Wow... another chapter! And you thought I had forgotten about this one... Ok, i had... but *someone* (you know who you are) renewed my interest in it. So yell at her if it sucks...

'Same old joke- and it's not funny'

Did you ever reach for the glued down penny?

Same old joke- and it's not funny.

Burns are red, bruises blue.

Out with the old. Cheated by the new.

Chumbawumba

I had an epiphany the other day.

It wasn't the gradual crescendo of new age music, bright light, nirvana type of epiphany. It was more like some cosmic figure smacked me on the back of my head and told me if I weren't such a drunken idiot I would have figured it out sooner.

It's simple -as all revelations tend to be after they reveal themselves to you- and yet it's a concept I never truly accepted until now. It's one of those facts of life you know your whole life, but until it's tested you never believe. Kind of like when someone tells you not to touch something because it's hot- but really it doesn't become hot to you until you touch it.

So here it is, my epiphany: Life goes on- even when you don't.

I was burned a couple times before that became real, but now it is and it's not something I'm likely to forget.

It was a couple weeks out in the real world since Bulma's visit, but in my inebriated mind it was just a stretch of indefinite moment. Just one long pause punctuated by occasional trips to the liquor store a block away.

It was on one of these trips that life decided to rear it's ugly head.

I was starting to sober- much too quickly- and I felt a sudden stab of fear. I wasn't ready for coherent thought yet. I didn't completely trust my memory of what exactly I was trying to drown, but I knew enough that it had to be painful.

I knew one of these days I'd have to stop drinking. One of these days I'd have to stop pretending that I could hide from the world forever. One of these days I'd have to deal with the rotting infested wound I've been trying to ignore.

But not today.

My head was turned to the ground, watching my feet as I hurried to get to the store. Some distant part of me registered that I was only wearing one shoe, but the importance of that fact was lost on me. A flash of blue caught my attention and I instinctively turned to seek its source. A young woman with cerulean hair was hailing a cab. The girl looked nothing like Bulma, but it was enough to penetrate the haze surrounding me. Preoccupied as I was, I didn't notice the stooped woman in front of me. I crashed into her causing her to drop the large basket she had been carrying. Some part of me still had manners and I dropped to my knees to help her.

The scent hit me before I even realized what was spilled on the ground.

Dozens of flashes of half forgotten memories destroyed any numbness I still clung to.

All at once the alcohol stopped being enough.

My rare moment of lucidity made me wonder if it ever had been, or if I had been protected only by the strength of my denial.

I slowly reached for the long stemmed lily. I twisted it between my fingers, unable to tear my gaze from it. My eyes stung fiercely, a reaction I could for once attribute to the blossom in my hand. I had never told Bulma how severely allergic I was to her favorite flower. Maybe she would have looked at me differently if I had. Maybe she would have understood me more, if she had known the reason I always produced the bountiful bouquet with my apologies. In my own way, it had been a private penance for disappointing her. Because it was the worth the pain, because she was worth the pain.

Times like this, confronted by such beauty, it was hard to hold on to my anger.

My hand found the crumpled twenty that had been stowed in my pocket for booze and I stood up, tossing it to the flower vendor still picking up her scattered wares. I ignored the astonished look thrown towards me and walked away with the single dirt smudged flower.

I changed my course that day, in more then one way.

The scent of lilies followed me that day and into the next. It shouldn't have been a surprise when the third day found me struggling with an armful of the persistent blooms as I opened the door to her office building.

I was clean, sober, and thinking more clearly then I had in months. Some time during my drunken binge the anger had fled me. The hurt that followed had been worse, but even that I was dealing with. She had been a part of my life for so long- I had been only fooling myself by thinking I could fill the whole she left with alcohol. I wasn't completely over her, and had no delusions into believing that I ever would be. She was my first love and my first heartbreak.

You don't just get over hurt like that.

I thought back to how terrified I was of girls before I had met her. Maybe I had been on to something…

I nodded my head at the receptionist but didn't pause in my mission. My body was on auto-pilot as I headed to the elevator that would take me to the floor her office was on. Despite the confrontation coming, a stupid grin made its way onto my face. How many times had I been in this same position? Only this time I was here to salvage what was left of our mangled friendship- not trying to save a romance.

The familiarity of the situation didn't do anything to dull the sense of importance of though. If I couldn't find a way to fix it- if I couldn't find a way to still have her in my life- even as a friend, I wasn't sure I would survive… Still, despite what was riding on this conversation, I was comfortable in my element. I had taken apologizing to Bulma to new heights, I had made it an art form. Fighting may be Goku's forte, but this was mine.

There was chime as the elevator announced my destination, I stepped out and headed purposefully to her office. Suzy, her secretary, was sitting at her desk hidden behind a pile of paperwork.

It struck me how some things never change.

I didn't bother doing more then throwing her a grin before knocking on Bulma's door, the bouquet hidden behind my back, the rash it caused hidden behind a long sleeved shirt. My smile froze as a graying man opened the door.

"Who are you?" Maybe it wasn't the smoothest thing to say, but it was all my mind could spit out at the time. The man seemed puzzled, but offered me a kind smile and his hand just the same.

"Dick Johnson, CEO of Capsule Corporation."

I shook his hand as my mind tried to process the new information.

"That's Bulma's job." A million horrifying possibilities raced through my mind, "What happened to her? Where is she?"

"There is nothing to worry about. Ms. Briefs is quite well. She's on maternity leave-"

The flowers met their final resting place in the waste basket.

Some things never change, huh?

Life goes on, even when you don't.