Chapter 2
The sun was just tinting the sky when Gohan woke up. Sitting up, he looked at the yards of white fabric surrounding him. 'Oh, Daddy let me have his cape last night.' He thought drowsily, knuckling the last of the sleep from of his eyes. A frown marred his face. This was Mr. Piccolo's cape; his father didn't wear a cape. Why had he thought that?
"Hurry up kid, unless you want to skip breakfast." Piccolo's baritone voice interrupted his train of thought.
"Morning Da- I mean Mr. Piccolo." Gohan said, tripping over his words. He was still frowning as he grabbed his sword and hunted down his breakfast. Why was he calling Mr. Piccolo Daddy? It didn't make sense. He had never called him that. On the other hand, it felt like he always had.
Piccolo kept a careful hold on his thoughts as Gohan headed out of camp. The kid's inner musings were coming through to him loud and clear. Subconsciously, Gohan had him firmly labeled as his Dad. While his more rational thought process was still trying to give Son that title. That dispelled any lingering doubt in Piccolo's mind. He had definitely Imprinted on the boy. It also appeared that the strength of the bond had altered Gohan's foundations.
Once Gohan had eaten, he slowly returned to camp. Piccolo watched him from the air; his eyes narrowing as the kid lightly touched his forearm. An echo of discomfort flitted through Piccolo from the action. Landing silently behind him Piccolo was startled when Gohan immediately turned around.
Gohan grinned up at his sensei, his onyx eyes dancing. Piccolo's face was as impassive as it always was, but for some inexplicable reason, Gohan felt like he had surprised him. Then again, this was the first time he had been able to sense Piccolo's presence like that. He had just known that he was there. First up in the air, then directly behind him.
Piccolo reached out and took a hold of Gohan's arm. Running his fingers across the kid's forearm, he assessed the break.
Gohan held very still as Piccolo probed his arm. It hurt. Not as badly as it had yesterday, but enough that he just wanted him to stop. Piccolo hated it when he whined though. Keeping his face blank, Gohan waited for it to be over.
Piccolo could feel pain radiating from Gohan. It was strange. He didn't really feel the pain himself, but he knew Gohan was in considerable distress from his actions. Feeling guilty of all things for causing the kid any additional pain, he let go. Looking at Gohan's face he was pleased to see a lack of tears. He had come a long way from the whiney tenderfoot he had been. "No sparring today kid. That needs another day to finish healing."
Gohan nodded, the action jerky as he fought against the need to cry out. Taking a cleansing breath, he looked up at his sensei. He just knew that Piccolo felt bad for hurting him and he was not about to make him feel worse by crying.
"What will we do today sir?" Gohan asked. They had never taken a day off before.
Piccolo thought about the dream he had witnessed the night before. The kid did need to learn to fly. Since he could not spar right now, today was as good as any to learn. "Follow me."
Gohan skipped happily next to Piccolo as they walked across the desert. He just felt so good today. As though someone had wrapped him up in their arms and everything was going to be okay. They would beat the Saiyans, his father would come back to life, and his Mr. Piccolo would always be right there. Looking around with interest, he tried to think of the names for the rocks and bugs they passed.
Piccolo's brow twitched in faint irritation. Gohan's constant mental ramblings were starting to wear down his patience. He was filtering his own thoughts from the kid. While he had the distinct feeling that some of his reactions had leaked, he had kept the majority to himself. There had to be a way for the kid to filter some of the constant dialogue. Then again, if he taught the kid to block, he would have to explain why.
The two reached a jagged group of rocks. Gohan hummed in appreciation as he wandered closer. Scrambling to the top of one, he looked down only to realize they were at the top of a very high precipice. Feeling slightly dizzy as he looked down, he called over his shoulder. "What are we doing here Mr. Piccolo?"
"You are going to learn how to fly."
"Really? That is so cool! How do you fly? Can we get started?" Gohan asked excitedly. His only warning was Piccolo's faint smirk and the sudden feeling of dark amusement. Faster than he could see, Piccolo struck him. The force of the blow didn't hurt, but it did send him careening into open air.
"Daddy!" Gohan wailed as he plummeted towards the ground. As the reality of his imminent death sunk in, Gohan grasped desperately at the air. Closing his eyes tightly, Gohan willed himself to slow down, stop, anything.
"That's how you fly." Piccolo's low voice rumbled from beside him.
Gohan cautiously opened his eyes. Piccolo was hovering in front of him. His sensei's head was level with his own. "How did I do that?" Gohan asked, bewildered.
"You pushed your energy outward, which allows you maintain flight." Piccolo explained.
"Oh… neat." Gohan looked around with interest, breathing deeply. He had ridden on Nimbus with his father, but the feeling of hanging freely in midair was exhilarating. "Um, Mr. Piccolo? What do I do now?"
Piccolo looked at Gohan with veiled exasperation. He had not expected the kid to be able to stop himself the first time. Since he had, the rest should have been obvious. Stifling his irritation, he spent the next few hours teaching Gohan control.
Piccolo hovered in his favored lotus pose. He had been watching Gohan go over his assigned midair drills throughout the afternoon. It had been a strange day. He had always been isolated; removed from the rest of the world. Since the moment of connection last night, there was a corner of his mind filled with the kid's presence. He was no longer alone.
After knocking Gohan off the cliff, it had been wrenching to hear him call for help. He had not been calling for Son. The kid had been calling to him. Piccolo had had to restrain himself from diving after him. He scowled at the memory. He would not allow himself to become soft.
Gohan completed what felt like the hundredth suicide dive. Shooting himself to the ground as fast as he could, before stopping an inch above the dirt. He was not supposed to touch the ground, but instead hover above it for just a moment. Then, launch back into the sky and do it again.
"That's enough for today kid." Piccolo called out.
Gohan sank gratefully to the ground. His feet touching down for the first time since Piccolo had knocked him off the cliff. Collapsing in a heap, he attempted to control his shaking muscles. He was exhausted in a way that not even Piccolo's most vicious spars had managed. After deciding that movement was not going to happen anytime soon, Gohan just focused on breathing. He vaguely wondered if it was even worth the effort to try to make it to camp before he passed out.
Feeling Piccolo touch down beside him, Gohan forced himself to turn over. "That was fun Mr. Piccolo. Thanks for teaching…" The words trailed off as Gohan lost the fight to stay awake.
Piccolo blinked at the prone figure before him. Gohan's energy felt exceptionally low, more so than he expected from the day's exercise. Scowling, Piccolo reached down and roughly hauled the boy up. He tucked him under his arm just as he had ten months before. Taking flight, he headed for camp.
Gohan woke to a flickering fire, driving back the darkness. Groaning, he sat up and promptly wished he had not. He felt awful. All of his muscles were trembling and his stomach felt as though it was trying to eat itself.
"You had better not be coming down with some disgusting human illness kid." Piccolo looked him over warily. He was not sure what he felt coming from Gohan, but it was not pleasant.
Gohan glanced across the fire to his sensei. "No sir, I'm just hungry." Just then, a fierce rumble filled the air. Gohan grabbed his stomach and tried to muffle his moan of discomfort.
"You're hungry?" Piccolo asked slowly. The concept of hunger was foreign to him. All he required was water. "Is that why your energy is so low?"
Gohan nodded distractedly. He was trying to gain his feet so he could go forage or hunt. Dizzy, he sat down hard.
Piccolo glared at Gohan. There was no reason he should feel the need to help him, none at all. The kid would never toughen up if he helped. At least that was what he told himself as he flew across the desert to a fruit tree. Returning, he dumped the fruit in Gohan's lap.
"Oh, wow apples! Thank you Mr. Piccolo!" Gohan exclaimed, all but swallowing the fruit whole.
"Don't get used to this kid. You will learn how to function on low energy without help." Piccolo towered above him, disapproval evident in his cold gaze.
Gohan nodded again, blinking sleepily now that his stomach was satisfied. Curling up on the ground, Gohan was pulled back into oblivion.
As the weeks progressed, bring them inexorably closer to the Saiyans arrival, Piccolo increased the intensity of their training. They spent the morning sparring on the ground and the afternoons in aerial battle. Slowly but surely, Piccolo built up Gohan's stamina; including forcing Gohan to skip lunch a few times a week after he had collapsed from lack of energy. The Saiyans would not stop for a lunch break, so neither could the kid.
For Gohan, time seemed to fly by. All he wanted was to make his Mr. Piccolo proud of him. He felt his disapproval so strongly it seemed like a physical blow. Then there were those rare occasions when even though his sensei did not say a word, Gohan just knew he was pleased. He still had those bizarre moments when he first woke up in the morning. In that point between sleep and consciousness, he would look at Piccolo and think 'There's my Dad.' Truth be told, it baffled him. He just could not figure out why he thought of Piccolo that way.
Then the day came. The sky darkened in an unnatural night declaring the dragon's summoning. His father was coming home. The Saiyans had arrived.
