Disclaimer: Don't own it. I never said I did.
A/N: In case anyone is unsure about the setting or plot of this story, it is my rendition of Son Gohan's death. Since it is never shown in DBGT, or even hinted at that I'm aware of, I suppose no one can object to this variation of the event. I suppose it could be called A/U, though it is (from what I can tell) completely plausible.
Don't be too harsh if you don't like it, I'm just thinking out loud. Plus, I've been working on thisparticular story more than anything else I've ever done (so far). I don't know if any of you can tell, but I put a lot of thought and effort into this. Well, enough rambling from me…Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoy.
Twilight's Embrace
Part One: Discovery and Recollection
He walked briskly toward the room in which the patient's family was waiting, clad in his white lab coat, stethoscope 'necklace' and clipboard. He peered down once more at his well organized paper file and sighed to himself; this wasn't going to be easy. Actually, only one family member was present in the waiting room, but that didn't stop Dr. Yusuke from quickening his pace slightly to reach the girl. Girl…the woman was more than twice his age but he still called her a girl. Funny, he'd never really thought about it until now.
"Hello, Saito-san." Dr. Yusuke said nicely.
"Kajitsu, Yusuke-sama." She returned, standing to greet him. "Well, please…fill me in."
Dr. Yusuke nodded for her to follow him back through the ICU ward of the hospital. He waited for just a moment before turning to her and speaking.
"Your father is stable." He began. He watched the woman, whom he had known for nearly two decades now, let out a sigh of relief.
"Oh good," She said, playfully hitting his arm. "Ya had me worried for a minute their Doc."
"Pan…" He said, turning to her in the empty hallway. He looked at her intently, knowing this must be hard for her to hear. "I said he was stable…now. But you can't let him keep ignoring this. It won't just go away."
"You think I knew about this?" She asked in exasperation. "He never even let on about it. How was I suppose to know if he didn't even hint about it? I mean, he seemed to be in good heath to me."
"Well, I would have told you myself but you know I can't. Confidentiality between patient and doctor, remember." Dr. Yusuke began walking again.
"So, how bad is it?" Pan finally asked.
"Bad." Dr. Yusuke said plainly. "The cancer has moved into his bone marrow. I recommended Chemo treatment months ago but he refused."
"What?" Pan asked in disbelief. "Refused? Why? Does he want to die?"
Dr. Yusuke shook his head and turned to her intently. "Pan, I know it sounds crazy to someone your age but…put yourself in his shoes. He's told me on several occasions that his life isn't what it used to be."
Pan's eyes were blurring and turning red. No. She couldn't do this now, not here. Why did her father refuse the Chemo?
"So what are you saying? That he just wants to end it all?" Her voice cracked with suppressed emotion. How could her father do such a thing?
"Well, in essence…yes."
Pan scoffed and glared at him. "That does not sound like my father. He's not the type to just give up. He's a fighter, he always has been."
"Yes, but he's not been able to really fight in a long time, has he?" He asked, making it more of a statement than a question.
"So. He never liked fighting all that much anyway. Besides, he has his family to stick around for. Why would he just want to leave us?"
"Pan, when was the last time you visited your father…before his entering the hospital?"
Pan crossed her arms and furrowed her eye brows. "I don't neglect him." She spat. "We go to see him when we can, and he comes to see us too. We see each other several times a month."
"I see." Dr. Yusuke said. "But what other interaction does he have beside those few visits?"
Pan again scowled. "I don't know. None, I guess."
"You see." The doctor said as nicely as he could. "He's probably lonely. He's been without your mother for some years now. You know, rarely do older couples outlive their spouses for long. They just can't seem to get used to living by themselves again."
"He just doesn't seem old enough to die yet." Pan finally said. "I mean, he's part Saiyan. Wouldn't that keep him alive longer than usual?"
"From what I can tell, it already has." Dr. Yusuke looked at the woman oddly. "Pan, he is seventy two years old. Don't tell me he hasn't had his share of time on Earth. Maybe he's just ready to go. Sometimes, we just have to let nature take it's course."
"If you're so ready for him to go, why are you yelling at me for letting him ignore all this."
"Don't do this Pan, you know I like your father very much." Dr. Yusuke began walking ahead of her, turning toward the rooms 200-299. "My point is to make him take his pain meds. He keeps refusing them too, but I don't like to see him suffer."
"Pain meds? He has pain meds he takes?" She asked.
"Suppose to take, but doesn't." The Doctor said annoyed. "I can understand not undergoing chemo, especially at his age. It would put him at higher risk of getting sick, and do little good. But refusing pain medicine when you have bone cancer, it's absurd."
"I'll talk to him about that. He should take them if he has them." She said, tone low and defeated.
"Don't be so depressed Pan. He's lived a long and happy life. He's told me he has no regrets and will die a fulfilled old man." The doctor chuckled. "He really has a way of growing on you, doesn't he?"
"Yes. He does." Pan said. "Everyone loves him, everyone who knows him. He's a very good man."
"Yes, and he deserves to be in as little pain as possible. So please, make sure he takes the meds. He should have plenty of prescriptions for them so…just keep at him to take them."
"I will, thank you doctor." She held out her hand to shake his. He took it. "Thanks for everything."
"You welcome. Now, you can go in." He said, hand directed at room number 246.
Pan walked to the door and watched the doctor's back retreat down the hallway. Could she do this? Was she strong enough to handle loosing him? And why had he kept all this a secret form her in the first place? She didn't know, but she would find out.
-X-x-X-x-X-
Gohan sat on the edge of the bed, changed and ready to go home. He hated hospitals. Probably because the only memories he had of them were bad ones, mostly. Only once could he remember going to the hospital for a good reason…Pan. His beautiful daughter was born in the very hospital he was in now. It seemed like yesterday to him, but it had in fact been nearly half a century ago. Kami, how time flies.
The door opened and Gohan was faced with a stern looking demi-Saiyan. She crossed her arms and glared his direction, mimicking that of a mother who'd just found their child in the cookie jar. Just who was the parent in this outfit, anyway?
"Don't look at me like that Pan." He sighed.
"Like what?" She barked. "Like someone who just got told something by her family physician that should have been said by you? Or like a daughter who just found out her father has a terminal illness?"
"Well, when you put it that way…" Gohan chuckled lightly.
"It's not funny dad!" Pan all but screamed. "Don't make a joke out of this! Your seriously sick and refusing help. Why?"
"I'm sick, yes. But I feel fine now, so can we just get going?" He practically jumped out of bed and strolled over to her.
"Goodness, dad, you're not well enough to be bouncing around like that. You do realize you have an incurable type of cancer…don't you?"
Gohan's eyes darkened and his face hardened, which he did rarely outside of battle. "Do you hear yourself? That is the reason I didn't tell you in the first place." He opened the door and walked out, leaving Pan no choice but to follow him.
"Pan, I don't want to be treated like an invalid. I feel fine, I don't know why Yusuke even called you."
"Because he was worried about you. How did you even end up in the hospital to begin with?"
"Oh, those doctors…they get frantic if I so much as hiccup. They don't know-" Gohan was cut off by his quickly angering daughter.
"They know plenty, that's why they get paid so much to help us." She scathed, then forced herself to calm down. "How did you end up in the hospital dad?"
"I was in the store filling one of the good Doc's prescriptions when I just…I don't know. I can't remember anything after seeing the pharmacist." Gohan opened the doors leading to his freedom, out into the fresh air; no longer was he imprisoned by the overly sterile and blank walls of such a morbid place. He never wanted to enter that place again, not for any reason.
"Next thing I knew I was waking up on a bed…in there." He pointed behind him to the brick, three story building.
Pan didn't say anything, there was nothing she could say. This was really happening, it was all true. Up until that very moment, watching her father stroll down the sidewalk like a man without a care, she'd never noticed just how much he really had aged.
Thanks to the Saiyan genes, his hair had barely even lightened from it's natural jet-black shade. Still, though, some light gray could be seen above the temples and forehead, but it was certainly nothing to be ashamed of. Why, if he was any other seventy-two year old on this planet (save for the remaining Saiyans) he would probably be nearly bald. So, that was a feature well retained after so many years. And Pan secretly hoped her 1/3 Saiyan genes would help her in such a way as well.
His face. Unfortunately it was not so ageless as his Saiyan-inherited hair. Though his eyes were the same brilliant onyx color they'd ever been, sparkling with the youth he preserved metaphysically, it was the way in which they were set into his beautiful head that made all the difference. His eyes were indeed aged, wisdom was reflected in them as one's face was mirrored by a still pond. Love, too, was present in them; in all they beheld, in all forms of existence. Her father simply loved life. Or, at least, he once had.
His body. Still muscular after all the years of peace and family life, without age spot or blemish. He had his wrinkles, even his Saiyan genes could not prevent them, but he looked more nearer to her fifty years of age than his seventy-two. Now, seldom did her father fight, other than the occasional spar with her uncle Goten or a family friend. But even those rarities had ceased once her mother had died six years ago. Not once, to her knowledge, since that fateful morning of August 12, had her father done so much as a sit up. It seemed that something that had once given him pleasure simply brought back painful memories, and so he gave it all up. Not that he'd ever experienced the thrill from fighting that his own father or Vegeta…or even his long-time sensei Piccolo got. It just wasn't something he needed anymore.
Son Gohan. Even the name brought the warm feeling of love Pan associated with her father. He'd always been there for her, he'd always been a steady rock of support when she needed one. Or a shoulder to cry on should she need one. Or a protector if she was in trouble…a bank if she was in a financial crisis…a babysitter both to her and her own children. He was, for lack of a better word (for she believed there simply was no other word for him), the perfect father. Provider, protector, ever present with unwavering devotion and unconditional love. Kami, she was so indebted to him. Just looking at him, being able to say "This is my father", gave her a sense of pride she couldn't measure.
"You're staring." He said, jerking her out of her thoughts.
"So." She said, taking his arm. "Gonna sue me?"
Gohan chuckled and smiled at her. "I wouldn't win anyway."
Pan smiled too, her short black hair being blown by the wind. Gohan seemed to be in a daze while looking at her, like he was lost in deep thought. Pan frowned and squeezed her father's arm.
"What is it dad?" She asked.
"Nothing." He said quickly, and began walking again. "It's only…you looked like your mother just now."
Pan could have cried, but she didn't. She leaned up and kissed her father's cheek caringly, and he hugged her tightly. They turned to walk again, heading toward her air car in the parking lot. She knew her father must miss her mother terribly. In fact, she could count on one hand, in all the years she'd lived at home with them, just how many times her parents had spent the night apart. Over the years, her father had been adamant, obsessed even, about being at home with his family. Even if it meant getting a lower paying job as a nearby college professor when he could have been a world renown scientist, as he very well could have with his intelligence. But he still refused to do the extensive traveling a scientist as such must do, saying he didn't need it…he only needed his family.
At first, Pan never gave the matter much thought. But as she grew older, especially after her Grandpa Goku had traded his life in exchange for the Earth's future, she wondered what had made her father act as he did. So, she confronted her mother about the subject. Not that she was intimidated about speaking to her father, it was quite the contrary. But when a matter that concerned her father come about, her mother seemed to be the expert on reading his behavior.
XxXx--
"Momma," came the voice of a bold teenage demi-Saiyan as she entered her mother's bedroom, where Videl was currently putting away clothes.
"Yes dear?" She answered, her gaze leaving her daughter and returning to her unfinished clothes.
"I want to ask you a question, and you give me an honest answer." She demanded.
"Ask away." Videl said, sitting on her bed to listen intently.
"I know how smart dad is." She began. "And I know he could have done so much better than a college professor. So why did he take that job and never agree to travel anywhere?"
Videl thought for just a moment. "What's on your mind to make you ask something like that?"
"Well, its just that…dad is always home. No matter what!" She said in frustration.
"Um, dear…that's a good thing."
"I'm not complaining." Pan corrected. "I'm just asking why he's so obsessing with 'being there'. I mean, no matter what was going on with me, he always gave me that stupid speech 'I'll always be there for you Pan, no matter what.' And to be honest, I don't know anyone else's dad who so…" She searched for the right word. "…devoted."
"Well, you're right. He is very devoted to us." Videl patted the bed beside her and her daughter plopped down with a loud thud. "But I suppose he did get a little carried away with it."
Pan just nodded.
"It's really not all his fault. He was just trying to make things better for you than they were for him." Videl playfully flicked at her daughter's hair.
"But Grandma and Grandpa were great." Pan said. "Well, when Grandpa was around anyway." Then, almost as soon as she said the words, realization hit Pan like a freight train.
"Momma!" She exclaimed. "Was Grandpa always like that. I mean, gone all the time?"
Videl just nodded consent.
"Makes sense." She said. "I just thought it was because of Uub that he was gone for all those years, and now he's dead."
"Yes, and it's not the first time he's died either." Videl said sadly.
"I know, dad told me all about Uncle Radditz, Grandpa and Piccolo-san. Can't believe Piccolo-san killed them both."
"Well," Videl said thoughtfully. "From what I've been told, Piccolo was very different before your father came along."
"Yeah, I know that too. Seems all those bed-time stories dad used to tell me were true." She sighed. "Dad said once he had to grow up too fast, and that Uncle Goten was lucky he got to have a more normal childhood. But Uncle Goten just laughed about it."
"Well, it's been a long time. It's really nothing to worry about anymore." Videl said, standing to finish putting away clothes.
"Dad says all the time that he loves us." Pan said thoughtfully. "He really means it, doesn't he."
"Of course silly, and I'm sure he'd love to be interrupted right about now to be told the same thing." Videl smiled and winked at Pan.
Pan grinned viciously and took off for her father's study, then realized she was being followed closely by her mother. It was kind of an unwritten rule that one didn't interrupt Professor Son while he was working or preparing for work, whichever the case may be. But Pan didn't even bother knocking as she entered the room clad with paperwork, a computer, printer, huge mahogany work-desk and swivel chair. And there, in the chair, hunched over some mysterious paperwork Pan didn't even wish to know about, was her father.
Gohan's head popped up at the intrusion and his face dropped. "Something wrong?" He asked worriedly, taking off his thick black glasses. He knew Pan wouldn't interrupt him so early in the day without good reason. It was rare anymore that he even brought his work home to finish, so why was she bothering him?
Pan just shook her head and walked closer to him, slightly eyeing the project he'd been working on. Behind her was Videl, making Gohan wonder what was up.
"Pan, hun, I'll be done soon. Just-" He was cut off by his daughter and wife tackling him to the floor, then sitting on either side of him.
He leaned up cautiously, staring at them like they'd gone mad. Then Pan wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him hundreds of butterfly kisses on his cheek.
"I love you soooo much daddy." She said, leaning back to smile cheekily at him. He looked from her to Videl, then back to his daughter.
Videl leaned against his side and slid her arms around his torso. "That goes double for me." She said before she pressed her lips against his quickly.
"Well," Gohan said, smiling and holding his two most precious processions tightly. "I wouldn't mind being interrupted like this more often."
XxXx--
Gohan stopped short of reaching the air car. Pan walked on ahead and unlocked the doors, then turned and stared wonderingly at her father.
"Well, get in." She said.
"Um, you know what? I think I'll just fly." He said.
Pan's jaw dropped two feet and she just sputtered for a moment. Then she found her voice, most vehemently.
"YOU ABSOLUTELY WILL NOT!" She screamed, frightening nearly every onlooker within a mile.
"Pan…"
"No." She said, hands on her hips. Gohan couldn't help but notice again how much she resembled Videl…and oddly enough, his own mother. "You know you can't. It could honestly kill you dad."
"I won't fly myself." Gohan said sweetly. "I'll take Nimbus. So see, I won't get hurt."
She shook her head. "Nope. You're coming with me. What if you black out again, hundreds of feet in the air? No. Can't let you do that."
"Well, Pan…try and stop me." He grinned roguishly and jumped a good fifty feet in the air, calling for the puffy yellow cloud mid-jump.
Pan wanted to fly after him, but it would be pointless. He was, even at the age his was and the condition he was in, stronger than her. As much as she loved and cherished her father, he could honestly be more frustrating and stubborn than Vegeta himself sometimes.
X-x-X-x-X
Gohan rode over the ocean, letting it all sink in. He knew his time on Earth was nearly up, and he knew he only had so long before he wouldn't even be able to leave the house on his own. He had visiting to do, and he had to do it now. So, first things first, it was time for a trip to Kami's lookout. Mr. Popo, Dende, and, most importantly, Piccolo-san.
Now, Piccolo had died well over forty years prier to this day in time. But as much as Gohan had wanted to respect Piccolo's wish to stay on Earth and die, in essence destroying the Black Star dragon balls in the process, he simply couldn't. He knew, as did all the other Senshi, that Piccolo was the type to end something by whatever means necessary. In this particular case, the Earth had been put into serious jeopardy because the Black Star dragon balls had been used. The only way for them to be destroyed, and to keep the Earth safe from them, was for Piccolo to die.
It took several years and a trip to Neo-Namek to do the trick, but Piccolo was successfully brought back to life. Gohan, Goten, Pan, Uub (who was curious about seeing another planet) and Videl all took the trip. With technology being what it was at the time, the trip only took fifteen days to complete. Three to arrive, eight to find the dragon balls and make the wishes, and three to return home. It had taken Gohan several months to form a plan that would allow for Piccolo to return and not endanger the Earth again, which he knew would be the only condition by which Piccolo would agree to come back.
First, he wished to connect directly with Piccolo to find out if he did, in fact, even want to be restored; he did. Second, he wished that the Black Star dragon, the entity itself, be removed permanently from Piccolo's physical and spiritual being. Third, and lastly, Piccolo was wished back to the land of the living. And so, for the past forty-odd years, Piccolo had housed himself on Kami's lookout with Dende and Mr. Popo; occasionally visiting Earth's surface for one reason or another. Usually, that one reason being to converse (spar) with a certain halfling he knew.
And so, Gohan's ascent began as he neared the palace. He could feel Piccolo's ki move away though, and he frowned. Surely Piccolo had felt him coming, hadn't he? But, it had been how long since he last visited with his sensei? Gohan frowned and mentally kicked himself for being neglectful. Kami, he couldn't remember a single time he'd seen Piccolo since Videl's funeral…was Piccolo angry with him? Well, then again, this was a two way street…Piccolo could have come by on his own. Still, Piccolo had never refused a visit from his student, not in the sixty-eight years they'd been friends.
Sixty-eight years. Gohan thought in astonishment. Has it really been that long, old friend?
He landed on the marble surface of the grand lookout, marveling slightly at the well kept greenery at such an extreme altitude. He stepped slowly, carefully, off the cloud and onto the tile. He couldn't jump and carry on like he once could; it simply hurt him too much. Then, out of the darkened sanctuary, came a pair of green elfin ears, pink tinted muscles, two antennae, a pair of fangs…contorted by a wide smile.
"Dende." Gohan said in greeting.
"Gohan!" Dende nearly yelped, then he smirked. "Thought I caught whiff of a Saiyan up here."
Gohan held his side as he belly laughed for at least five minutes straight, then wiped away a tear of mirth.
"Gohan, my friend, it's been too long." The guardian said, walking up and engulfing the man in an enthusiastic hug. Unfortunately, Gohan was not the youngster he used to be and a light cracking could be heard by the Namek's sensitive ears.
"Oh Gohan, I'm sorry." He apologized immediately, turning a darker shade of green.
"Aw, no harm done. Besides, at my age, my body makes a new noise every day." He joked, and grinned as Dende doubled over in laughter.
Dende had not changed a bit, Gohan couldn't help but think. He didn't look his age, not at all. At least, on a human scale. For a Namek, Dende had barely even entered his prime, and the same could be said for Piccolo. Both would long outlast even Vegeta, who's pure Saiyan blood would allow him a minimum of 120 years of life…should he die of old age this time. The Namek's, however, could live to be anywhere from one to six hundred years old. Guru, the oldest known Namek thus far, had lived to be such an extensive age; and Guru had not been in near as good health as Piccolo, in Gohan's opinion anyway.
"So," Dende started, after wiping away his own tears of amusement. "How are you feeling?"
Gohan frowned, he'd almost forgotten that Dende knew everything that happened on Earth…especially to those he considered his friends.
"Okay." He replied, sounding uninterested.
"You know, Gohan…" Dende said, sounding serious for the first time. "You must listen to the doctors. They are well trained and know what they're talking about."
"I know Dende." Gohan sighed. "And I was filling the prescription for the pain medicine when I blacked out, so don't worry about it."
"Don't worry?" Dende asked. "You're a dear friend, how can I help but worry? I don't want to see you in so much pain."
"Dende." Gohan said, sounding almost wistful. "I only came by to say goodbye."
Dende bowed his head.
"No, look at me." Gohan said sternly. Dende raised his head and looked his friend full in the face.
"I won't be around much longer. I'm not…" He stopped. "I'm not angry, or frightened, or even sad about it. I just don't want people to treat me differently now."
Dende nodded. "I understand."
Gohan smiled wryly. "Do you? Do you really understand how it feels to be dying?"
Dende again blushed a fiercer emerald. "No, I guess I don't…not really."
"Well, its not fun. But, in a morbid sort of way, I'm glad it's happening."
"What? Why?" Dende prodded.
"I've lived a long life. I've watched mom and dad, Videl, Krillin, Bulma, Master Roshi, Tien, Yamcha, Oolong, Puar…and a hundred other human friends I've made over the years die. Just…die. And to be honest, I'm ready to join them." Gohan picked at imaginary lint on his attire.
"I see." Dende said, clasping his staff tightly. "I suppose, you've lived a rewarding life…and are ready for an equally fulfilling death."
"Hit the nail on the head." Gohan said, looking around. "So, where did Piccolo fly off to?"
"Oh, you know him…does as he pleases." Dende said. "But Mr. Popo would enjoy seeing you."
"Hai, take me to him." Gohan said, following Dende into the sanctuary.
X-x-X-x-X
"Gohan was here." Dende said as Piccolo landed, silently as ever, onto the marble floor.
"Hm." Piccolo practically grunted, walking past the guardian who was only shy a few inches of his own height.
"We had a good visit, but I know he came to see you." Dende walked to the edge of the lookout and viewed the outspread before him. How he loved this planet.
No reply from Piccolo, who merely levitated in the lotus position next to a tree. Dende turned to him and frowned, wondering what had caused Piccolo to leave so suddenly. Normally, the older Namek would have been overjoyed, in his own mundane way, to be visited by the demi-Saiyan.
"I think he's worried that you're angry with him." Dende prodded farther. "Are you?"
Piccolo cracked an eye toward the guardian. "What nonsense is this?" He spat.
"It's not nonsense Piccolo, he came to see you and you left. Why?"
"I'll do as I please…when I please. Now buzz off." He again closed his eyes and attempted meditation.
Dende had acquired over the years a certain…understanding…of Piccolo. One could only push the warrior so far without seriously regretting it later, aside from the sole exception…Gohan. Even as the years passed by, Gohan remained to be one of the very few who could prod and tempt the high-strung Namekian's patience and, in the end, remain unscathed. In fact, the only other two (still alive) who could even come close in comparison would be Son Goten and Son Pan. But the tolerance Piccolo exhibited for them, though now sincere, was at first only shown because they were essentially connected with Gohan himself. So actually, it was quite by default that Goten and Pan had ended up on friendly terms with the aloof Namek.
"Say what you will Piccolo." Dende braved, walking again toward the ledge of his summit. "But as I see it, you're afraid to face him."
The next moment Piccolo was beside Dende, glaring down at him with a look of pure venom. That particular expression, which was quite effectively intimidating in battle, had never been directed at the guardian. And from that moment on, Dende vowed never to provoke it again.
"I am afraid of nothing and no one!" Piccolo scathed, lowering his pitch at least an octave. "Least of all Gohan. So you can take that load of bull and shove it-"
"Piccolo, that's not what I meant and you know it." Dende started, knowing a long stream of obscenities were about to flow freely from Piccolo's unforgiving mouth. His correction, however, didn't invoke the desired affect. If anything, Piccolo become even more angry.
"I know exactly what you meant, now shut up." He turned and retreated to "his" tree, floated to the lotus position and resumed meditation.
"Piccolo, please, you must accept what is happening and simply let it go." Dende dodged an eye laser pointed at his feet. Though he was sure Piccolo would never do him any permanent damage, he knew Piccolo's fleeting patience was now bordering on non-existence.
"Fine." Dende threw up is hands in symbolic surrender. "Do as you wish. But I promise you…you will regret this for the rest of you life."
Having said that, and knowing his very presence was tempting his Namekian senior into violence, he withdrew into the sanctuary. He needed to enter his own meditation now. He wanted to somehow understand what was causing Piccolo's reaction. He'd known of Gohan's illness for months, Dende himself was the one to tell him. It had come as a shock to them both, especially since Gohan didn't bother to treat the cancer with Human medicine. But the guardian had never thought Piccolo would simply shun Gohan altogether, it didn't seem plausible. But…even guardians can be wrong.
Gohan now lay on his couch, unable to get up simply because he ached too much. Pan had moved in with him nearly a month ago, but at the moment she was at work. She had bills to pay, and no husband to bring in money to help, so Gohan understood why she couldn't take off from work. Saito Rei, her late husband, died in a car accident some years back. Gohan had one granddaughter, Mira, who was away at school. Pan had waited to get married until she was nearly thirty, then gave birth to Mira at the age of thirty five. Gohan still didn't know why Pan and Rei had waited so very long to get married, but he supposed it was just their own timing that needed to be right.
Mira, his precious granddaughter, was a beautiful girl with long black hair (now practically a family air loom) and her father's green eyes. She was not the fighter that Pan had been, she was actually rather sickly. She would get bronchitis at least once during the winter and a fever during the summer. The doctors were never sure why, but they didn't think she'd live past her twenties at that rate. Just the thought of his granddaughter made Gohan frown.
She deserves better than that. Gohan thought. He didn't want his granddaughter to be denied any of the gifts life had to give: children, grandchildren, dear friends and marriage. All those things should be treasured, one never knows when they will be taken away.
"Oh me." Gohan sighed as he attempted to sit up.
He was becoming too weak to even move around the house on his own. Pan helped when she could, but her work took her away for the majority of the day. She'd tried to hire a sit-in nurse but that was just too expensive. Besides, Gohan had forbidden even the mentioning of a nurse. He was determined to make things his own way, he'd not become a cripple before his time.
He reached his hand out toward the coffee table, on which was located his pain meds. He'd been reduced to taking them out of sheer necessity now, he simply couldn't handle the pain anymore. A month ago the doctors had located three large tumors on his person. One, the largest, was planted firmly on his stomach. The second largest was attached to his left lung, and the smallest was in his abdomen-like that of a cyst growing on the right kidney. All in all, he was in terrible shape.
Gohan stretched out his hand, trying to reach the pills that were mere inches from his fingers. But unfortunately, he would have to sit all the way up to retrieve them. It hurt, so much worse than anything else ever had. At times, when he'd have a spasm of pain (an "attack", the good doctors would call it), he couldn't help but wonder if what he felt throughout his body was similar to what Piccolo had felt when deflecting Nappa's blast.
Piccolo had described to him once about how that blast had felt. It had been many years since the incident but Piccolo had seemed to remember every gruesome detail. Imagine using your body as a shield against an oncoming freight train. Except instead of your body being crushed and ripped apart instantly by the cold, unforgiving metal; you stay intact willfully, but the end result is still the same. Broken, split, shattered, and disintegrated bones float around inside skin that has been tainted nearly beyond recognition. Burns from heat that could have rivaled the sun itself are probably the least your worries, because the energy shield you put up to block the blast from certainly destroying you (or what happens to be behind you) has depleted your energy. Now, instead of being burned alive like before, your freezing. And so, the pain is thorough and complete.
Unfortunately, the scenario just represented was not far from what Son Gohan had been feeling as of late. No, his body didn't burn or freeze; but he could feel the lumps of cancerous cells that were growing with each passing day. They were painful to even feel, it was like touching a softball through warm flesh. The thought alone was sickening, but Gohan was just having to deal. The doctors were very upset at his refusal of treatment, but finally Dr. Yusuke simply complied with Gohan's demand at being left alone. In truth, with the cancer developing as rapidly as it was, he explained that Gohan had only a small amount of time left.
Pan had taken the news harder than even Gohan. Gohan was more or less reserved to the idea that he was going to die. And, in a small sense, was ready for it to happen. He'd outlived most of his friends, family and his soul mate. And he was in such pain anymore, death seemed to be more a means of escape and relief than pendulum doom. Pan, though, was in tears by the end of the doctor's visit, and she'd not treated her father the same since. She even took days off work when he woke in pain, and he had to admit that the company was nice. It made him dread being alone during the five days of the week when Pan was usually working.
Gohan was in better shape one month prior to the doctor's visit that revealed he had cancerous tumors. It was then that Trunks and his adolescent grandson, Tobias, had visited. A few days later Marron and her husband (whom Gohan couldn't remember the name of) had visited; she'd felt compelled to visit the man that her father had liked so well as a boy. Often Krillin had told the wild tales of Son Goku and his halfling son Gohan, their trip to Namek with the late Bulma Briefs had been a bedtime story, of sorts, when she was little.
Bra had ended up calling, she wasn't able to make a trip to see him because she was President of Capsule Corp. now. Though the conversation was rather stale-mated, for the two had never become very close, she'd given her condolences. And, as if in family order, Vegeta came to see the son of Kakarrot soon after. Though more out of sheer respect for Gohan's late father than anything, though the proud Saiyan prince would never of admitted it. Vegeta's visit had actually been a highlight of the year for the demi-Saiyan.
XxXx--
Gohan was alone, as usual, reading an article from a scientific journal he had stashed beside the couch. He was slimmer than he'd been, for eating was no longer the delight it once had been. And so, he simply read and thought about what point the author was trying to make. Quantum Physics and the Electron Transport Chain…Physiology mixed with Neo-Darwinism. Finally, Gohan put the article down and clasped his hands over his eyes. He had a headache again, for at least the millionth time that week. If only he could keep his thoughts straight.
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. It was a different kind of knock than one would hear from a passerby, or even someone coming to call. It was more like someone banging to be let in immediately, without delay.
So, Gohan walked over and opened the door. And there he stood, clad in breaches, a "wife-beater" shirt, and training boots. His hair stood on all ends, like a black flame. His widow's peak heavily accented by his high forehead.
How old was Vegeta now? Gohan had never known for sure, but he'd been older than Goku so…he'd be at least…ninety years old? Yes, ninety and then some, but he didn't look a day over fifty…probably not even that old. His Saiyan genes allowed him to retain his youthful looking skin and hair, but it was his eyes that were different. Mellowed now, and not so cold and hard as they once were. Oh, he was still haughty and looked down his pointed nose at most other creatures…but the good in him was present in those ebony orbs. Vegeta was a sight to the demi-Saiyan.
"Hello." Gohan said, a little shocked. He'd known that Pan had made some phone calls, to let his remaining contacts know that he was…well…in poor condition. And he'd known that most would come by, out of morbid curiosity if nothing else. But, he'd never expected to see or hear from Vegeta. In fact, Gohan had always gotten the distinct impression that his highness didn't like "Kakarrot's first brat" very much.
"Let me in brat." Vegeta said, then snorted as he crossed the threshold into the Son's relatively modest home. Gohan figured Vegeta was too used to Capsule Corp. and living with the 'high maintenance' Brief family to appreciate anything Gohan's home had to offer.
"So, how are you Vegeta?" Gohan tried with small-talk. Vegeta grunted and crossed his arms, then turned to practically glare at the younger man.
"How long has it been Vegeta? Twelve…thirteen years?" Gohan asked, honestly not remembering the last time he'd seen the Prince.
"Fifteen brat." Vegeta answered after a few moments silence, still in as gruff a tone as ever. "The Onna's funeral…fifteen years ago."
Gohan was stunned silent for a few moments. Vegeta was right. It was Bulma's funeral fifteen years ago that had brought the remaining members of the Z-senshi together. Yamcha had long since passed on, Krillin was in poor shape, and Videl had started getting sick by then. But they had all gotten word, and all showed up for the elaborate funeral and burial. Odd, it didn't seem like it had been so very long ago.
"Hm, yes. You're right." Gohan said, almost wistfully.
Gohan walked into the kitchen, knowing the first instinct of a Saiyan was to find food. Vegeta followed and stood, arms crossed and scowling, as Gohan opened the fridge.
"Is there anything I can get you?" Gohan asked.
Grunt.
"Okay, what about to drink?"
Curt nod.
So Gohan got them both a glass of ice water, and sat at the table after giving Vegeta the glass. Gohan was too tired to keep standing and too old to care if he looked weak in front of Vegeta for doing so. He was aching and longed to take two of his pain meds, but he did have a small amount of pride left (blame his Saiyan intuition) and he refused to pop any pills in front of this man. Had it been anyone else, Gohan still wouldn't have taken the meds, but it being Vegeta made the tension all the worse.
Vegeta, much to Gohan's surprise, sat at the chair to Gohan's far right, at the end of the table.
"What ails you brat?" Vegeta asked, lacking nearly all emotion except feigned annoyance.
"Cancer." Gohan said lightly, then chuckled. "And you?"
"Nothing. I'm in prefect health." Vegeta nearly screeched.
"Goodness, Vegeta…I was only joking." Gohan said, hands up in fake surrender.
Vegeta "humphed" and took a large gulp of his ice water. He forcefully slammed the glass down, nearly breaking both it and the table.
"I only came to see you old and decrepit, whelp." Vegeta said standing. "Now that I've done that, goodbye."
"Well, Vegeta, it's been…entertaining." Gohan said, standing to show Vegeta to the door, even though he knew it wasn't necessary.
As Gohan stood, his stomach protested by making him nearly double over in pain. He let out a huff of air, as though he'd been kicked in the stomach, and fell back down into the seat. He'd hoped Vegeta didn't see or hear him, it would be embarrassing to know Vegeta had been present during one of his "attacks". But Vegeta had heard, and he turned to face Gohan just in time to see the elderly man collapse into his wooden table chair. Gohan's head was beaded in sweat, his hands shook and his eyes were clouded over in pain. But through it all he managed a shaky smile and formed even shakier words.
"Nice to have a nice dose of mortality…so early…in the day." He held in a cough, which made it sound more like a severe clearing of his throat. "Thanks for coming. Goodbye."
Vegeta just stood there, seeming to be in more a daze than actual reality. He'd suddenly gotten a bitter taste of transience, and he didn't like it at all. His time would come, it wouldn't be soon (hopefully), but it would come nonetheless. He did hope that when his end neared, he could die honorably and in Saiyan fashion. Battle would be best, but that didn't seem likely. So to die without fear or regret, that would be just as well.
"Keep your fighting spirit and Saiyan pride to the end boy." Vegeta said, turning. "That's an order."
With that, Vegeta left he room and Gohan heard the front door shut moments later. Vegeta's strong ki was fading…then gone, away from the Son house. Gohan doubted he'd ever see the last full blooded Saiyan again, even though he hoped that Vegeta would somehow find him and the other Senshi in the afterlife. That would only be fitting.
XxXx--
Gohan obtained the pills and laid down quickly, emitting a strained sigh. He swallowed two pills dryly, for it was impossible to get up and fetch water, and waited with closed eyes for the pills to take effect. As he lay there, he remembered Goten's visit's the past few weeks. His younger brother had wife but no children. His wife was barren, the doctors couldn't get her to conceive no matter what treatment they used. So, Goten and she settled for fostering children for a local orphanage. It had been good for them, but they had never decided to adopt.
Gohan had missed his brother, the lovable young boy who grew into an almost carbon copy of his father: both in maturity, intellect and looks. Goten was as innocent and naïve as his father had ever been, it was almost supernatural the way he resembled Son Goku on so many levels. But Goten had his own life he was leading, and Gohan understood the ageing demi-Saiyan couldn't drop everything he was doing to visit with his dilapidated brother for days upon days. But today, Gohan wished desperate to have someone come by. Anyone.
Well, no…not just anyone. There was one particular person that Gohan wished to see more than anyone else right then. A certain Namekian that lived on Kami's lookout. Piccolo had been avoiding Gohan for two months solid. Gohan's first visit, after leaving the hospital, had ended in Piccolo's disappearance. For two weeks after that Gohan had tried contacting Piccolo on his own. He'd always been connected with the warrior, somehow. He could tell when Piccolo was nearby, and on a deeper level than just reading his ki. And when they were around each other long enough, Gohan could hear or picture some of Piccolo own thoughts, and he was sure the same could be said about Gohan's thoughts.
It had happened so long ago, when Gohan was just a child, that it had become almost a sixth sense. It was called a Namekian bond, one that Piccolo had made with Gohan by complete accident. Dende had to explain to Gohan that since Piccolo was not raised on Namek, when the impulse came to create the bond Piccolo just didn't realize what he was doing. And once the bond is made, it is unbreakable and irreversible, except through death.
But for the past few weeks Piccolo had been blocking Gohan. He knew Piccolo was still alive, he could sense his ki. But for the first time in countless decades he wasn't able to feel Piccolo. It was odd, and it was frightening. But Gohan didn't know what to do, and he was desperate to see his longtime friend and sensei.
He'd managed a second trip to the lookout two weeks after the first. Piccolo wasn't anywhere to be found and Dende had to make an excuse that Piccolo was off doing "gofer" work for the guardian. Gohan knew it was either a lie or an extreme exaggeration of the true reason Piccolo was gone. Any time before when Gohan had visited, Piccolo would return within minutes of Gohan's arrival…no matter what he was doing.
So, Gohan left and had nearly decided to give up on any other visit. But, then, the doctors found the tumors. And Gohan was too afraid that if he didn't try one more time to see his sensei, he would have to wait until they met up in the afterlife…if they were able to meet up at all.
Gohan arrived, in pain and utterly disgusted that Piccolo was gone again. If he weren't the age he was, or too filled with escalating pride, he could have cried. There was no possible way he was going to be able to make the trip to the lookout again. So, he did the only thing he could think to do…he waited. And he waited. And he waited.
Finally, it was dark and he was in dire need of his pain meds. He left a note for Piccolo, apologizing for anything he'd done to anger the Namekian so much. He said goodbye, in case it was his last chance, and wrote for him to please…please visit his old deshi. The note was left in Dende's own hand, and so Gohan knew it would get to Piccolo some how.
That had been nearly a month ago, and to this day no word had been sent to indicate that Piccolo had even read the note. Something was wrong, Gohan didn't know what, but something was desperately wrong. He wanted to see Piccolo, he wanted to talk to him. He wanted Piccolo to tell him to get up and shake it off, to beat this thing that he had before. But it didn't look like Piccolo was going to show up this time.
Pain. So much pain. The pills weren't taking quite the effect he'd wanted. Sometimes this happened, and he was instructed to take more that the recommended dose. At first, Pan had worried that he would O.D. on the meds and kill himself. But Dr. Yusuke said that if more meds eased the pain, and he somehow died from it, it would be better than suffering without that small relief.
Gohan swallowed two more pills dry, and waited for either sleep or death…whichever would claim him first.
X-x-X-x-X
"PICCOLO!" Dende yelled from the ledge of his summit. "You can't keep doing this, you must go see him. He isn't going to last much longer."
"You can shut the h-ll up." Piccolo muttered, not even bothering to open his eyes or raise his voice.
"Piccolo, you are his friend. You're his sensei. He nearly killed himself trying to visit you THREE times! Why are you doing this to him?"
Nothing from Piccolo. He sat in the lotus position, arms crossed and eyes closed. His face was stone cold, like that of a statue. Nothing penetrated his thick skull or elfin ears.
Dende huffed and turned toward the Earth again.
"Some friend you are." He mumbled.
Piccolo's eyes snapped open. Dende turned to see if he'd had any effect. Right now, he'd do anything and say anything to get Piccolo down to the Son house. Anything.
"You heard me. You're a coward and won't face the truth."
Piccolo stood and walked toward the guardian. Though Dende hoped he'd not get killed for this, he doubted Piccolo was still capable of such a crime.
"You don't know what you're saying." Piccolo said, inches away from Dende's face.
"I don't? Well, from what I can see…I'm sure glad I never put my faith in you to be my most trusted friend." He turned away from Piccolo and looked down on the earth. He felt Piccolo's anger rise with his ki, but didn't care.
"What?" Dende asked. "You think Gohan would be avoiding you if you were the one dying. Ha, I think not. He'd actually be a friend, which is more than I can say for you."
"ENOUGH!" Piccolo snapped, raising his hand in an offensive motion.
But the hand never came in contact with the guardian. Before Dende realized what had happened, Piccolo was gone. Not a trace of his ki or person remained on the lookout.The guardianlooked over the ledge and eyed the ki trail being left byPiccolo's flight downward, and Dende knew instantly where the Namekian warrior was headed.
Dende smiled. "It's about time."
To Be Continued...