Okay, guys, I finally finished this. This fanfiction was so much harder to write than the first two! And I'm not sure why! I wasn't writing from a different perspective, cause the first two were in Ging's perspective too. Maybe it's that in this one Ging is the one sick, and since we don't see him a lot in the show it's hard to write him sick? Idk, but I DO apologize for how slow this one was to come out.

Many thanks to "Ray_has_the_gay" for their comments on the second fic, which kept me going. And for their suggestion to me of what should happen in this fic. I won't say what it is now, because of spoilers, but I will definitely mention it down below. So thanks, this probably would have been posted way later if it wasn't for you asking if it was going to happen! As it is it's already been almost two months...eek!

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

Ging leaned against the railing of the ship they were on. He and Gon were only a day away from Whale Island, from Mito and Grandma, and he was getting nervous. Not that he would show that, of course, his face and body language were as stoic as always. The same could not be said for Gon, however, who was bouncing around the ship, babbling excitedly to whoever would listen, about whatever they would listen to.

When he talked to Ging it was mostly about how excited he was to see Mito again, and admittedly that's what he talked the most about to the other crew members, too. Ging listened to him quietly, a soft smile on his face as he watched his son ramble happily, stars in the boy's large, hazel eyes.

Gon had recovered well from his sickness, which had been a little over a week ago. After Gon had fallen sick and Ging had gotten them to the hotel, the boy had slept for most of a day and had woken up feeling much better. He had been eager to get back on the road, but Ging had insisted that they spend at least one more day at the hotel, to make sure his son was completely recovered.

Now, a week later, they were on the last leg of their journey, on a small boat that would take them to Whale Island. They should be there the next day. And Ging was nervous.

Ging knew he should be excited, just like Gon, since he hadn't seen his cousin or his grandmother for many years. But his stomach felt like it was tied in knots, and he knew it wasn't from the ship; Ging didn't get seasick.

When he thought of seeing Mito again, Ging could only imagine the fury that would be in her eyes, and could practically feel the sting of her hand on his cheek already. It would not be a pleasant meeting on their part, that's for sure. Though, he also had no doubt that, once she got past her initial anger, Mito would welcome him back, for Gon's sake if nothing else. Grandma wouldn't be a problem, as she was always more level headed, and understanding, than Mito would ever be. It was probably Mito's red hair, Ging mused.

"Ging!" Gon called, bounding up to him energetically. "Aren't you excited? We're almost there!" The boy's eyes shone up at his own, and Ging couldn't help but stare into them, then smile softly at the boy. When did he get so mushy? Ever since this boy came into his life, that's when.

"Yeah, Gon, I'm excited," he replied. Gon positively beamed at him, then started to bound away. The boy stopped only a couple feet away though, turning back with a serious look on his face.

"Are you okay, Ging? You don't look so good. I didn't get you sick, did I?!" Gon's eyes pooled with worry as he stared at Ging.

Trying to hide his shock at how perceptive Gon was, and trying to reassure his son, Ging straightened up, trying to look less in pain. He hoped it worked. "I'm fine, Gon. You didn't get me sick. And even if you had, it would have been fine. I wouldn't care."

His son didn't seem to buy it, still staring at him with those soul-deep eyes. Trying again, and deciding that a bit of honesty was necessary, Ging continued, "I'm just a bit nervous, I guess. Haven't been there in a while, I think Mito is gonna hit me."

Gon was silent for a second, then smiled and brought a hand up to the back of his head, turning to face Ging fully. "Yeah, probably, but then I think she'll be really happy to see you! And Grandma will be too!"

Snorting softly, Ging nodded. "Yeah, you're probably right, Gon."

"Yeah!" The boy exclaimed. "And besides, I'll be there with you, so there's nothing to worry about!" The boy ran off, then, leaving Ging to his musings.

Maybe Gon was right, and there was nothing to worry about. After all, Ging was one of the top hunters, and he wouldn't be able to still call himself that if he was afraid of getting hit by his younger cousin.

Deciding that everything would be fine, Ging went back to leaning against the railing, watching the sun go through its path in the sky, and waiting for the nervous feeling twisting his insides to go away. It didn't.

The next day, as the two Freecs were walking up the mountain to their old home, Ging could still feel his insides twisting around, creating an uncomfortable clamp in his stomach. He was internally berating himself for being so weak. And also internally complaining at how hot the sun was. He didn't think Gon was having the same problem, if the way the boy was bounding up the mountain, backpack firmly strapped to his shoulders, was any indication. Ging was glad that Gon was feeling better, though, and seemed to be completely over his sickness.

Wiping a bead of sweat from the side of his face with his shirt sleeve, Ging focused on putting one foot in front of the other. One step closer to home. One step closer to Mito and Grandma. One step closer…

When they got to the top of the hill, Ging stopped, taking in the sight. It had been so long since he had last been here, to his old home, filled with so many memories. It was quiet, now, except for the few pieces of laundry flapping on the clothesline.

The quiet was broken by Gon, of course. "Aunt Mito!" the boy called as he ran up to the house, pushing the door open and running inside. His voice was muffled by the wall as Ging walked up, but he could still hear his voice, and Mito's. "Aunt Mito, I'm home! And I brought Ging with me!"

"Gon?" Mito replied, her voice soft but surprised, so different from how Gon remembered and yet still the same. It made something uncomfortable clench in his chest, and he finally realized…he was home.

Walking slowly up to the house, by the time Ging got there and peeked inside Mito was already holding Gon in a huge hug, while Grandma just watched from her place at the table.

"Gon, I'm so glad to see you! Why didn't you write and say you were coming?"

"We wanted to surprise you!" Was Gon's energetic answer. It was right at that moment that Mito realized what Gon had said earlier, and her face snapped up to meet Ging's.

"G-Ging?" She stuttered out, eyes wide as she slowly released Gon, who stepped to the side then went to go greet Grandma.

"Uh…h-hey, Mito," Ging stammered, raising his head to scratch at the back of his head, pushing his hat up in the process. He couldn't seem to meet her gaze, and looked to the side instead. He heard footsteps coming his way, and still didn't look up.

Slap!

He heard the impact of her palm on his face before he felt the sting, but once the pain did register it was quite intense. He did no more than flinch, however, not moving or reacting in any other way. Slap, slap! Two more, one on each side of his face, and then he was finally able to force his gaze up. Her face was set in lines of serious fury, but her eyes were soft and full of unspoken pain. Then tears started to gather in them.

"Ging. You came back," Was all she said, and then she was hugging him.

He thought he should say something back, wanted to say something back, but he couldn't find the words. Instead, he just oh-so-carefully lifted his arms and hugged her back, sinking into the embrace and breathing in her scent. She smelt like home, even though he hadn't been there in years.

Finally she let him go, and stepped back to look at him. He stood still for her examination, and even when she reached out and snatched his treasured hat from off his head he didn't move. That was more out of shock than complacency, however, and as soon as he had registered what had happened he was moving, reaching to take his hat back.

"Hey, Mito!" he exclaimed, "Give me back my hat!"

She bounded backwards, out of his reach, holding the hat tauntingly above his head. "Ging, this thing is disgusting, it's practically falling apart and it looks like it's never been washed. I won't allow you to wear it in this house."

"Wha—" Ging cut himself off, grudgingly remembering that he had never been allowed to wear a hat inside in his childhood. "Fine, I won't wear it inside. But give it back!" He put his hands on his hips and glared at Mito, ignoring the laughter coming from the side of the room Gon was in. "Besides, it's been washed. Any time I fell into a lake it was washed.," he muttered under his breath.

"Ging, that's disgusting," was Mito's reply. "I'll wash it for you, and then give it back."

Ging looked like he was about to argue, but then seemed to think better of it, closing his mouth. "I tell you, you come home after however many years, and the first thing your little cousin does is terrorize you and steal your hat." He plopped violently down into a chair at the table, crossing his arms grumpily.

Mito just laughed, joined by Gon, and even Grandma chuckled a bit. As Mito and Ging started talking, both sitting at the other side of the table from a still-sulking Ging, the man himself decided to just listen to their conversation, content to be an outside observer. He would never admit it, but he was glad to see that they had such a good relationship. He knew that Mito would be a better parent for Gon than he could be. Though, whenever he remembered the tears in Gon's eyes at the top of the World Tree, as the boy said he had just wanted a father, Ging felt a pang in his heart. He was the reason his son had grown up without a father, and he would forever regret that decision.

But, what's done is done, and there was nothing he could do to change the past. Besides, Gon had grown into an amazing person, and Ging was determined to be there for him from now on.

Ging was broken out of his musings by the sudden, uncomfortable flopping of his stomach inside itself. He frowned, subtly pressing a hand to his lower abdomen. He had thought that his flipping stomach of the past day or so had been caused by nerves at meeting Mito again. But he had done that, been slapped, it was all done and good. Was he still nervous? He didn't think so.

He considered that he might be getting sick, as Gon had suggested, but dismissed the thought. He would be fine, it was just an upset stomach. He would have some good food tonight for supper (for Mito had always been an excellent cook, even as a kid) and everything would be set to rights.

Besides, even if he was sick, he wouldn't dare to interrupt Gon and Mito's reunion for something as trivial as his health. He had taken care of himself for years now, and would do it again. He would be fine, and he didn't need anyone else's help.

Later that night, as Ging lay on his back in bed, he was regretting how quickly he had passed his upset stomach off as nothing. It was coming back to haunt him now, with a vengeance. His stomach had proceeded to get worse through the evening, the occasion rolling turning into full blown nausea after the meal. He had ignored it through the evening, trying to power through without anyone knowing.

Mito had made him and Gon turn in early, knowing that they had had a long trip, and he certainly hadn't been complaining. He was so tired, and his joints had become stiff and sore as he sat in the house, that he had no complaints with abandoning the waking world in favour of sleep.

Gon had taken over his old bedroom, of course, so now they had to share it. It wasn't a problem, they had been traveling together for weeks now, and were used to sharing a sleeping space. It was just a matter of who got the bed. Gon had immediately claimed the floor, insisting that Ging take the bed. Ging would normally have argued, saying that he had slept on the ground for years, and that the bed was rightfully Gon's now. But, by the look in his son's eyes, Gon wasn't willing to back down. And Ging really hadn't relished the thought of sleeping on the hard floor that night.

So, with a slight, forced smile he had conceded defeat, and Mito had grabbed a spare futon to lay on the floor for Gon, who had placed his bag beside it and laid down with a triumphant grin on his face. Ging had changed into his night clothes and placed his own pack on the floor, crawling into the bed with a barely suppressed groan.

He wasn't that old yet, why were his joints so sore? And his muscles. And his bones. And really just everything. And it had seemed hotter in that room than he remembered it being at this time of year.

But, the clean sheets and the soft pillow had felt amazing, so he couldn't complain too much.

"Goodnight, Ging!" Gon had called from his place on the floor, hand behind his head as he laid on his back, and Ging could hear the smile in his son's voice.

"'Night, Gon," he had grunted back, already half asleep, laying on his side with his face smushed into his pillow.

A good night's sleep, that was all he needed. He would be right as rain in the morning, and he wouldn't have to worry Gon or Mito with his health, and they could have a perfectly good visit. He wasn't going to ruin it, like he ruined most everything else.

Or…that was the plan, anyway.

Now he lay awake in the middle of the night, the house was dark and mostly quiet, the only noise filling the space being the sound of Gon's soft breaths. Ging tried to take in a deep breath, hoping to calm down and get over the nausea, but that unfortunately just made a sharp pang shoot through his stomach.

He had to clench his teeth so he wouldn't cry out in pain, and couldn't stop himself from rolling to his side on the mattress, ending up in the fetal position. He didn't know how much longer he could take this.

Before, when he had first noticed the nausea while on the boat with Gon, he had thought it was just nerves at seeing Mito and Grandma for the first time in years. But even after seeing them again, and getting through a whole evening with no incidents, the violent clenching in his gut wasn't letting up. Plus he could feel the fever coursing through his body, making the room-temperature air feel cold as it brushed across his skin whenever he shifted.

Another violent pain had him sitting up in bed suddenly, clamping a hand over his mouth as he swung his legs over the bed. It was clear to him now that he wouldn't get through this night without throwing up. Having quickly decided this, the next course of action was to choose the best place to go after he left the room. Because of course he couldn't stay there and wake up Gon.

The obvious option was to go to the bathroom and throw up in the toilet. But the only bathroom was upstairs, and that's also where all the bedrooms were. Which meant that someone would likely wake up, and Ging couldn't bother anyone with something so silly, stupid and embarrassing. And that of course meant he had to go downstairs so he didn't wake anyone up. Which meant either the kitchen or the living room.

With that preliminary plan in mind Ging stumbled his way out of the bedroom, hand still clamped over his mouth, and breaths heavy as he felt his way to the stairwell. He had been so used to these stairs while growing up that he could go down them blindfolded and with his hands tied behind his back. Now, though, the muscle memory was gone, and he had to use one hand to grope at the walls and railing as he went, feet sliding over the scraped-smooth wood.

Somehow he made it down the stairs without falling, and found himself in the kitchen. At that point his stomach was gargling unpleasantly, and he was mostly running on panic-fueled adrenaline. Cupboard doors were opened in a mad dash until a bucket was found under the sink. As his fingers grabbed the edge, Gon brought it close to his chest, turned around and slid to the ground, back pressed up against the hard wood of the cupboard, knees raised towards the ceiling, and bucket gripped tightly in white knuckled hands as Ging hung his head over it, feeling pressure crawl farther and farther up his throat.

The man heard footsteps coming slowly down the stairs, but just as he turned his head to look his body decided that then was a good time to revolt and star heaving. He didn't even get a chance to see who was coming down before his head was pressed into the bucket, mouth opening as several wet burps made their way out, followed by a bit more…substance.

Every other sense was blocked out at that moment, his body and mind just fighting to stay alive and sitting up straight. He would have liked nothing more than to curl up on his side and cry. Though he would never have admitted that out loud, of course.

He was throwing up for what felt like hours, but he didn't know how long it actually was, and when his body finally decided it had had enough and was done, he was left panting and sweating, stringy hair hanging in his face, and breathing in the acrid smell that did nothing to help with the slight nausea he still felt.

Ging groaned, his aching head falling back against the cupboard door. The wood was cool against his sweat soaked hair and skin.

Then a hand entered his field of vision and gripped the edge of the bucket, trying to pull it away from him; he whined and tried to pull it closer, not sure if he was done yet. But of course if anyone asked, he would deny that he whined. He was a hunter, he wouldn't whine.

It seemed to have accomplished it's mission, however, as the hand retreated from his field of vision. Instead a voice replaced it in its efforts to help.

"Ging?"

That was Gon's voice.

"Gon?" Ging strangled out, forcing his eyes closed as his body trembled. He was so cold. "So-sorry, I didn't mean—to wake you u-up."

"It's fine, but I…I'm going to go get Aunt Mito!"

That made Ging's eyes snap wide open, his back jerking ramrod straight. "No!" He exclaimed, then hissed in pain as his headache increased to blinding degrees. "No, you don't n-need to get Mito," he panted, fingers curling around the wood of the bucket, "I'll be fine…just need to sit for a while. Go back to bed."

Gon seemed to hesitate, then his hazel eyes hardened with a decision made. "I'm getting Mito," he said firmly, then stood up and bounded over to the stairs, soon disappearing from sight.

Ging considered getting up, but his aching body reminded him that it wouldn't be a good decision, as he would likely fall over. It then decided it wasn't done turning itself inside out, and he spent the next few minutes hunched over the bucket, bringing up bile which tore through his already-burning throat. With no one around this time, he let a whine escape his vocal chords.

Something pleasantly cool slipped beneath his bangs, coming to rest on his forehead for a few seconds before being drawn away. Ging leaned into the touch, chasing it as it retreated, then opened his eyes and saw Mito crouched in front of him, a worried-looking Gon hovering behind. His gaze slid to a distant corner of the now lighted kitchen, Gon or Mito must have turned the lights on. The brightness stabbed into his eyes, and he closed them with a grimace,

"'m fine," he muttered lowly, "I tol' Gon not to get you."

"Why would you do that?" her voice was passive, expressionless, and he couldn't tell what she meant by it. Though, that could have just been a result of how muddled his brain was with the fever.

"You were 'sleep, di'n' wan' wake you up." His head was lolling forward towards his knees, stiff neck muscles giving in to exhaustion, and his voice was slurring. He tried hard to wake up more, but he could tell it was a losing battle. Just as arguing with Mito would be, he sensed. But he was nothing if not stubborn.

"Ging, I don't mind being woken up, especially if you or Gon, or Grandma, are sick. You should have told someone earlier, would have saved us a lot of trouble." Mito was definitely upset, he could tell that much now, but her voice was also soft and soothing. When did his little cousin grow up, he wondered? While he was gone, abandoning his family to chase his own whims, his brain supplied the answer. Ow, mean brain.

"Mmm," he moaned back.

"Here, Ging, drink some water," she said, then there was a glass being held to his lips, and some blessedly cool water was sliding down his abused throat, soothing some of the pain. He tried to gulp it down quickly, but whoever was holding the glass kept tipping it back so he could only take small sips. He wanted to protest, but at that point he was just thankful for the water, and that he didn't have to hold the glass. Once he felt like he would throw up if he drank any more he stopped, making a face and turning his head away from the glass. He could feel as it was taken back by whoever was holding it. "Thanks," he murmured.

"You're welcome," that was Gon's subdued voice. He sounded scared, or upset, and that sent a pang of pain right through Ging's heart.

Mito sighed. "Alright, let's get you back to bed, if you're done throwing up."

He nodded, loosening his grip on the bucket. He still felt a bit queasy, but he could tell the worst of it was over, for now at least. Someone took it from him, and his hands dropped to his side, then lifted back up to curl around his body as he shivered.

"Ging," Mito called, having come closer to him. She was now crouched right beside him on the floor, and was slipping her hand around his back. "I'm going to help you stand up, okay?"

He nodded slowly, and scrabbled to get his feet under him. He couldn't quite tell where the floor was, or which way was up, but when Mito slowly started to rise, dragging him with her, he just focused on supporting his own weight, and let her keep him going the right direction. The room spun, and he clamped his eyes shut once more.

He could hear her saying something to Gon, but by then he just wanted his warm bed, and wasn't paying attention to his surrounding. Things blurred, his legs and back and everything ached, and then he was being lowered onto something soft. A bed. His bed. Well, no, Gon's bed, just borrowed, for now. Needed to thank Gon later.

As his head hit the pillow, he sighed out in relief. It was blessedly cool, and so so soft.

"Goodnight, Ging," Mito's voice came from above him, sounding far away and muffled. "Wake either me or Gon if you need something. The bucket is beside your bed, and there's a glass of water here too. Got it?"

"Got…it…" Ging whispered back, already half asleep. Mito turned to leave, but he forced himself to wake up enough to say one last thing. "Mito?" When she hummed to show she was listening, he continued, "Thank you. And thanks, Gon."

He didn't stay awake long enough to hear their reply, but his last thought before he drifted off was how nice it was to have family. This is what he had been missing all these years, what he had been searching for. And he finally found it.

So, in case any of you were curious, the suggestion I got for this fic was "Make mito slap ging many times." I only had three, but I think that still counts as many. I am so thankful for that suggestion, cause I'm not sure how I would have written their reunion without it, but it likely would have been so weak and cheesy. I liked her slapping him a lot, and I think it is quite accurate to her character, lol.

Ging is definitely out of character in this, but he has been the whole series, and that's kinda the point. So I hope it wasn't too cringe-worthy.

The end of this fic is kinda broken up and seems unfinished, at least to me, but that's because I was writing from just Ging's perspective, and he was pretty out of it. I don't really like how I left it, though, so I am strongly considering writing a short second chapter to explain what happened with Gon and Mito during the night. Just to kinda flesh out the scene more while still staying in just Ging's perspective for this part. Let me know if this is something you'd wanna see, or if you think it is fine as is!