Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Ball Z.
Summary: He screams as the virus takes its toll on his heart, and Chichi tries her hardest to remain strong - for him as well as herself. GokuChichi, requested by Charismatic Beauty, oneshot
Okay, I don't normally do requests on this account or anything, but I decided to do this one for the very nice author, Charismatic Beauty. She is a very talented author, so go read her stuff! She suggested this concept, and it thought it was really interesting! Anyway, I hope that everyone likes this! Thanks so much for reading!
Atria
She winces, clenching her fists and bowing her back, as the scream pierces the air.
Chichi prides herself on being strong, prides herself on being a woman who can focus on the task at hand and get it done - no matter the toll her emotions are playing on her body.
She tries to tell herself this as she readies the medicine before her. Her hands are steady, but her mind is shaky, hearing his screams of pain are almost too much for her to bear.
However, bear it she does. She must. She must not let something like this get to her. She must persevere. After all, she is not the one who has it the worst here. Chichi needs to remember this and stop herself from experiencing the utter despair that has wracked her body ever since this trying time began.
Somehow, this is a different kind of panic compared to what she usually experiences. This is not just another foe to be defeated - at least, not with fists. Her husband has always been the most reliable with that, darting off into danger with a careless grin and the promise to be back before dinner.
Now, there is no darting, there is no careless quirk of the mouth as he flies off into yet another seemingly hopeless situation - there is just the twist of the sheets as they wind around him whilst he tosses and turns in bed; there is just the gut-wrenching scream as he calls out for no one in particular; there are his hands curled into fists, not to pummel into another enemy, but to grasp for his heart.
Chichi feels as if she's suffocating.
She readies the medicine, nonetheless. She must be on time, each and every day, to drive away the virus that inhabits his body. For it to work, she must be efficient, she must do what she is supposed to do. She cannot cower in the corner and cry out for someone to save them - that has never been her style, anyway.
The dark-haired woman enters the room, medicine in hand, and approaches the side of the bed. His screams have died down, somewhat, but he still grunts and groans and grasps the fabric of his gi. His body is drenched in sweat, and Chichi thinks she must sponge him off later, for comfort.
Kneeling beside the bed, Chichi lifts his head just slightly and administers the medicine, sliding it through his lips and watching his throat as he swallows. Somehow, this alleviates some of the panic she has been feeling. Maybe it is because she is doing something of worth that will help him, eventually, conquer this illness.
She lays his head back down on the sweat-drenched pillow and watches the rise and fall of his chest. His brows are still pinched in discomfort, but it seems as if he is not as distressed as he was before. For this, Chichi is grateful.
Chichi twines her fingers through his, unconcerned at the tight way they squeeze her own. She welcomes the pain; again, she reminds herself that it is nothing like what he is experiencing at this moment. If this helps alleviate even the most minute amount of pain from his body, then she will be whatever he needs her to be. She uses the other hand to reach up and brush some strands of hair from his forehead, smiling lightly at the way he inadvertently leans into her touch.
"It will be okay. The medicine will help, Chichi. It will be okay."
She can hear the voices of all those she trusts as they float around her mind, reassuring her that things will be fine, that she will not be left alone after all of this is said and done.
As she feels the warmth of his hand in her own, Chichi must believe them.
There is no other option.
End.