"The Drummers March"

Disclaimer: See previous chapters.

Chapter 7

"D. H. Lawrence, Goten?" Dad was trying to look exasperated but his mouth kept twitching into a smile. "Are you trying to score yourself more visits with Mr. Gibbons?"

School had just finished for the day and when I walked out the front doors, dad had been standing outside leaning against the gate waiting for me. I shrugged and grinned a little sheepishly. "What can I say, it was fun baiting him."

This earned me a cuff to the side of my head which I ducked. However I wasn't fast enough to dodge the tap to the back of my head that followed.

"Doesn't that count as child abuse or something?"

Trunks had followed me out and now jumped the last few steps to land next to us. I grinned when dad reached over and flicked Trunks in the forehead.

"Now you're even."

Trunks rubbed his forehead and scowled. "Hey! That's definitely child abuse. I'm not even your kid!"

"Now see, that's funny because you seemed perfectly happy with me in the past." Dad tapped his chin in thought and grinned at Trunks. "I seem to remember a certain little boy who was spending the night and got scared. I do believe that little boy crawled into bed with me. Something about monsters under the bed?"

Trunks backed away and stood behind me. "How do you live with this guy, Goten? He fights dirty." He looked at his watch and grimaced. "Crap, I'm gonna be late. I have to go to this dance recital thing of Bras. Catch you later."

With a wave he was off running down the street and shortly we felt him power all the way up the second level. I wondered if things were rougher at home than usual and made a mental note to find out the next time I saw him.

Shrugging, I turned to dad and smiled my biggest smile. The one with teeth and everything. "So pops...cause you love me so much and all, how about we get pizza for dinner tonight?"

Dad was in the kitchen reading the paper and drinking coffee when I got up that morning. Sitting there in just blue flannel pajama pants, hair messy from sleep, I had to admit that as far as girls were concerned, I suppose he was a good looking guy. Which reminded me of that question the shrink had asked me.

"Hey dad, why don't you get married?"

He looked up in surprise and eyed me over the rim of his cup. "Married?"

I nodded and walked over to collapse in the chair across from him, accepting the carton of orange juice he pushed my way. "Yeah. You're a young guy, attractive..." He gave me a strange look and I coughed. "Well theoretically speaking, of course." Crinkling his eyes in amusement, he nodded, "Naturally."

I poured some juice into my glass and then continued, ticking off reasons on my fingers. "You're young, attractive, have a nice house, steady income..." I thought about that one for a second and then held up another finger, "Large income. Oh, and you have a great kid."

He laughed, "Are you in a hurry to get rid of me or something?"

I shook my head and fiddled with the glass in my hand. "I was just thinking. That shrink asked if you were married and I realized that I've never seen you with anybody..." I set the glass aside and looked up, he was watching me closely. "I'm not trying to get rid of you, I think things are great this way, I just wondered."

It was true. When I thought about it, I really didn't want dad going off and hooking up with some girl. In my mind it was always just him and me. Eventually I would probably go off to college or something. I'd always pictured him wandering around the house, writing and swearing and arguing with Piccolo.

I liked things the way they were. Bulma sometimes made noises about hooking dad up with a nice girl but I never paid attention. Dad was just dad. He was intelligent and strong and...alone. Looking at him across from the table I saw understanding on his face. He sipped his coffee thoughtfully before finally speaking.

"You know Goten, when you were younger everybody became obsessed with my happiness. They all believed that because I lived way out here with only you for my company that I must be incredibly sad. They wanted to fix me.

"I wasn't sad, not really. Mostly I was angry about a lot of stuff. Moving closer to Bulma or finding a girl friend wouldn't have made a difference."

He stopped to sip his coffee again and I couldn't help but ask, "Are you still angry now?"

He laughed and smiled. "No. Piccolo showed up and threatened to beat the crap out of me. Then he found the reason behind my anger and...I got a second chance."

"It was Goku, wasn't it." He looked surprised but nodded. I'd always known there was something about the way they moved around each other. Comfortable but strained at times.

"My point is that once everyone stopped trying to make me happy they realized I already was. Not everyone is meant to be surrounded by people, Goten. There isn't a perfect equation for emotional stability. It's not all about the round hole and square peg. Sometimes you get a square peg in a square hole."

I nodded slowly. "So no wedding bells in the future?"

He snorted and then drained his cup before pushing back his chair and standing. "No."

I sighed; more relieved then I wanted to admit. "Fine. Next time the shrink mentions it I know what I'll tell him."

"Oh?"

I snickered, "Yeah. I'll tell him not to worry, you're just square."­­­­­­­­­­

I didn't see Trunks again until Monday. He was waiting for me at my locker, quieter than usual. I knew things got hard for him, his parents fought all the time, and it seemed like when they tired with each other they took it out on him. Bulma nagged endlessly and I don't think Uncle Vegeta has ever gone easy on Trunks. About anything. I know they love him but sometimes I think they might be killing him a little too. He'd go off and spend time with his family and then come back either quiet and pensive, or acting like a jerk.

I once heard Piccolo tell dad that if Trunks didn't spend so much time at our house, he'd probably have ended up a mini-version of his dad. The idea of Trunks bellowing and going on about weak worthless people had scared me so bad I begged him to stay-over two consecutive weeks in a row.

Trunks is my best friend and a bigger pain in the ass youll never find, but he's still distinctly himself. So when he comes back from time with his family acting all weird, I know something's going on. Something not very good.

"Hey." I leaned over and poked Trunks in the side with my pencil, ignoring the fact that we were suppose to be listening to the teacher talk about Edgar Allen Poe.

He slouched down further in his chair, blowing hair out of his face. "What?"

The trouble with Trunks is you can never outright ask him if something is wrong. He'd never come out and say his parents are screwing with his head. I'm not sure he even realizes that's the problem. He just knows he feels crappy and it's their fault. To make it worse, when he comes back his sense of pride is always skewed ninety-degrees out of control.

I never spar with him when he's like this. We did once and things quickly got way out of control. He didn't hold back and he wouldn't back down. I can match him level for level, hit for hit but I don't like it. When you go at someone like that it's only with an intent to kill and there is nothing else. If dad hadn't shown up when he did, it would have been bad. He ordered me to leave the room and just calmly held Trunks while he screamed and swore. I don't know what they talked about, it was never brought up again. A couple hours passed and they came out. Trunks didn't say anything and just went to bed. The next morning it was like it had never happened.

So I didn't ask Trunks what was wrong or demand he snap out of it. I just reminded him he wasn't alone. "Dad's making Mexican tonight. We're suppose to go pick up hominy and mole after classes."

He stared at me blankly for a moment before slowly nodding. "Pisole and tamales, huh?"

"Hell yeah, man." I grinned. "Only the best."

He slowly smiled back and sat up a little straighter. "Right. Only the best."

TBC…

Major author note-

I had a bit of a mental breakdown in regards to this story. I got part way into this chapter and discovered that I hate this story. There was no doubt in my mind that I Despised This Story.

Where are you going and where have you been? I knew where I'd been, it was the going part that had me screwed up. I needed something. The first story turned into this big angsty self-searching thing with Gohan. I had him screwed up. I had him grumpy. Then I gave him a reason and fixed it. The end. What the hell was I thinking when I started this sequel? I was thinking that I wanted more good DBZ stories. What a TERRIBLE reason to start a story. And then it turned into the same situations over and over. I was disgusted. I needed to get back to where I was in the beginning. I needed to find my damn reason again. I needed a freaking PLOT! I found I wasn't even writing the same style anymore. I prefer an emphasis on internal monologue, prose and stuff and suddenly all I could churn out was lame ass dialogue. I hate dialogue. I suck at dialogue. Dialogue is damn boring to write.

So I went back and re-read chapters. I looked at the parts where I started to have something and then seemed to lose it as I got caught up in dialogue. I wrote other things and pretended that Drummer's March didn't exist. But finally after many months, I think I've found it again. I don't have a specific outline, because I never work that way, but I think I'm back on track.

I need to apologize to all the people I've let down by just dropping this story. I hate authors who do that. And I became one. Such a hypocrite. I particularly want to thank Akito Shoma and Super Saiyajin Louie. If you guys are still reading, this one's for you. Thank you so much for your support and for the kick in the pants.