Disclaimer: Me not own DBZ, no sir.
A/N: I had a weirdo dream a few nights ago, and wrote down (with some small amount of clarity, I might add) what happened. Now I had to do some editing and revisions, obviously, but here is a unique One-shot that I ended up with. (Forgive any grammer mistakes, my word procoessor is disabled) Enjoy.
Slightly A/U with the ending of the Cell Games, but what's the point in writing DBZ all over again? -cough- Right?
In the Midst of Darkness
Eye to eye and face to face they met with Death, and this was not their first encounter with Him. Decades of conflicts and raids, villains and tyrants: all seemed to be leading them to this moment, this very battle. Now, when they were to face the most deadly and treacherous of enemies, did they realize it was no longer their own fight to win. It was his. He was the only one among them strong enough to protect the Earth. He was the only one able to stand against the rein of Evil this foul creature provoked.
Gohan was their only hope. He was their savior. He had defeated Cell.
But he was just a child.
"Dende-sama." Whispered Krillin, 18 now securely (though unconsciously) against his chest. But then he could say no more, the words simply wouldn't come.
Yamcha rolled over and leaned up, dusting himself from the debris that covered him. Slowly he crept to his knees and even more slowly he stood, eyes both dazed and bloodshot from the events of the day. When his vision focused he could see the other's somewhat clearly, or at least clearly enough to walk toward their forms.
"Guys," he started, rubbing his sore arm. "We're alive."
"Yeah." Tien said, wiping a stream of blood away from the corner of his mouth. If he had intended to say more, it was lost amidst the confusion.
"Where's Gohan?" Krillin almost yelled, interrupting Tien. The dust had yet to completely dissipate, but so far there was no sign of the young hero. "Oh no, please let him be alright."
"Gohan?" Yelled Yamcha, but there was no answer.
What if the young boy had not survived? What if he used the last of his strength for that last Kamehameha wave? What if…he was dead, gone from them? Collectively, all the Z-senshi thought along said lines. And save for Vegeta, who stood stoically to the back of the group, all began looking frantically in every direction for their hybrid friend.
"Ah, look. So the Namek survived." Vegeta said, snorting as the picture that presented itself was far more emotion-provoking for his liking.
Piccolo was marred from battle, and tired. He had blood stains, both violet and crimson, on his gi top. Violet was the color of his own life-fluid, but the crimson belonged to the bundle he was carrying. Black spikes, chocolate brown eyes and a miniature version of Piccolo's own uniform were being carried by the Namekian.
Piccolo was looking down at Gohan, his friend. The boy was laughing…hard. Tears streamed down his dirty face from the sheer force of his bemusement, but then his hitched breaths turned to sobs. He cried then, heavily. And Piccolo held him tightly, both for the boy's reassurance and his own. Gohan was alive, that's all that mattered to Piccolo for the moment.
"Uh, how is he?" Yamcha asked, walking up to the tall warrior.
"He'll be fine. We just have to get him to the lookout." Piccolo said, concentrating hard enough to materialize his white cape. He took the fabric and wrapped the child with it, for he knew his own ki was too weak to keep both himself and the boy safe from the scathing wind during flight.
Careful not to bend the boy's badly broken arm more than a centimeter in the wrong direction, he tucked the white cape securely around his young protégé and flew into the distance. Krillin, with 18 in tow, and Tien were soon on their way to the lookout as well, but Yamcha began walking toward the fallen form of Trunks. There the demi-saiyan had fell, surrounded now by dirt and debris, laying in a pool of his own blood.
Yamcha knelt to pick the boy…young man up, to give him some last respect. But he stopped short when a painfully angry growl came from behind him.
"Don't touch him." Said a low, mean voice.
Yamcha stared at Vegeta, still knelt beside Trunks, and gapped for a minute. Then, he found his voice.
"We can't just leave him here." Yamcha said, eyes now downcast. "He deserves better."
"He's not yours to consider." Vegeta said, walking a step closer. "Now move."
Yamcha stood, now more than slightly confused, and began walking away. Anger began to swell within him, Vegeta had better not just leave Trunks for the animals. Vegeta had better burry that boy, that young warrior who gave everything to save a world which wasn't even his own. To save people he hardly knew, and a time he didn't come from.
He turned to Vegeta. "Your such a fool. You didn't know the good thing you had while you had it." He glanced at Trunks. "I doubt you'll ever know how lucky you were to have a son like him."
Vegeta stared indifferently at the human before him, then turned back toward the quickly setting sun. Yamcha huffed and powered up, regretting he wasn't strong enough to back up his angry words. But Vegeta could pummel him in an instant, and it wouldn't bring Trunks back either way. So, he lifted off, and left Vegeta alone.
Vegeta turned to see the human fade into the distance. And when he knew the man was gone, he bent and lifted his dead son's body from the ground. He carried Trunks as one would carry an infant, and powered up to take flight. The dragon could revive him, that was certain. And it wouldn't take long to do it, not once all the dragon balls were found.
So why did Vegeta feel such deprivation? Such utter deficiency?
Perhaps, he had been foolish before. Yamcha's words rang inside his head for several minutes of flight, then he scowled.
"I doubt you'll ever know how lucky you were…"
He looked down at Trunks and whispered, to no one but himself: "Yes I do."
X-x-X-x-X
Gohan was chopping wood for the fire and stove, now that his father was no longer home to do it. It had been nearly one month since the Cell Games, one month since his father was taken from him. He had been overshadowed by guilt at first, blaming only himself for what had happened. He still did, occasionally, but Piccolo tended to give him verbal 'whiplash' should he suggest it. His sensei would point out that Krillin had destroyed the remote to dissable 18, allowing Cell to absorb her. And that Vegeta had selfishly decided to keep Trunks from stopping Cell from becoming perfect; so truthfully, the blame fell on a number of people, and not solely Gohan.
But that didn't bring Goku back, it couldn't help Gohan get past the loss.
So all feelings of regret and remorse he kept bottle inside, secret to all but himself. Anymore, when he looked in the mirror he no longer saw his own reflection but he saw himself as a shadow of his father. A mere poorly shown replica of a once great warrior, the missing piece to the puzzle of Gohan's life. How could he live through his teenage years, much less the remainder of his life, without his father? Without a father figure?
He couldn't. And who's fault was it: his own. At least, from the eyes of his own consciousness.
"Gohan, dinner time." Came his mother's voice.
The smell of food brought the hungry demi-Saiyan inside with his eyes big and mouth watering. He took a seat as his mother heaped helpings of every dish onto his plate. But as she drew nearer and nearer, she brushed against her son's shoulder with her stomach by accident. She laughed a little, patted Gohan's head lovingly, and went to take her own seat.
Dear God. Gohan thought, through a mouthful of food he had yet to chew and swallow. It can't be, not now. It's…impossible!
"What's wrong?" ChiChi asked, noticing Gohan hadn't continued eating as normal. But her son ignored her, and stared wide-eyed at the table ahead of him.
"Gohan, answer me this instance." She said, scowling.
"You're pregnant." He said, dumbfounded.
ChiChi's eyes bugged. "What?" She screeched.
"I said your preg-"
"I heard you just fine. What on Earth are you talking about…and in the middle of dinner no less?"
Gohan stood and stared down at his mother for several seconds, and she simply blinked at him. Soon enough her eyes filled with tears, for she knew the truth. She'd skipped the previous month's cycle, but blocked it out by calling it stress or irregularity. No, it was not so. Gohan was right, as he was always right.
"Gohan I…just sit down." She said. "We'll talk about-"
"No, I need a minute." He said, and walked out the door.
He took no heed in his mother's loud commands to come back, or to finish his dinner. Food was no longer the utmost thought in his mind, he needed company. He needed a friend.
He needed Piccolo.
XxXx
Piccolo was on Kami's lookout meditating, as he was for most of the twenty four hours of every day. Mostly, anymore, he simply reminisced over past battles and past memories. Enemies long since dead, or people living light years away. He thought often of whether he should travel to NeoNamek, try to make a new beginning there. Start over, leave this place he called "home". Few on this planet would notice that he'd left, and larger number than usual would probably be glad to see him go. No longer a source of doubt or even slight unease; Kami knows the z-senshi had yet to put their faith in him.
He had few reasons to stay on Earth to begin with, even when he'd had the chance to leave. Gohan, his main reason for staying, was more a source of pain than pleasure anymore. Once upon a time, his young student had admired him in a way the Namekian had only ever dreamed possible. Never had anyone shown him such respect, or friendship, or utter reliance. Gohan had treasured him, and his many teachings.
But what was left to teach him now? The boy had become the greatest and strongest fighter in the known realm, far exceeding Piccolo's power. Gohan had done what no one else could, he ascended when even his father could not, and had surpassed every other living warrior. Including his sensei.
Piccolo wondered, could he still be considered Gohan's sensei even though he had nothing left to teach him?
Doubtfully.
Gohan was self reliant now, completely capable of protecting himself. Truth be told, he didn't need Piccolo's guidance anymore. And now that Son was…dead, that mother of his would let the boy have little of nothing to do with the 'monster' or 'demon' she tended to label him as. That onna couldn't begin to understand him, so why bother trying to make her?
Piccolo sighed, and opened his eyes to look in the direction of the east. Gohan was coming, his life force was getting closer and stronger with each passing moment. Seems the boy had finally decided to stop neglecting his mentor…or rather, former mentor.
But Piccolo's mind was made up, he was returning to Namek as soon as the dragon balls could be gathered; unfortunately, that wouldn't be for another eleven months. But, he'd wait it out. He had nothing but time anyway.
"Oi Piccolo." Gohan said, landing just a few short feet in front of his sensei. "I need to talk to you?"
"Having a problem?" Piccolo asked, tone bordering on sarcasm.
Gohan frowned, and looked to the marble floor. "Oh, well, I just…just wanted to get your opinion on something."
Piccolo, feeling a little guilty, nodded and stood in front of his friend. "Shoot."
Gohan smiled and looked back up at Piccolo. "I was eating dinner, and mom got really close to me. And I felt…I could feel someone else's ki energy inside her. It was strong, and felt kind of like dad's, but kinda not."
Piccolo nodded.
"She's pregnant Piccolo…and I had to come and tell you about it." Gohan stopped smiling, and frowned. "I don't know what to do, I don't know I want another kid around. They'd just be a constant reminder of dad, and the way things should be." Gohan sighed. "Besides, no kid should have to grow up without knowing their dad."
Gohan's shoulder's were slumped and his head downcast, and Piccolo resisted the urge to put a hand on the boy's shoulder. He had to detach himself from the child, or he'd never have the strength to leave.
"It'll be fine. What's done is done, you can't change the fact that she's pregnant." Piccolo crossed his arms.
"Yeah, I guess." He said. "But I don't think it's fair."
Piccolo snorted. "You should know better than anyone that life's not fair. Suck it up and move on, life's too short to worry about these things."
He turned and moved back to his tree, where he sat in the lotus possision to meditate. Gohan moved toward him and sat next to his large friend, leaning his head on the Namekian's shoulder.
"Piccolo, what's wrong?" Gohan asked, knowing his friend far to well to be fooled by his act.
"Nothing, now shove over." Piccolo said, pushing Gohan's head away.
"Piccolo, don't play with me. I know you, and you're not acting normal."
"I may just be having a bad day, ever thought of that?" Piccolo said, standing and walking to the edge of the lookout.
"Then let's spar, that always cheers you up." Gohan said, friendly pulling on Piccolo's arm.
"Let go now, I'm in no mood for your foolishness." He said, slapping away Gohan's hand. "Besides, there'd be no point. You're a hundred times stronger than me, and you know it."
Gohan grinned. "Aw, is that's what's bothering you? It's okay, I'll take it easy on ya." He again pulled on Piccolo's arm, but this time the Namekian slammed his fist into the halfings stomach.
"I said to let it go, now maybe you'll listen."
"Piccolo, what's up with you? Why are you acting like this?" Gohan asked, rubbing his stomach. Piccolo would never do anything to actually hurt Gohan, this he knew, but that hit hadn't felt good.
"Shut up and go home, I have no time for you and your problems." He scathed, and turned to look out over the form of the Earth. He knew the boy would be stung by the words, but Piccolo was no longer trying to be his mentor. He no longer needed it. Gohan was fine now, with nothing more to learn from Piccolo.
And it hurt the Namekian, more than he would ever have admitted to.
"Piccolo, I don't know what to say." Gohan said. "What did I do to make you so angry?"
"I'm not angry, just tired." Piccolo said honestly. "Go home and forget about me. 'Cause I'm leaving for planet Namek as soon as the dragon balls reform."
"What?" Gohan asked. "What are you saying?" He nearly yelled.
"Gohan, these ears can pick up the drop of a pin. Do NOT yell like that."
"Sorry, but…why would you leave? Don't you like me anymore?"
"Hmph, don't be foolish." He snorted.
"Then what? We're friends, best friends. I can't lose you too. Not after losing dad, not with a kid on the way. I need you Piccolo, I don't think I can face it all without you."
"Bull, you can take care of yourself, that was made painfully obvious at the Cell Games." Piccolo uncrossed his arms and put a hand on Gohan's shoulder.
"You were an excellent student, but you have nothing else to learn from me. Now go home to your mother."
Gohan jerked away from him. "No! You can't do that, you can't just leave. I thought we were friends, you promised to be there if I needed you. Well I need you now!"
"If you look hard enough you'll see you really don't, not anymore. Try and figure some of this out on your own." Piccolo said, turned to the Earth again. "Besides, you've seen me…hm, just this once since the battle with Cell. I dare say you can survive without me just fine."
"Piccolo that's not fair, I can't just drop everything to travel to the lookout every day. I have mom and now a kid I have to help take care of. I've not forgotten about you, but I just can see you like I used to. I have a life I'm trying to live."
"Yes, and it's a life better lived without me. I'm not an influence anymore, and not one you would need anyway. Now drop it and go home, I'm not talking about it with you anymore. Goodbye."
"Piccolo…"
"Goodbye Gohan, this is the last time I'll say it. I'm proud of you, but it's time to move on and do other things."
Gohan growled as he watched Piccolo walk back over to his tree, and begin to meditate.
"You listen to me Piccolo, because I know you can hear me." Piccolo didn't open his eyes, but Gohan continued anyway.
"If you were really my friend you'd see that these visits are a two way street. I'm trying here Piccolo, and you have to make an effort too. You don't have a clue what it means to be someone's friend, not if you can just pack up and leave at the drop of a hat.
Look at you now, just pretending to meditate so you don't have to deal with me. Well, I'm tired of this. I'm always the one to be friendly with you, and you never care that I have to fight tooth and nail against mom to come see you. If you leave and go to Namek, good riddance, because I'll never forgive you. I'll hate you for it! Hate you, Piccolo!"
Piccolo didn't stir, or open an eye, so Gohan just huffed. "Fine, goodbye. I should have known."
Then he was gone, in the blink of an eye. Again traveling back toward his home at Mt. Paozu. Dende came outside to see what the noise had been, but when Piccolo glared daggers at the guardian, he simply stalked back inside the sanctuary. Piccolo was now very irritable, and more than a little guilty. Gohan wouldn't hate him…he couldn't. The boy admired him, always had.
Perhaps Piccolo was making a mistake. But he would have to meditate on it first. He couldn't go groveling to Gohan right now anyway, his pride was always almost little-to-none after a visit with the kid. He needed to get straightened out, before plunging Gohan even farther into anger.
X-x-X-x-X
Gohan sat quietly at the edge of the his desk, and listened to the utter silence that filled his room. His grandfather had taken his mother to a doctor's visit, now that the baby was reasonable within the two-month range. Gohan was studying hard now, to keep his mind off the emotional roller coaster he'd been put on.
He wondered more than once what Piccolo was doing, or if he'd decided to try and make his way to NeoNamek early. He'd never really understood Piccolo anyway, why he was so cynical and pessimistic. Until lately, Gohan had thought they would always be friends, that Piccolo would always be nearby if he needed him. Maybe he shouldn't have been to sure, or so reliant.
"Nothing lasts forever." Gohan thought. But Kami, he'd thought his friendship (a seemingly deep one, at that) would have lasted a little longer than it's short lived seven years. He'd always thought of his growing old with Piccolo. Having him over for dinner, their kids (should Piccolo have any) sparing together, while he and Piccolo had a friendly spar themselves.
It was too good to be true though, he should have known it.
"I can't keep this up." He said, closing his book. No more studying, not tonight.
He looked at the clock, only seven. What was he to do, he couldn't go beg his Piccolo-san for a spar, not now. Once, not so long ago, he wouldn't have hesitated to do so. But…things were different now.
So Gohan went downstairs, ate something, and put in a movie to kill the time. Before he knew it, he was waking up to his mother's soft voice.
"Gohan, honey, go to bed. You'll just get sore muscles if you stay here." His mother said, and pushed him up to a sitting position.
" 'kay mom, I'm going." He said, standing and walking to his doorway. The clock read just before nine, and he stepped inside to change.
He changed into a black undershirt and gray pajama pants, then crawled between his covers. He expected to fall asleep soon, but he had trouble sleeping again. No wonder he'd fallen asleep so suddenly on the couch, he'd not gotten a good night's sleep since his outburst with Piccolo. Gohan had a link with the Namek, and Piccolo had one with him. The extent of Piccolo's ability to hear or feel Gohan was unknown to the halfling, but Gohan simply couldn't fully relax without the reassurance that special link gave him.
And Piccolo had been blocking him since the incident on the Lookout, so Gohan was having trouble functioning properly. It's like, suddenly going partially deaf. You can still hear most things, they just aren't as clear as they should be. Well, that was how Gohan felt…very unclear on almost everything. And tired, very tired. He couldn't sit still or concentrate, and it was all Piccolo's doing.
Suddenly, Gohan felt fully aware of Piccolo ki nearby. Very nearby…above him. He wasn't blocking him anymore, and Gohan instantly smiled and jerked out of bed. He ran to his window, flung it open, and before he knew it he was on the roof.
"Piccolo." Gohan said, as he met face to face (or rather, face to chest…since Piccolo was so tall) with his sensei.
"Gohan." Piccolo answered.
For several minutes there was nothing said, and the slight sound of the wind blowing was the only noise being made. Gohan finally smiled and shrugged.
"I knew you couldn't stay away." And then he laughed.
Piccolo's lips curved up, in his awkward form of a smile, and relaxed a bit.
"I have something to say." Piccolo said, and Gohan sobered.
"I thought about what you said, and you were right. I shouldn't just leave, and I should try a little harder to see you."
"I didn't mean to get so mad, I was having a…difficult day." Gohan walked up and leaned his head against his friend's chest. "I'm sorry sensei."
Piccolo put a hand on his student, because the child was, indeed, still his student. And he gave a short, stout laugh. "So, does this mean you don't hate me?"
Gohan jerked, and laughed himself. "No sir, I don't. Not at all."
"Well, good. Now that we've settled that, I should go. And you should get some sleep."
"Ugh, Piccolo, you knew I haven't slept?" Gohan asked. Just then, ironically enough, Gohan yawned largely, and then he snickered at himself. "Yeah, okay, you have a point."
"Of course I do, I don't speak unless I do." He crossed his arms and eyed his young friend. "Now go to bed."
"I will, but Piccolo…will you stay? Just until I fall asleep." Gohan asked, and just as Piccolo rolled his eyes he added a prolonged "Pleeeease."
"Oh shut up, and pray your mother doesn't wake up."
"Just sit down out here for a while, and when I get tired we can go inside." Gohan said, sitting cross legged on the rafter.
Piccolo sat too, far more gracefully than Gohan had, and smirked. "Ha, you're afraid of your mother."
Gohan smiled, and waved a hand. "No sir, I just would rather keep my head."
Piccolo outright laughed at that, then closed his eyes and crossed his arms to meditate. But not two minutes passed before Gohan was sitting on his knee and leaning against his chest. If Piccolo were not the extensive size he was, the arrangement would not have worked. Piccolo grunted and shifted to get comfortable, but didn't push Gohan away.
"Don't you think you're getting a bit old for this?" Piccolo asked, but not in a tone that made Gohan move.
"Nope, not yet." He said, and sighed contently.
Perhaps I haven't completely lost my father figure. Gohan thought, leaning just a little harder against Piccolo's chest. Piccolo had a way of making Gohan feel more secure, much like Goku had done. Piccolo would make things okay, or try to at least. No, perhaps Piccolo wasn't the same as Goku (they were quite the set of opposites), but he seemed to genuinely try. And that's what made him good, at least to Gohan.
"Piccolo." Gohan said, and Piccolo grunted. "Does this mean you aren't going to Namek?"
Piccolo opened his eyes, and put his hand on Gohan's head. "No kid, I'll stick around."
Gohan smiled. "Thanks."
And for at least an hour, the two sat like that. Piccolo's ear's perked at the sound of Gohan finally starting to snore, and the Namekian waited until he knew for sure the boy wouldn't wake when moved. So Piccolo carried the boy to his window, and entered very carefully though it. He laid Gohan in his bed, covered him up, and had barely made it to the window to leave when: "Piccolo?"
He turned and Gohan was leaning up in bed, rubbing his eyes. "You're not leaving are you?"
"No kid, I'll be right here." He said, leaning against the seal. "Go back to sleep."
"It's still dark, what time is it?"
"Late. But don't worry, dawn isn't far away."
"Oh, soon it won't be dark anymore." Gohan said. "Morning's (yawn) coming."
"Yeah, you're right, the dark is almost over." But Gohan didn't hear his friend, he was already fast asleep.
Piccolo smirked, and listened carefully for any sign of the mother. But no, she too was asleep. And for the first time since the news, Piccolo felt the small life within Gohan's mother. And he wondered if this child would be any comparison to Gohan.
No, it couldn't. Gohan was different from everyone, and would always be set apart from the crowd. At least, to this particular Namekian. Gohan was one of a kind, unique and different.
And Piccolo wouldn't change him or exchange him: he was happy to have a friend like him. He'd never take advantage of that fact again, or be so foolish to think he could do without. He couldn't allow himself to plummet into a darkness again, he'd come to far for that.
And Gohan was the light, in a sense, when all the world might be black as night. Piccolo had an odd reassurance he never used to have: beyond the darkness, the night, there was always dawn. There was always hope, and faith, and love. All kinds of love: every kind of love. Too many to describe.
"Perfect analogy." Piccolo whispered, as the sun came up over the mountain. Dawn had come, and the last shadows of night were being driven out of sight. There was no more darkness, and there could never be again.
Fin
A/N: yeah, like I said, a strange dream-made fanfic. Anyway, 'till next time!