Disclaimer: I don't own DBZ or the characters.

So, I hadn't wanted to start a new story when I have so many unfinished, but I did get rid of a bunch of stories and, honestly, I needed to write this. My usual readers and friends or whoever viewed my profile know that I have been dealing with the loss of my estranged father. Most of the stories I have written in the past I just can't focus on right now. I won't be forgoing any of my old stories really, as most of them have updates waiting (I'm just waiting to post to ease myself back into regularly posting). I have grad school and other life events I'm dealing with as well, and sometimes it's hard to focus. I thank everyone for their patience and support while I make this transition.

Not even a week had passed since the Earth's hero, Son Goku, had made the ultimate sacrifice. His attempt to spare the world had backfired, though his young son had fulfilled his goal, defeating the android, Cell, and preventing his reign of terror. Victory belonged to the boy; however, it held a bitter taste. His father was dead, and he believed it to be his fault.

Son Gohan, eleven years old, was a half-human, half-Saiyan boy who held extraordinary power. At a young age, he was trained to look out for himself in preparation to battle other Saiyans. He had seen death at the age of four, watched the friends of his father and his friend and mentor die at Nappa's hand. On Namek, he had witnessed mass genocide as sadistic aliens made a game of getting the Dragon Balls. Before Cell ever came along, Gohan was haunted by those images, though he usually tried to ignore them and play them off.

He could never ignore his father's death.

Every time he tried to sleep, he would have haunting dreams. He couldn't forget the kind, soft gleam in his father's eyes as he instructed him to take care of his mother and told him he was proud. He dreamt of the instant his father left, knowing he would never come back to him. Then, his father was given another chance to return to Earth and he didn't take it.

Was his father really proud of him or were his words just that, words a parent used to comfort their child despite their validity? Goku had said that he wanted to remain dead since all of Earth's enemies continued to come after him. It was faulty logic, especially since Earth needed a protector.

Gohan's thought process lately had been about figuring out his father and getting over his guilt. His father hadn't needed to die, he continued to tell himself. Cell had been desperate because the half-Saiyan boy had the power to end him but didn't. He had wanted to make Cell pay for every life he took. He wanted to torture him.

He had nightmares that majority of his life. Who wouldn't after seeing the things he had? War veterans who had experienced tragedies in their adulthood had difficulties dealing with the memories. Gohan's consolation was that he knew they were memories and that he was stronger than before, much stronger, but his nightmares were getting worse. Sometimes he would have dreams where he switched roles with the enemy. The reason he was awake was that he dreamed of his father fighting Cell, losing, begging for his child to stop him. He had woken up before he learned what his decision was, but what upset him was that he felt anger and resentment towards his father.

In his studies, he had learned about the grieving process. His mother had explained it when he was in the hospital after the Saiyans had come. He had been devastated over losing Piccolo, but that's why he went to Namek. He knew he could bring his mentor back.

But the grieving process, he knew anger was normal. He knew mixed emotions were normal. He knew it would be a long time before he felt normal again, but apparently that was normal. It didn't feel normal to him.

"Daddy," he whimpered quietly as his tears fell, "why? Why did you leave me?"

But he knew the answer; he had already been given an answer, but he didn't know if he could trust it to be true. He couldn't accept it. The wind picked up as he looked up into the moonless sky. Perhaps he would never know the real answer.

Tired from the lack of sleep and the late-night reflections, Gohan decided to distract himself. As a young child he always had schoolwork, but not really any hobbies. At first he hated Piccolo's survival training, but he grew to see training as more of a hobby than schoolwork (though truthfully it was more of necessity than a hobby). It was something he and his father had even bonded over, both during the three years preparing for the androids, and then in the Hyperbolic Time Chamber. Gohan realized that he had gotten another year with his father, more than what any of the others had. It still didn't make the heartache go away. They were always training to protect their lives and the lives of those around them.

There had only been two paths for Gohan, studying and training. In that moment of the night, he wanted to feel close to his father. His mother had never approved of his training in the past and, with his father gone, he expected her to be more against it. That's why he trained in secret in the cover of night. Breathing out a sigh, he entered his home from the roof and changed clothes before going deeper into the forest, further away from his home.

He started out with some basic exercises to warm up before getting serious. He launched punches, kicks, and ki blasts at the air. It helped to get out some of his anger, but then he would feel guilty for experiencing that anger. Making a simple move put him back in the ring with Cell. The boy remembered his rage. With time to reflect on what he felt then, he realized that it somewhat frightened him.

He wished his dad was with him now to help him learn to control what he felt, but he was on his own now. The darkness in his heart and the bitterness he felt towards his father wasn't something he could discuss with his mother. Feeling lost and alone, Gohan's training ceased. He wept that night as he fell asleep in a grassy bed. His heart was broken, and the young boy feared how long it would take to heal...if it ever would.