As the scenery moved below him - cities and villages, forests and deserts... all saved - the euphoria in Gohan diminished. Involuntarily, he slowed down. He was no longer happy about going home; to the contrary, the closer he was, the bigger grew the anxiety inside him, the painful realization it was still not over... and bad things and sorrow would just continue... It seemed unbelievable that only last night he'd slept in his own bed, that in the morning he'd eaten his breakfast with Parents, that he said goodbye to Mother only a few hours ago... It felt as if whole days, even weeks, had passed in the meantime. So many things happened that it would be enough to fill someone else's life. It seemed that boy who had left home in the morning and the boy who was now returning, were two different people.
In Kami's place... when they'd summoned Shernon and spoken their wishes... when he celebrated the victory over Cell with others and laughed at Kuririn's troubles... that sadness had disappeared. No, it hadn't disappeared; it'd only hid deeper, eclipsed by the joy that the enemy had been defeated, vanished from this world and would no longer harm anyone, and that his victims had been brought to life. That laughter, fun, jokes and hope had returned. It was easy to celebrate with friends, share those emotions... Now, however, as he was alone again, the elation was gone, and the energy that had been filling him only a moment ago, was replaced with suffocating anxiety and grief that made his chest ache. Dende's healing power could only affect the body, not the soul...
He realized he'd stopped altogether and was now simply floating in the air, his fingers clutched on the torn gi. Suddenly, he wished he had asked for the company... but he hadn't expected that returning home would prove so difficult. No, he had really looked forward to go back to Mother, who must have worried terribly about him. In Dende's place he could imagine himself opening the door and telling her it was all over and they were safe, and there was no longer need to be afraid. Now, however, that scene changed in his head, and he could see Mother's face when he confessed that Father... when he told her that Father... would never come back... And it was all his fault.
The pain grew stronger, and he pulled both his hands to his chest. Suddenly, he couldn't see clearly. The realization that during just one day he'd brought death upon his father and would made his mother suffer, was unbearable. No, he couldn't go home. He was a coward... he'd always been... and now he simply couldn't do it. His feet touched the grass covering the hill he involuntarily landed on. He slumped on the ground and pressed his face to his knees. If only that day had never happened... or, at least, if everything had been different...
He put his hands around his head when the images from the battle flooded into his mind. Not really images, more like impressions... The dust swirling in the air... crackle of energy discharges... shaking of the ground. That feeling as if his heart was being torn out of his chest whenever he heard screams of his friends, over and over. He was there again, in the place he'd never wished to be, in the situation he'd never wanted to experience, shouldering responsibility for the whole world. The battle had been won, but now it felt as if it was still happening and people he loved were suffering at Cell's mercy... He swallowed as his throat clenched, and pressed his eyelids even tighter.
"Dende failed miserably since you didn't even manage to get home," a familiar voice was to be heard.
Gohan's head snapped up. "Piccolo-san...!"
The tall silhouette seemed blurred against the sky. Gohan wiped his eyes with a hasty move, but it didn't help much. However, he knew that ki like his own so there was no doubt, even thought he'd just been in the world where his dear people died one after another.
"I sensed you stopped on your way and... I came to ask if everything was all right... but it would be foolish of me," Piccolo muttered as frankly as he used to.
Warmth spread in Gohan's chest, driving away that overwhelming grief and fear... He'd just been sure he would never be able to smile again, yet now that load on his heart seemed to diminish a bit. He wiped his eyes again, wanted to thank, wanted to say everything was fine and there was need to worry about him, that...
"Piccolo-san..."
...he was unable to say any more. He lowered his head, clenching his fists to hide their tremble. It was not fine, it was not all right... and the worst was that he couldn't control himself, couldn't be brave and strong, and...
Piccolo sat down next to him, which he never did. Before Gohan had time to be surprised, the big hand fell down on his head in a gesture that would always comfort him and that he'd always long for... But not now, not now...
"It's over," Piccolo said in a soft voice. "You did well. It's all over, Gohan. It must have been hard on you..."
Gohan was unable to overcome the shaking of his shoulder and the sob trying to get outside. He leaned to the side and pressed his face against Piccolo's chest, giving in to the emotions. He cried, letting out all that tension of last days, all anxiety, fear, sadness, grief, and pain. He could no longer hold them inside no matter how he tried, no matter how he wished to... He was a warrior, he should act with dignity... but now, degrading and contemptible as it was, he felt he was but an eleven-year-old boy who needed consolation and presence of someone stronger...
Maybe he wasn't the worst person in the world if he could receive it. The warm hand was still resting on his head, giving him courage. Gohan imagined it wouldn't disappear as long as he needed it, and the realization calmed him.
"I'm sorry, Piccolo-san..." he muttered once he was able to speak again, although he still didn't dare to show his face.
The fingers in his hair moved slightly. "There's nothing to apologize for."
"I'm weak, I'm a coward," he said as be believed.
"You've saved the world and all of us," came the immediate reply.
"Not everyone," he responded, his voice barely shaking now.
"Your father made his own choice, and I don't really commend him," Piccolo stated. "Not that I'm surprised, though."
"He died because of me," Gohan insisted. "If I'd acted more reasonably-"
"You are a winner," the dry voice interrupted his protests. "You are forgiven your mistakes."
"Piccolo-san, you'd be a great advocate," he murmured without thinking.
Piccolo snorted. Gohan felt the corners of his lips twitch.
"It's because you talk nonsense," Piccolo said in that biting tone he'd mastered perfectly.
Gohan sat up and wiped his eyes. At last, he could see clearly.
Piccolo run the hand through his hair and gave him a tender look. "Still," he added in a softer voice, "it's all right. If you feel like doing so one day, don't hesitate," he added and winced, apparently realizing it wasn't like him to say such things. "Well, I'm sure I'll bear with it somehow."
Gohan chuckled. "I won't," he replied. "I won't do it again, I promise..."
"Gohan," Piccolo gave him a serious look. "You don't need to keep everything inside. You're not a machine. It's feelings that made us human, good feelings, bad feeling, happiness and sadness. Our feelings don't make us weak, quite the contrary. I think it's one of the very few things I've learned in my life." He hesitated and then added, "Mostly thanks to you."
Gohan felt a pang in his chest, but now it was devoid of any bitterness. "Piccolo-san... Thank you for not leaving me," he confessed.
"I told you I'd always be with you."
"Thank you for coming here," Gohan continued, encouraged. "If not for you, I don't know what I'd do..."
"Sleep under the sky and in the morning, probably as soon as the dawn, go home when your remorse proved stronger than your sadness," Piccolo replied dryly, folding his arms and looking down at him. Then, however, his gaze grew warm again. "I will always come to you. If needed, I'll die with you, Gohan."
Gohan nodded as the sweet feeling filled him, soothing the pain. "If needed, I'll do the same for you," he answered with belief, looking Piccolo in the eye.
For a while, they sat in silence; they didn't need words to express their bond. Gohan thought that, even though the battle had robbed him of many things, there were others he still had. He was going to appreciate them. To succumb to grief would mean forgetting all good he'd experienced until now.
Once he felt his heart returned to its normal speed and breathing became easy again, he got up and brushed himself down. The battle was over; now he had to faced the life. He needed to be strong in a different way.
"I'll be going now," he said, looking at Piccolo, who also got up. "Mother is waiting," he added as if he wanted to excuse himself.
"Don't try to be an adult," Piccolo warned him, guessing at his thoughts.
"I won't," Gohan assured him. "But Mother has only me now," he explained.
Somewhat reluctantly, Piccolo shook his head. "Your father will always be with you," he said in a neutral voice. "You'll be able to feel his presence."
"I know," Gohan said; his eyes were itchy again. He cleared his throat. "Thank you, Piccolo-san," he whispered, raising his gaze. "Thank you for everything."
Now Piccolo nodded. "Then... I'll be waiting for your visit in Dende's place."
Gohan smiled, and this time it was a real smile. "See you," he said and rose into the air.
"See you," Piccolo replied, giving him a look that banished all worries.
Never looking back, Gohan soared through the warm air to get home before sunset. He was again filled with energy that this time, he knew, would last for longer.