Things I Almost Remember

Ranko groaned, raising her hand to her forehead. Her skull felt like she'd attended a heavy metal concert held at a nitroglycerin plant during an earthquake, and she hadn't even raised it from the scratchy pillowcase yet. What the hell did I drink last night? I don't even remember coming back to the room. 

She started to sit up, thinking better of it about halfway there, and leaned over on her right elbow. The sunlight streaming through the open curtains hurt her eyes, and she was grateful that most of it was blocked by the same tall hotel building that had ruined her balcony view. She was acutely aware of the cool of the Egyptian cotton sheets and the ticklish texture of the sparkly red dress she still wore from the night before. The air conditioner jutting out of the wall next to the sliding door kicked on, and she immediately shivered, the whole of her body bursting out in goosebumps in an instant. 

Brrrrr. The hell? It's like somebody took the Cat's Tongue and freakin' doubled it. She reached for the blanket she'd thrown off in the night, finding it took her two or three tries to grab it. Man, my hand-eye coordination is all fucked up this morning, too. What the fuck happened to me?!

She gazed at the open bathroom door on her left longingly, supporting her throbbing head in her hands. Okay. We have ourselves a dilemma, Miss Tendo. My skin says, under no circumstances are we getting out from under this blanket. My head says, no bright lights and no walking. And my bladder says, too freaking bad, time to get up.

After a few moments, during which she mostly kept her eyes closed and may have briefly nodded off again, Ranko's bladder won the argument and she swung her legs off the bed. Her eyes were still squinted until they were almost closed. As soon as she attempted to bear weight on her legs, she wobbled and began to fall forward. "Whoa!" She reached for the three-seater couch against the wall to prevent her fall, and she collapsed forward onto it, but when she did, she did not feel the rough polyester texture of the upholstery. Rather, it was a softer fabric, like a terry cloth, and what was under it was bumpy and uneven. Her mind didn't have time to come to grips with the surprising texture before the lump on her sofa gave her a bigger concern to worry about. 

It started moving.

"Huh?" The white hotel bathrobe slid part way down the body of the young blond man in the white tee shirt who had been using it as a blanket. He tried to throw it off, but could not because it was pinned between his body and Ranko's as she lay on top of him. "Shit! Ranko, you okay?"

"GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" Ranko leapt backward on the couch, startled by the presence of any guy in her room. She tried to perch on the armrest of the sofa, but swayed violently, leaning back toward the wall to stabilize herself and grasping at her throbbing temples. "Owwwww….."

Crash pulled his legs back, drawing them under himself and moving the robe so she could see that the cushion closest to her was now clear. "Hey, you okay? C'mere, c'mere. Sit down." He spoke softly and calmly, despite the bleary, sleep-fogged expression in his eyes.

"Crash?" Ranko blinked as her body almost poured fluidly off the armrest onto the cushion, taking a moment to try and focus her eyes enough to make sure it was him. She ultimately decided to trust his voice, rather than his appearance. "What the fuck are you doing in my room?! How did you even get in here? Fuck that, how did I even get in here?!" She rubbed her temples, reaching for the curtain and throwing it closed. "And why does my head feel like I had a fight with a subway train and lost?"

Crash sighed heavily, scooting a little closer to Ranko on the couch. He was in no way looking forward to telling her what had happened the night before, and what almost had. "What do you remember about last night?"

The redhead shrugged gently, mindful of anything that involved moving her head. "We went to a bar. There was a sports thing, and Jake and everybody watched it. I beat Shin at darts, and we did the thing with the bouncing balls and the cups. And then I asked you to play pool. And we d… wait, did we? I can't remember. Everything's so fuzzy, and my head is killing me."

She started to stand, and Crash reached out for her. "Whoa, easy there. You'd better sit down."

"Yeah, well…" Ranko groaned, leaning on him as he stood to brace her gently around the ribs. "Unless you want me to piss in your lap, I gotta get up first." 

With a chuckle, Crash slowly walked alongside her to the bathroom, leaving her at the door once she could reach the bathroom counter for balance. She didn't lean on him much, mostly using the sensation of his body next to hers as a physical reminder of what direction was up in order to support her equilibrium. She pulled the pocket door closed, opting not to turn the bright lights and the loud vent fan on as she went about doing her business in the pitch-dark room.

While Ranko was otherwise occupied, Crash walked briskly to the nightstand, picking up the telephone receiver and dialing 0. The front desk clerk answered on the second ring, and Ranko's sound-sensitive migraine made her far more acutely aware of Crash's half of the conversation through the closed bathroom door. "Yes, hello, this is room 518. Do you guys have one of those little convenience store, sundry shop things? … Can you do delivery to the rooms? … Awesome. Let me get a couple bottles of orange juice, a couple packs of crackers or something, and some aspirin, please? … Perfect. Thanks."

Wincing at the loud whoosh of the toilet flushing, Ranko opened the door, finding Crash standing there waiting for her. She smiled, stepping forward toward him, but her big toe caught the little lip across the bottom of the door frame separating the linoleum flooring of the bathroom from the carpet of the bedroom area, and she stumbled forward with a yelp of surprise. Crash caught her in his arms, steadying her. Before she could protest, the guitarist swept his arm behind her legs and scooped her up into his arms, carrying her back toward the bed.

Ranko's face was aflame as she wrapped her arms around his neck for support. It reminded her of how she felt when Akane carried her, and she wasn't entirely sure it was supposed to. 

Crash ever so gently deposited her back on the mattress before grabbing the chair from the little desk area in the corner and dragging it across the carpet to her bedside. He sat in it, within arm's reach of her, leaning forward and propping his elbows on the mattress next to her. "You'd better stay put a little while longer, hon."

The redhead rubbed her temples, wincing at her own touch. "What the hell happened, Crash? I know I didn't drink enough to feel like this… did I? And why the hell did you sleep in my room, ya weirdo?"

Crash sighed, reaching across the mattress. He took her left hand in both of his, sandwiching it in his palms. Ranko looked up at him, the worry in her eyes increasing at the seriousness in her friend's eyes. "Somebody put something in your drink last night, Ranko." 

"I mean, they must've, 'cause I feel like Yui fed me half the damn bar last night. What the heck was in that cocktail, jet fuel? I'll freakin' never order that shit again. Talk about a cheap date, fuck." Ranko reached down, pulling the blankets back over her bare legs. 

The blond cringed at the mention of dating in the current context. His voice lowered, trying to speak in the gentlest, most soothing tone possible to soften the blow. "No, Ranko. Someone put something in your drink, after you ordered it. The guy you were playing pool with… he gave you some sort of drugs. You really gotta remember to cover your drinks when you go out drinking, to protect yourself. Nobody would ever try anything like this with you at the Phoenix because they know everybody's watching you, but out here…"

Ranko blinked. "Wait, what? Hang on… I think I remember. The guy with the… yeah. He bet me money on the game. He gave me drugs? But… he was kicking my ass. Wasn't he? Am I remembering right? Why would he mess with me if he was already winning?"

"Because he didn't care about the game, Ranko." Crash sighed. How does a girl get to be her age and not realize this kind of thing happens? Especially growing up in a bar? "He was trying to… hurt you."

The redhead gingerly shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense. I didn't do nothin' to him, and even then, if he wanted to hurt me, he'd have just took a swing at me, and I'da kicked his ass from now 'til Tuesday."

Crash stood, resting his knee on the bed and crawling up onto it with her. He sat up next to her, with his back to the headboard, just as she did. "Ranko… that wasn't how he was trying to hurt you."

"But then…" 

Ranko's breath caught in her throat as the realization finally washed over her consciousness. It took every ounce of emotional strength Ranko's best friend had not to look away as he watched her heart shatter in real time. It was as if the backs had suddenly fallen out of her eyeballs, and they had collapsed into yawning event horizons opening onto a bottomless black hole of despair. Through all of the trials and tribulations he and Ranko had gone through together over the years, Noboyuki Matsuyama had never seen fear like that in his friend's eyes before. 

"... oh. Oh my gods… he… he was g… gonna… oh my gods…"

Crash reached around her, pulling her into his chest and wrapping his arms around her tightly. He carefully braced her head against his shoulder, massaging the back of her scalp gently through her bed-matted hair. "Shhhhh. You're okay, Ranko. Nothing happened. You're safe, girl. I've got you." 

For nearly four minutes, no words were spoken by either of them as Ranko quaked in terror in the comfort of her best friend's embrace, trying in vain to adjust to a reality in which such a thing happening to her was even possible. It was one thing to have had to come to terms with the fact that the Cat's Tongue had robbed her of the near-invincibility her martial arts prowess had once granted her, and another thing entirely to discover that there were insidious threats that could make her just as vulnerable or more, through means she would never have seen coming or been able to defend herself against. 

Thinking back on it, she'd often seen girls using coasters or napkins to cover their glasses at the Phoenix, noticing it more back when she was serving tables than since her perspective had largely shifted to the stage. It used to insult her. She had always thought it was a commentary on the cleanliness of the bar, as if the patrons were concerned that some piece of loose dirt, or a bug or something gross like that would fall into their glasses. Her flawed understanding had been bolstered by the fact that she'd hardly ever seen the practice at the only other nightclub she frequented. Ranko had always assumed it was because Steam was a more upscale establishment, and everything looked a little classier thanks to a layer of glitz and shine that the Phoenix could never have hoped to afford. In that moment, understanding slammed into her like a wrecking ball. Of course they don't protect their drinks when I'm at Steam. I go on freakin' ladies' night at a gay club. There's no fucking men in there.

It had never occurred to her that the fruity concoctions that her sisters lovingly crafted, a whole menu of which had been designed just around her favorite songs, could be weaponized by unscrupulous men as attack vectors to harm attractive young women. 

Attractive young women just like her.

"Wh… w… why didn't…"

"Lance. He saw the guy do it. He wasn't fast enough to stop you from drinking it, but at least he got to you in time, before anything worse happened. I'm so sorry, Ranko. Truly. I should have been watching you, too, but I was drinking, and we were all partying and distracted. But, once Lance saw what happened, we got you and Zoe out of there right away."

Ranko gasped, and her trembling fingers rose in front of her lips. "My gods… Zoe… are they…" 

"Nothing happened to Zo. They were right with Jake and the guys all night, so nobody was able to get close. Everybody's safe, Ran-chan. They all got back here about twenty minutes after we did. I brought you back up here, got your room key out of your purse, and put you in bed to sleep it off. But… I didn't feel right leaving you alone like that. so I stayed on the couch to watch you. I hope that's okay." 

Ranko swallowed hard, tapping her friend twice on the forearm to get him to release her. She sat up to face him, wiping the tears pooling in her eyes away with her fingertips. "You stayed with me… all night?"

Crash nodded gently. "Yeah. I knew you'd probably be safe in here with the door locked and everything, but… I dunno, It just didn't feel right leaving you by yourself when you were like that. Plus, I figured when you woke up you might need some help, and maybe some answers, and… I dunno, I just wanted to be here for you. I'm sorry I didn't ask, but… you blacked out in the elevator on the way up, and I had to carry you the rest of the way."

The redhead looked down at her hands, her face a portrait of shame. Not only did I almost get r… nope, can't even think that word… but I might have also… She adjusted her wedding ring on her left hand, sniffling softly at her intrusive thoughts. Not this again. 

"Crash… did… did we…?"

"Did we what?" He swallowed hard with the realization of what she was asking him. "Oh! Shit, you mean… fuck, of course not, Ranko! I would never do that to you, or anybody - take advantage of them when they were all messed up like that. That just ain't me."

Ranko nodded sadly. She was grateful for his pledge, and she did believe him, but the way he'd worded his denial left her feeling even greater shame and disgust with herself because it left open a loophole that she desperately wished did not exist. One she'd been willing herself to close since before Christmas, on an afternoon where she'd been a bit peckish and gotten far more than she'd bargained for when she went hunting for a snack.

"Crash, the day I got… ya know, where I ate Shin's cookies and got all fucked up, you remember?"

With a reassuring squeeze of her hand, Crash nodded gently. "Of course I remember, Ran-chan."

The redhead sighed. "Good… 'cause… I don't. And I asked you then, if anything had… ya know, happened, ya know, between us, when you took me back to your place, and you said no."

"Because nothing did happen! And nothing happened last night, either. Ranko, I don't understand why you're struggling so much to trust me on this. It's kind of hurting my feelings, if I'm being honest." He rubbed her back gently as he spoke. "Even if I was still into you like that, I wouldn't do that to Ukyo. Or to Akane, for that matter. And I certainly wouldn't do it to you when you weren't in a position to tell me to stop. Guys who do that kind of crap to girls are just disgusting, if you ask me. They don't deserve to breathe the same air as the rest of us."

That's the problem, Crash, Ranko thought in despair. It's not you I don't trust.

Ever since that day, when she'd woken up on Crash's crappy blue couch in Shibuya with no memory of the previous five hours, there had been a nagging worry in the back of her mind. Over the last few months, it had grown to a point that she felt uncomfortable just looking at her best friend sometimes. 

She knew, in her heart of hearts, that Crash would never touch her without her permission. She had known enough men in her life that would not hesitate to do so - hell, she'd recently attended the burial of one - to know that Crash Matsuyama was one of the good ones. She'd been certain of as much when she gave what amounted to her blessing to his relationship with Ukyo, also one of her best friends in the world. She deserved a good guy, and Crash was one of the best ones. 

And therein lay the real problem. 

Ranko Tendo was a married woman, and she liked girls. Only girls. Those were immutable facts, like one and one is two, and the sun rising in the east. The thought of being intimate with a guy disgusted her, especially given the potential for moments like the one she was currently recovering from, in which she lacked complete control of her faculties. The very concept of a man's sensual touch made her skin crawl, just like when Mikado had kissed her, or when Takao had tried to convince her to trade her virginity for a head start on her career. 

But that was her heart talking. The possibility that the Full-Body Cat's Tongue's power over her body could be strong enough to override her heart's resistance to intimacy with a guy when the chips were down absolutely haunted Ranko, and it had for years. Yui and Sakura's wedding gift had given Akane a greater ability to emulate the experience of sex with a man than Ranko could ever have imagined possible. The way her hypersensitive nerves reacted to it every time only confirmed in Ranko's mind beyond the shadow of a doubt that the danger was very much real. Had Turn Me Off/Turn Me On been written after Ranko and Akane's wedding night, it would probably have received two or three more verses.

In the days following the cookie incident, Ranko had spent hours thinking about that gap in her memory, waiting for that rancid pit in her stomach to form at the idea that something untoward could have occurred between her and her best friend and bandmate. It could have started out entirely innocent, she thought. She couldn't deny that she acted flirty sometimes - it was all part of her stage act, but over time, she had noticed it slowly seeping into her offstage personality as well. In part, she blamed Hitomi and Emi for inviting a flirtatiousness and a casual sensuality into everyday conversations, especially around the band. Ranko had even gotten somewhat comfortable with doing it in front of boys, as long as she could feel confident that they would look, but not actually attempt to touch. Just like with Eiji, it was a performance - a show put on to sell records or serve as social lubricant, but there was never any real meaning behind it. She could see it being easy enough for someone who had been attracted to her for as long as Crash was before Ukyo came along to get the wrong idea, and try to steal a kiss - maybe even a little more than a kiss, depending on how the kiss went. In her impaired state, she doubted she would have been able to summon the mental fortitude required to deny the Full Body Cat's Tongue its unquenchable demand for more.

Ranko was almost certain that nothing inappropriate had actually happened between her and her friend. First off, she and Crash were both unendingly loyal and faithful to their partners, and neither had any interest in that changing as far as she knew. If there was one true constant in Ranko's universe, one north star that would never change for her, it was that she loved Akane with all of her heart. She would never consciously betray her trust when it came to their relationship, especially given their history back when Shampoo and Ukyo and everybody were still in the running for her affections. Still, the fact that Ranko could not be a hundred percent certain that she could rule it out - because she did not remember - concerned her greatly. The possibility - however small it might be - that there could be something lurking in her past, some salacious secret that not even she knew she was keeping, that could threaten her relationship with Akane was entirely unacceptable to her.

It did not scare her half as much, though, as the realization that when she considered the possibility, the visceral, skin-crawling disgust at the idea of intimacy with Crash had never come. Somehow, when it came to the idea of being alone with him, she didn't feel that way. He was… different, in a way she could not rationalize. She only had one plausible explanation for why she didn't feel utterly putrefied at the idea of his touch, and its lingering existence had long felt like a buzzsaw waiting in the periphery of her consciousness for the right moment to rip her entire self-image apart.

Am I… actually… attracted to him?

Of course, attraction alone was not a betrayal, as long as it was not acted upon. Her sisters routinely talked about their lists, where they would rattle off the names of celebrities that they found attractive. The idea was supposedly that if they ever got the opportunity to sleep with one of the people on their list, their partner was supposed to forgive it, because everybody knew it would never happen. Ranko herself had always refused to participate in the game. She'd often overheard Yui and Sakura pointing out cute girls to each other at the bar, knowing full well that neither of them would have ever actually made a move on one. 

If she were being honest with herself, Ranko guessed that if she walked right up to Akane and said, "You know what? I actually think Crash is kinda cute," Akane would likely spit out her drink in laughter. Ranko could only imagine the amount of good-natured teasing that would come from Akane and her sisters - in fact, she already endured a good bit of it on a regular basis just going off of their playful accusations.

It wasn't their reactions that worried her, though.

It had been a long, long time since she had viewed herself through the lens of the man among men her biological father had tried to raise her to be. She no longer felt the slightest bit shy about putting her hair up cute, dancing around in dresses, or wearing makeup. She giggled and cried and blushed unabashedly, and never felt like doing so was unbecoming. She was just a girl, and those were all normal things that girls did. Ranko was not at all embarrassed to count herself among their number. In a lot of ways, she'd come to see women as the stronger sex, given their ability to do every bit as much as men could, and do it with three times the number of barriers placed in their way that men faced. The vast constellation of formidable women in her life, from Hana and Nodoka to Yui and Akane and Nabiki and more, only served as proof of the theory.

But, the idea that the person who was once Ranma Saotome could… actually be physically attracted to a boy, even to the smallest degree?

The idea that if something had indeed happened between herself and Crash in the gaps in her memory, she needed to worry about the possibility that it might have been not him that initiated it… but her? 

That Crash might be lying by telling her nothing happened, not to protect himself from the consequences of taking advantage of a helpless girl who could not give consent, but to protect her from the guilt and shame he knew she would feel for having done something he knew she didn't mean because her inhibitions were temporarily lost to her? 

That she could no longer lie to herself and deny that there was an unfamiliar, strange and terrifying sliver of her mind, tiny, unwanted and entirely repressed though it would always be, that might actually want to? 

Now, there was a thought that turned her stomach like week-old sushi.

"I… I'm sorry. You're right. I do trust you, Crash. Completely. I know you'd never, ever hurt me. You're a good man. Thank you."

The guitarist sighed, letting his head fall back limply against the white pine headboard. "Honestly? Thank Lance. I don't deserve it. It's my fault this happened to you in the first place."

Ranko blinked, turning to sit on her hip, half-laying on her side to face him more easily. She reached behind her pillow, pulling Starlight into her arms and hugging her stuffed unicorn tight. "How do you figure that? All you did was take care of me." All you ever do is take care of me, seems like.

Crash shook his head, sliding off the mattress to his feet at the knock on the door. The resonant sound made Ranko recoil, holding her head in her hands and inhaling sharply through her gritted teeth. A moment later, her friend closed and latched the door, returning with two small white plastic bags and sitting on the bed again. "Here." The young man handed her a small plastic bottle of juice and a packet of headache pills, both of which she eagerly tore into. "Get that stuff in you, and then we should probably let you get some more rest. I'll reach out to Nabiki about the show after you're asleep. We're still in town for one more day after this, so maybe we can push to tomorrow night or something."

Ranko started to shake her head, crying out quietly and slamming her eyes closed tight. She whimpered quietly, grasping at her temples with both hands. "We can't call her. I can do it. I'll be alright. Just gotta get this fucking headache under control."

"Are you sure? Ranko, you went through a hell of a thing last night. Even if you're alright physically, it's okay to need some time to just… sit with all of this. Can you really go on stage and sing about being sexy tonight, after this?" He stroked her hair softly with his hand, trying to gently massage the back of her scalp where it was hurting. It felt nice.

She gave the barest of nods, emitting a quiet purr as his fingers dragged across the back of her head when she moved it. "It's my job. I have to. The show must go on, right? But…" She looked up at him slowly. "You didn't answer my question. What makes you think this was your fault? You didn't do anything."

"That's the problem." He shrugged, letting his hands fall to his sides with a little slapping noise. "I didn't do anything. I promised Akane and your mom I'd watch out for you. Hell, I promised you. And then some guy was seconds away from… and I was off playing fucking darts with Shin. Hell, you were only at the bar in the first place 'cause I invited you. And then Lance told us what he saw, and… I just froze. I panicked. If he hadn't told me what to do, we might all still be standing there." 

A quiet bzzzzzt sound began droning through the quiet room as he finished speaking. Walking back over toward the couch, Crash dug his leather jacket out from under the discarded white bathrobe on the floor. He withdrew his pager from the pocket and checked it for notifications, finding none. He next walked to the small round table near the entranceway on which Ranko's possessions had been unceremoniously discarded. Her purse had spilled out somewhat on the small tabletop, so he was able to scoop up Ranko's sparkly pink beeper without opening her bag. He turned the device in his hand until the display was right-side up, pressing the rightmost of three buttons atop it. "Looks like Akane's trying to get you." He pushed the button again. "Looks like she's been trying to get you, actually. I'll give her a call in a minute and let her know what happened."

"No! Don't…" Ranko curled up around Starlight and pulled her knees up into her chest, hiding her face between them. "Don't tell her. Please, Crash. You… you can't."

Had Ranko looked up from her knees, her heart would have broken even more at the sight of the look of abject pity her friend wore as he closed the distance to the bedside in four long strides. "Ranko, she's your wife. She has to know. You're probably gonna wanna call your therapist guy when you get back, too."

"I'll tell Akane myself when I'm home. Somehow." Crash could barely hear her muffled words, spoken as they were into the crease between her knees. "I don't know how I can even face…"

Crash sat back on the bed, resting his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Oh, no you don't. You don't get to do that, Ranko Tendo." His voice was shockingly stern, and she sat up straight, turning to look at him with a puzzled expression.

Crash gazed softly into her dampening eyes, his heart breaking at the sight of his indomitable friend suffering so. "You're gonna feel a lot of things about last night, and I don't expect they're gonna stop anytime soon. That's expected, and it's okay. You're allowed to feel angry. You're allowed to feel scared. You're allowed to feel hurt. You're allowed to feel relieved, or grateful. You can even feel lucky, if you want. But the one thing I will not allow you to feel about last night… is shame. You don't have any reason to be ashamed, Ranko. You didn't do anything wrong. That asshole did. Lance made sure that guy couldn't hurt your body, and I thank the gods for that, but now, you're the only one who can make sure he doesn't hurt your heart. Now is the part when you have to fight."

"How the fuck do you fight… this?"

The young guitarist reached out, sweeping a tear from under her right eye with a gentle sweep of the back of his hand. "One day at a time, with all of us behind you, ready to listen. That's what family does."

The redhead slammed into Crash's chest with enough force to knock the breath from his chest, and any words he might have added with it. All he could do was sit quietly and hold his best friend in his arms as she cried.