TIME FRAME: During the time in the hospital after the battle with the Saiyans before the trip to Namek; Gohan is five years old.

Goku's eyes snapped open even though there was no noise to indicate any threat. No shouts, no cries, and there wasn't even any alien ki lurking about. He knew all the energies he was sensing or at least knew who they belonged to. All the nurses and doctors and aides. Most of them gathered in one area, probably the nurse's station with only a choice few darting to and fro down the halls. One of them had come in to monitor his heart rate a few minutes ago so they weren't comin' this way. He could feel small little ki levels, scattered throughout the floor but most of them were nearly non-existent given he was one of the few on this floor that was conscious.

Thus, his curiosity had been significantly whetted. He was limited in his movement, being bandaged, literally head to toe, but he could feel the change in the air. Whether the ki and energy around them was reminiscent of it or not, something was amiss. Shifting his eyes about, he saw nothing out of place. The hospital room was dark; with ChiChi having left to get some sleep (amid a lot of protesting and it took a visit from the CEO to convince her it was non-negotiable) and Krillin had been released the day before so...

The soft whimpering brought realization to him and he squirmed, trying to force his body upward. No good. His broken bones refused to move and his muscles refused to cooperate. This bed, while apparently the "best" for his type of injuries was exceptionally good at immobilizing him and being still had never been his strong point. Straining his neck as much as he could, and getting a surge of immense pain for his trouble, he settled his eyes on the other occupant of the room.

"G-gohan."

The five year old shifted in his bed, wincing when the movement brushed his bruised ribs but his whimpers were from dark dreams and nothing more. Nightmares were not uncommon for Goku's son, even before this whole mess, in no small part due to the boy's massive imagination. Goku and ChiChi had long ago grown accustomed to chasing away monsters, demons and living vegetables. Oh, the nights they had been called from sleep to go and soothe a frightened child or to carry a frantic little boy back to cuddle between the two of them. Goku's heart ached. Every fiber of his being said for him to get up and comfort his child but his body was not cooperating! It refused to let him even turn very much, despite his attempts to do so. Frustrated, the Saiyan closed his eyes and reached out to his son with his ki.

There was a faint pause when Goku felt his ki brush with his child's darkened and frightened one. Gohan was not a master at ki control just yet but given he had already learned to fly with it, he was far more advanced than most adults. His small, disturbed energy pattern reacted to his father's extended warm one. After a moment or two, during which Goku focused as much warm positive energy as he could into a gentle caress, at least as well as ki would allow, the boy's eyes shot open and he sat up, panting ever so slightly as his long hair fell in sweaty dreads into his face.

"It's okay, Gohan," Goku called to the boy who quickly shifted his face to meet his father's. God, he looked petrified and despite his body protesting immensely, Goku shifted a bit, enough so that he could at least lock eyes with his son without stretching his neck. It put a lot of weight on his broken arms but he didn't care. Gohan needed him right now. "It's okay; it was just a bad dream, little man." Goku hoped his voice sounded convincing. Darn this stupid bed. He needed to be over THERE, damn it! Much as he was grateful he could look at his child, he needed to be able to be next to him. He needed to be able to hug him.

"Not a dream," Gohan mused, rubbing his eyes and then wrapping his arms around himself in a half hug. "Not a dream at all. Tien...Yamcha...Chaotzu...they're all dead. They killed them all. I saw it. Piccolo...they killed Piccolo and I couldn't do nothin'!" His tiny voice broke slightly and his country accent was coming out, something that rarely happened, given ChiChi's strict teaching regime about proper dictation. It only happened when Gohan's emotional pain would override his manners, so not very often. It sounded like he wanted to cry and indeed, was fighting not to. Damn it! He was a little boy! If he needed to cry, he needed to cry and he shouldn't be standing there, looking so lost! This was the part where Goku would scoop him up and let him lean into his chest or lock his arms around his neck and tickle his son's neck with playful bites until the boy laughed. He needed to be right there, on that bed, next to his son and he couldn't be! Damn it, damn it, damn it!

"Gohan," Goku stressed his son's name and the frantic boy met his face again, unshed tears sparkling in the bottoms of his eyes. "I can't come there so you come here, come over to Daddy." That wasn't the same but it was the best Goku could do right now. It wasn't fair to his son. He was just a little boy, if a strong little boy, but well, Goku would have to work with what he could work with. Eyeing the evil bed, again, he seriously pondered just breaking the thing open and dealing with ChiChi's ranting and the doctor's groaning in the morning if it would help his son.

Responding quickly to the full blooded Saiyan's suggestion, Gohan shifted. Slipping his tiny bare feet (God, he was so little, still!) onto the floor, the boy trotted to his father's side and the man forced his bandaged hand up, reached out and caressed the boy's tear stained face. Gohan clung to that bandaged hand like a lifeline. "It's not your fault, Gohan. Don't you think for one minute that it is." Being able to see his son so close, it broke Goku's heart. Even in the limited light from the hallway and the night outside, he could see the fear illuminated in those deep eyes and the fact he couldn't pull him into his chest and hold him was infuriating. He, again, seriously considered just breaking this stupid bed and dealing with them having to reset his bones again. Maybe they would take the hint. "You hear me, son? Not your fault." He toughened his voice, not something he did often but his boy NEEDED to know this.

"But it is!" Gohan protested, hiccupping a bit though he did lean into his father's hand with his cheek, "I didn't react. I didn't fight like I trained to, like I shoulda and they died 'cause of it!" His little nose was starting to run and those tears he had kept at bay in his eyes were trickling down his cheeks. "It was my fault, Daddy! I let your friends die and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I didn't do what I needed to do and they died! I was a coward! I was a sniffling little failure of a coward and I'm so sorry!" Burying his face into his hands, he sobbed openly.

Knocking the side of the bed with his elbow and maybe loosening its confines a bit, the Saiyan shifted, ignoring the protests of his body. Eyes softening, Goku said gently, reaching up and stroking his son's long black hair, "Gohan, it was your first battle. No one knows what to do in their first battle and I know that you had heard all my stories about them being so strong. Seeing them fall like that musta scared you to death." Smiling warmly, he said "And I'm so sorry for that Gohan. If I'd had my way, you never woulda been near that battle." He meant that. As much as he loved that his son had discovered the martial arts, he despised the reasons why and the methods that had been used. He was supposed to have shown and introduced his son to the art of fighting, not suddenly dropped him into a war. As much as Goku was grateful to Piccolo for training his son, he also harbored a deep anger at the Namekian for thrusting his barely-not-a-baby-anymore onto the battlefield like he had. Circumstances be damned, it wasn't right. Gohan had only been out of diapers for two years and now he already knew what death was, what killing was, what fear—real fear-was.

It made the father sick to his heart.

"But I wanted to help," Gohan whimpered, though he was loathe to let go of his father's hand. Had it really only been a year since he was clinging to the man's pant leg and hanging off his neck with a shy smile? It seemed like a lifetime ago but oh, how he'd missed it. That warm, solid security…"I was good at the trainin' and I...I liked it." He meant that. Not all of it and he often found himself imagining how Daddy's training would have been different but the skills he learned, the abilities…it had thrust a sense of control and power into him that he never imagined. He would be lying to say he didn't enjoy that aspect. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't pondered what fun he could have had training with his father and if he would ever perfect his father's signature move. He'd be lying if he had said the day he figured out he could fly, he had not laughed like a hyena in ecstasy. However, seeing all those brave men…men that he had heard about in so many stories, men that had jumped into the fray without a single thought to the danger…just drop, one by one, it had planted a deep fear in him. One that cut him directly to the core. Then, there was Piccolo…the man who had taught him what strength was…had taught him what abilities had been sleeping inside him…the one friend he had ever had besides his family and the animals and the only person he had known for a whole year, to see him die all because he had failed at what he had been taught…

He sniffed and wiped his runny nose on his father's arm to which the man made no reaction. He'd had worse. "But I failed." Gohan's tiny little voice wavered and cracked like glass which only made Goku's heart do the same. He hardened his face, took on his "stern" tone—one he had only recalled using once with his son before.

"No, little man." Goku corrected him again, "You didn't fail. You're still here. Krillin is still here. I'm still here. You helped save me and Krillin. And we're gonna get the others back. You were so brave, little man and I'm so proud of you." His heart would burst if he were any prouder and that carried in his voice. The sternness faltered and all that remained was chest-stuck-out-and-head-held-high pride.

Eyes flickering up, Gohan sniffed, again "Honest?" He asked. It hardly seemed possible. What had he done to win praise and yet his father never lied. It was a bit hard to see through his tears but all the same, the warmth of his father's smile and the authenticity of his tone cut through the mind-numbing cold of fear that those memories had wrapped around his heart. Sniffling again, Gohan rubbed the bottoms of his wet eyes with his free hand "Really honest, Daddy?" He didn't doubt the man but he just couldn't imagine how anyone could be proud of the disaster of a fighter he'd been in that battle and yet Daddy had said he was and his voice had been the happiest Gohan could remember and….

"Honest-Ponest." Goku teased, referring to their old games when they would rhyme words with one another as he gently poked the boy's nose with his bandaged finger. It had been so long since they'd done that and suddenly, the Saiyan warrior was achingly sick for it. He wanted that more than anything else—to be playing with his son in front yard, throwing silly little phrases at him, tickling his sides and hearing the boy laugh. That's what they should have been doing but instead, they were having to find a way to revive all those that had been lost. The Saiyan father made a note that they needed to set aside time when all of this was done to just…play. To just be father and son again. "Never been prouder of anyone my whole life than of you right now, little monkey."

Gohan blinked for a moment then smiled, wiping at his wet eyes. Little Monkey? His father had several nicknames for him but he had not called him little monkey since…well, since he still took a bottle, if Gohan remembered right. He could recall some of those days. The simple innocence of the day when they would run outside, play, wrestle, tease one another and Daddy would toss him into the air and he would laugh and laugh. Oh, those games had been fun. It had been a long time since they'd done that. A year….it had really been a year? He wanted those days back.

"You trust me right?" Goku's gentle but firm inquiry made Gohan look up. His father's deep eyes were narrowed in seriousness with his question. When the boy nodded, Goku advised "So trust me when I say that you did the best you could do and no one could be more proud of you than me." He set his child with a strong smile. He'd say it a thousand times if it got his son to believe it. Judging by the uneasiness in the boy's ki, his words were not really hitting which disturbed him more than he cared to admit. His little boy shouldn't have all this negatively churning in his spirit!

Head down, Gohan stated, quietly, as if afraid to hear it out loud. "Even though I was scared. Even though I'm still scared?" His tiny fingers traced small circles on his father's palm.

Goku cursed his broken body in as many words as he knew (and after traveling around the world, he'd learned a lot and then there was that one word that the Lord of Worlds had said quite a bit during his training). This was the part where he scooped up his son and cradled him. He pushed against those casts and they gave, if only a little. He could burst them off so easy and oh, if it wasn't tempting. "Gohan, it's normal to be scared. But you fought and did the best you could anyway. THAT is what it is to be brave, little man."

Nodding, Gohan said "S-sorry I woke you up, Daddy. I'll...try to go back to sleep." He was glad for the man's presence. It had calmed some of his nerves and while he did not look forward to going back to those dreams, at least he knew that his father, the man he looked up to the most in the world, did not think lesser of him. Whether or not that was deserved or not, Gohan wasn't sure but for now, it was a mild comfort. He would take what he could. He just wanted these dark images, those yells, those screams, to stay away. This wasn't like it used to be, when Daddy could cradle him and protect him and promise to make the darkness go away. Was he selfish for wishing it was? After all, the reason Daddy was so beat up was because he didn't help out when he should have. Daddy said he wasn't mad but Gohan couldn't help but think about it, just like he couldn't keep those images away when he closed his eyes. "You should go back to sleep too, Daddy." He reluctantly drew his hand from his father's.

Nope, nope, this was not okay. Goku could HEAR the fear in his son's tone. Understandably too. He had seen his little boy with nightmares before. He had heard him cry out and sob in horror of things that weren't even real. Now though, Gohan had things that were real. Things that he had seen. He had seen men that he considered to be far more advanced than him fall and die. Not in a distant way either but a very direct in-your-face manner that was permanently painted on his mind. The kind of fear Goku heard in that tiny voice was enough to justify his decision.

With a low grunt, he sat up all the way, breaking the top half of the bed apart, much to his son's pure shock. It clattered to the ground in pieces and the only consultation was that the broken wires meant that it didn't make that horrible beeping noise. Goku's fast reflexes, despite the yelp of protest it made him give out, stopped it from slamming to the ground and he set the broken pieces down to the left of the bed. It made a lot less noise that Gohan though it should though but then, maybe he just wasn't paying much attention. He was trying to wrap his head around what his father was doing. The doctors and nurses had said if he wasn't careful then those bones wouldn't heal right. What was he thinking?! "Daddy!"

The Saiyan's broken bones and muscles protested immensely. He ignored their screaming at him and instead, reached over, plucked his son up under the arms, though being gentle of the boy's bruises and cuts and settled back into the bed, curling his son up tight on his chest. The bruised lungs and fractured ribs elicited a sharp protest to this extra weight that Goku opted to ignore entirely. It hurt but he could handle a little bit of hurt. He settled his attention instead on his rather frazzled son who was looking directly at him with huge eyes.

"Da-daddy…your arms and your ribs and…" He began but Goku just shook his head, wrapped one arm around his son's head, gently ironing him to his chest. The broken elbow protested but the adult bit his lower lip to keep from crying out. It took a moment but the pain passed and he settled his hand into his son's hair, stroking it back, ignoring the ache it sent through his muscles. After a moment, his chest settled and adjusted to his son's nearly insignificant weight. He should have weighed more than he did to be frank.

Gohan's initial thought was to struggle and insist his father stop but the moment he was laid against that broad chest and those arms were tightly cocooned around him, despite the bandages and broken pieces of plaster from the shattered casts, he felt safer than he had in months. It didn't matter that his father was deeply injured and hurt. It didn't matter that his ability to fight was seriously compromised by his wounds. It didn't matter that Vegeta was still out there. All that mattered right now was that he was back in his father's arms, the place he had wanted to be for the past year. Tears bubbled up in his eyes and he inhaled, deeply, trying to trap that smell back into his consciousness and block out the nasty "hospital" smell.

"Ah, my body's fine, Gohan." Goku told him simply. "Your Daddy's a lot tougher than he looks. You looked like you needed this right now." He didn't add that he had missed it himself. While his training and running in the Other World had kept his body and mind distracted, when he stopped to rest, his thoughts would instantly drift to his wife and Gohan. He hadn't found out Piccolo was training Gohan until he came back but all the same, he had wondered about his child, wondering how he was coping with him gone. Shifting sight down to his tiny child, he delicately stroked those bruised arms, those torn gashes. "You've been through so much, little monkey."

Gently threading his arms around his father's neck, the Half-Saiyan settled, taking advantage of the rather impetuous decision of his father, though being careful not to squirm too much. They used to do this all the time. They would lay on the couch or when he went to bed, his father would flop down and he'd inevitably end up curled against him. His father would sometimes tell him one of his old adventure stories or some of the old folk tales that his grandfather used to tell him when he was little. Gohan's favorite story had always been about the Peach Boy, especially when Daddy would tell it. The smell, the feel, the overall presence of his father was intoxicatingly relaxing and it seemed that despite everything else that had changed, that had not. He nearly sobbed out of relief. One thing…one constant and it was the most important one. He was deeply grateful for it.

Focusing on his father's breathing, in and out, Gohan's bright eyes continued to watch the room. He knew he needed to sleep, especially for his wounds to heal but it was so hard. His father's strong arms had finally put him in a place where it might be possible but he had to admit, "I'm scared of what I'll see when I shut my eyes, Daddy." He confessed, softly. "I don't want to see them all die again but that's all I can see." He sniffled, nuzzling a bit deeper into his father's embrace, though being careful to stop moving if he felt his parent tense.

Silence a moment and Goku's arms tightening around him certainly helped. "Well, we just needa paint something else for you to see, then, right?" His father's inquiry was simplistic and warm, just like it had always been. "So, let's see…" The Saiyan drifted off, silently pondering his options. Much as he would have liked to force those dreams out of his son, that never worked. It used to be that he could threaten whatever monster was haunting him and that would be that but these were memories, not monsters.

His father's strong fingers continued to stroke through his ratty long black hair and the five year old embraced it. Letting the steady rhythm of his father's breathing, and the soft and subtle lift and fall of his chest, serve as a soother to his mind, he was so intently focused on it that he almost missed his father's next statement.

"You know, Gohan, my Grandpa used to tell me about this ol' couple that lived not that far from us. Oh, they lived a long time ago but they lived a lot like us! They'd hunt, fish and just live off the land. Pretty happy too, except for one thing. You know what that was?"

A smile, a true smile, spread over Gohan's face "They didn't have a kid?"

"Good memory, little man." Goku praised softly, keeping up his gentle stroking through the boy's hair. "No kiddo. That's all they really wanted but no luck. Then, that all changed one day. See, kinda like I go out to get firewood and stuff, that's where the husband went and his wife went down to the creek and can you guess what was floating in the creek?"

"A peach." Gohan supplied, picturing it, just as he had always done years ago. "A big, big one. Bigger than me?" His fingers, subconsciously, began to play with his bottom lip.

"Bigger than you!" Goku agreed, reaching down and gently eased his son's small fingers into his mouth. For a moment, he wondered if Gohan had truly outgrown it but then the gentle slurps started and his son lay still, his bright eyes softening and calming. "So, the ol' woman brought it inside, rolled it in like a stone and called for her husband, like your Mama calls for me sometimes. And see, he was a smart man so he came a-rushin' back to see what was wrong! What a surprise to see a big ol' peach there! I betcha he was thinkin' how many pies she could make from it but when they went to cut it, a little voice called out…"

"Don't cut me, don't cut me…" Gohan chimed in, around his fingers. "Please don't cut me."

"Yep!" Goku shifted, just a bit, so he could cover his son up with the blanket. "And then, just like that, outta that peach came a little boy, just like you!"

ChiChi rushed along the hallway and no one dared stay in her path. She was determined to talk to the management again today about being able to stay with her son and husband. She had been lenient far too long, as far as she was concerned. They weren't in life threatening danger anymore so NOW she wasn't allowed to stay? It made no sense and she was not about to tolerate it anymore. Her family needed her and anyone who tried to stop her was going to feel her wrath. Clutching her basket under her arm, she nearly ran into the nurse currently blocking her way in.

"Excuse me—" she started but then the woman turned, with a smile and put a finger to her lips. The gentleness of her eyes was enough to stop the Son Matriarch's tirade. Slowly, she slipped into the room before stopping herself and her heart fluttered.

Goku, fast asleep, with their little boy resting on his chest. The man had his arms wrapped tightly around the child, starving off any wound-be attackers. Gohan, limp as a rag doll, slept heavy with three fingers firmly planted in his mouth . It was a sight she had not seen for over a year and she didn't realize until this moment how deeply she missed it. The simple innocence of it, a father and his son, without a worry in the world. No monsters, no invasion, just the simplicity of being together.

Setting her basket on the nightstand, ChiChi pushed up one of the large chairs, rested her head on the mattress, and smiled. Watching them, her budding anger and frustration melted away. Laying a hand on Goku's, she closed her eyes, welcoming the togetherness they had not had for far too long. It was unorthodox and not ideal but they were together.

That was enough.