike that picture, she doubted her hair had moved a bit in all those years. Still, the little girl grinning at her could as well have been from another part of the universe. How long had it been since she last smiled like that? Three years? Four? It must have been around the same time her eyes lost their spark, the same time she understood what was happening to Goku.
A gust of ice cold air entered the room through one of the two open windows. It snatched the photograph with its cold fingers and threw it to the other side of the room. Two black eyes followed the photograph as it settled in the dusty floor – its motive facing upwards, but too far away to make out – but Geena didn't move. The saiyan choked her breath twice, before being able to let out a hoarse whisper.
"Gohan, Chi-Chi, Bulma, Goten, Piccolo, Yamcha, Tenshinhan, Muten Rôshi, Videl, Trunks, Kuririn, Android 18, Android 17… thank you… thank you for our time together. I know you were all happy once there was peace on Earth, but I miss the times we fought together… back when we didn't have to worry about our feelings or lives outside the battle field. I wish we could go back in time… like Trunks once did…"
Geena angrily brushed the back of her hand over her eyelids, leaving a damp line on her knuckles… she was alone in the dark, but not even the darkness would ever have the pleasure of seeing her cry, she promised herself. With an unsteady voice she continued to talk to herself. No one except the wind and the darkness were listening to her hopes, her dreams, her memories, but she knew her friends would hear her; they were listening subconsciously, in their dreams.
"Goten… she's gone, soon she will leave you, and won't come back."
The semi-saiyan grasped his mother's cold hand. With shaking fingers he slowly brushed Chi-Chi's gray hair from her eyes and blinked away his own tears. He sat on the floor beside her bed and cried for the moon to hear. It did not matter, there was no one there to listen, anyway.
"Trunks, you have to be strong. Be strong for Goten, if you truly love him, he will forgive you. But don't ever forgive yourself, Trunks, don't ever think what you did was right."
A blond lock of hair sailed through the air. The room was filled with dust, and flesh, and blood. Another wall fell as the super saiyan threw his heavy body mass against it. Tears ran down his cheeks and made lines in the dust and blood. Continuously he punched himself in the face, first his nose broke, then his jaw. But he did not care, he needed pain, needed more pain, more blood. Trunks continued beating himself.
"Vegeta… take care of Kuroichi. Make him happy, let him smile…" Geena choked on her words and inhaled the dark silence. Another gust made the tears on her cheeks draw leaning lines in the dirt, but she did not care anymore. "Let him stay beautiful, Vegeta, let him die innocent."
The spike-haired saiyan lightly wrapped his tail around his sleeping mate's waist. He was so beautiful… Vegeta felt himself drifting off to sleep, and locked his half-closed eyes on Kuroichi's face. He would never again let Kuro out of his sight. The prince of the saiyans lightly pressed his lips against Kuro's brow, then he went to sleep.
"… Goku, Kuroichi, Kakarot, whoever you say you are, I will always remember you as Goku. I want to remember the strongest being in the universe; I want to remember my friend who always had a careless smile on his lips. But you were right, Kuroichi, Goku is dead…" A tear sought its way down her tired face to her lips. Geena let her tongue run over her dry lips, tasting the salt of the tear and dust. "… He won't come back."
In his dream, Kuroichi was still Goku. The vivid image of the blood stained lake he had seen a few heartbeats ago faded away as the faces of all his old friends flashed past him. As the lake disappeared from his dream, his female saiyan friend's face drifed into view, to disappear a moment later into a forgotten past. The dark haired saiyan resumed sleeping with a relieved smile.
"Goodbye Kuroichi… Goodbye Vegeta… Trunks… Goten…" Her grip around the metal object in her motionless arm tightened. "Don't give up… Don't move on…" With small effort Geena raised her arm from the dusty floor. "… So there will be no past to remember."
A joyless smile played on Geena's lips as the old modeled gun was put to her head by a trembling hand.
"Let him stay beautiful, Vegeta… Let him die innocent…"
A loud bang ripped through the patient silence, taking with it the last breath heard in the small apartment, for a long while.
A lone gust blew in the glassless window, moaning sorrowfully as it passed the room that smelled of death, ripping the old photo in the corner into the air before resuming its mournful wander. The photo smiled one last time at the limp and motionless shadow by the bed, before settling back on the floor, its motive facing down.
Well... what did you think? drop a line and make someone happy.
Geena: Guess who that 'someone' is...
P.S.! i started writing this a -long- time ago, but didn't finish it until now. .-.; hence the bad ending...