Chichi lay in bed that morning for a long time before she got up, just listening to the steady thrumming of the rain on the roof.
Normally, the minute she opened her eyes, she was up and moving. Starting breakfast. Beginning yet another load of laundry. Doing things that any good, conscientious wife - at least, in her mind - would do. But she wasn't a good, conscientious wife; she was a widow. A confused, conflicted, and very tired widow. She didn't know what she was going to do when she left the safe haven of her bed…so she could just postpone it for a little while.
At long last, though, she did get up. Slowly. And get dressed. Slowly. And walk to the door. Slowly.
For the first time in her life, Chichi felt like a very old woman.
The first thing she noticed when she opened the door was that the house was dead quiet. Was Gohan still asleep? That wasn't like him at all - he was always up early. Then again, he might have been as reluctant to get up as she was…
She trudged to his room, knocking lightly on the door. "Gohan…sweetheart, are you up?"
No answer.
She knocked a bit more loudly. "Gohan?"
Nothing.
She opened the door gingerly. "Gohan, really, you should…"
He wasn't there. And that bed hadn't been slept in. And the carpet was bone dry. Gohan hadn't come home. Her little boy had been out in the rain all night…who knew where…what kind of terrible mother was she, that she hadn't noticed that he was gone until the next morning?
All this, she was thinking as she ran down the stairs and bolted outside. The rain was thick but steady, and she was soaked to the skin in a matter of seconds in spite of her heavy shawl. Hurriedly, she glanced around, looking for her son…no sign of him.
"Gohan!" She called, just in case he was in earshot.
No answer.
"GOHAN!" she cried again, pouring all her breath and all her heart into that cry. He had to hear her...he had to. She had no idea where to look for him…
"For the gods' sakes, woman, what's all the screaming about?"
Chichi had never been so glad to hear that voice in her life. "Piccolo!" she exclaimed, forgetting even to sound disdainful. She looked up, blinking rainwater out of her eyes frantically; the Nameksei-jinn warrior was hovering a few feet above the ground, arms crossed, expression set in annoyance.
A snort. "Brilliant deduction."
She found herself smiling in weary relief - he could have mocked her all he wanted right then, and she wouldn't have cared. Just as long as he'd help her find her baby.
"Piccolo, Gohan didn't come home last night…I don't know where he is, and I…" she trailed off when she saw his face twitch, just once…he almost looked concerned for a moment before he lapsed into a mask of concentration.
"Go back inside, woman."
"Then you'll find him?" she asked - and the pleading note in her voice would most likely have embarrassed her, had she been able to hear it through the sound of her heart pounding in her ears.
Much to her consternation, he landed beside her, took her firmly by the shoulders, turned her around, and pushed her lightly in the direction of the door. "What I do and don't do aren't your concern, woman. Go back inside."
Chichi bit the inside of her cheek to keep from snapping back at him. Because she knew that the 'Piccolo translation' to what he'd said was 'yes,' and she'd risk a little loss of face to keep from changing his mind.
* * *
Piccolo waited until he was sure - absolutely sure - that the obstinate woman wouldn't be coming back outside to follow him before he checked for Gohan's chi. Yes, he was worried…but not nearly so badly as she was. Gohan was tougher than she thought, a lot tougher - physically, anyway.
Emotionally, he was pretty banged up.
Piccolo had felt him go running off the night before, but hadn't followed. Some instinct, some sense had warned him that the boy needed time alone - and if he managed to get himself into any real trouble, Piccolo knew that he could reach him in about thirty seconds. But his student had been alone long enough.
He didn't fly in the boy's direction. He walked. Normally, he considered walking a complete waste of time, but in this case, time was exactly what he needed. Time to figure out what he was going to say. Time to clear his head.
Time to wonder what in the gods' names was wrong with him.
He walked into the woods, barely noticing the way that the damp branches brushed his clothing like clammy fingers. He was already soaked to the skin - a bit more water made little difference to him. His concentration was wholly devoted to finding his student…or rather the small, despondent scintilla of chi that marked his student's position.
Piccolo found the boy sitting with his back against a tree, arms folded around his knees, head down so that his hair tumbled down around him like a curtain. He looked almost like a roosting crow…a very mournful, roosting crow.
For one of the very few times in his life, Piccolo found himself completely tongue-tied. Unsure of what to say…or how to say it…the massive Nameksei-jinn cleared his throat.
Gohan didn't even jump. "Hey, Mr. Piccolo," he said miserably. "I was wondering when you'd show up."
Something inside Piccolo cringed at the way that the boy spoke - more as though he were greeting the grim reaper than his teacher. Silently cursing himself for being so terrible at this father-son crap, he could come up with only two painfully inadequate words: "You okay?"
He saw the boy's shoulders rise and fall in a heartfelt sigh. "Not really."
Piccolo bit his lip, swallowing a large portion of his pride… "Look, kid…if there's anything I can do…"
Gohan's voice, when next he spoke, had a faint, familiar quiver in it. "Please, sir…just…just go?"
The Nameksei-jinn blinked, for a moment not fully comprehending. "What?"
"I…I'm sorry, Mr. Piccolo," Gohan continued, burrowing further into himself if such a thing was possible. "I know I promised you that I'd try to be strong for him, and not cry and all, but I…I couldn't do it, and…"
Piccolo had never felt so much like kicking himself. This whole time, he'd been wondering what was wrong with the boy, and it had been his fault all along. Typical, Piccolo, he thought angrily. No matter how bad things are, you've always gotta find ways to make them worse, don't you?
"Gohan," he said at last, interrupting the boy in mid-apology. "You know what the best thing about rain is?"
The boy didn't look up; he merely shook his head. His hair still covered his face, so Piccolo had no idea what might be written there.
"No one can tell whether you're crying or not."
The boy lifted his head at last. His face was soaked, his eyes red and puffy. "Really?" he asked doubtfully.
"Yeah."
Gohan managed a weak, watery smile. "Thanks, Mr. Piccolo."
Somehow, Piccolo couldn't help but wonder how a boy of nine years could manage to catch all the things he didn't say right along with the things he did. Deciding that it must have something to do with being too young to know that words were just words, Piccolo sat down beside his first friend and waited for the venting to start.
* * *
In the past day, Chichi had accomplished a vast number of things. She'd cleaned the house. She'd fixed diner. She'd warmed that dinner up twice before she'd finally given up and packed it all away in the freezer. She'd twisted her apron almost beyond recognition with her worry.
And still, there was no sign of her little boy.
Surely Piccolo had found him. She didn't have a great deal of fondness for the massive alien, but she did have a healthy respect for his abilities. If Gohan were alive and on the planet, Piccolo would find him.
Of course, if he wasn't…no, she thought, appalled at herself, don't even think that.
Which could mean only one thing: Gohan didn't want to come home yet. Her boy didn't want to come home. Her little boy was staying away from her. She wondered what she would do…what she could possibly do, if she lost him as well…
There was a knock on the door, echoing through the house like a bass drum at a parade. She all but flew to it, flinging it open.
It was all she could do to keep from weeping with relief.
Standing there, wet and muddy and bedraggled and utterly apologetic, was Gohan. He offered her a very hesitant smile. "Um…hi mom…I'm home…"
She didn't even hesitate before she pulled him into an embrace, soggy clothes and all. "I'm glad, sweetheart."
He smiled grew a thousand times more genuine. "Me too - is there anything to eat?"
Wordlessly, Chichi stepped aside as the boy bolted into the kitchen. She was on the verge of following when a movement caught her eye. She looked out into the yard in time to see a dark shape through the rain, turning as if to go. It was a tall shape, and a damp one…almost black against the dreary backdrop.
"Piccolo," She called softly.
The shape froze.
She started to simply call thank you to him. After all, being around him was unnerving…he was so big, so much stronger than she was…so angry all the time. She always had the feeling that any minute, he would just come completely unglued as he had the first time she'd seen him fight…
Thus, she wasn't quite sure what made her step off the porch and venture out into the rain after him.
He didn't move. Not even when she was right next to him. He just stood there, shoulders back, brows drawn…almost as if he were a soldier standing at attention, but his arms were crossed. He was darker than she'd ever seen him, dampness making his skin color closer to evergreen than to grass, and his gi closer to midnight than to maroon. It almost helped - wet and ragged as he was, he almost looked like a completely different Nameksei-jinn. A total stranger.
She noted absently that she hadn't seen him dry since…well, since he'd taken Goku out that last time. The constant soaking had utterly changed the shape of his gi - it clung to his torso like a second skin in places, highlighting muscles with little folds in others, dipping lower than usual across his well-defined chest…
Stop staring, she thought furiously, reminding herself sternly that this was the enemy. She didn't need to be just standing around him like this - he might get the idea that she didn't mind being with him. Thank him, she ordered herself with the firmness that she had normally directed exclusively at Goku. Get it over with - Thank him and get back inside before you catch pneumonia.
The words that came out of her mouth surprised her at least as much as they did him, she was sure. "Where are you going?"
The Namekian looked at her, night-hued eyes wide with mild surprise, quickly hidden. He shrugged. "Don't know."
She blinked. "Well…where do you live?" she asked, forgetting even to kick herself for starting a conversation with him.
He indicated the woods with a wide sweep of his hand. "Wherever."
The concept was so foreign to her that it took her several moments to digest it. Home had always been a very important thing to her; she'd always needed one. A nice, specific place, controlled and safe. Home was something that was never supposed to change, even when it…did, sometimes…she blinked back tears, forgetting that her face was already soaked and that he'd never notice anyway. "So…so what happens when it rains?" she asked, mostly to distract herself.
He actually smirked at her. "What do you think happens, woman? I find somewhere - or I get wet, whichever."
She could do nothing but stand there for several breaths after that. "So you don't have anyplace to…"
"Hey," he all but snapped. "Keep this straight; I'm not human. I go where I want, when I want. That's all there is to it."
Let it go! Her inner, sensible self screamed. But she ignored it. "Do you…do you want to come in?"
He stared at her as though she'd grown a tail and started firing energy blasts. "…What was that?" He asked at last, shaking his head. "I think I had water in my ears."
Chichi very nearly dropped whatever it was that she was doing right then…almost turned and ran back to her comfort zone before she could manage to act any stranger. But instead, she said, "I just asked if you wanted to come in for a while. We have plenty of room, and…"
The way he was looking at her stopped her cold. "Do I look like a charity case to you?" he snapped, shooting her a particularly cold glare. "I didn't bring that boy home because you asked me to, woman…I did it for him. So you can stop with this payment crap."
She actually blinked. He sounded a lot like she did when Bulma offered her money. And for that reason, she knew just how to deal with that… "So stay for him, just for tonight? He'd love to have you here, and the house is so quiet anyway without…without Goku…besides, you're going to catch a cold standing out here in the rain for days at a time."
He rolled his eyes. "Don't pin your pathetic human weaknesses on me. A little water won't kill me," he said coolly…right before he sneezed.
Chichi felt her lips curling upward into her famous 'I thought so' smile.
"Not a word, woman," he warned, glaring at her still more firmly.
She couldn't help it - she laughed. She laughed for the first time since her husband had been sick. "Alright, Piccolo." Then, she took one of his forearms with both her hands and led him casually toward the house, all but dragging him through the door.
She was very careful to keep her eyes cast forward - if she caught sight of that hilariously confused expression on his face one more time, she knew she'd start laughing again.
* * *
Piccolo couldn't help but feel a bit dazed as he ducked to follow her through the door. He didn't get it - one minute, she was screaming at him, the next, conversing…and now, she was mothering him. He wondered if there was some logic to the way that she was acting, or if she were simply insane.
He decided then and there that he didn't understand human women. Especially Chichi.
"Stand right there," she said as though she had full confidence that he would obey, closing the door behind them.
He did so as he watched her walk down the hall, unsure why he didn't just turn around and bolt out the door. Cowardly? He didn't care. This was the first time she'd really treated him almost as a person rather than the living embodiment of everything wrong with her life…and he couldn't help but wonder if it was some sort of plot to get him off his guard. She was probably pouring insecticide into a glass of water at that very moment…
She re-entered the room, carrying a large, white bit of cloth…a towel? "Here," she said, lip twitching. "So you can stop making a pond in my house."
Glancing down, he realized that he was indeed creating a puddle. Doing his best to look completely unruffled, he took the towel from her and dried his face.
"Now take off some of those wet clothes before you start sprouting gills."
He looked at her, one eyeridge raised. "Suppose I told you I already had gills?"
She shot him a warning look, putting her hands on her hips.
"Alright, fine," he grumbled, removing his shirt in one smooth motion and holding it almost at arm's length.
Piccolo had never been an overly modest person; in fact, he'd always considered human attitudes on the subject to be a little ridiculous. However, something about the way she looked at him right before she hurriedly glanced away, face flushing, almost made him understand it.
To the point where he experienced an irrational urge for a trench coat.
He shuddered once, sourly blaming it on the fact that he was still wet…which turned out to be yet another mistake. He was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of tea in hand so fast it almost made his head spin. Whatever had been bothering Chichi had apparently passed…and she was in full mother-mode.
Even Piccolo realized that there would be no escaping her clutches at that point - for whatever reason, she'd made up her mind that he was going to be her project for the evening. He wondered if he could dump the tea somewhere while she wasn't looking…
As if she had read his mind, she asked, "Aren't you going to drink it?"
He shook his head. "Namekian. I don't drink tea."
"Have you ever tried it?"
"No."
She rolled her eyes. "Are you really that set against trying something different?"
Habitually, he shot her a look of annoyance. "What's so great about different?"
"What's so bad about it?" she countered.
Piccolo just stared at her for a moment. "It's funny," he said at last, his tone more than a little bitter, "that you always hear that from people who aren't.
For some reason, he got no satisfaction whatsoever from rendering her speechless.
It was a good ten minutes before either of them spoke again - and it was Chichi who broke the silence. "So…you must be tired."
"Not very," he replied. He had a feeling that she was suggesting something…but he had no idea what.
"I meant…it's late."
He shrugged one shoulder automatically.
Finally, the woman threw both hands up in the air in exasperation. "Not exactly a master at taking hints, are you?"
"What's the point?" he shot back, surprised to feel his lip twitch. This wasn't their usual kind of argument…not malicious so much as…well, something he didn't quite understand.
She shook her head. "Fine. I'm going to bed - you know where to find yours."
And she left. He watched her sweep out of the room, still fighting that odd twitching thing his lips seemed to be doing. Then he glanced back at the teacup, eyeridges drawn low. With a noncommittal snort, he drained it in a single draught. Not terrible, he decided. Not something I'd want to do every day, but…not terrible.
And even he wasn't sure whether he was referring to the conversation or the drink.
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