Misery Loves Company
***
A/N: Heh. Wow. S'been a while, hasn't it?
EGRO: YES. Yes it has. And I'm sick of getting all this hate mail!!!!...::high-pitched nasal voice:: "When's she gonna update? When's she gonna update?" All day! All night!! For MONTHS NOW!!!
TGG: Aw come on. Couldn't be THAT bad.
EGRO: Wha!!!!!!!!
TGG: ::flippant:: I mean, a little hate mail here, some death threats there, no biggie, right? Sheesh, if you start suffocating in it, then you can complain...
EGRO: WHY...but...you...ah...RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGH!!!!!
TGG: See? All happy now.
TIFFANY: ::aside to Gohan:: Has she gone stark ravin' bonkers?
GOHAN: No, she's playing "Pop! goes the Egro."
TIFFANY: Ah.
GOHAN:...Not that she hasn't gone off the deep end already.
TIFFANY: Of course.
TGG: And since when have we ever actually had any longboat pursuit? Eh?
EGRO:...::kapow!::
A/N: Racist people may GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE. RIGHT NOW. Don't need that shit stinkin' up my reviews.
A/N: Hey "HMM": This DOES NOT go beyond R, even though there's SEX in it (god forbid, I know! They oughta put summat in Leviticus ter forbid such BLASTOFOAMY!) You doubt? Two words for you: Matrix Reloaded. I rest my case.
Disclaimer: Are you kidding me?
***
There were times in Videl's life when she was certain that amnesia would be a blessing. Times that were better banished away, repressed, erased.
Slashed wrists were never a possibility for her, but a more...selective suicide...
To hack memories out of her skull...performing a neurological deletion.
The ultimate philosophical question: If we have no memory of something, did it ever exist? Did he ever exist? Would she be able to walk past him in the street again...and never know the difference?
Outside of the self, what do we really know?
If Cell was a disaster, the post-Cell debacle was a horror of catastrophic proportions. Videl felt herself swept aside like so much flotsam, as her father pulled forward at a thousand knots. When the S.S. Desdemona tried to pull up alongside it, her engine failed and she sank to the recesses of open water.
Girl overboard.
Desdemona had simply walked out one day, and the ghost ship returned a week later barnacle laden with a crew of legal sharks, hungering for divorce papers and fat checks and custody.
S.O.S. ...Is anybody out there?
Weeks later, Videl came to regret her desire to stay with her father...the custody battle was helped along by her dramatic court outburst, in which she slapped her mother and screamed at the top of her lungs that she wanted her daddy.
Tugboat tug-o'-war.
After that, Videl never saw her mother again.
Videl remembered dancing.
Shaking and twisting, bending and bouncing. Noah was a very good dancer. Sometimes she led. Sometime he led.
She had fun. She almost forgot.
She had gotten thirsty, and requested to stop for a drink. He obliged.
For a second, Videl felt that she shouldn't have stooped for a drink. It made her forget that she was trying to forget. So one drink turned into two. Two became three, then four, then...she lost count afterwards, only happy that Noah, whose concerned expression had returned to his face, had paid for them all.
She was happy about nothing else.
After her mother had left, her father took the painstaking task of eradicating her memory from his mind, pulling out the old-weed roots with a glee that bordered on perverse. He tried to play gardener to Videl, who turned him away aggressively. That was the beginning of the end for her and her father.
The old roots were left to rot, to moulder and to smoulder, burning deep through Videl's veins. By the time she was in high school, she had, perhaps, forgotten that the roots ever existed. Perhaps. But the scar tissue was present for anyone who looked to see, and down, in the deep, there were still embers...
That might have been why she joined the police force. Even a slow burn needs oxygen.
There are happy drunks, indeed, but then...one has Videl. After she had drunk what Noah called "enough," she had moved to the poles at the edge of the dance floor with a waver. There, she leaned against a poll and watched the other people dance.
Because, as one most assuredly could not forget, it was Valentine's Day, the lights that flashed and swirled were of the red-to-pink persuasion. The technicians occasionally threw in a shade of lavender for a little variety.
But it was mostly, incredibly, overwhelmingly red. "Overwhelmingly-" that is a good word to describe the color's tone. The room looked like it had been dipped in blood. The areas in shadow would merely fade into blackness and nothingness, until the surging dancers would seem to be the only important thing there to see.
As she leaned on the pole, her head was tilted down and to the side. The red light threw its vibrancy on those high cheekbones of hers, and made the hollows of her cheeks recede until you would swear that it was no cherubic angel you beheld, but the devilish, aloof supermodel. The red darkened her lips until they were black, with only red color where the light would shine and reflect; the same was true of her hair. Her eyes were the color of purple, the royal color, the murasaki shade. And those lashes of hers were long and thick and dark, starless black, just as always.
Oh, can you imagine what a sight she must have been?
Her police work was engaging, if nothing else. My, wasn't it amazing what could be done with only a fist and a foot? And anger, but that went unmentioned.
There was lots of anger. Videl had to keep stoking her flames.
And there were few things that could provide wrath like depravity and malefaction. Satan City was an orgiastic showcase of corruption. Every molestation, every assault, murder, infanticide, break-in, sexual assault, would fuel her burn as surely as diesel fuels a massive, eighteen-wheeled truck, with similar results to boot.
Police work was supposed to be a grim and gloomy business, and if it wasn't, then Videl would turn it into one, to silence the sun to spite the flower. She was always pale of skin.
Of course, never had the cloud been too thick to blot of the light of hope. On some unconscious level, she must have realized that she would only let her anger burn until, having consumed her inside, it would finally burst through her skin and destroy the husk in a triumphant dark flame. Otherwise, how could she have ever allowed Saiyaman to have her city?
"Shhhhh, baby...let it all out. Let it out."
Videl had broken down into tears, watching the people dance. Why? Who knows? She was drunk, and perhaps, there were a loving pair with dark hair and lust in their eyes.
Anyways, she had curled over with a loud wail, grabbing the attention of Noah, who rushed to her side. He had held her, and when it became obvious that she was simply not going to "get over it," he half-led, half-carried her to a secluded place: a bench just outside, where people bustled along, eager to get past the bouncer. She was burying her face in his shoulder, where she was trying with all her considerable might not to just let those swelling sobs out. He was rubbing her back and murmuring sweet nothings in her ears, trying to comfort her.
It is true that alcohol will help you forget. The good memories are the first to go.
Can you imagine Videl's surprise when she discovered that Saiyaman and Gohan were one and the same? Saiyaman, the greatest pain-in-the-ass, amazing, goofy superhero, and the strange, shy...nerdy...but anyways mildly tolerable Gohan, were two halves of a whole.
As love is so very close to hate, Videl would, if under pressure, admit that she had had the --okay, not just occasional-- hot thoughts about Saiyaman. But she had never once had those sorts of thoughts about little ol' Gohan. She wasn't quite sure how to think, when it came to that sweet oddball Gohan.
She only knew what she wanted, and she went for it.
Videl had finally ceased crying. Now, she was merely sitting, half-on, half-off Noah. He was still rubbing her back, and she noticed that he was rocking back and forth slowly. The silence was very uncomfortable.
"I'm sorry." Videl pulled herself up, and rubbed her eyes, not caring that it smeared her makeup even more.
"S'okay." Noah said, trying to be encouraging, wanting to make her happy again. Funny, the number of guys who tried that. "What was wrong?" The vast number who tried to fix her problems for her...and only caused more than they or anyone could ever solve.
Videl paused before answering. "Just memories." she tried to make it trivial. As if she could. "About some guy."
"Mmm." Noah said, and paused a beat. "Good memories?"
i hate you gohan i hate you why did you leave why did you die die and hurt me so
"You could say that."
Gohan was a breath of fresh air. He provided her with affection, entertainment, training, and a great many other wonderful things, (which only made his ultimate betrayal that much harder to bear). It frightened Videl, the thought that she could not (or would not) imagine where she would have gone without Gohan. It frightened her, how much in those days she depended on Gohan and Gohan's opinion.
She was devastated when she lost Gohan...twice. The first loss, when he was in that other world and she was in the living world, and second, when their positions were reversed. As before, she was terrified that she had lost him forever, and more terrified that she was this emotional for him. For anyone. When she was finally reunited, she hit him and then she hugged him. He was informed that he could never do that again, goddammit, I love you.
Things accelerated after Buu. They kissed for the first time only days after. Videl spent more and more time flying from her own house to Gohan's. She made her father complain that he had her good mornings and good nights but nothing else.
He wouldn't have them for long, though.
Videl couldn't remember who made the first move. But she did clearly remember that she pushed Noah down on the bench as a response to his question:
"Are you sure you wanna do this?"
Videl had come over to Gohan's house again. She did this every time his parents left for Capsule Corps and took Goten with them. Considering how often they found excuses to stay over there, Videl suspected that at least one, if not both, of Gohan's parents knew exactly what was going on.
Videl usually brought lots of old Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan movies, and Act II Butter Lover's popcorn. This time, she also carried with her a thick bar of dark chocolate; she knew Gohan loved the stuff; she had bought some for him before on Valentine's Day.
He greeted her at the door with a kiss and an arm wrapping around her shoulders. He made Videl laugh as he snuffled down her neck, paused, and then announced triumphantly: "You brought chocolate!"
He invited her in, after she pried him off her neck. There were blankets and pillows on the couch, which he moved right in front of the TV. Right now, the room glowed with golden light; soon, all the light there would be to see would be from a TV screen and the stars outside.
Gohan would get bored with most of the movies quickly when the fighting parts stopped. While the characters talked, he would...and Videl knew he couldn't stand that un-macho word, which added to her joy whenever he did it...cuddle up closer to her; wrap his arms around her and rest his head on that part of the body just above the chest but not quite upon the shoulder and simply lie there, with her face buried near the side of her neck.
And he would rest like that until the movie was finally over.
"Do you want your place or mine?"
"Yours." Videl was whispering this into his ear from the back seat of his car. He drove--thank god he hadn't had anything to drink--at least she hoped he hadn't. Noah was certainly driving a lot faster now than he was before.
They arrived at his place soon enough. It was an apartment, from the small size and thick stacks of books; Videl gathered with some surprise that Noah was still in college. Hunh, she'd thought he looked younger than her.
He was a hungry sort of kisser; all open-mouthed on her face and down her neck and her shoulders, too, once the door was locked and they were free to finish removing their inhibitions. She matched him in passion, digging her fingernails in some as she groped his muscles and kissed down, following the ready-made trail of his necklace. It had an iron tang, not too unlike blood.
Videl didn't know how lucky she was to have had Gohan; only later did she find out how much more different other young men are. He would start just as the movie was beginning to draw to its finish; tightened his grip on her and made small noises down deep in his throat. He was subtle, starting to draw his fingers up her sides, up her ribs. And he would rub his cheek against her shoulder, her chest at the collarbone, and all very slowly and very ...distra... When the end credits would roll, he would turn his face straight to her front, lifting it just a little. It would take him to the end of the credits before he worked himself up to real kisses, he brushed his lips across her skin--feathery strokes that made her flutter--for a very long time.
That was the special thing about Gohan, his best distinction. He would luxuriate in the closeness and intimacy for so long, basking in it like a cat in the sunbeam. He did not hurry, he felt no real urgency. Gohan was confident and assured in a way Videl wished she could be. He was content, Videl supposed, because he felt--he knew--that he had all the time in the world, and wouldn't ever have to hurry, when it came to love. When it came to her.
He pressed himself to her heat and gloried in it, slowly pushing things forward that night, until the last credit rolled with the final quavering note of the score, and all the lights but the stars...went out.
And that brilliant harvest moon.
Videl was content to let Noah lead that night. She wasn't quite sure she had the presence of mind to successfully dominate right then.
Her butt hit the sheets of the bed first, she had plopped down quickly and with a look she had become good at over the years told Noah that the time was to follow. He grinned, showing those pretty white teeth that showed up so well on his face. She wrapped her arms around his shoulder and tried to run her fingers through his black, black hair, somewhat perturbed when she couldn't.
She settled into the rhythm with a sigh, placing her kisses down his neck to thank him for his forethought to go slow.
When the lights were out, Gohan would pounce on her, this time, literally. She laughed as he was suddenly energized, and moved those burning lips up her neck, to her face. He kissed her hard after the lights went out; his hands seemed to grope at her with somewhat out-of-place strength. Fine by Videl, she figured that a Saiyan would like it rough.
"MMmmmnn..." Noah was better than she thought he would be, for only a younger college boy. He knew what he was doing.
"Vii...dellllll..." Noah was short of breath by now; though Videl lacked a perfect body she knew certainly how to use it. He kept his face buried between her breasts, feeling how hot they were, particularly their underbelly sides. Her hands were no longer moving in smooth strokes, they were just as erratic as his now, frenzied, excited, anticipating. After a certain point, the mind lets go and lets the body do what it wants, just as it's becoming cognizant of a particular thing.
Gohan's breathing was loud, his fingers digging into the flesh of her sides, her hips. Her back was arched; she pressed herself to as much of him as she could, wrapping her legs around his hips. Videl almost licked down Gohan's salty shoulders, his muscles flexing under her tongue. She was hungry, and he was delicious.
Gohan was growling now: "Soon," he meant.
Videl breath was catching all in her throat; she was shuddering in his arms. Gohan ran his arms straight down her sides and over her hips and up her legs all in one motion, in the process he "dropped" Videl, causing her fall flat out onto the blankets. She bucked under him, before arching her back and rising up to him, where his arms came back around her shoulders to crush her to him. Her eyes were rolling back in her head.
His voice was in her ear, she felt almost compelled to obey, just before the world exploded in shining stars.
"Ow!"
Videl was startled, and blinked a few times to get her bearings straight. Noah was almost sitting back, panting, his chest pushing out and in. He was rubbing the spot on his neck, just the spot where neck would become shoulder. He drew in a sharp breath. "That hurt, Videl. Give me some warning, next time." Videl's jaw dropped in horror.
She could not refuse him; she indulged his request and bit him hard, right on the curve where neck becomes shoulder.
Videl still said nothing, only staring at Noah with guilt and horror. He stopped rubbing his neck and looked at her again, hurt of a more emotional sort showing in his eyes.
"Who is this 'Gohan,' anyways?"
Videl could have sworn she felt her heart stop for a few seconds. Then it started pumping again with a vengeance, and Videl bolted upright, knocked Noah to the ground and, throwing on her clothes and shoes, desperately threw herself out of the building and into the street.
***
A/N: Merf. It's a chapter, I suppose. Not exactly proud of it, we had to keep things quiet down in here to make sure that the censors don't hear it.
I think I'll wrap this story up soon. Can't promise a happy ending, but I can promise a good one. Maybe I could do a sequel....I dunno.
Please review and email for The GirlieGyarados! All my friends have left me for Florida, Vancouver, and California!
Fic Of The Day : You know, I used to think that there was no life left in the "high school Gohan" stories. I used to think that they were the worst thing any author could dare to get themselves bogged down in. ...Obviously, I was wrong. The author ShaggyDiz has created a remarkable serial-thriller called Parallel And Perpendicular that definitely warrants the attention of anyone who wants to write that most unusual sort of story: "An original Gohan in high school fic." Pay attention, class: This is how it's done. (SD: consider this an IOU for a good long review of Chapter Zero. I just finished Psycho-Ann's six-page one, give my poor fingers a break).
Last Words : When the pin has been pulled, Mister Hand Grenade is no longer our friend.
