Fixing Me, Fixing You

Some AU - I try to keep characters canon but the situations won't be.

Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or any of its characters or contents

Chapter One

A chill worthy of winter nipped at him as he woke but he kept his eyes closed, enjoying that morning fresh feeling. He didn't often wallow in bed. In fact, he didn't often sleep, but last night, fatigue had finally caught up with him. Dende had been kind enough to give Piccolo a room at the Lookout though in the older Namekian's opinion, it was hardly necessary. Up until recently, he hadn't a need for the neat, sparse space with a view of the courtyard. Never the less, he was grateful for it now. As he breathed, he noticed the gentle scent of some tree Mr Popo must have planted, its pleasant pollon travelling with the breeze. He opened dark eyes, pupils dilating in their search for light, and slowly sat up. The blanket slid from his chest and pooled in his lap, making him shrug in an attempt to hide an involuntary shiver. It was still early, though dawn had come and gone. His muscles groaned at him as he moved, taught and abused from the previous day's training. Gohan sometimes asked him what he was training for exactly, and his answer was, as always, to become a stronger fighter. What utter bollocks. He was a warrior, he trained to improve his strength because he wanted to and needed to. A sense of self development helped but ultimately? He did it because he always had done.

Probably always will.

Though he was well aware that his power was becoming more and more obsolete, dwarfed by those around him. He scowled at his own line of thought and threw the blanket away, ignoring his body's desire for warmth. Standing, he rubbed a palm over his eyelids and quickly made the bed. He wasn't domestic by any stretch, but if he owned a house, it would be a tidy one. Clad in only trousers, he left the room. Quietly, he walked through the halls of the lookout, knowing the layout like he knew his own skin, and soon found himself in the bathroom. The room was large and he wondered, not for the first time, if at one time the lookout had housed more than just a couple of odd souls. Turning on the hot water, he stepped out of his clothes and into the shower. His thoughts went wild for a few minutes, as they often did after sleeping. He usually avoided succumbing to his subconscious by way of sleeping, it always led to his mind being an absolute mess the next day.

Using a softly scented soap he quickly washed, enjoying the warm spray as it beat against his abused skin. Bruises on his abdomen and hips that should have healed caught his eye and he frowned. He belatedly realised then that he was thirsty. Dehydration was the number one cause of his irritation, Saiyans, half or otherwise, not included. It gave him headaches, made him tired and most of all, his healing would grind to a halt. It would then take a good twenty four hours before it would kick in properly. At this human healing rate, he felt every little brake, every scrape and it made him grimace as his hands moved over his skin.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't notice Gohan landing on the lookout, or Dende going to meet him. Not that such things should concern him.

Turning off the water, he dried using a towel Mr Popo had provided. He stepped back into his trousers, which were purple but made of a thicker material than his gi and more form fitting, they didn't taper in either so he didn't bother wearing shoes. Useless for fighting, but comfortable for sleeping. Tying them at the waist, he walked out of the bathroom and into Mr Popo, who held out a mug to the tall Namek. Piccolo accepted the drink, nodding a suspicious thanks to the small genie, and continued down the hall.

The herbal tea was sweetened and its aroma wove its way to Piccolo as he walked, eventually coming to a small library. He lost sight of where he was headed for a moment as he reached the door, his vision giving way to some long lost memory or thought that didn't belong to him. He paused with his hand poised over the handle before composing himself. Sighing, he pushed open the door open but as he walked in, he didn't notice Gohan and Dende, who stood off to his right. They had been waiting for him in silence, having already talked non stop for the last twenty minutes. As he entered, they were a little taken aback by the topless Namek as he idly wandered in. Gohan had never seen his mentor in such a state of unawares and watched, amused, as Piccolo placed his mug on a desk littered with books and parchment, and picked up what looked like a shirt. The clothing was distinctly Namekian and Gohan had a feeling that it actually belonged to Dende, who had grown remarkably since the demi Saiyan had last visited. The young Namek was now only a couple of inches short of Piccolo, though he was no where near as broad.

Gohan continued to stare with an open mouth as Piccolo shrugged the white and grey garment on and walked around the desk. He noticed with some concern that his mentor appeared to be a little more lithe, though his muscles were still strong and defined. He glanced at Dende, who simply shrugged and smiled at Gohan, clearly amused by Piccolo's blissful ignorance. The young guardian wasn't surprise to see the older Namek in a state of undress, as the other man had been residing at the Lookout for a few years, but it was the first time he had seen him 'potter' about. Dende smile faltered a little however, at the sight of bruising on Piccolo's stomach. It was rare to see a Namek with injuries for more than a couple of hours after affliction, let alone the next day. Being a healer by trade, he also knew the reasons why he would still be bruised and stored the information for later.

Gohan's intrigue increased ten fold when Piccolo did the single most human thing he had seen the Namek do in his life so far. He picked up a pair of reading glasses and long fingers pushed the spectacles farther up his upturned nose when they threatened to fall off. Gohan, not being able to contain himself any longer, cleared his throat.

"Ahem…"

Piccolo froze, a pen clenched in his right hand and his left poised over an open book. The urge to fight met his consciousness with immediacy and he cursed himself for not paying attention to his surroundings. He tensed as he clicked through a thousand unpleasant scenarios in an instant, but amongst the mess and the noise in his mind, his ears identified the owner of that cough. He instantly felt stupid. You've got to be joking.

His onyx eyes flickered to the left and he noticed at once that Gohan was trying not to laugh. Dende too was biting his lips in an effort to remain quiet and Piccolo leaned back in the old wooden chair he was sitting in, crossing his arms over the bare chest exposed by the open shirt. He spoke directly to Gohan, his deep tone not betraying how caught he actually felt. For all appearances, he looked furious.

"Can I help you?" His tone was testy.

The demi Saiyan, who was wearing dark trousers and a tucked in shirt, stepped forward then and stuck his hands in his pockets. Reaching the desk, he leaned forward to read some of the literature Piccolo had been looking at before answering. Piccolo used this opportunity to remove the spectacles, his pride in tatters as he did.

"Um…Yeah. I'm here to ask you a favour"

Piccolo narrowed his eyes, following Gohan's line of sight. He knew however, that Gohan couldn't read Namekian. He wasn't about to tell his former student that he didn't either, and that in fact, he was in the process of learning it. Dende had provided a few of his native texts for him to study some time ago, though he hadn't told the Guardian why. Piccolo wasn't sure if he wanted to know what favour Gohan was after.

"What?" He growled out the word, more than a little irritated that he was sat half dressed, with glasses on and a cup of tea. Feeling ridiculous would be a pleasure in comparison to this. It didn't help that Gohan was making his examination more than obvious. Spit it out kid.

His former student hesitated, it hadn't occurred to him that Piccolo might be busy.

"The world tournament's coming up and Pan wants to enter"

This amused Piccolo, the girl was only four but she already had a fighter's head on her. Gohan continued.

"I was wondering if you would help train her. You know, since you did such a good job with me"

He smiled as he spoke, his past bringing back fond, if painful, memories of training with Piccolo. The seated Namek smiled back, baring a fang in the process.

"Sure"

Gohan picked up the mug of tea, smelling it. The bitter sweet scent made his nose crinkle and he handed it to Piccolo.

"You look like you should drink this"

The Namek recognised that immediately. It was Gohan speak for 'drink it, or I'll force it down you'. This teacher business was making his old friend rather bossy, and he wondered why Gohan didn't want to train Pan himself. He took the mug and placed it down, teacher or not, he wasn't going to take orders from the younger man. Gohan frowned at his mentor, before probing.

"Are you okay?"

Piccolo growled, not feeling like submitting to an interrogation just because the other man had an obsession with making sure everyone was alright. Dende had left the room a few minutes ago to give the two some privacy but Piccolo found himself wishing the other Namek would return and interrupt.

"I'm fine"

Gohan made a non committal noise and leaned forward with both hands on the desk. Piccolo didn't need to have attended school for him to recognise that he was now speaking with Professor Son Gohan.

"You don't look it. Are you sure there isn't something wrong?"

Piccolo didn't lean back in response and instead raised an eye brow. Keeping his tone steady, he answered.

"Quite sure"

Gohan feigned satisfaction then and smiled, the characteristic Son smile that was genetically contagious.

"Okay then. If I bring Pan up Saturday morning then?"

Piccolo nodded, relieved that the previous conversation had come to an end. It was only Tuesday.

"Bright and early" Piccolo added that for effect, though previous experience told him that a four year old with little sleep wasn't exactly a bundle of fun.

"See you then" With that, Gohan turned on his heel and left, closing the door softly behind him.

Piccolo remained seated, genuinely tired and irritated. He rubbed his forehead as old memories and voices surfaced in the scramble of his mind. He would have to meditate soon to clear it. Fighting back those recollections, feelings that weren't his own, personas trying to converge, it was wearing thin. Seeing Gohan should have improved his mood, not worsened it, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed. The sickly, hollow feeling that usually found its way into his chest began to fester, and he sighed.

Twenty five years of this; it was beginning to take its toll.

Let me know if I should continue this - it's probably going to get dramatic, as usual, but I do like subjecting these characters to these odd situations