Chapter 4

Hey guys... this is late; real late, and I have no good excuse, but I'm trying to be better from now on guys. Pinkie promise.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to the creator of Dragon Ball Z, Akira Toriyama.

"And you are saying you could hear his heartbeat from his chest?" Bulma asked, incredulously.

"Yeah, and it was beating rapidly. Do you know what was wrong with the kid?" Piccolo was by no means an expert on human anatomy, but even he knew that was not normal. He leaned against Bulma's laboratory table as she pulled out a file from her desk. Gohan's name was printed clearly on the file, and on the inside was a page with a photo of the half saiyan, his weight, height, date of birth, and blood type. There was a section entitled medical history that was left blank. Bulma furiously scribbled on the page, writing down his symptoms.

"I don't want to jump to any conclusions yet, but I do have a few ideas on what it could be." She paused for a second and opened a drawer, pulling out a cigarette. She searched for a lighter, but when she did not find one, she put the unlit cigarette in her mouth. Piccolo watched her anxiously. "A nervous habit," she amended, and looked up at the tall namekian before her. "And to your knowledge, this is the first time this has ever happened to him?"

He nodded. As far as he knew, Gohan had always been a healthy young boy, his saiyan blood fending off most diseases. "I think what Gohan had experienced was a panic attack." Bulma finally said after a moment of silence.

"A panic attack, what's that?"

"It's the way a human body fights danger. When stress levels are unnaturally high, the body is put into 'fight or flight mode' and the heart rate increases rapidly as a surge of adrenaline rushed through the body."

"That might explain why Gohan's power level increased slightly."

Bulma nodded, this new piece of information worrying her greatly. "That's why I am so worried. I mean, it's Gohan we're talking about, he is one of the strongest , -if not the strongest, warriors alive. If this becomes persistent, there is no telling the damage it could do. Something like this could relinquish whatever control he has over his powers."

Piccolo knew full well the implications that would arise if Gohan loses control over his powers. If this "panic disorder" thing could convince Gohan's body that he was in danger, then they were all in for a world of trouble.

xxx

Gohan woke the next morning clutching his chest, trying desperately to reign in his quickly beating heart.

"Dad! No, Dad!" A young Gohan cried, arms wrapped around himself as he looked at the spot where his smiling father had stood moments before. But this time, Goku was the only one who had disappeared, and Cell had remained. He smiled cruelly, laughing at the heart broken boy in front of him before bending down, excruciatingly close to the boy. His shoulders tensed and he halted his crying as he felt the android's hot breath on his neck, "it's all your fault," he whispered into the boy's ear.

It had been four days since the funeral, and Gohan had been avoiding Piccolo at all costs. The namekian kept hovering over him, watching him, and it made Gohan anxious. He knew that Piccolo was only worried for him after that fit of heart palpitations at the funeral, but that did nothing to ease his guilt. He hated being a burden.

Once Gohan was sure that he was fine, he got out of bed and pulled on some pants over his boxers, and walked down the hall to the bathroom. At least, that was what he had planned on doing, until he saw Mrs. Briefs emerge from the direction he was walking. He tried to keep it brief and polite, he was in no mood to engage in conversation, but if he knew anything about Mrs. Briefs it was that conversations with her were anything but brief.

"Gohan!" She exclaimed, walking up to the boy. "Aren't you looking handsome," she said as she extended a hand to touch the bridge of his nose.

"Good morning Mrs. Briefs," he said blushing and avoiding her gaze.

"My, my, such a strong boy! Look at those muscles!" And for the first time in his life, Gohan felt embarrassed by his body. He made a mental note to never walk out of his bedroom without a shirt and (if possible) his face got even redder.

"You must be training hard, just like your father! I bet he's so proud of you right now." She continued rambling on about Goku, but Gohan zoned it out. He was losing it, he knew it. He clutched at his chest, the all-too-familiar sense of panic spreading through his body quickly. The parasitic emotion was amplified, and Gohan had collapsed on the floor, his chest heaving with his futile attempts at slowing down his escalating heart rate. Calm down, Gohan. Come on, you can do it, just breathe. He repeated to himself over and over, but it would not cease. Gohan felt himself burning up, and gusts of wind swirled around him, pushing a worried Mrs. Briefs into the adjacent wall.

Gohan could not hear hear the strangled cry of pain, or the calling of his name. All he felt was fear. This intense drowning that had taken him over, he was stuck under water but had lost his ability to swim. He was helpless, unable to do anything but watch. He was useless, yet again.

xxxxx

The alarmed saiyan jumped out of bed, a rush of adrenaline surging through his body as his senses went to overdrive. At first, all he felt was a strong power level, not far off, and he readied himself for a fight, but he soon realized who it was. That brat.

He ran to the scene as quickly as possible, but by the time he had arrived, the half saiyan was unconscious on the ground. If he was being completely honest with himself, Vegeta was kind of relieved that the boy had been knocked out before he arrived, it would be difficult to subdue the boy when he was releasing so much energy.

He surveyed the area around him, the bedroom, bathroom, and part of the family room had been reduced to a pile of rubble. His senses scouted the area for any casualties of the boy's outburst, and his eyes caught sight of a certain blonde woman pinned underneath a wall unconscious. Vegeta lifted the wall off of her, and picked her up, not because he cared for the lady in his arms, no on the contrary Vegeta found her to be quite irritating and would not mind getting rid of her, but because there was someone else he cared about. But he pushed the thought away, focusing on the real reason he even bothered with that woman anyways.

"Mom!" called the blue haired scientist as she navigated her way through the rubble and to her mother. She was still in her lab coat, an unlit cigar in her mouth fell to the floor as she made her way to Mrs. Briefs, and knelt over the woman. Behind her was Piccolo, whose eyes were focused on a different person. The namekian made his way to the unconscious half saiyan on the ground, and put a hand on his forehead before quickly pulling away, as if just touching the boy's head burned his hand.

He couldn't be that hot. Vegeta was sure that the namekian was just being dramatic. Walking (or rather stomping) to the half saiyan, Vegeta ventured to test his thesis, leaning in front of the limp form, and placing his hand on the kid's forehead. He pulled back immediately, and for some reason, he was filled with a sense of dread. That temperature was not normal. Unless… No. He amended. The boy was not even full saiyan. He shook the thought out of his head and settled on talking about the matter at hand.

"He's burning up." But Piccolo ignored the man and carried the half saiyan, running out of the house with the boy in his arms. Vegeta knew where he was taking the kid, and he also knew that the guardian would be of no help to the boy, but with the woman freaking out over her mother, he found himself unsure of what else could be done.

So... What'd you think? Let me know in the review section. I'll have the next chapter out ASAP!

xoxo. Reem.