Disclaimer: This story is a not-for-profit fan work based on Akira Toriyama's Dragon Ball series. I claim no affiliation with Bird Studios, Toei or FUNimation.
Crushed
Chapter 1: Breakdown
Son Gohan hugged the pillow tightly as he tried to fall asleep. It had been four days since the Cell Games. Three days since his father's funeral. The boy had slept with his father's pillow every night since the fight with Cell. The pillow smelled like Goku – a mixture of pine, sweat, and Chichi's good cooking. An unusual combination, yes, but it was a good smell, a comforting smell. Gohan was beginning to find that the nights were the hardest to get through, and any comfort, big or small, was welcome.
As Gohan lay his head on the pillow, he was reminded of Goku's last moments. How he stood in front of his son, brave and noble and strong, ready to transport Cell away from the earth. His gold hair, his determined face, his emerald eyes full of love and pride and so much more. His voice as he bid his son farewell… "Goodbye, my son." Those words played over and over in Gohan's mind as the boy drifted off to sleep…
Gohan walked in the direction of the river near his house. He felt a little guilty for sneaking out, but he shook the feeling off. Everyone deserved a break from time to time, and besides, it was far too nice a day to spend cooped up in his room studying. The sky was crystal clear, and Gohan admired the light as it fell through the leaves of the trees.
As Gohan neared the river, he noticed a figure standing at the bank, just beyond the trees. It almost looked like… but it couldn't be. Yet… it was! Gohan ran as fast as his legs would carry him. "Daddy!" he cried.
He threw his arms around his father's waist. "You're alive!" he cried, tears streaming down his face.
Goku returned his embrace, laughing. "Of course I am, son!" he said. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"B-but Cell killed you, don't you remember? I saw it, and later you talked to me from the underworld, and–"
Goku just hugged him tighter. "Well, I'm here now, aren't I? Everything's okay, Gohan, I promise."
But something was wrong. "Ouch, Dad, you're hurting me!" But when Gohan looked up, it wasn't Goku's face he saw; it was Cell's. Gohan froze in terror as Goku's joyful laugh was replaced by Cell's evil one. He struggled to break free of the embrace but found himself trapped. He was back at the Cell Games, being tortured as his friends watched helplessly. He was being crushed, and he knew he wouldn't last much longer.
"Get angry, Gohan," Cell taunted. "It makes you mad that you're in pain!" Gohan struggled to breathe. "I can feel your bones beginning to crack," Cell continued.
Just as Gohan thought he couldn't take any more, Cell released him. He fell to the ground, gasping for breath.
Gohan woke up, panting and covered in a cold sweat. It had only been a dream. Just a dream. But no, wait, something about this wasnt right. The pain hadnt gone away. In fact, it was getting worse!
Gohan clutched his chest. This was different than the pain he felt during training or battles. This pain was coming from the inside. It felt like Cell was still crushing him, but in a much more targeted way. And there was a burning feeling coming from his… his heart! Realization dawned on him. Goku's heart virus. Gohan remembered Piccolo's warning to Yamcha that the virus could be contagious.
He forced himself to his feet and staggered to his mother's room while he had the strength. Chichi was still sleeping. Gohan roughly shook her. "Mom," he said painfully.
Chichi slowly blinked. "Gohan?" she said drowsily. "What is it, honey?"
"Where's… Dad's… heart… medicine?"
Chichi snapped awake and caught her son as the boy's knees gave out. "Ehh? Gohan, baby, what's happening?"
"Heart… virus… must've been… Dad's… pillow…" he replied weakly.
"Never mind, don't try an' talk," Chichi commanded, her voice edged with panic. She scooped up Gohan and lay him down gently on the bed. "Now, you just wait right here while I get the heart medicine…"
A few minutes later Chichi came back into the room, a small bottle in hand. She knelt next to the bed and opened the bottle. As she examined the contents, her face turned pale. Barely a tablespoon of the live-saving liquid remained. No! That couldn't be it! It had definitely taken more than this to make Goku better, but Goku was a full-grown adult. Gohan was only a child; would this lesser dosage be enough?
Gohan let out a small groan, his face scrunched up in pain. Chichi snapped back into action. She tipped the bottle toward Gohans open mouth, administering about half the remaining medication. He choked it down painfully, struggling to stay conscious. The pain in his chest was maddening. But after a few minutes the boy's face relaxed slightly. The medicine was beginning to take effect. He smiled weakly at his mother, his hand still clutching his chest. Gohan's eyes closed as he fell into a deep sleep.
A loud knock at the door startled Chichi out of her motherly trance. She lingered next to the bed, reluctant to leave her son's side. The knock came again, this time more urgently than before. "All right, all right," she muttered irritably. She swung open the door and found Kuririn, his expression tinged with fear and concern. "Whadaya want, Kuririn?" Chichi snapped.
"Well, um, is everything okay?" Kuririn asked nervously. "I felt a disturbance in Gohan's ki, and I, uh, wanted to make sure nothing bad had happened or anything."
"Is everything okay?" Chichi yelled. "Is everything OKAY? My baby boy is dying! Of course it's not okay!"
"Dying?" Kuririn asked, startled. "How? What happened?"
"That stupid heart virus, that's what!"
"Heart virus?" The color drained from Kuririn's face. "B-but how? And don't you still have medicine for that?"
"There's only one dose left!" Chichi fell to her knees, sobbing. Kuririn caught her and helped her back inside. When they reached the room where Gohan lay asleep, however, they found an unexpected guest.
Piccolo was halfway through the window. His face turned purple when he noticed Kuririn and Chichi. But Kuririn just smiled grimly. "You felt it, too, huh?"
Piccolo grunted in response as he pulled the rest of his body through the window. "What… happened?" he asked as he walked toward the bed.
"Goku's heart virus," Kuririn explained as he helped Chichi settle into a chair next to the bed. "I guess we all forgot how contagious that thing supposedly was. And there isn't enough medicine left… only one dose."
Chichi wiped her tears on her sleeve. "A little more, actually; about a tablespoon. I already gave him some of it," she said, struggling to keep her voice level. "He's been sleeping with Goku's pillow the past few nights… seemed to think that might've been it. I never did remember to change the pillowcase…" Her voice drifted off as the tears came back.
Darkness. He was surrounded by darkness. What was going on? Then Gohan remembered – the heart virus. But the pain was gone. Well, okay, not completely. It was still there, waiting to strike again, but it wasnt nearly as bad as it had been before. It had been reduced to little more that a dull throb in his chest, at least for now.
Gohan could hear voices, though they sounded far away. His mother… Kuririn… Piccolo… He couldn't make out what they were saying, but he sensed the concern in their words. He could discern Chichis sobbing, with Kuririn trying to comfort her despite his own uneasiness. And Piccolo's gruff silence. But Gohan was aware of the disquiet in his mentor's mind. One particular thought came across loud and clear: Don't you dare die on me, kid.
Die? But what about the medicine? Gohan vaguely recalled seeing Chichi shaking the bottle desperately. Realization hit him. There must not be enough. So thats why everyone was so scared…
More voices came through. A baby was crying loudly; Bulma must have brought Trunks. Tenshinhan and Yamcha weren't talking much, but Gohan could feel their ki. Even Vegeta was there. Gohan could sense the fear, the tension, the uncertainty in the room. He was hurting his friends again. Just like he always managed to do. "I'm sorry," he whispered into the darkness.
Piccolo stood watch over Gohan's bed. Chichi and Kuririn were in the kitchen with the others, explaining the situation. Yamcha and Kame Sen'nin had arrived about an hour ago, followed shortly by Tenshinhan and Chaozu. Vegeta and Bulma had also come with their child. It was almost noon, and Kuririn had finally convinced Chichi that she needed to eat something, if only to keep her strength up. Since Piccolo didn't require food, he had volunteered to keep vigil over Gohan while the others gathered in the kitchen.
It struck the Namekian just how small the boy looked in that bed. The kid had never been particularly big for his age, but this was something new. His pale face contrasted harshly with his wild black hair, and his body appeared to have been swallowed by the sheets. It didn't seem possible that this same boy had saved the world from Cell just a few days before.
Gohan stirred fitfully in his sleep. On his chest his fingers curled tighter in the folds of his shirt. "Mr. Piccolo," he mumbled. He shifted uncomfortably, his face scrunched up in a grimace. Before he realized what he was doing, Piccolo reached for the boy's hand and gave it a squeeze. I'm sorry this is happening to you, kid, he thought, but I'm here for you. I promise. Gohan gripped his mentor's hand tightly, making the Namekian wince. But it was a small comfort to know the boy's strength hadn't diminished too drastically. Not yet, anyway.
Chichi reentered the room, eyes puffy and red. The others hovered just beyond the doorway. She smiled at Piccolo gratefully. "Thank you for looking after him," Chichi said. "You can take a break if you like."
The Namekian nodded in understanding. He attempted to stand, but Gohan's grip on his hand was unrelenting. In fact, it merely tightened. Piccolo winced. "He won't let go of my hand," he explained to the boy's mother.
This time it was Chichi's turn to nod. As she reached for another chair, however, Gohan let out a loud groan. The boy tossed and turned painfully. Chichi rushed to her son's side, the bottle of heart medicine in her hand. "Mommy's here, Gohan, sweetie," she said, her tone soothing even as her eyes filled with panic. "Open your mouth, honey, Mommy's got medicine."
It took a minute, but Gohan swallowed the last few drops from the bottle. His expression relaxed slightly, and he somewhat loosened his grip on Piccolo's hand. Chichi sighed and sank back into her chair. "Well, that was the last of it," she said. "Now what?"
Piccolo's gaze remained on the small boy lying in the bed. "Now we wait," he responded.