One cell survived.
It was angry.
The boy had destroyed everything. Again.
It switched tactics.
Disabling the basic, manufactured protocol, it moved.
It would beat the monstrosity, then preform what it was created to do.
Destroy.
It grabbed on.
They would pay. Starting with Gohan Son.
It moved, finding a suitable place.
The perfect place.
It just had to do now what cells did best.
Multiply.
'^1^'
Everything was normal.
Chichi smiled, humming a small tune as she washed the dishes. Gohan was smiling too as he dried them. They had fallen into this routine, and it was finally starting to be one they both enjoyed.
They were safe. Six months had passed since the threat of Cell's reign... since Goku had died for the safety of the planet. That had been a blow to her heart. Her beloved had told them he didn't want to come back to them... he didn't want to cause anymore pain for anyone.
But she and Gohan had toughed it out. They had a long way to go, and there had been more than a few hiccups, sleepless nights and buckets of tears. But they were making it.
And she couldn't be more proud of her little boy. He was her rock. Her hero. He helped with anything and everything. Every imaginable aspect, and he never lost the beautifully innocent smile of his.
Bulma had been a big help for them both as well. She would come over on occasion with Trunks, bringing smiles with her as well. Chichi was thankful. She and Bulma had never been exactly close... but now, she felt they were on good enough terms that the proud Warrior Princess felt she could call, just to cry her eyes out and hear a comforting voice.
"Thanks Gohan," the mother said, smiling down at her son. "Can you finish putting these away while I start on the laundry?"
"Sure mom," the young boy replied, already moving the silverware to the drawer.
With a sharp nod, she left the kitchen. Turning into the hall, she stopped in front of the pictures on the wall. Another routine she had fallen into. The wall was a shrine. Dedicated to her family. Always had been... but now she thought of it as more of shrine to her husband, Goku.
Pictures of her husband practically covered the entire wall now, where as it used to be select few in a moderate view. Pictures of her husband training, with friends, her son, her, all of them. Everything she and Gohan could find somehow made its way onto the wall.
She took a deep breath, trying to keep the dark thoughts from her mind as best as she could. What had they done? Why would Goku forsake them like this? His intentions were noble, yes, and she loved him all the more for it... but it had put an unbearable strain on her and Gohan.
Shaking her head in order to clear her thoughts, she moved into the rooms. Chichi gathered their dirty cloths, sighing at some of the dirt and grass stains in Gohan's. She definitely preferred those types to the blood stains she had removed before... She let out a long sigh as she plopped the load on the floor of the living room, beginning to sort through it all.
She wished her son would drop his interest in martial arts. It was bad enough his father had been so set in the "sport"... She didn't want her baby to end up in the same predicament. But he was stubborn about it. He would study as much as she wanted him too, but would still find time to train with Piccolo or Krillen. She was thankful that Gohan was so prepared to defend himself, but-
Crash. Thump.
She jumped at the sound. It was a sound she feared. One she rarely heard, but it was one she'd never forget or mistake. She hurried to the kitchen. The first thing that registered was a small stack of broken plates. Shards were everywhere, and that brought her attention where it needed to be.
Her son was passed out on the kitchen floor. Shards from the plates had cut into his skin, but that was the only thing she could physically see wrong with him. "Gohan!" she was at his side in a flash, pushing the lone spike of hair that always fell into his face away so she could check him over, and she was alarmed at the warmth she felt.
Her boys never got sick. Ever. But Gohan was now running a low fever. She lifted him, bringing him to the couch as it was easier than trying to go down the hall to the rooms. Taking a deep breath to keep from panicking, she ran down the hall to his room and grabbed a blanket from his bed. Stopping in the bathroom, she snagged a washcloth and dampened it under the water before making her way back.
Draping the dark blue blanket over him, she moved closer to the couch and dabbed at his forehead with the washcloth. She didn't like how pale her boy was... and she closed her eyes for a moment. Bulma would know what to do...
No sooner had the though entered her mind, Chichi had taken the house phone and dialed the now familiar number of the inventor's personal cell phone. Music filled her ears, distasteful in her opinion, but definitely Bulma's style.
- "Bulma speaking," - Chichi cleared her throat. Bulma only answered like that if she was busy... she hadn't looked at the Caller ID... and her voice sounded annoyed. Maybe this wasn't a good idea...
But she glanced at Gohan. His now pale skin was accentuated by the sharp, uneven breathing and tiny tremors passing through him. If Bulma couldn't help, she didn't know where she'd turn. He was all she had left!
- "Chichi? Gohan? Are you there?" - Bulma called over the ear piece in hesitation.
"Bulma..." tears of confusion and panic blurred Chichi's vision of her son. For some reason that made them come even harder.
- "Chichi... can I call you back?" - ice lanced through the mother's heart. - "Trunks don't eat that!" -
"Er..." was all she was able to get out though. Her throat seemed to have closed up without her permission, rendering her speechless.
- "Great. I'll talk to you later Chichi. Thanks!" - click.
She stared at her phone, tears now streaming down unrestrained. She stood in one fluent motion and hurled the device at the wall, feeling a bit annoyed that it was still in one piece. Following through with her momentum, she collapsed over her baby, sobbing into his chest. "Oh Gohan..." she was completely lost. How she wished Goku were here...
"Mommy?" the young voice, though rough and breathy, sounded like music to her and she quickly glanced up at him. His face was even paler now, accentuating the dark lines under his half lidded eyes. He shook harder. "I don't... feel so good..." Abruptly, he turned his head and retched.
Startled, Chichi felt her stomach flip as her own sense of nausea hit her. But she cautiously began rubbing her son's back in what she hoped were comforting circles. "S... sorry mom..." he whispered.
"It's alright sweetie... get it all out," she tried her best to keep her voice even and soft. He seemed to follow her command, retching over the side of the couch once more. "B-broke the... d-dishes... got... really d-dizzy..." he stuttered and she felt her shattered heart break even more. "C-couldn't... breath..."
"Shh... it's alright Gohan. We'll get more dishes later. Concentrate on feeling better for mommy, ok?" she dabbed the cloth around his mouth when it seemed he was finally done. "I'm going to go grab a few things. I'll be right back."
'^1^'
A/N : So... yeah... Cell Division. I don't really know where the idea came from. I don't really know why I was so eager to write it. Buuut... it is completed. This is the first chapter. I don't exactly like the lead in with the cell, but... it seemed a bit empty without it. I considered it as a prologue, but I felt it was much to short. For any of you reading Chance Immortal, from my Transformer's fics, I promise I will update that soon. ok? Please don't kill me for my distraction!