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A/N: IT'S GONE!! NO MORE WRITER'S BLOCK! WOO HOO! If ff.net weren't having technical difficulties, I'd have gotten this up a few days ago. But that's not what matters. What matters is that I've gotten over the curse of the writer, and have done my tidings to get where I am. I'm babbling aren't I? Oh. Me sorry. Feel free to ignore me and read the chapters now.
Yes, chapters. 5 of them. ;P
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Petrified Tears
chapter 45
She awoke with a start, falling out of bed in the process.
Grabbing a handful of deep black hair, she shoved it out of her eyes, and hurried to her feet. She burst out of her room, damning decency as she most nearly flew down the stairs, almost breaking her neck in the process.
She paused in the doorway of the kitchen, finding no purple-haired boy, as she had found not a few hours ago when coming downstairs in search of her husband.
"Shit," she swore quietly, turning around and hightailing it out of the house, shouldering the door open, too worried about the sake of he who'd been sleeping at their kitchen table then about her own small frame.
She slid to a stop in the front yard, already seeing the others.
The much younger and very much alive carbon copy of her father-in-law stood in battle stance, next to the purple haired boy who'd been at the table only hours before, clothes torn and bloodied. They mirrored each other, making nervous eye contact every few too-still moments. On the roof stood her daughter, clothes torn and eyes wild with fear and concern, her hair whipping out of her pony tail around her face. Her hands were held in front of her, both poised and curled for combat, eyes darting here and there, looking for either her father, or the enemy that had forced her father to display such power. Her hands spasmed from poised and perfect to slack and worried, her right hand raising occasionally to flick hair out of her face and behind an ear.
All three look like they had suffered through one battle, and are wary as to the certain death of the enemy.
Her mother-in-law stands in front of the door, just beyond the range that her wild sprint from the house had allowed before she stopped. The older woman is still as young and attractive as she'd ever been, though tired and tried. Her black-and-turning-silver hair hangs limply and untangled around her face, whipping in her eyes in the slight breeze that has sprung up in the early morning hours. She clutched the necklines of her nightdress and bathrobe, staring up into the sky with a determined but terrified gaze.
The two women meet each other's eyes. The younger nodded to the older, and in spite of the fact that her sleep shorts were faded and her tee shirt slightly too large, she sprinted forward again, bursting between the two young men at the end of the walk, and rocketing into the sky, her face as determined as it had ever been in youth.
"Mom!" her daughter called after her, but remained resolutely on the roof.
She ignored her daughter, flying straight and true towards her husband.
They met in midair not far from the house; those on the lawn and she on the roof were too small for expression but large enough to distinguish movement.
He smiled at her, meekly, a silent promise to explain before the sun had set.
They let the wind and their own inertia bring them to a stop mere inches apart, and he reached around, planting his hand deep within the silky strands of black hair that adorned her head, leaning forward and tenderly kissing her forehead. He pulled back, retrieving his hand, pausing only to flick a chunk of black hair from her eyes.
Her worry left her, and her body relaxed as his arm crept under hers to support her. Draping her own arm over his shoulder, they returned to the ground at the foot of their walk, both taking two or three steps forward out of habit to slow their landing.
"Gohan, what's going on?" Goten demanded as he and Trunks hesitantly straightened from their positions, eyes sill wary and scanning the horizon and surrounding landscape for some approaching evil.
"Dad!" Pan cried, leaping off the roof and jogging to her father.
Gohan smiled with fatherly love and set a hand on her head, gently mussing her hair as she looked up at him with worried and child-like eyes, much like she had always looked up to him, and he his own father.
Letting go of his wife and dropping his hand from their daughter's head, he closed his eyes and quickly shook his head, all pretense of power falling away, leaving only the happy-go-lucky husband she had married.
"Go back to bed, Videl," he told her, smiling sheepishly. "Everything's fine."
She planted her feet and crossed her arms, glaring up at him defiantly through her hair. Pan stood before him just as defiantly, but her eyes searched his for some sort of explanation.
"Gohan," called his brother again as ChiChi smiled assuredly and slipped back into the house.
The oldest semi-saiyan grinned sheepishly and full-heartedly, rubbing the back of his head as he looked back and forth between his wife and daughter. He paused, suddenly, and began to lower his arm, before letting out a quiet laugh and returning his hand to the back of his head.
Confused, mother and daughter looked at each other from the corner of their eyes, only to each crack a smile and join him in laughter as realization dawned on them. For one instant in their lives, the older had been the younger and the younger had been the older: mother demanding a "why", daughter searching for a rational explanation.
Goten and Trunks glanced worriedly at each other, neither yet sure of what had been going on, each wondering if it was really safe.
"Daddy!"
"Gohan!"
Videl threw herself on her husband's back, pounding his shoulders; Pan launched herself into his arms, punching his chest.
Smiling demonically, Gohan caught his daughter around the waist and flipped her upside-down, leaving her to look back through his legs as he walked forward, leaving his wife no option but to cling for dear life.
"Gohan," Goten started as his bother passed between he and his best friend to enter the house.
"What's going on?" Trunks supplied, both he and Goten turning to watch the small parade move up the walk.
"It's called a release valve, Trunks," he replied in passing. "A better alternative then severing relations and inviting death."
Trunks paled and involuntarily took a step back.
Upside-down, Pan cocked her head, confusion and perplexity playing across her delicate and still dusty face as she witnessed Trunks's reaction.
"I suggest you learn it," Gohan finished as he entered the house.
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A/N: Uh-oh…Gohan thinks he has figured it out. Does the future hold a wall and a wooden plaque in the future for Trunks's head? Will Pan's brain explode from all of her blood rushing to it? What did ChiChi make them from breakfast? Quick quick quick! Let's go read the next chapter and find out!
Oops, hold on a sec, almost forgot something:
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-Panabelle ;P
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