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A/N: Remember how I said I'd get to it? I got to it.

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Petrified Tears
chapter 41

She stayed awake and thought as he slept, legs hanging off the edge of her small bed, hands folded peacefully across his lower chest, head pillowed against her stomach.

She wasn't about to tell him about the pain her in stomach, about the fact that the pressure his head was putting on it was only making it more unbearable. The young soldier had tended to her when she was too weak to make it home; it was her turn to tend to him.

Her fingers combed his hair back away from his eyes, sweeping lavender bangs to one side, her own eyes smiling sadly down at his sleeping face; she had to admit that he was adorable when he slept-he looked so peaceful and so quiet when his eyes were closed and his mind was dreaming. There was a small smile on his lips...he looked genuinely happy.

An emotion that was completely out of place when one thought about the state he had been in less than half a week ago.

Her lips turned slightly down, farther from the heavens.

Less than half a week ago...

She closed her eyes and let them drift to the window.


"Sweetie, you can tell me what's wrong...please, tell me what's wrong..."

She clenched her eyes and kept silent, pretending to be asleep as he rubbed her shoulder, drew his palm down the length of her hair. Slowly his own hysterics calmed as he came under the illusion that she had fallen asleep. His hand swept down her hair, as he admired what-who-she'd turned into. She could feel his eyes linger on her "sleeping" face, felt him press a loving kiss to her temple, sweeping her hair out of the way.

"My little girl," he whispered from where he was settled next to her on the bed, her face nestled against his chest as if she were eleven years old, and had had a bad dream or a bad fight with her best friend, or had done some terrible atrocity that in all truth was just her conscience getting the better of her, instead of being the twenty-one year old woman she was. "You grew up without me," he murmured almost sadly, his hand getting caught in her hair.

She almost smiled as he tried in vain to untangle his hand without waking her, as he tried to free his fingers from the mess he'd made of it.

Same old Daddy, she thought with a silent giggle.

He managed to draw his hand away without disturbing her too much, and then settled back against the pillow once more, shivering in the starlight, despite the warm weather of late.


She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but it had. Opening her eyes, she blinked wearily up at her father, noting the faint flush that had crossed over his nose in sleep. When she was little, she remembered, she'd often wake up and see him conked out, face pale in sleep.

Now, though, as he grew older, there seemed to be a line of red across the bridge of his nose that she could dimly remember growing darker throughout her childhood.

Shivering, she slid out of her father's arms and wrapped the quilt, that she and her grandmother had made together as a crash-course in learning how to sew, around her shoulders. Feeling naked despite the clothes she wore, she tiptoed to the window, her mind caught up in feelings and pains that she had never experienced before.

As she pressed her forehead to the glass, in attempt to clam herself before forcing herself to rationally think all of this through and come to a conclusion to her problems, she happened to glance back at him.

Her father.

Her mind flew into a whirlwind again. Sighing, she tiptoed back, draping her quilt over him as he shivered.

"Daddy," she whispered lovingly, gently taking his glasses from the bridge of his nose and setting them on her nightstand, smiling down on her father.

"Daddy," she sighed quietly, knowing that there was a small chance he would hear her, but not really caring any longer, "remember when you told me that you'd always be here for me? That whatever the problem, you'd help me through? That you'd do everything in your power to make things right again? Daddy...I don't think you can help me with this one...

"In truth, the entire reason I'm in this mess is because you possess all of the power that you do. I don't blame you for any of this...it's not your fault that you're the strongest guy on the planet. It's not your fault that your daughter's a screw up. I just am. Always have been, in some little way."

She smiled half-heartedly and rubbed her father's head.

"Not to say that it's your fault Daddy. I just...I just don't make that great of a girl. I'm too headstrong and violent and over-all confused for my own good. It's not how you raised me...if anything, you tried to raise me to be the little girl I was supposed to be, instead of the tomboy I was. But then again...maybe...maybe I'm not as screwed up as I think. I mean, Grandma used to run around with a blade on her head, and pretty much forced Grandpa to marry her. I don't know...

"I know you want to help Daddy. I know you know-or at least think you know-that something's going on that's got your little girl all distraught. And while, yes, there is, I can't let you help. The possibility of me running home and telling you everything is what got me into this mess. Because with that possibility, comes the knowledge that you'd be out for blood. Whether or not you decided to go after it beside the point. You could get that blood within a heartbeat if you tried."

She sighed again, backing from the bed.

"I know you want to help Daddy...but I can't let you."

With that, she turned back to the window, pressing her forehead to the glass, wishing she knew where her grandfather was.


The soldier sighed, drawing her out of her thoughts.

Blinking wearily, she couldn't help but smile down at him, at the slightly dopey smile and the blush that had formed across the bridge of his nose.

Even in his dreams he blushed.

The fallen angel blinked slowly, running her fingers across the features of her soldier, laughing quietly to herself as he turned and swiped at his nose with the side of his hand-almost cat-like-when she touched the end of her nail to the side of his nose.

She settled back into the pillow, the pain from the night's activities subsiding as she herself subsided into sleep.

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A/N: Ha ha! So you finally found out who was in Pan's bed that night! Ha! Bet you never thought it was Gohan...heh heh heh. You hate me now don't you. Don't worry...things start picking up from here...

You do realize, of course, that I've left you with a new question: why can't she let him help? Bwa ha ha ha ha! I'm not gonna let you off that easily! *maniacal laughter ensues*

-Panabelle ;P
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