Gohan cringed, nausea bubbling within him. He hadn't thought that the simple little headache would lead to this. He also hadn't believed anything could hit him so fast! Now all he could do was try to breathe through the sickening feeling or grab for the bucket his mother had put beside him.

He barely had the strength to do either of those options.

"I love you Gohan..." he heard his mother say. She wasn't even looking at him... and he felt ashamed. The familiar feeling of guilt crept up on him, and tears formed unwillingly in his eyes. He was responsible for her pain. He had taken his father from her, and he was causing her tears now.

Bulma was coming. He had heard that much from his mother's impromptu phone conversation. The inventor would be able to cure him... then his mom wouldn't have to cry over him anymore.

/ 3 /

Bulma hastily undid Trunks' restraints as the copter shut down. She could see the frown Vegeta was sporting grow deeper, and she knew it was a bad sign. He never had the stance he had now. He had leaned ever so slightly more forward when they'd been fifteen minutes out. If it weren't for the fact she had banned him from jumping out of the helicopter mid-flight previously, she was sure he would have.

Now he was waiting by the door, staring at it almost without truly seeing it. She wondered for a moment, what was going through his mind.

Taking a small breath, she stepped forward and knocked on the door, trying and failing, to ignore the feeling that swelled in her heart. The feeling of comfort that the house normally gave off in waves felt absent without Goku... even more so now it seemed.

It was almost foreboding.

A green shape came up from behind them. A quick glance revealed it to be Piccolo. She wondered why he came, then shook her head. There was some connection between the Namek and Gohan, she was sure. They could find each other just as easily as Gohan and Goku could find each other. It made sense he would come if things were going down hill...

It didn't exactly fill her with hope.

The door swung open and they caught sight of Chichi's hair for a split second. The distraught mother moved back into the house without a single word and Bulma watched as Vegeta and Piccolo entered the house. Her husband almost seemed... out of it, and Piccolo's face was scrunched up.

She hurried in, coming around to the couch before stopping. Gohan was sprawled, covered by a dark blue blanket. His skin was alabaster white instead of the slight tan she remembered last time she'd seen him, and he was trembling. Spikey black hair was almost tamed with sweat and his breathing was uneven and labored.

The boy before her was so frail... that couldn't be Gohan...

Vegeta was staring at him as well, seeming to be thinking along the same lines as her, and she could tell Piccolo was just as shocked. Neither of them said anything, but their eyes were wide and each had taken on disbelieving stances.

Glancing down at her own son, she saw caught him staring at Gohan too. His little mouth open and eyes focused intently. He was far to young to understand what was going on, but he seemed to pick up the tension around him.

Quickly and quietly, Bulma began to set up her laptop and other pieces of equipment. As she did that, she had Chichi check the eleven year old's vitals while Vegeta and Piccolo took up vigil from opposite walls.

Gohan, for his part, focused on his breathing. He could sense Vegeta, Trunks and Piccolo nearby, and he could feel his mother's hand on his wrist. He could hear the mechanical hum from Bulma's laptop, as well as fingers tapping at the keyboard. His stomach churned again, but he forced the feeling back, taking a few deep breaths. His head was still pounding, and every movement he made disoriented him even worse.

He didn't like this one bit.

Something pricked his arm. Nope. Not one bit. The feeling of losing blood brought self preservation instincts to the fore of his mind, but he stayed still. He really didn't want to lose it in front of them...

He coughed. He barely had enough time to grab for the bucket. He wondered if they were as disgusted by his behavior as he was.

"Easy Gohan," his mother ran light fingers up his spine. "Deep breaths. You'll be ok..." He responded with another bout of nausea, vomiting into the bucket once more.

He felt exhausted. Weak. He could barely move, even to just grab at the bucket. It was not a feeling he was particularly used too. He felt confined... claustrophobic.

Once more, he had to grab the damn bucket.

He felt Vegeta vacate to a different room, and the fluctuating ki from Piccolo suggested his mentor wasn't far behind him. Once more, he felt lower than dirt. This was the worst feeling ever. "Breath Gohan," his mother's voice quietly called to him, and he felt a light touch pushing the errant spike of hair out of his face.

Again.

"Oh Gohan..." his mother was sobbing. Bulma too... he could smell her tears and hear her own quiet gasps. Shame hit him once more as well upon hearing it all, and he tried to curl into a tight ball. He didn't want to be responsible for their sadness... he was supposed to make them feel better!

Again.

What else was there left in his stomach? He had to be completely empty... but it kept coming up regardless. Even after however long he'd been at this. Felt like days... "S-sorry..." he stuttered, not entirely certain himself as to what for... Being sick... a burden... making a mess... making the Briefs family and Piccolo come all the way out here...

Instead of a reprimand, which was what he had braced for, his mother replied with, "I love Gohan." And she messaged his back. "You have nothing to be sorry for." But he did. He had everything in the world to be sorry for.

Vegeta moved back into the room, confusing Gohan slightly. Why would he willingly come back in here? It probably stank really bad... sweat and vomit were among the worst of scents...

The touch on his head and back vanished (much to his dismay... it had been rather comforting) and he sensed them all huddle up around where he could hear Bulma's computer. Squinting, he could see them, each staring at the screen. It made for an odd image. Two humans, a stuck up alien Prince and a green giant all staring at a tiny screen.

He moaned as his head throbbed, and he grabbed the bucket once more. Man this sucks...

Thump.

His mother's ki flickered and weakened, startling him. Whatever was on the screen wasn't good... that was definitely certain. His mother tended to over react to things, but she had been taking this whole thing fairly well thus far... Perhaps it had been a matter of time, yeah, but still... the other's kis were flickering as well (though no one else thankfully passed out... that would have been too much).

"W-what?" he asked, keeping one eye on the others. He couldn't really see them at all... the room was spinning, and his head hurt so much... but he tried.

"Your mother fainted Gohan," Bulma stated. Her voice held fake cheerfulness, and he grimaced. "But I'm sure it's nothing Dende can't fix, ok? We're going to take you up there as soon as we get you ready to move."

A/N : Gohan's illness will be explained in the next chapter (though I had thought that the cell intro would have been a plain give away... perhaps I'm wrong?). Please know, I have taken a few liberties regarding the illness, though I'm trying to keep the symptoms fairly accurate. The illness isn't quite artificial, but it's not a condition that exists due to the nature of the story. Can anyone guess what it is?

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