Disclaimer: I don't own Dragonball Z.

A/N: This was actually written almost a year ago and posted up on deviantart, but for some reason I never posted it on fanfiction… I just found it again in one of my folders. It was written with the prompt 'pleasure' in mind. I've done a minor edit from what I originally posted (just a few things I thought sounded odd in the original). I've been debating as to what rating to give it... it has some citris, but nothing explicit (sorry!); in the end I settled on M because... well you can read and find out :) Hope you enjoy! It's been aages since I've done anything Gh/Vi related!

She Found Him by the Roadside

She found him by the roadside; an odd mound half covered by the debris of another android attack. It was lucky, she recounted later, that she had seen him there at all. In the fading daylight, ash still flaking from the desolate grey skies, it had been only a gut feeling rather than her sight that had made her dart across the open road, despite the obvious danger to herself. The androids, after all, had hardly been gone, and she had been lucky to have survived the attack unharmed. Two blocks down and she would have been…

Yes, it had been a lucky day indeed. Lucky for her, and lucky for the young man- for that was who the odd mound turned out to be- who now lay asleep in the makeshift hospital bed, a single drip attached to his arm.

"Videl!" Dr. Smith called from the corridor, his head poking through the gap in the doorway, appearing to float as his body remained hidden behind the door. "What are you still doing here? Your shift ended an hour ago; go and get some rest, girl! We'll still be needing you here tomorrow, fully functioning if possible," the doctor added with a half-smile.

Videl smiled back, then laughed softly as she failed to stifle a yawn. "All right," she replied, waving shooing movements at the doctor. "I'll get going; don't worry about me. Go tend to your patients."

As the doctor sketched a quick salute, followed by the words "Aye aye, ma'am," Videl was already turning her attention to the man in bed beside her. The footsteps of the doctor echoed away, but she hardly noticed them, far too intent on watching the handsome face, slack with sleep, still grubby with dirt and blood. On impulse she reached out the brush back the shock of black hair that lay plastered to his forehead, the word beautiful coming to mind as she felt how soft his bangs actually were.

She jumped back with a start upon noticing his large, dark eyes open and staring back at her. "I… I'm sorry!" she blurted, managing to spill more than one bottle of pills in her rush out of the tiny room.

. . .

Gohan lay in the hospital bed, bored and itching to get out. It had been three days since he had woken up there, and he still couldn't fully piece together what had happened before. He'd been in another fight with the androids; that much was certain.

His arm was broken, and two ribs were cracked. A relatively light beating then, considering what he was up against. The most irritating thing was that the doctors wouldn't let him leave; they didn't realise he was perfectly capable of getting himself home, and after a failed escape attempt two nights before, they had the nurses giving him constant supervision.

After the first big lecture from the doctor, about how he had lost so much blood, and how odd it was that they couldn't determine his correct blood type, he hadn't been all that disappointed that he would have the nurses watching him 24/7, if only so that he could see that young one again, with the bright blue eyes and dark lashes, and feel her soft fingers brushing oh so lightly over him…

But it was day three now, and the pretty young nurse was a no-show. And so he lay there, looking at the ceiling, wishing he had some way of contacting Roshi and getting him to send him the senzu beans he had left there, and burning for a woman he had met only for a few brief seconds.

What had caused her to touch him like that? He played the scene over and over in his head- after all, there wasn't anything else to do, after counting all the cracks in the ceiling. Maybe there had just been a bit of dirt or blood that she needed to wipe off? But no, the look on her face had said otherwise.

And so it was that he continued to lie there, thinking about the nurse he had met oh so briefly, with the long dark hair, and eyes so blue that they could pierce any man's soul.

. . .

"Look, can't I just switch rooms with you?" Videl asked, crossly folding her arms in front of her.

"No," Janice, and older nurse, replied with a roll of her eyes. "Mr. Tanaka requested that he deals only with me. He threw a hissy fit when Sarah tried to feed him yesterday, God only knows why. Besides, I don't know why you wouldn't want to deal with our handsome stranger in room 8; you should see the muscles on him!"

Videl blushed, remembering all too well what the patient in question looked like. It was her, after all, that had torn off his blood soaked gi and slipped him snug under the blankets of a clean hospital bed while he was still unconscious.

"Never mind," she said gruffly, turning abruptly so that Janice wouldn't catch the blush. "I just get so sick of hearing all the girls talk about this guy. What's the big deal anyway?"

"Umm, that he's cute," the older woman snapped back. "Jeez Videl, you need to lighten up. What's the big deal with you?"

The big deal was, of course, that he had the body of a Greek god, and a face that could make any girl's knees weak. The big deal was that she had acted so improperly with an unconscious patient, and had been caught in the act. Gnawing on her lip- she always did that when she was nervous- she picked up the patient's medication and headed down the hall to face what would be a very awkward examination.

. . .

He had given up hope of seeing her, when that sweet perfume- just the way he remembered- wafted down the hallway. Again- as he had done so a thousand times over the last few days- he wondered how he could know so much about her, after so little time.

This hospital's making me crazy, he thought grudgingly to himself.

At least he'd found out her name; he'd heard the two of the other nurses talking about her in hushed whispers. "Videl," one of them had said, "really needs to get laid sometime. I mean she's sooo worked up! Have you even seen her with a guy since she arrived here last year?"

"No," the other replied. "I don't think she has any life between her nursing and that weird training she does. I mean martial arts… Yuk! I'd hate to do anything that got me so worked up and sweaty!"

At this the first one had laughed. "You must not get laid very often then, either."

"Oh, don't be stupid," the other one had snapped back. "You know what I meant. It isn't worth the sweat if there isn't a hot man between your thighs, that's what I always say…" And from there the two women had gone on to make a series of ribald remarks, some of which he happened to be the subject matter. Gohan rolled his eyes, but knew all too well that had he not been Saiyan, he would have never heard those comments anyway. How were they supposed to know that he could hear what was being spoken in the room three doors down?

All thoughts of the hospital, as well as time itself, stopped the moment she walked into the room. It was as if he were in one of those fairytales; for now, he could even begin to believe that he was in some majestic place, staring at a princess, rather than at some nurse who had come to change his bandages as he lay in a shitty hospital, in a world full of bloodshed and pain. Looking at this woman, her eyes avoiding his as she set about her work, it was as if she were opening a whole new array of possibilities.

Looking at her, he felt hope.

"You're chart doesn't have a name on it," she stated, eyes darting up to burn him like flaming arrows.

He snorted in reply, relaxing back on the pillows behind him. "That's because I didn't tell anyone my name. I don't need to be here. I'm fine."

She cocked an eyebrow at him, eyes travelling up over his bare legs, raked with scars both new and old, to rest on the arm held tightly in a sling.

"Really?" she asked, a slight grin settling on her pink lips. "Because it looks like you've broken you're arm, to me. I wouldn't really call that 'fine', would you?"

"It's hardly a reason to keep me in bed," he retorted. "I have transport back to my home…"

"When the androids are still on the loose? Don't be stupid," she snapped back just as quickly. "You macho men can't all be Superman, you know."

The comment was ironic enough to make him laugh, a harsh barking noise filled with bitter regret for all the Supermans that he had known and had watched die. He was, after all, the only Superman this planet had left – at least until the stringy, twelve year old Trunks filled out a bit more.

His laughter, unfortunately, didn't go down well with the pretty nurse. She flushed, snapping "It's not funny, you know," at him as she ripped off one of his bandages a little too harshly, tearing fresh flesh as well as cloth.

He winced at the stinging scab, but shot out his good arm to stop her from moving away from the bed. Pulling her closer, he caught sight of a single tear tracing its way down her cheek, and realized he'd been mistaken as to the nature of her comment. She hadn't been referring to him at all, but someone she had lost. A boyfriend, perhaps?

"It's nothing," she whispered, squirming to get out of his grasp. "Really, can you let me go?"

"I'm sorry," he whispered, doing as she said, only to reach up and smooth the tear away. And to continue smoothing, his hand tracing the lines of her brows, the back of his hand brushing down the other cheek, across the soft lips. All the while she stood there with her eyes wide and full, not of shock, but of passion.

She was, Gohan realized, a witch. He stretched up to his full sitting height, all the while thinking that no one else had ever caused him to act so irrationally. Perhaps it was his stroke with death that was making him this way; seen with a fatalistic point of view, this seemed like the best opportunity to make the most out of his life.

And it suddenly dawned on him just how much he owed this girl, as the blue eyes triggered what he had been trying for the last four days to achieve. For it was her that had found him, lying on that cold road, waiting for death to come. His vital blood had ebbed out in a thick puddle beneath him by the time he had awoken to her screams, as she tied a tourniquet around his gashed thigh, yelling over and over again, "Stay with me! Just stay with me!"

"I'll stay with you, Videl," he whispered softly, as the gap between them closed.

. . .

She had no excuses, except to say that she was under some sort of spell. From the moment she walked into that room, it was as if the Earth had lost its gravity, and the only thing holding her in place was the pull she felt towards him.

It was, all things considered, stupid. And silly. And ridiculous, and impossible. But as she watched him through her lowered lashes her heart beat faster, and her stomach did flips. How could she be in so deep with a man that wouldn't even admit his name?

And then she had been so foolish as to cry in front of him, and he had brushed it away, and made her forget that she lived in such a desolate world.

"This is silly," she whispered, managing only to pull herself back enough to eye the door for a second, before his lips crashed back against her own with a force that made her want to moan. "I don't even know your name," she added, pulling back once more.

"It's Gohan," he chuckled, settling her closer against himself. His broad hand swept down her back and under the uniformed skirt, rubbing her backside as he pressed her even harder against the bulge hiding under his gown. Giving into the temptation, she did the same, marveling at the muscles beneath her hands, and grinning between kisses as she found his backside bare, as was the case with all hospital wear.

Her legs fit perfectly around his waist, and for all the trouble that a broken arm could give, he didn't appear to be too inhibited by the injury. Sighing, she paused only to draw the flimsy curtain around the bed, praying to whatever spirits there were that no one would come walking past any time soon.

"I'm breaking all the rules here," she whispered, stretching out on top of him, a shiver running down her spine as the soft breeze from the window chilled her bare backside. It was dark outside, and the stars winked peacefully at her in the distance.

"I think you deserve it," he replied, a blush settling across his cheeks as he realized how arrogant he sounded. "I mean, not… just that… well…"

Her giggle, surprisingly light, made him blush further, but the warmth spreading through his chest at the sound made him feel as if any embarrassment would be worth it. "I'm so glad you found me," he whispered.

"And I'm so happy to be here," she replied, shifting on top of him, feeling that moment of weakness as they poised on the edge of no return. "I think we were meant to meet."

. . .

He checked out the next day, the doctors having given him the all-clear. She had rushed out on her break to say good-bye, and both of them stood awkwardly in the doorway of the old building, staring at their feet as blood burned red in their cheeks.

The carefree feeling of the night before had dissipated, leaving a tension between them that hung thick in the air. They both began to speak at once, the words colliding in a jumble of noise that ended as abruptly as it began.

"You go," she said, daring to look him in the eye.

"No, you first," he motioned with the one free arm. "My mother always told me to let ladies go first at things."

She smiled softly, blushing a little more. "I was just wondering…" she began, "Well, I was wondering if I would ever see you again?"

He seemed to pause for a minute, and her stomach gave a terrifying lurch, fearing the worse.

"Yes," he said softly, a grin that lit up his entire face slowly spreading across his lips. "Yes. We'll see each other again."

"Promise?" she asked with an answering smile.

"Promise."

"And Gohan?" she asked tentatively, as he strode towards his freedom from the oppressive hospital. Turning around, he stood in the doorway, looking more like a model in his borrowed clothes than a patient.

"Thank you," she smiled. "For everything."

His dark eyes grinned back at her, a beacon of happiness in the grey surroundings. "It was my pleasure," he replied.

And then he was gone.