Gohan inhaled deep, exhaled and then returned to work. He had only a small amount of time to get everything in order but it was important he get it done. It had taken some doing to convince his parents to go out for the morning. They wanted to make sure he was alright and it was only after asking them about getting some items for the baby before moving became too much of a burden, that they agreed.

That didn't mean his nerves faded though.

"Gohan? What do you think?"

Turning, Gohan cast his fears and doubts aside. Refocus. Recenter. He could deal with the churning emotions later. Repeat the same mantra—he was worthy by nature, not by acts. It took a moment but the harsh self criticism would slowly fade.

Center your energy on this! He told himself. You're the one that wanted this. So show yourself you still want it!

"That's perfect Bulma!"

He meant that too. Leave it to Bulma to create colorful decorations. She was never at a loss to provide party supplies. So, he was glad to have her to call on for this little surprise. As soon as he'd explained it, she was gung ho.

Gohan looked around—it wasn't as fancy as maybe Bulma's had been but there was a certain love to it—small tents set up to hold tables for gifts and food, a small storage capsule where cooking was taking place, blue and gold decorations draped over trees abd poles (he'd set those up himself) and now people were starting to arrive.

Krillin and Yamcha. Then Bulma's parents, dragging along Vegeta and baby Trunks. Grandpa came a little later by car, laughing as he landed.

"Gohan! Look at all this!"

Smiling as he accepted the welcomed hug, Gohan asked, "Do you think they'll like it, Grandpa?"

"Like it? Your mother is going to cry!" He laughed again, a loud boisterous sound. "Is everyone here?"

"Almost. Piccolo said he'd be here but he's always late. So, we just have to wait for Mom and Dad to come home. Gives me enough time to finish the last surprise." He didn't elaborate further than that, instead slipping into the capsule kitchen and going to his private project.

Cooking was NOT his strength. It never had been. He could fix a basic fish over a fire but even in the wilderness, he got most of his sustenance from plants. The meat or fish was a perk.

Tonight needed to be different. He was determined that it would be. He had accepted that he had been in a panic, an adrenaline blind when he'd ruined his parents' baby shower but he'd also learned that there was a difference between shame and guilt.

Shame was disgust at yourself for being yourself. Guilt was feeling bad over something you did or something that happened. While he had not meant to ruin that party, he had. There was a certain freedom that came with that acknowledgment—not admitting right or wrong but simply saying what was. Given how his mental state was then, it was a miracle that things had not gone worse. Giving up control, admitting that there had been nothing more at the moment he could have done, was the hardest thing to learn.

He couldn't undo that. But he had made the decision to replace a new party for them. It had not been a decision easy for him, namely because he didn't know what so much focus on the baby would do to his emotions.

He didn't...hate the idea of the baby anymore. Not all the time anyway. It mainly came at night when it was harder for his brain to shut up. Insomnia became more frequent but they were working on ways to handle that and the reframing WAS working—taking thoughts and making them into something that made more sense, things that were more logic based and less distorted by emotions. It wasn't easy—it was exhausting actually—but it was working.

When they'd made that realization—that his fears were stemmed from the fear of being abandoned—it was much easier to see that his reaction to the baby was a symptom and not the cause. But that also meant looking back at things he had not looked at before. Digging into his reactions that he had pushed down deep. Looking back at events that hurt so much to think about, let alone process!

But a healing wound always hurt.

Not for today though. Just like anything, if you focused on it all the time, you would burn out. Gohan didn't want to think on that today. Thinking on something else, something that brought you joy.

Like how surprised and happy his parents would be when they came home and found this celebration waiting for them. Like how thrilled they'd be to get to celebrate his little brother. Like how proud Mom would be that he managed to perfect meringue!

Speaking of which...

Gohan eyed the bowl in front of him like an enemy. Making pie was complicated but so far he'd managed to create the apples and lemon mixture correctly. At least as far as he could tell. They tasted fine.

So he just needed to make the meringue. As he began to gather ingredients though, he felt the familiar ping of his father's ki. Home, already?

Dad must have felt all the ki gathered here . Gohan cursed to himself. Idiot! Why didn't you consider THAT?

Well, he could tell at himself for that later. For now, he rushed back outside where apparently Krillin and the others had felt the energy too because the last of the decorations had gone up with lightning speed and people were ducking behind trees and bushes. Gohan felt the available ki slowly drop, even Vegeta's, though his was being suppressed under duress it felt like (thanks Bulma!) and Gohan stood in the center of it all and waited.

At least Dad wasn't using direct transmission. He said he preferred not to use it with Mom unless he had to. Because, well, what would that do to a baby? Wasn't exactly something they had tests on.

But he could hear them close. Dad was a fast flier. They would be heading out of those trees (the best landing place except right by the house was just inside a clearing in the trees and Mom loved a little nature before she went inside especially she'd become pregnant. Maybe little brother loved trees too) any minute.

Why was he so nervous? Did he really have cause to be so nervous? After all, he was trying to do good. He was trying to make up for something that while perhaps not something he had conscious control over—at least as he was at the time—was still something that was supposed to be special. Maybe he couldn't undo what happened but he could try to make up for it.

What if he had a breakdown again? What if nothing went the way he planned? What if he just ended up making this worse? What if...

No! Stop! Stop!

Gohan said it aloud, "stop!" Not loudly, but firmly to himself. Sometimes a verbal command helped it to sink in more. He would NOT be playing the what if game today!

"Stop what, Gohan?"

The branches parted and a moment later, his mother and father walked through, a few packages stacked in Dad's arms. They paused in mid step—and mid sentence actually—as their eyes glanced around.

The blue ribbons. The tents. The smell of appetizers and food cooking. The tiny circles set up for fun games.

And in the center of it all, a large blue and gold banner reading "Congratulations on your second boy!"

Gohan stood awkwardly underneath it, face colored but hope bleeding out of his eyes. "Surprise?"