Disclaimer: Dammit! Chibi Trunks, what have I told you about pancakes? If you're going to make them, make them in the microwave like every other normal human being on the Earth, not on the dogdamned stove!

A/N: Sorry, Chibi made a mess. Anyways, here's the next chapter. It's a nice long one, so don't complain. I can't really say that much up here without giving anything away, so let's just get to the chapter already.

Read, review, pat yourself on the back.

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Petrified Tears
chapter 44



Dawn was beginning to creep through the windows, but he wasn't there to see it. He'd left several hours ago in the dead of predawn blackness, as the moon had started its arc back down toward the horizon. The air had been heavily laden with dew, smelling as sweet as early summer could smell.

But he hadn't reveled in the scent as he once would have.

Once, he would have been lying in the grass on his back, looking up at the stars, the moon, the sun, the clouds, hands crossed behind his head, laughing with his father. And if not his father, his brother. And if his brother was no where to be found, his daughter.

But not now. Now, he needed fatherly advice to seek, to give.

And the only father he had to turn to, the only father he had left that could help him with his daughter, was the one person that could never be his father, but that had been in so many ways.

Searching for the Namek had been the hard part. Piccolo had a way of masking his ki even when stretching it to the limits and beyond the physical realm. It had taken nearly an hour, and only that long because Gohan knew better then to fly to Piccolo's place.

Piccolo had a perch that very few knew about, and that even fewer dared to approach. Gohan was one of the few that knew where to find him. Goten and Pan were the others.

Piccolo's perch hadn't changed in nearly twenty years. Gohan had stumbled across it and his old teacher once in the very early stages of his year in the wilderness, when Piccolo had determined himself the only living mortal capable of drawing his hidden power out from his small body.

It had been a long few weeks, but Gohan had already caught on to what was needed for survival, and had taken to exploring his surroundings. One night, when the moon should have been full, had it been overhead, he had come across a tall waterfall, and had climbed the wet and slippery rocks to the top, thinking that (while his mother was hundreds of miles away and oblivious to his recklessness) he would dive from the top to the bottom, plunge into the crystal depths. But when he had finally reached the top, he had found Piccolo, meditating, his soul at utter peace despite his title of the Demon King.

But this night, Gohan hadn't had the thought to dive from the top of the mountain into the clear and sparkling depths of the pool below.

This night, the moon was overhead.

And Gohan knew who would be at the top.

Approaching his old mentor had been easier then Gohan had expected it to be. Under usual circumstances, Piccolo was fuming in some way for Gohan's intrusion upon his privacy, and would normally just ignore him for several minutes, sometimes hours, before questioning him upon his being there; if Gohan made the mistake of flying, Piccolo would chew him out for an hour after ignoring him and before offering advice.

But this time, Piccolo had still been lost in meditation, eyes closed, face as peaceful as it had been the first time Gohan had found him up here.

Gohan had taken the opportunity to lie on his back near the lip of the ledge, and stare up at the stars and the moon, wondering why an activity that usually brought him such quiet frame of mind seemed only to tighten the binds of his troubles and worries around him.

His tail twitched agitatedly by his side. He knew it wasn't the moon in combination with his tail. For nearly four years he had lain on the earth with his eyes towards the heavens, marveling at the beauty of the white sphere, and laughing quietly at the irony of how something so beautiful and innocent could drive the innocent to wreak such atrocities upon the world as he and his father had once done.

It had to be something else.

Gohan closed his eyes in torment, wishing he knew what was troubling his tiny angel, his daughter, his baby girl; his little Panny.

As dawn began to creep over the lip of the valley the mountain and it's waterfall faced, Gohan's surrogate father had opened his eyes, blinking almost in surprise at seeing the sun's golden locks fall across the valley.

"What's wrong, Kid?" he spoke quietly, his voice sardonic, but sincere.

Gohan blinked and sat up, folding his legs to hold his feet together, sole to sole, with his hands.

"Good morning, Mr. Piccolo."

The now aging Namek turned his head, smirking back at the man that had been the first to prove that there was a heart deep within his green chest; that Dr. Suess had not based the Grinch off of him.

"You're not fooling anyone, you know."

Gohan nodded miserably.

"That's what Videl said last night when I broke the last set of chopsticks she was willing to let me use and had to resort to using unsharpened pencils."

The Namek laughed quietly.

"Listen Kid. While I appreciate you not interrupting my meditation, I've been waiting all night for you to tell me what's wrong. Now; you can either tell me now, or you can go back to your family and ask them for help."

Gohan gave a small half smile. Watching from the corner of his eye, Piccolo couldn't believe how much he still looked like the little boy from yesteryear that had taught him the value of friendship. Granted, yes, he was much bigger now, and his hair had changed so many times over the years that most of Piccolo's memories of him were each outfitted with their own haircut, he was still the same kid.

Both inside and out.

The tail didn't help with that illusion either.

"Gohan..."

Gohan sighed and looked up at Piccolo, offering him a sheepish but genuine smile, tail curling into a question mark behind him, lifting an arm to scratch the back of his neck.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Piccolo, I've just had a lot on my mind lately, that's all," he said nervously, laughing half-heartedly.

"Obviously," the Namek muttered, dropping his legs to the ground to stand at the lip of the cliff. When Gohan said nothing, he decided that he'd try and offer a bit of praise that he knew from experience could warm a father's heart.

He should know. He thought of Gohan as his son.

"Pan shattered the barrier last night. Gave Vegeta's oldest brat quite a run for his money."

Gohan grunted exasperatedly in response and flopped back onto his back into the calve-high grass.

"Kid?"

"I thought coaxing her through high school was hard. I had considered dealing with her boyfriends and getting her to date again after breakups was a battle worse then the one with Freeza, or even Cell. When she left for college four years ago, I thought that the worst of helping her grow up was over, that the only real challenge that stood ominously in front of me was giving her up to be someone's wife."

Gohan fell silent, rubbing his temples with the heals of his palms.

"But I was wrong!" he half-whimpered, half-whined.

Piccolo had to laugh at Gohan's childishness and naivety, but also had to remind himself that the kid had never really grown up around girls...with the exception of Bulma and his mother, but they were only more evidence that Gohan had a lot to learn about women.

The day Pan had started her period still stuck out in Piccolo's mind as hysterically funny.

Piccolo looked back Gohan, and had to laugh.

"Surely you didn't think that as soon as she was old enough she wouldn't need your help anymore, did you kid? You're nearing sixty and look at who you're still turning to for help."

Gohan grumbled to himself as he laid his arms spread-eagled out to his side, his eyes peering up at the clouds, vainly searching for peace among their marshmellow-like billows.

"I never thought that. And as much as I hate to admit it, that doesn't apply here anyway, because she's always gone to Trunks or my brother with her problems...unless Dad was still alive, but let's ignore that little fact, shall we? He's gone, he's not coming back, and as much as I want him sitting at my table again eating food faster then Goten, Pan, and myself combined, he's out of the equation. She can't go to him for help this time."

He sighed again, his tail wrapping itself around his waist, before continuing in the same sad and lost tone.

"Trunks has played the role of big brother for her since he first baby-sat her, even though they nor the rest of us consider it brother-sister like. But...something happened last weekend...and I don't know what. Pan won't tell me, she won't tell Goten, and, seeing as how Dad's gone and Trunks is the other half of the problem, that doesn't leave anyone for her to go to."

Piccolo shook his head and faced the valley once more, arms crossed over his chest.

"What I meant, is that I knew there'd be problems. I knew there'd be hard times and hardships. I knew she'd get herself stepped on and get herself in over her head. She's like Dad in every way I can think of, only more evil...and not so naïve..."

Piccolo allowed himself a quiet chuckle. Pan definitely was a handful, but not a bad one.

"That's what I meant, Piccolo," he sighed, dropping all pretense of formality. "I knew she'd always need me, and that she'd always keep me on my toes. But...I just never expected her to break the barrier over something so trivial as Vegeta's cleverly worded 'insults'. It's deeper then that...there are wounds on her hands that she claims were just an accident on account of her pride. But I know her better then that. Or at least did...I'm not sure any more. She keeps throwing surprises in my face about what she did in California while at college. I know she doesn't mean to, but I just never expected her to do the things she did while over there." He sighed again, rubbing his temples with his hands once more, mind flickering to the knowledge of her tattoo.

"She won't tell me what's wrong. I don't even know if she's aware that I've known something was wrong since whatever it is first went wrong, but I'm not about to press into that. She's always been private, but she's always told me everything at the same time...I don't know. I remember when Dende and I would sit and think about problems to give to people-two kids sitting and thinking about how to turn the world to chaos one person at a time, but I never actually thought he'd get a kick out of throwing some of those imagined scenarios back down on me! Kami, I don't even remember half of the stuff we came up with, but I do remember 'teach baby to play while daddy's away' being on the list!"

Piccolo smirked, some part deep inside of him responding to a name no longer used.

"Dende has nothing to do with it, and you know it. The kid knows what he's doing, and he's one of the more gentle guardians the Earth has seen. And while he may occasionally harass the rest of the world, he doesn't rile his friends."

"Kami was pretty damn gentle," Gohan muttered, but knew better then to elaborate. Even when separated, you didn't cut down Kami in front of Piccolo, or Piccolo in front of Kami. His mother had learned the hard way that with them in the same body, you really didn't tell Piccolo off-you got a lecture from the Kami half, and you didn't cut down Kami-Kami either defended himself, or Piccolo came to his rescue.

When you really think about it, its downright confusing, Gohan thought to himself. Kinda like when they first fused and we didn't know what to call Piccolo.

"Dende's as soft-spoken as they come, Kid. He's raised his voice very few times in his entire life-all but two or three of those times being to chase Vegeta's brat and your brother away from the lookout."

Gohan sighed, feeling very unlike himself. Any other time he would laughing at the thought of Dende all red in the face, his skin an odd tone of brown-blood, ears quivering, antennae sticking straight off his head like horns, the memory of the time Trunks and Goten had gotten it into their heads to booby-trap the lookout with a gaggle's worth of feathers and five gallons of chocolate syrup blazing in his mind like the sun on the horizon at dusk.

They'd had even Piccolo laughing to the point of tears and falling down that time...even if to this day they weren't allowed at the lookout unless in times of emergency...

"I just wish I knew what to do about her, Piccolo. Usually I at least know how to help her. She usually tells me that much, even when she wants to take care of it herself, afraid as she might be that I might come to her rescue. But she hasn't told me that much, because she knows that I might come to her rescue. I never have and never will without her consent, but..."

"You said so yourself that you never thought that there would be more problems then giving her away, didn't you?" Piccolo asked quietly.

"Yeah, I did, but I don't see how that applies..." Gohan started as he sat up, before trailing off.

"She's always been close to Vegeta's brat. Back when she was the same age as you were when Goku died the second time, it was obvious she had some...thing...for him. You and I would joke about it when we'd talk."

Gohan nodded despite his being behind Piccolo's back. He climbed to his feet and walked forward, standing next to his old teacher, knowing better then to look at his face, instead shoving his hands deep into his pockets, looking out over the valley that had for one year of his life been his home.

"What are you getting at, Piccolo?" he asked after a few minutes had passed, risking a glance up at the face of his past teacher, time-to-time mentor, and long-time friend.

In the sun's gentle glow, Piccolo's face seemed to have softened, even more then it appeared to have softened with age. While he himself still looked as young as he always had, aside from a few grey hairs caused by Pan and his brother over the years, Piccolo had aged gracefully and late in life. His skin was a paler green then it had ever been, with tiny lines spreading from the corners of his eyes. The peaks of his once pointy ears drooped slightly forward, his right ear was notched from a battle or spar. His face was still the same shape it had always been. His powerful hands, once as tender and smooth as a mother's caress, had softened to well-worn leather, the palms covered in tiny wrinkles that a child could spend hours finding mazes in. Unlike Kami, his skin had not grown taut over his bones, but neither had it sagged on them. There were just scowl lines and worry lines here and there on his face, not to mention slight and nearly invisible smile lines. His eyes had grown old, and grown wise, but still remained as vivid and vivacious as yesteryear, the whites still white, unlike the yellow that Kami's had become.

Gohan quickly dropped his gaze before Piccolo caught on to it, almost ashamed at having been so forward with the old Namek.

"You're a bright kid, Gohan. You don't need me to figure this one out for you. You said yourself that there was only one problem with parenting that you had yet to conquer. Giving her away. Even she knows that. She hasn't told you what's wrong, and has gone to lengths to avoid anything that would clue you in as to figure out what it is that's bothering her. Think about it a minute. It'll come to you."

Gohan ground his teeth.

"Vegeta came to terms with it, why can't you?"

All of the anger that had been brewing inside of him from the heartbeat he had felt Pan's ki skyrocket late Friday night, early Saturday morning, suddenly seemed to catch fire with Piccolo's words-words he himself had said weren't true. Everything that had been harbored and festering inside boiled over and imploded, the shockwave of the inward implosion bouncing back off of itself and registering in every limb of his body, every nerve and impulse and synapse in his nervous system screamed and threatened to shut down.

Almost against the will of his mind and the will of his being, his body reacted; all at once, his head flung itself backwards as his knees buckled slightly forward, forcing his weight onto the balls of his feet. He clenched his fists near his chest and thrust his shoulders back and his elbows down, a scream rocketing forth from his lips as his eyes flew open as wide as they would go. His pupils dilated and then contracted inwards into nothing, flying back into place as if he had merely blinked, a bright aqua green that showed no emotion, no doubt. His hair stiffened to points, stained itself gold as his body was engulf in flames of yellow and blue lightning, the flames and lightning swirling one full cycle around his tortured form before widening the cyclone to eat at the surrounding area, kicking up the top soil and throwing a cloud of dust around itself like a cloak. His eyes contracted again, pain shooting them black, his hair converting back to black in a fluid sensation, brighter flames engulfing him and settling as he dropped to his knees, supporting his upper body with his hands as he hung his head towards the ground, panting, eyes alternately clenched shut as tight as he could shut them, and as open as they would go, pupils contracted.

Piccolo didn't even looked as if he'd moved, but the furrows in the soil of the mountaintop showed that he'd been shoved at least a good meter away from Gohan, and that he had turned to intercept the blast head on, obviously so that he could block it.

They stayed there in silence, the only sound that of Gohan's tormented and worn out panting as his head hung towards the ground and hunched into his shoulders, and the snap and billow of Piccolo's cape.

"Been...been a long time...since I did that," the half-saiyan offered weakly, his face pale from the power, cheeks red from the knowledge of why it'd been so eager for release.

Piccolo merely smirked.

Another moment passed, and Gohan shoved himself to his feet, his eyes taking in every detail of the valley: the birds, the animals, the rivers and mountains. The plateaus and mesas, the red and yellow faces of the cliffs, green trees and golden grasses.

"You might want to power down before you scare the pants off the brat and lose your daughter's trust."

Gohan blinked and looked his mentor full in the face, even though they stood profile to profile.

"If he hurts her again, I'll kill him. She knows it, that's why she's said nothing. Scaring him without being near him doesn't necessarily mean I'm after him, per se."

"Your evil streak will never cease to amuse me, you know that Kid?"

"She was right in thinking I'd be out for blood."

Piccolo merely shrugged and looked back out over the valley. A moment later, Gohan turned his gaze there as well, hands back in his pockets.

Both were reminded of a time, not long after Gohan had married Videl, when Gohan had decided it time to retire the Great Saiyaman. The two of them had stood in the same fashion at sunset, quietly watching dusk set upon the valley as they said nothing and simply enjoyed 'what-was' between them, what was this, and what was that. Piccolo's cape had billowed and snapped behind them, keeping the silence from growing ominous. It was the last time Gohan had stood in the form he now stood in, deciding that it was an unneeded form. That, to spend so much time in it, would only invite trouble.

And he had let this form alone, last touching it twenty years ago, and even then, with reluctant and hesitant fingers.

"Your wife is wondering what's going on," Piccolo stated, as if it were the answer to everything.

Gohan nodded. "It's been a long time...and I told her that it would be a long time...until it was ever necessary again."

"And is it necessary?"

Gohan shook his head, not knowing any longer.

"I'm not planning on staying in it too long...I just needed a release...apparently I'd needed one more then I had thought."

"You've got your release Kid."

Gohan nodded and pulled his hands from his pockets.

"I think I'll get going home now...see if Pan wants to talk before she leaves for work," he said quietly, pushing himself off the ground with the toes of one foot as effortlessly as if underwater.

"Work?"

He paused in midair, suspended over the pool beneath the waterfall, and twisted to look back at his old friend, his eyes and being distant from the truth, obviously still disoriented from his release of power.

"Yeah...Bulma got this crazy idea to throw her and Trunks into Capsule Corp for a week and see if she can swim in the business world...something about...fixing something between the two of them...and getting Pan to stay in the country..." he trailed off, eyes turning towards the direction of his house, face following.

"'Stay in the country'?" Piccolo prompted, slightly worried about how much, exactly, Gohan had suppressed.

"I've got to go...I'll talk to you later, Mr. Piccolo," Gohan mumbled before shooting off, his form disappearing completely to the eye, and even to the eye of Piccolo's ki, he was barely more then a blur.

"See ya, Kid."

He was worried...Gohan and suppressed emotions were like Vegeta's temper and Bulma's mouth...the outcome was not always a pleasant one to witness.

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A/N: Ok, so I'm answering questions and throwing in the threat of Gohan. Where should I take it from here guys?

Review please!

-Panabelle ;P
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