Disclaimer: I don't own DB, DBZ, nor do I own the Mafia – I do not own Nameks or Saiyans and that maeks me a little sad, but OH WELL. I hope you enjoy~
Warnings: This story is centered around Piccolo/Gohan
~~~~~9~~~~~
~~~~~1 year later~~~~~
12 Years old
"I'll be back shortly." Nail bowed his head, and Piccolo nodded, sealing the envelope before he offered the deposit to him.
"See to it that Charles distributes it accordingly."
"Of course, Don Piccolo." He turned and slid the deposit into the inside pocket of his vest.
"Mr. Piccolo, I don't understand why I can't go-"
"Because you are becoming insolent and willful!" Piccolo snapped. Gohan shrank back, his tail sliding between his legs. He saw Nail glance back at him before he closed the door and he swallowed hard. He had gone with Nail the last three times to the bank. It was always fun. Nail had given him a penny the first time they had gone on this outing, and as they had passed the bakery shop, Gohan had bought himself a large day-old sweet bun.
Nail had grumbled and glared at him that first day, but he had warmed to having him with him on his outings, and if Gohan was good while standing in line at the bank, Nail would give him a penny every time as a reward. He didn't know why, Nail certainly didn't have to do such a thing. It was so nice of him.
But Mr. Piccolo had demanded he stay home today and Gohan couldn't help but be disappointed. He liked Nail, even if Nail sometimes acted like he didn't like him in return.
He heard the engine outside turn over and as the rattling car faded away, he knew Nail was gone. He looked to his shoes, tugging on the hem of his shirt. It wasn't fair. He didn't do anything wrong all week. He had been good and done all his chores, he had trained even harder than usual, and Gohan just knew Mr. Piccolo was keeping him home because Nail had told him he was being nice to him.
Two hours ticked by, long and boring and Gohan shuffled about, sighing heavily now and then. His Don would glance at him, reading over some paperwork before writing something at the bottom, his handwriting cramped and sharp. As the bell chimed three, Gohan fidgeted, glancing to the door. Nail should have been back by now.
"Mr. Piccolo-"
"I didn't say you could speak." He snapped, his fingers tightening around his pen.
"But Nail-"
"Will be back when he has finished with my business." He bowed his head, scratching out something with a heavy hand before he wrote something to the side. His antennae twitched.
Gohan licked his lips and glanced at the clock, watching the minutes tick by till it was fifteen after. "He should be back by now."
Mr. Piccolo scowled and slammed his hand down upon his desk and stood sharply from his chair, and stabbed a finger toward the door. "Go outside! I want you to scrub the stairs till they shine! You hear me?"
He shrank away from Mr. Piccolo, his throat tightening and he nodded, blinking his eyes rapidly. He was just worried about Nail. He hurried out the door, sniffling and suddenly so very angry at Mr. Piccolo, and yet, hurt because Mr. Piccolo yelled – it wasn't fair. He was old enough now to understand what was going on. Why didn't Mr. Piccolo see that? He knew they didn't do nice things all the time, but he had proven himself, hadn't he? He wanted to help Mr. Piccolo. He wanted to help Nail because Mr. Piccolo trusted Nail so much. Why did they still treat him like a child? After all, he now was the same age as when Mr. Piccolo became Don.
He scrubbed harder than he should, trying hard not to cry, and mopping drops of moisture that splashed into the suds, telling himself it was just sweat. He worked his way down the stairs, stopping to refill the bucket with fresh water and lye half way down.
His tail lashed at the air, and for a few minutes he calmed himself because Mr. Piccolo was right, he was his slave, he shouldn't have a say in anything. Yet, anger welled up inside and he snarled at the scrub brush, slapped it onto the steps with a furious vigor, and scrubbed. He was supposed to grow up and be Mr. Piccolo's Bodyguard! Who ever heard of a Bodyguard to a Don scrubbing floors?
The clock chimed five and Gohan paused, staring at the cherry wood mantel with the little curved clock atop it with the shining glass face, and he swallowed hard. He sat up slowly, the brush limp in his pruned and aching fingers.
He looked to the door, to the coat rack, to the kitchen, but he couldn't smell Nail. He eased himself to his feet, his steps cautious as he approached Mr. Piccolo's study and knocked, his breathes short and fast.
"What?" Mr. Piccolo barked from within and Gohan stepped inside, his heart fluttering.
"Nail isn't back yet." He said, and his tail wrapped itself around his waist.
Mr. Piccolo's lips pursed and he tapped his claws upon the desk, red eyes boring into him. Gohan saw then just how aware his Don was. He wasn't being cold, he was trying to stay calm as the situation became all the more dire as the seconds ticked by.
"Get my coat. I need to visit my uncle." Mr. Piccolo stood then, buttoning his cufflinks, his shoulders stiff and back ramrod straight.
Gohan stepped into the parlor, pulling Mr. Piccolo's coat and hat from the rack, his eyes wide. Visiting Lord Guru… willingly? He swallowed and turned, nearly running into his Don's belly. He apologized even as he rumbled and helped Mr. Piccolo with his long coat. He abruptly had his own jacket tossed in his face and Gohan didn't question the silent order. He pulled it on and followed his Don, his shorter legs pumping to keep up with the smooth and even strides of the much taller namekian.
Upon arriving, Dende opened the door, and the largest smile Gohan had ever seen was pointed in his direction. He waved shyly then peeked up at Mr. Piccolo.
"Don Piccolo, follow me. Father…I mean, Lord Guru, is this way." He stepped aside, ushering them in. The plush carpets gave under their shoes as if the rich colors themselves made the carpets so thick. The library on the right opened, and one of the many Enforcers Lord Guru kept on stepped out of the room from a wave of their master's hand.
Lord Guru was larger than he remembered, filling his chair with an over pouring of flesh. He grunted and looked away to stare at the fire, his antennae twitching. "Look whose here. My nephew and his boy-toy."
"Enough, I am here on urgent business."
"I told you, I will not let the weaklings live!" his voice echoed through the room, terrible and drawling.
Mr. Piccolo's hands curled into fists and Gohan reached for him, taking his wrist with wide eyes pleading for him to stay calm.
With a jerk of his hand away from his, Mr. Piccolo stalked up to the oversized chair and bowed forward, nearly touching antennae with his uncle. "Your son is missing."
"Which one? I have so many!" He laughed and the roar of pride at that statement wasn't easily missed.
"Nail."
Guru sobered instantly and he blinked at Piccolo with a frown forming over his wrinkled face. "Nail…Nail!" He yelled, glancing over his shoulder toward the door, as if expecting him to step inside. "Nail!" he roared and Gohan shrank back.
Guru struggled to stand, but his massive bulk refused to release him from gravity. He huffed and panted and reached for Mr. Piccolo's arm, gripping his elbow. "What happened?"
"I don't know. I sent him to the bank to deposit…a special something. He never returned." Piccolo brushed Guru's hand from him and Guru gripped at his chair instead, nails digging into the fabric. "I need your men-"
"Done. Dende!"
The door opened and the face of the young namekian child appeared, round and with eyes that reminded Gohan of Nail. He was so small, just a little shorter than he was, and his small hands played with the hem of his paperboy vest. "Yes father- Lord Guru?" Dende asked.
"Gather your brothers. Nail is missing."
Dende nodded quickly, eyes wide and antennae rising in alarm. He rushed from the room and Guru again groaned as he struggled to lift himself from the chair. He finally pulled himself out of its depths and waddled across the room, picking up a cane along the way.
"Take your saiyan to the bank. See what he can find. I will send a dozen of my children to the docks, the rest will begin combing the city-"
"No." Piccolo's hard voice rose and Guru stopped, leaning heavy and dumbfounded upon the gold leaf cane.
"No? You do not tell me what to do!"
"I need your men to do nothing; in fact, I want the majority of them to return home and leave only the most essential to remain outside of the compound. I don't want another taken in hopes of gaining family secrets. It is what Nail would advice. If he truly was taken and we begin searching for him, it will only alert his kidnappers as to just how valuable he is. If they believe him nothing more than a henchman, they may release him; or end him quickly."
Gohan's head spun. End him? Mr. Piccolo didn't really thing that they would kill Nail, did he? He didn't want Nail to die. He swallowed hard, and he couldn't stop himself from wiping at his eyes. His head hurt, nose stuffed up, and his lip began to tremble.
He didn't really pay attention after that, Gohan did look at Dende after he came back, a dozen of his eldest brothers rushing in behind him, and another dozen or more of Guru's sons – who were large and heavily muscled Enforcers – they waited outside, leaning in to listen. Dende stood next to him and took his hand. His hand was warm and it fit snug against his. He gripped at Dende, his tail wrapped about his waist or thigh, flickering back and forth now and then the longer he thought about Nail out there alone and being hurt. He stared at the ground, their backs to the wall, only half listening. Mr. Piccolo didn't talk much, but when he did, there was always a lot of shouting. Gohan wiped at his eyes and Dende's hand squeezed his.
"Gohan!" Mr. Piccolo barked and Gohan jumped, hurrying to his side before he realized it. "We're leaving!" He snarled and Gohan followed after him, peeking over his shoulder.
Lord Guru's head was bowed, his arms and legs shaking. His sons went to his side and helped their father back to his chair, but it wasn't reassuring.
He walked beside Mr. Piccolo, his fingers cold as summer faded and the nights chilled, leaving frost on the windows as fall approached from the north. They moved up the steps to Mr. Piccolo's home and Gohan stopped, eyes raised as he looked to his Don. His hard red eyes focused on him with a sliver of a frown.
"Are we going to leave him out there?"
"I don't have a choice."
Gohan's lip trembled. But he was Nail. They couldn't leave him out there. What if he was hurt and trying to get home?
Piccolo closed his eyes and released a sigh, his shoulders finally falling just enough that Gohan rushed forward and threw his arms about Mr. Piccolo's waist, his face hiding against his chest. He wouldn't cry! He wasn't a baby. He sniffled anyway.
"Nail is the strongest and the most intelligent namekian I know. Even if he is hurt, he will find his way home. Understand?"
"But what if he needs us? What if he is waiting for us to help and he is wondering where we are?" He spoke into his chest, and his tail wrapped around Mr. Piccolo's waist, and Gohan didn't care.
Piccolo sighed, his whole body moving against his with a rushing exhale that sounded like distant thunder. "He isn't waiting for us. Nail would never ask for our help. His loyalty to me is unmatched. He would never risk his Don. Even for his own life."
Gohan sniffled, inhaling Piccolo's scent and allowing that action to minutely calm his nerves. "He's loyal to you." He said, allowing that statement to also linger on his tongue, heavy with meaning and seeping understanding. Nail wouldn't give Mr. Piccolo away, not even to some bandits that took him from them.
"What if he never comes back?" Gohan lifted his head, looking up at Mr. Piccolo, once again struck by how young he looked and truly was. He was his Don, he was in charge of the entire namekian Family. But for a split second, he saw just a fifteen year old namek named Piccolo, who was just as sad as he was at the loss of a friend who may never come home.
"Then we stay strong and find the bastards who took him."
Gohan smiled slowly, and though it was sad and he felt tears in his eyes, he nodded, determination taking over. Mr. Piccolo was right. He always knew what to do. He liked Nail, he truly did, but somehow, even gone, Nail had taught him a great lesson. He had to protect who was most important to him. Mr. Piccolo was everything. Without him, the Family would fall. Without him, Gohan would have been a beaten animal in a cage. He gave him a chance and Gohan would prove to everyone that he was Mr. Piccolo's rightful Bodyguard.
Pushed away, Mr. Piccolo grumbled and turned and stepped into his house. He took his hat off and tossed it at Gohan. "Go clean up the mess you made on the stairs and come to the study in an hour. I want to hear a selection from Dickens tonight."
He hung up their jackets and did as told, cleaning up his mess and going to the kitchens to get his dinner, and to prepare Mr. Piccolo's evening meal – a large mug of tea with several sticks of celery.
He set the book upon the tray and knocked on Mr. Piccolo's door before he entered. The room felt smaller than usual, the roses carved into his desk seemed to dance as the light from the fireplace flickered and made the wood shine and cast shadows across its hidden places. But Mr. Piccolo wasn't at his desk anymore, he sat in the ring of chairs facing the fire, in the far one beside the grate. It had the best light, and he approached him, setting the tray down upon the end table as gently as possible.
Mr. Piccolo took his tea, leaning back in his wing backed chair, his eyes closed and he waved his hand, motioning for him to begin.
Gohan sat before the fire by his knee, the dime novel opened in his lap. "The Signal-Man." He cleared his throat.
"Halloa! Below there!"
When he heard a voice thus calling to him, he was standing at the door of his box, with a flag in his hand, furled round its short pole. One would have thought, considering the nature of the ground, that he could not have doubted from what quarter the voice came; but instead of looking up to where I stood on the top of the steep cutting nearly over his head, he turned himself about, and looked down the Line.-
It soothed him, reading, and he smiled as he felt Mr. Piccolo's leg press to his side, and his hand rest atop his head. Though he missed Nail and still worried about him with a knotted lump in his belly that weighed on his heart and made him wonder what would have happened if he had been there to help Nail, Gohan also knew Nail wouldn't want him grieving over him. Nail would be angry if he knew he had cried over him. One thing he knew for certain in this tumultuous uncertainty concerning Nail, it was that Nail would want him to serve and protect their Don. He could do that. He would always continue to do so, to honor his Don and to honor Nail's loyalty.
Insert Spacefille's story: "A Day in the Life of a Mafia Namekian" (and since fanfic won't let me post a link... go to ArchineofOurOwn at the o.r.g. and look up Spacefille. Its called, "A Day in the Life of a Mafia Namekian" )
(seriously, go read it, its amazing, I love it so much 3 )
"You're late." Guru bellowed and Nail sighed, rubbing at his temple. His father was too much to handle, and today was most certainly one of those days. He stepped into his parlor and stood tall and poised, his eyes staring over the top of his father's head. Guru grunted and waved his hand and Nail saw Dende from the corner of his eye walk over with a cup of discolored water.
Guru took the glass and drank deeply from it, sighing greatly as he leaned his head back and relaxed in his chair. "You appear well. Did the saiyan trash make you their bitch?"
"No." He reached around, grasping his hands behind his back as his shoulders tightened. He would address his father pleasantly, just as he had from the moment of his hatching, and he would bow and bid him farewell before he returned to his Don and the saiyan brat who had followed him around the house for the last three days like a puppy unwilling to let him out of his sights. He had thought it annoying when Gohan heeled and followed Don Piccolo obediently, but he found it downright aggravating to have the child do the same to him.
"Good." Guru bobbed his head, his jowls wobbling grotesquely. "You have the heart of a true warrior. I am proud. Though next time you are kidnapped, don't be such a little bitch and slaughter them all!"
Nail sighed and momentarily closed his eyes and bowed his head. He counted to three before he looked to his father and nodded once. "Yes, Lord Guru. As you wish."
"Even Dende knows not to take any prisoners."
"I didn't take any prisoners, Lord Gu-"
"That's right you didn't, because you destroyed them!" he laughed; then a cough erupted and he leaned forward, coughing into his hand. Dende stepped forward and Nail's hands fell to his sides, his brows knotted.
"Drink your medicine, father." Dende whispered, gently urging Guru to drink from the glass once again.
Nail swallowed, his throat bobbing. He hadn't realized their father was sick.
"Dende," Guru said, handing the glass to his youngest child, "go and fetch me another glass. I need to speak with Nail."
Dende hesitated but he nodded and left the room, taking a peek up at his brother on the way out. The door clicked shut and Guru settled upon his chair, his head bowed, and he stared into the fire. He looked old. Older than Nail was used to seeing him. He knew he shouldn't be surprised, but it was the shadow within his eyes that stayed his hand from leaving or demanding an explanation.
"Don Piccolo made the right call." Guru said and turned his head.
"He often does, Lord Guru." The conviction in his voice needn't be faked. If he had learned one thing from Don Piccolo in the last several years of his service, it was that he would be the catalyst that finally launched the nameks into a new age. He would bring change and a new growth to their people and the fire that burned in his chest again confirmed his earnest belief that Piccolo would be the one to change the fate of their race in this foreign land forever – and for the best. His loyalty for this one namek overshadowed all other desires. He loved his Don, and his Don would see greatness rise in his wake no matter what Nail had to do to make his dreams happen.
"I demanded a search party be sent out for you, whether to bring you back alive or your lifeless corpse, I wanted my son back."
Nail blinked, his mouth dropping open in surprise. He had never heard his father refer to him with such endearment.
"But Don Piccolo, he stayed my hand, he stated his case and put me in my place." He looked to him then and Nail snapped his mouth closed, his belly twisting with the gleam in his father's eyes. "He told me my son would never be compromised – and you weren't. You have proven yourself to your Don, to your people, and for that, you are an example to all nameks everywhere that our Don is ready to lead."
He stood still, his mind buzzing. Nail sipped in breaths of air, because it was time.
"You have guided the Don well-"
"I never guided him. I stood at his side and advised him, but he always made his own decisions. He is a Don that will lead us-"
"He is the Don of Dons. With you at his side, you have given both our families much to look forward to in the years to come."
Nail narrowed his eyes. His father's scheming would be noted and reported to Don Piccolo, but his words were also true – Don Piccolo has finally come of age.
Lord Guru studied his son and for many long, crackling minutes as the fire sputtered, they squared off, reading each other perfectly well but neither saying a word so as to not give the other ammunition to use against the other. Nail realized then the line had been drawn in the sand and his loyalty to his Don was greater than to his father.
Dende stepped into the room, the discolored water in hand. He stopped dead as if he'd walked into a wall, his eyes wide. The tension thickened all around them and Nail remained tall. He would never back down, just as he gave nothing to the saiyans.
"Upon his next Hatching Day, I will give Don Piccolo control of negotiations. He has proven his leadership in this matter, as has he proven himself poised and controlled while still remaining ruthless. He needs to prepare himself for the day I hand him the business and he is to be the Head of the Family. Continue to guide him, Nail. He trusts you."
Nail's claws dug into his still injured palms and he felt blood well free. "Lord Guru." He bowed to his father and turned on his heel, marching from his parlor and out onto the porch. His shoes tapped at the wood. Irrational anger boiled forth and Nail hammered his fist against a support pillar beside the steps. He ground his teeth, hissing in a breath of air.
Ulterior motives lay atop the enigma that was his father. One moment a loyal supporter, the next a conniving jackass that threatened to undo all that Don Piccolo was building. He wouldn't allow it. He would watch his father and warn his Don. But he would hold steady and keep Don Piccolo true. He had glimpsed Piccolo's vision of the Family and he knew with further encouragement, Piccolo would rise above those dreams and guide them to a golden age. He just knew it.
He knew it.
Author's Note: Sorry this tok so long to post. I was hoping Spacefille would find a spare moment to post her half, but since she's so busy with her teaching and also being on the other side of the world, I'll cut her some slack and go ahead and post my chapter. I loved the idea of what would happen if Gohan's world was disrupted again, but not by Piccolo, but by another core member of his "Family." Plus, Gohan being 12 and starting to inch into his teens. That's always fun.
UPDATE: Spacefille posted her story! READ it NOW. I love it. and it also explains this chapter SO MUCH BETTER~ (and since fanfic won't let me post a link... go to ArchineofOurOwn at the o.r.g. and look up Spacefille. Its called, "A Day in the Life of a Mafia Namekian" )
Seriously, her story inspired so much of this chapter that I added in soooo much. Her story helped me pin down the tone and the feel of Mafia Z with that single story, and that was when I knew I was writing this story for her. so go read her fic, its amazing and I re-read it often :)
~Melissa the Damgel