Beyond the Chrysalis

by Universe

Ever write a story, then change the ending at the last minute for one reason or another? That happened to me with Live, but I finally got the guts to post ORIGINAL ending.(Please read the authors note for a better explaination to why:)).

A/N: This fic is actually a piece of Live that I decided to remove because I was afraid the story was getting too long(I didn't want to break it up). In the original version, Piccolo had aphasia at the end and couldn't speak more than a few words, but I felt that was a little too dramatic, and I thought it would be better if he was lucid at the end(his death scene was originally going to be very different, but it was too painful for me to write it down as I had planned until now). This death scene isn't like something in the movies: it is as real as it was when I watched it happen. And what comes just before is anything but pretty.

So, after being able to heal, I decided I'd post the part, because it alone can be a story in itself now that I've fleshed it out a little. There is way more symbolism here than in the other story, and it may be hard to understand if taken TOO literally. Feel free to leave if it gets "too real" or makes you too emotional...it was difficult for me to get the guts to post it.

Now, I present you with the ORIGINAL ending for Live.

Beyond the Chrysalis

It had been almost twelve hours since Vegeta, and supposedly Goku, had paid a visit to Piccolo.

Morning had come and gone. Afternoon had come and gone. Evening was just setting in, and the sunlight shining through the windows was taking on a more red hue. The house was pretty quiet, especially the room where a solitary thin green figure was asleep on a bed with raised rails. Sitting at the desk beside the bed, a dark-haired young man was focused intently on an algebra book and writing figures down on a sheet of white paper.

In the fresh food-scented kitchen, a dark-haired woman was cooking away while carrying a tiny green figure on her hip. She would stop every moment to smile or coo at the tiny creature that seemed to take interest in every object she picked up.

Gohan looked up from his studies when ChiChi called him out to supper. He entered the kitchen to find his mother putting Doramu down in a high chair, and ate quickly without saying a word. ChiChi blinked at his silence and asked, "Gohan? Is everything OK? You're so quiet."

"I'm fine," He gulped with a mouthful of mashed potatoes and looked up, "Just thinking..."

ChiChi smiled lovingly at her son. Her chopsticks gently clinked together on the table when she put them down and patted his hand. "That's my scholar!" She tilted her head as if remembering something, "Hey, why don't you go see if Piccolo needs anything...he hasn't asked for water or anything for awhile. I know he's asleep, but I want to make sure he's really comfortable."

While the dark-haired woman wasn't looking, Doramu reached down and grasped one of her chopsticks. He started to bang it against the side of his high chair, which caused ChiChi to giggle at his antics.

Gohan gulped down the last of his dinner and nodded with a quiet burp. He placed his dishes in the sink, washed his hands, then headed into his room. Until that moment, he really didn't pay much attention to his sick friend because he was, after all, asleep. What he saw wasn't what he expected.

Piccolo was lying flat with his head thrown back against the pillow. This odd position was causing his mouth to gape, and soft snores were issuing forth in tandem with the rise and fall of his frail chest. His eyes were open a crack, just enough to see the ebony pool in the middle of the endless white, and purplish-black sores speckled his pointed ears. Especially the pointed tips that were always rubbing against the pillows.

He didn't look anything like the Namek he was eight months before, save for his face. But even that was starting to change, just by the expression he was wearing as he slept.

Gohan bit his lip as he walked closer to the bed, leaned over and whispered, "Piccolo?" That was usually all it took to rouse the green man from sleep. This time, however, there was no response. "Piccolo?" He said a little louder, only to get the same result. The young man finally reached down and shook Piccolo's shoulder until he started to move.

When Piccolo finally opened his eyes, his slumber-like breathing continued, and the faraway look in his eye was nothing near the sharp glare he usually gave upon being awakened. In fact, his head didn't even turn to peer at the one who disturbed him, his eyes staying fixed on an iridescent object hanging from a twig near the window.

He wasn't acknowledging Gohan's presence at all, especially when he grasped the bedsheets and started to pick at them with his frail fingertips. Though he couldn't remember what he was afraid of, he did remember that something was scaring him.

"Hey, Piccolo?" Gohan spoke with the hope that his voice would get a response, "My mother wanted me to ask you if you wanted anything right now. She says you haven't been awake for awhile and she's worried." The young Saiyajin hybrid spoke softly to avoid disturbing his friend too much.

The green fingertips continued endlessly twisting a corner of the bedsheet. Though the voice seemed to be reaching him, he was unable to comprehend what was being said.

Gohan reached down to calm the nervous hands, but the picking just became more insistent as the ailing man grew more restless. The young man sighed at this, reached for the glass beside the table, placed one gentle hand beneath his friend's head and tipped the cup to his lips.

Piccolo responded to the water by trying to swallow, only to groan and cough ninety percent of it right back up. He seemed to be frustrated at this, groaning again as he turned his head to peer distantly at the youth that seemed to be growing up before his very eyes. The face was blurred just beyond his ability to recognize it, half-lost by the strange world that seemed to be fading in like a vague reflection.

"I'm going to go get my mother. I'll be right back." Gohan turned and left the disturbing sight he just saw. That couldn't be his best friend lying there like that, could it? Where was the cool, collected man that was in the bed that morning?

ChiChi was feeding Doramu water from the eyedropper when Gohan entered the room with his head down. She blinked, cocked her head a little and asked, "What's wrong? Is Piccolo OK?"

"I don't know, mom. He's really out of it, and I think he's either hallucinating or in pain...It might be the new pain medication is causing it, but I can't be sure." He took a deep breath and passed a hand over Doramu's head, watching him open his mouth to ask for more water. He watched as ChiChi placed the eyedropper between his lips and squeezed a few drops onto his tongue. Then he shook his head and looked away, "I've heard that you can get a morphine pump for someone who is in a lot of pain. Let's get one for Piccolo, OK? I think he would want to go as easily and with as much dignity as possible." Just speaking of death made him choke up and bite his lip.

Lifting her dark eyes to her bereaved son, ChiChi took his hand and said, "OK. I'll call Dr. Takado right now, then go sit with Piccolo. You can finish feeding Doramu if you want."

Taking care of Doramu was one of Gohan's favorite things to do. The little guy was getting so big, and he looked so much like his father. There were times when he would frown in concentration, and times when he seemed to have a little smirk on his lips. All pieces of Piccolo's personality, it seemed.

Piccolo had said that he would start Doramu from scratch, but he had implanted one thing into the child as he was being regurgitated: a love for life. It was done unconsciously, but done nonetheless.

"Gabadabawa..." Doramu was babbling away happily as he opened his mouth for more water.

"More, little guy?" Gohan picked up the eyedropper and filled it with water, then held it high and covered his mouth with his hand while making static noises, "Tshhhhhh! Capsule Corporation Airlines requesting permission to deposit cargo. Over!" This game always got the baby excited to the point of kicking his feet and bouncing in his seat. Gohan laughed and made little zooming noises while lowering the eyedropper to Doramu's mouth so he could empty its contents onto his tongue.

"...Yes, see you soon. Bai bai." ChiChi's phone conversation filtered into the kitchen, followed by the click of the receiver being placed down. She came back into view and smoothed the wrinkles from her kimono, waiting for the lump in her throat to lessen before allowing her lips to part again, "Dr. Takado will be here in half an hour with a morphine pump. He'll also give Piccolo a check-up to see if there's anything else that needs to be cared for."

"Thanks, mom." Gohan was sincere in his words as he nodded towards his room, "Maybe you should go spend some time with him. He might recognize your face."

ChiChi nodded solemnly, not allowing her emotions about this situation show just yet. She was a mother, and mothers were rocks until it was the right time. And this wasn't the right time to break down, not yet. So, instead of crying, she hardened her expression and said, "Yeah, he might." With that, she disappeared into the hallway.

The bed where the ailing Namek lay dying was a disaster when ChiChi entered the room.

Somehow, while in Gohan's absence, Piccolo had kicked off all the sheets and thrown most of the pillows onto the floor. He had one arm pulled out of the sleeve of his pajama top, leaving one half of his upper body bare, and his hands were furiously fidgeting with the empty sleeve where his arm should have been. He was moaning as if in pain, or afraid, unable to form the words to express his distress. His black eyes were panicked and glazed over, not at all like the calm man he usually was.

"Oh, my Kami..." She gasped, "Gohan! I'm going to need your help!"

Alerted by his mother's surprised cry, Gohan placed Doramu into the playpen in the living room and dashed into his bedroom. The sight of Piccolo's sudden change nearly drove him into a fit of panicked tears as he dashed to the bedside. This can't be the Piccolo I know...he wouldn't be like this! Not even while dying!

Even though the illness had weakened him, Piccolo was still strong enough to resist ChiChi's attempts to make him stop picking at his clothes. She managed to get an old rag for him to hang onto so she could begin straightening the bed out. Gohan helped her by getting the pillows back in order under the ailing Namek's head, but the biggest struggle was getting his arm back through the long sleeve of his pajama top.

With teamwork, Gohan and ChiChi managed to get Piccolo back in order. ChiChi placed the old rag back into his hands and he clung to it like it was the only thing that kept him from being sucked away.

"Mom..." Gohan finally asked after the ordeal was over with, "...does he even know we're here?"

ChiChi smiled sadly at him, biting back the memory of her mother dying this way, "Of course he does, Gohan. Watch." She moved closer to Piccolo's face and said, "Hey, Piccolo...I'm going to give you a kiss now..." Then she leaned her face closer and pressed her lips to his. Just before they made contact, the cracked green lips parted to accept the gesture. Not for long, but long enough.

Piccolo recognized ChiChi after she had kissed him, even though his vision was doing weird things and flashing with odd colors every once in awhile. Her presence eased some of his restlessness, especially when her gentle hand stroked his brow, and his dark eyes stayed fixed on her face for quite some time.

Then his eyes flickered to Gohan, a face that seemed just beyond the grasp of his recognition. No matter how hard he tried to look, he could only see a blur of surreal colors resembling the outline of a male body.

"Mr. Piccolo?" Gohan leaned over the bed until he was face to face with his Namekian friend, "It's Gohan...do you recognize me?"

Piccolo gasped at the sudden closeness. That voice! That...that sentence! Someone he loved very much always called him that. His eyes flickered when he recognized the face matching the voice. He didn't see Gohan the way the others saw him, but he was seeing him.

It also brought back memories of a death that wasn't really a death at all, because he never left his body after taking that blast from Nappa. This was so much different, and there was so many more unknowns lying beneath the silver sea where he was drifting.

The Namek's gaze stayed on the young man's face for the longest time before it flickered back to the glistening thing hanging from the twig outside the window.

ChiChi was opening her mouth to speak when there was a knock at the door. "Woops, that's probably Dr. Takado." She left the room and quickly unlocked the front door, then opened it. She almost didn't recognize the man on the other side of the door, because he was wearing jeans and a buttoned down flannel shirt rather than a white lab coat. "Ah, konban wa, Dr. Takado."

The Asian-looking man adjusted the glasses on his nose and smiled lightly in greeting, "Konban wa, Son ChiChi." He held up a small satchel of supplies, "I have the pump here with me. I'll get it all hooked up right away and show you how it works."

"Yes, thank you very much. I know you're pretty busy this time of night."

"Nah." Dr. Takado stepped through the door while ChiChi closed it behind him. He noticed Doramu peeking over the rim of the playpen and smiled, "That's gotta be Piccolo's kid..." He walked to the playpen and squatted down to peer at the baby Namekian, "Hey there, little guy. You sure look like your daddy..."

"His name is Doramu. He's such a sweetie."

The doctor laughed when the infant grabbed his glasses right off his face and looked through the opposite end, which caused his large eyes to look even larger. "That he is. Definitely." He carefully freed his glasses from the baby's grasp and replaced them.

ChiChi picked Doramu up and settled him on her hip, "Piccolo is in Gohan's room. This way." She nodded towards the hall, then headed into the bedroom. Piccolo appeared to be asleep again, though it was a restless slumber, and Gohan was watching over him diligently.

Even Dr. Takado was shocked by Piccolo's condition, especially since he looked so different when he came charging into his office eight months before. It was amazing that he was still alive, yes, but a change so dramatic was still very hard to swallow.

"Hello, Dr. Takado." Gohan spoke flatly without looking up, as if he feared the Namek would die if he left his side.

"Hi." Takado replied calmly as he moved closer to the bed and put the satchel down. Piccolo's eyes flew open when the bed was disturbed, and his fingers immediately began to pointlessly pick at the bedsheets. "Ah, hello, Piccolo. This is Dr. Takado speaking. If you can understand me, I'm going to give you something that'll make your pain go away. It's just a little needle that hooks into the fatty tissue, so you probably won't feel it go in." As he spoke, he started taking a few things out.

The pump itself looked like a blue telephone receiver with a few extra buttons on the bottom. Gohan continued to watch Piccolo while ChiChi watched the doctor with interest.

Dr. Takado quickly attached a thin tube into a small hole in the bottom of the machine, then pressed a few buttons. The machine beeped, clear fluid dripped into the tube and out through the tiny needle, which was no longer than the width of an adult's thumb.

"Now," He began as he set the dosage, "I have this set for one milligram per hour. That means it'll slowly release tiny drops of this all the time, non stop. But there's a special feature on this nifty little device." He pointed to the red button under the zero, "If he shows discomfort like frowning or moaning, you can touch this button to give him another whole milligram of the morphine. It's like a boost that'll kick the dosage up for about ten minutes or so. This extra 'kick' is called a bolus. If you feel he's needing too many bolus doses in a twelve hour period, just touch this button, " he indicated a red arrow pointing upwards, "and the dosage will be raised to two milligrams. Very simple." As he spoke, he took a piece of tape, tore a small piece off and turned that small piece into even smaller strips that were then attached to the bedrail for the moment.

"Ah, I see..." ChiChi nodded, "Did you get all that, Gohan?"

"Yes, mom."

"OK then. Why don't you watch me put this in, just in case he pulls it out." Takado carefully got a few iodine pads from his supplies and prepared to open them. Before he did, he carefully probed Piccolo's arms and legs until he found a suitable spot on his hip. "Here we go." He used his teeth to rip the paper, produced a square iodine pad and cleaned the green skin carefully.

Piccolo frowned and nearly reached down to push the offending coldness away. Gohan's strong grasp prevented this, but he still didn't like the idea of something being poked into his skin! He began to shift insistently until another hand came to rest on his hip and held him down.

"Piccolo, it's OK. It will make you feel better."

Dr. Takado used the moment where Piccolo was distracted to carefully insert the tiny needle. He placed a piece of tape over the tube to keep it in place, then made a few coils in the tubing to give it some slack and placed a sheet of clear sticky tape over the whole thing. Piccolo shifted uncomfortably once the device was in place, and his hand went immediately to pick at the tape and tubing.

"No." Gohan spoke as he would a disobedient child. Piccolo hissed in agitation as his student looked back towards the doctor.

ChiChi tilted her head, "How long until it takes effect?"

"Oh, about half an hour. He'll get really sleepy, and hopefully, he'll sleep all the way through..." He let it hang, but the point came across very clearly. He took out his stethoscope, used it to listen to the Namek's heart and lungs, then shined a pen-light into his eyes.

Piccolo didn't like being poked very much. At this point, he really didn't know what was poking him or why, and that was all the more reason for him to hate it. Of all the things that bothered him, the light seemed to be the most frightening, because of what he thought it meant.

"Whoa!" Dr. Takado jumped back in surprise when the Namek's thin arm rose and slapped the little flashlight out of his hand. It flew across the room, slammed into the wall, clattered onto the floor and flickered out.

As soon as everyone's attention was diverted, Piccolo reached down and yanked the tape off his hip, taking the needle with it. The sudden move bent the needle beyond repair. Gohan sighed and ChiChi shook her head, but Dr. Takado saw it as no big deal and produced a clean needle.

"Let's try his arm this time. And Piccolo? Go easy on me." He smiled softly at the sick green man and sterilized a strip of the red surrounding one of the pink muscles on his right arm. The needle was inserted without protest this time, but only because Piccolo was still picking at his hip, trying to pull out something that was no longer there. "I think I'll up the dosage. It'll work faster that way. Is that OK with you two? Piccolo?"

Piccolo groaned without answering and turned his head to the window. Gohan and ChiChi only nodded, watching their beloved friend struggle with something he couldn't survive.

"It's alright, Piccolo..." ChiChi lowered her hand to his green brow and stroked it gently. Doramu gurgled at the sight of his daddy and smiled, oblivious to the illness ravaging his body. Piccolo's eyes shifted towards his son, and just as before, that strange calm settled over him.

Dr. Takado scratched the back of his head thoughtfully and put his stethoscope away. Then he pushed his thin rimmed glasses up on his nose and asked, "Would anybody mind if I prayed for him? I'm a part time priest, and perhaps a Last Rite will help ease his anxiety."

ChiChi and Gohan looked at each other, then down at Piccolo, who was watching them all through half-closed eyes. Though his grip on reality was slipping, he could still understand what they were saying. He had no real idea what the meaning of prayer was, or who God was, but he knew there was Someone, or Something greater than all.

Takado nodded at their silent response, bent over the bed and drew the Sign of the Cross over Piccolo's brow, "Dear Father in Heaven, I call Your attention to Piccolo at this time. He will be coming into Your loving arms shortly. I ask that You take him quickly and without pain, when the time is right. I ask that You ease all fears he suffers from now. And Piccolo..." He used his thumb to draw a cross over each green eyelid, "Thank you for being there to watch out for us." He drew a cross over his pointed ears next, "Thank you for being there to listen to us when no one else would." Then his thumb traced a cross over his cracked green lips, "Thank you for every lesson that passed through your lips." The last cross was drawn over his heart, "And thank you very much for allowing your heart to be filled with the love of those around you. It is this love that our Lord will see. This is the light that will rise to Heaven when your body ceases to live; you will be welcomed into the presence of God Himself, and every friend who passed before you will be waiting for you. They'll lay their hands on you and your illness will disappear forever. Through the Lord, you will forever be in our hearts. Amen."

By the time Dr. Takado had finished that prayer, along with the Lord's Prayer, Gohan and ChiChi were crying. Piccolo had stopped fidgeting with the bedsheets and was just lying there with half-closed eyes, breathing through an open mouth. The breaths were shallow and a little quicker than natural, but not the type to indicate death was minutes away.

Just who is this Lord, this God? The curiosity stayed in Piccolo's mind as he turned his face to the friends he could recognize again and allowed his eyelids to lower. He was asleep within seconds, very peaceful compared to what he was feeling earlier.

"Thank you very much, Doctor." ChiChi sniffed. "I think it helped."

Gohan lowered his head beside Piccolo's and watched him breathe. As soon as he put his head down all the way, Piccolo's eyes popped open to gaze at him, and a single tear slid over the bridge of his nose to land on the pillow. Gohan just smiled, reached over and wiped the tear gently away, "Can I get you anything?"

To his surprise, Piccolo mumbled, "Don't leave me...stay with me..." the rest was too garbled to be understood as the morphine began to slow him down. He didn't struggle to speak anymore; the words he had been struggling to say had gotten out.

"We won't leave you, Piccolo." Gohan whispered, taking a frail green hand between both if his own.

Dr. Takado quietly excused himself and disappeared without Gohan or Piccolo knowing he had left. ChiChi came to the bed and tapped her son's shoulder, then bent down and whispered into his ear, "Dr. Takado says he may not make it through the night, but he most likely will. I'm going to call the others and have them come over tomorrow if he's still with us in the morning." Her face grew red and her eyes a little puffier, the lump in her throat causing her voice to crack. She looked over at Piccolo's half-slumbering form and bit her rosy lower lip, "You should start to say your goodbyes, Gohan."

Tears welled up in Gohan's eyes and blurred his vision. Silver streaks appeared on his cheeks when he lowered his head and pressed his forehead against Piccolo's green knuckles. ChiChi put her arm around him when she saw his shoulders shaking, and he buried his face in her neck. She stroked his hair as he cried and allowed some of her own tears to flow against the dark locks.

Beside them, Piccolo seemed oblivious to their pain as he grew further and further away from his grasp on life. Though his open-mouthed breaths were shallow, they did not weaken or change speed. His eyes were eerily open like before, just a crack that showed the bottom of his black irises.

It was the middle of the night when Gohan was awakened by gentle clinking noises. He rolled onto his side and opened his eyes to find a sleepy-looking ChiChi sitting on the edge of Piccolo's bed. She had a glass of water in one hand and an eyedropper in the other. Piccolo's lips were slightly parted, though they opened further to accept the eyedropper when it was placed between them. He couldn't even swallow the few drops offered, but the moisture offered him some relief from the dryness in his mouth.

Gohan blinked as he watched his mother caring for Piccolo this way. The way she was feeding him was the same way she had been feeding Doramu earlier.

Like a child, Piccolo opened his mouth to ask for more, and more was given, until he finally turned his head to show he'd had enough. ChiChi put the glass down, wiped the excess from his chin and kissed him lovingly. Then she took his hand, kissed it and whispered, "I love you..." More was being said, though too quiet for even Gohan to hear. She was crying as she spoke, so he was pretty sure what she was saying.

Piccolo settled back into the odd sleep-like trance that had ahold of him before and didn't stir when Doramu was gently placed on his chest. The child, who didn't seem to understand his father's condition, smiled and cooed happily, and his miniature fingers wrinkled the bedsheets when they closed into fists. He fell asleep like that, listening to the frail heartbeat beneath his tiny ear, and his presence seemed to make both himself and Piccolo look like two precious little dolls lying there.

Gohan sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed. ChiChi's dark hair shined in the dim light when she turned her head towards the movement. She picked the sleeping Namekian baby up and placed him gently in his crib, then tip-toed over to her son.

"I'm going to try and get some sleep. Come and wake me if he starts to..."

"I will, mom." He replied. Not another word was said between them as the Saiyajin/Human hybrid padded to the other bed and sat down.

As soon as ChiChi left the room, Gohan extended his hand and placed it gently on Piccolo's forehead. As long as he knew his best friend, he never touched him this way. In fact, they rarely made physical contact at all, save for during training and the few times when they were throwing pity parties.

Gohan could vaguely remember Piccolo's hand caressing his hair the night before the Saiyajins arrived so long ago, and he felt it was only fair that he return the kindness. The memory made him smile as he allowed his touch to continue over the smooth green skin of Piccolo's head.

Piccolo shifted and opened his eyes a little more. He wasn't truly awake, but he was listening as he floated on his back through the calm silver sea. No longer was he clinging to a foolish rag to keep himself afloat; the effort was, after all, a futile one. So he just drifted, gazing at the cloudy black sky hanging over him as he floated along like a fallen leaf on a slow-moving stream.

"We sure did go through a lot together...didn't we? So many fights...so many victories...and losses. In the fight with the Saiyajins, I remember you telling me how proud you were. Well I'm proud too, Piccolo. Proud to be your best friend, and proud of you for being the man you've become..." He suddenly felt hot lumps rise in his throat to choke his voice off and make his lower lip quiver, "You're still my hero..."

Piccolo's response came in the form of a silvery tear trembling in the corner of his eye. When he opened his eyes a little more, he could see Gohan swimming behind him, holding him by the shoulders alone to keep him afloat. Several other pairs of hands were holding him up, but he could not see the faces they belonged to. Two pairs had already let go, and the bodies of ChiChi and Vegeta bobbed sadly in the water, watching as he disappeared from their view.

Morning had come and Piccolo was still breathing shallowly, though softer. Gohan was putting towels around him while ChiChi gently peeled the pajamas from his frail, limp body.

"I think we should put him in his regular gi and gear when I finish bathing him." Gohan mused quietly, trying not to stare at his teacher's skeletal form. He grasped one of the two sponges floating in the basin of warm water and began to carefully brush it across Piccolo's face and neck.

"Sounds fair." ChiChi replied flatly, "But we should put something absorbent on him too...just in case he..." She twirled her hand in a matter-of-fact gesture while blushing. The idea of putting a diaper on Piccolo embarrassed her almost as much as it would probably embarrass him.

The young man winced visibly and looked down at Piccolo. He sighed and dropped the sponge back into the water basin, "I know you wouldn't like it either, Piccolo...but it's easier to keep you clean."

ChiChi lowered her eyes and moved a towel to expose the Namek's naked groin area while Gohan cleaned it briefly. It surprised her when she discovered he actually had an underdeveloped manhood that looked like it belonged to a young boy about to go through adolescence. Whether or not it had any other uses besides urination, she would never know.

Gohan said nothing as he continued upwards and ran the sponge over one of Piccolo's long green arms. Some of the muscle was still there, and although his body was thinner, it never really lost its basic shape. He was glad for that.

"He has such beautiful hands..."

He glanced up to see his mother rubbing lotion into one of the green man's frail hands. The long, tapered green fingers hung limp in her hand, seeming paler than normal. "Yeah, I guess...I'm not one to look at those kinds of things, though."

She just smiled sadly, lowered the hand in her grasp and released it onto the bedsheets. "Let's get finished before the whole group gets here. I can get him into his other clothes, but-"

"No, I'd like to dress him. You've taken care of him so many times, mom...I'd like to take this one responsibility myself. He would have done the same for me."

Hesitating, ChiChi fixed her eyes on Gohan's serious expression. She wanted to protest and mother Piccolo all by herself, but then again, he was right. He was always the comforter while she played doctor and mother all at once. It also showed her just how much her little boy had grown up; he was no longer the squealing child he used to be.

"OK, fine. I'll give you two privacy. Let me know when you're done."

Gohan nodded as he finished toweling Piccolo down and placed a sheet over his naked body to keep him warm. ChiChi quietly shut the door while the young man headed towards the closet and pulled out all of the Namek's gear. Another trip to the bed was followed by the sound of rustling cloth.

"You'll recognize these clothes..." He told his green friend, who didn't respond.

Piccolo slept on while Gohan carefully slipped the light, loose cloth material over his head. He didn't move when the white plastic was slipped over his legs and followed by the baggy softness of his leggings. He didn't move when each leg was lifted in turn so his shoes could be slipped onto his long-toed feet. He didn't move when the heavy white shoulderpads were slipped over his head. He didn't move when he was shifted so his cape could be straightened out beneath him. He didn't move when his antennae were brushed back by a gentle hand so his weighted turban could be settled onto his head. He didn't even move when his navy blue belt was wrapped around his waist and cinched tight so it would fit.

In order to get the cape under Piccolo's body, Gohan had to sit him up in bed, climb in behind him and pull the cape down. Only after he had settled the turban in place did he realize just how much these moments meant to both of them, and he felt himself choking up when he realized how tightly he had to cinch the navy blue belt in order for it to fit.

Bathing and dressing Piccolo like that was probably the most intimate way Gohan could ever show him how much he truly meant to him. He spent a moment just sitting there with his friend lying against his chest, watching him and rubbing lotion into his arms to keep the weak circulation up. In his mind, no matter how thin or weak the Namekian became, he would always look formidable while dressed in full gear. Perhaps it would even make him feel a little more like himself.

The sounds of voices in the living room alerted Gohan's attention. He sighed, climbed off the bed and lowered Piccolo all the way down. "The guys are here. I'm going to sit you up a little so you can be more eye-to-eye with them." A gentle hiss sounded as the Saiyajin/Human hybrid adjusted the bed into a reclining position.

Piccolo's head was pulled down against the pillow because of the weight of his turban, but the high neckline of his shoulderpads kept his mouth from falling open too far. His clothes made him look so much more dignified, even while unconscious. Gohan thought he looked elegant that way, all dressed as if ready to go out and train.

"Gohan?" ChiChi knocked on the door, "Are you ready yet? Everyone's here!"

Gohan spent another moment fussing over Piccolo's clothes, smoothing the wrinkles from his cape and pulling his leggings down evenly around his ankles. He pulled the bedrails up, stepped back to admire his own handiwork and opened the door. Krillin, Yamcha, Tienshinhan, Chao Zu, Bulma and Trunks were all waiting on the other side.

A beam of sunlight was shining across the bed where Piccolo was lying in his regal-looking gear and casting the same shadow over his face that was cast the first time he was ever seen. Those who remembered that day felt lumps in their throats.

Gohan turned to the others as they carefully started forward without showing the slightest hints of knowledge on how to react and said, "You can talk to him; he can hear you."

Bulma was the first to move towards the bed. She walked around to the side closest the window, bent over Piccolo's slumbering form and gasped, "Oh, my gosh! You poor guy...your ears are a nightmare!" Everyone sweatdropped while she continued, "But I known where I can find something to put on them..." Her hope was to get a response of some kind, but there was none.

Tien and Chao Zu waited by the wall so Trunks, Yamcha and Krillin could get by. None of them spoke to each other as Yamcha pulled up a chair and sat down by the bed. He curled his fists around the nearest bedrail and spoke, "Hey Piccolo! It's Yamcha... I'm here, buddy. We're all here. Tien, Chao Zu, Krillin, Trunks and Bulma..."

At this, Piccolo's eyelids twitched a little, and his lips smacked, but he didn't wake up. Yamcha turned his head, smiled and nodded to the others.

"Yeah!" Chao Zu chirped as he came to a stop over the head of the bed.

Piccolo stirred a little at the many voices around him. Faces began to match up with the sets of hands keeping him above water, though they remained blurred to his ability to recognize them. He had to see them again, one more time, just to remember...

"Piccolo? Hey, there you are!" Yamcha leaned over the bed when he saw Piccolo's eyes drift open. They looked unfocused, perhaps even a little frightened, but he was awake.

Krillin folded his arms on top of the bedrail and looked over at Piccolo when his eyes drifted to him, "Hey, partner. I'm here with 'ya."

"Hello, Piccolo." Tien's deep voice resonated from up and to the left. He leaned down into view when he realized the Namek didn't have the strength to turn his head, and placed a hand on his padded shoulder.

"Hey Piccolo," It was Trunks this time, standing at the foot of the bed with his hands on the footboard. Piccolo's eyes drifted towards the youth's purple hair and remained focused on it for a few moments.

Bulma lowered her hand, hesitated, then allowed it to rest across the back of the thin one resting on the mattress. It was cold and pale-looking, and the Namek's eyes drifted towards her when she whispered, "Piccolo..."

Chao Zu bobbed up and down in the air where he was hovering. "Hiya." He said, watching as the black orbs moved to focus up on him.

Piccolo saw the faces of so many close people surrounding him and felt his throat clutch up. As much as he hated the sentimentality, he appreciated it too. It was the first time in his life that he ever felt just how much he really meant to all these people.

One by one, those people spoke, and one by one, pairs of hands began to let go. Krillin soon disappeared into the distance, followed by Trunks, Yamcha, Tien, Bulma and Chao Zu. Watching them being left behind was harder on his emotions than he had expected. It seemed as if he barely knew them, and already he had to leave them again.

His cracked lips parted and a weak voice escaped in a mumble that was more than just a meaningless sound, "Ehmissuh..."

"Aww..." Bulma looked across the bed at the others when tears escaped down Piccolo's jade cheeks, "He's crying..."

Tien squeezed Piccolo's shoulderpad and lowered his head as a shining tear made its way down his own cheek. Then he moved away and sat down next to the wall. Chao Zu floated over to join him without speaking. Trunks didn't shed any tears, but his head was bowed when he backed off and seated himself on Gohan's bed. Krillin joined him and solemnly patted his back. Bulma sniffed a few times and moved around to sit by Krillin and Trunks. Yamcha patted Piccolo's arm gently before sitting down.

ChiChi poked her head in when everything had gone quiet. She saw Piccolo's eyes open and immediately went to his bedside. Her hand lowered to rest on his icy one, and she spoke when his eyes fixed onto her face, "Hey, how are you?"

Piccolo blinked slowly and mumbled something unintelligible as more tears escaped down his face. ChiChi gently shushed him by placing a soft kiss on his cracked lips. "I'm going to get Gohan in here, OK?" She brushed his tears away and kissed him again, whispering, "It's alright to be afraid. We're with you. We won't leave you." She gave him one more soft kiss, "I love you."

Out in the living room, Gohan was bouncing Doramu on his knee. Doramu was giggling away, as happy as could be, and he had a goofy little smile on his face. The young man found it astonishing that the baby Namek looked just like Piccolo, yet had that screwball smile like Goku.

"Gohan?"

He looked up to find ChiChi in the room. Doramu squealed and held his arms up to her, letting her pick him up. She gave him a hug, and a few kisses on the forehead.

"Yeah, mom?"

"You need to go in there now and give him your permission to die." She came right out and said it. In her mind, being blunt was the only way to get it into Gohan's head that he needed to say goodbye. "Listen...you know that little butterfly cocoon hanging outside your window? That's all Piccolo's body is. Dying is like the butterfly coming out and flying away. The shell will stay here, but what was inside will become something far more beautiful." She placed her hand on his arm while Doramu cooed in her ear. "Do you really want to leave him trapped inside that poor shell when he can shed it and be rid of all the suffering?"

Gohan gritted his teeth and turned his face away from his mother. He could feel himself starting to cry for the billionth time that day, and his hands balled into fists, "It isn't easy to just let go of someone who has been your hero for almost your whole life! He's my best friend, and I love him for that! And you expect me to just let him go!?"

"You're being selfish!" ChiChi spat suddenly, which caused the baby in her arms to blink and look up. "What do you think Piccolo wants?"

"To live."

"I'm not finished!" She put a finger up to silence him, "I know he wants to live, but there isn't a choice anymore. The only reason he's fighting to stay alive anymore is because he wants to make sure you will be alright without him." Her voice softened, as did her angry expression, "I know how much you love him, Gohan, and I know what he is to you. So show him how much you care by letting him go in peace."

He glanced up to find her looking at him with tears streaming down her flushed face. His own tears dotted his cheeks like dew on a rose petal, one or two occasionally forming a trail over his skin. "He's tired, isn't he?" He nodded as if answering his own question and lifted his gaze to his mother again, "I think he'd like to rest..."

ChiChi reached up and placed a hand on Gohan's cheek to wipe away his tears. She hated to see her baby in pain... "Yeah...I'll chase the others out for a few minutes if you want."

He nodded absently, so she immediately headed down the hall and poked her head into the room where the others were, "Gohan wants a minute alone with Piccolo, if that's alright with you..."

A chorus of quiet 'sure' and 'no problem' went up as the group of friends slowly exited the room. They all gave Gohan a pat on the back or a touch on the shoulder as they passed. Gohan hardly raised his head to look at any of them as he passed through the hallway to his room. It felt like the longest walk of his life, walking into his room to let go of the only man who ever seemed to understand him.

Piccolo was just lying there the way Gohan had positioned him earlier.

The silver water around him was growing colder; he could feel it. He could also feel the turbulence of someone else's pain nearby, and when he opened his eyes, he saw Gohan's tear-streaked face there. It reminded him of the day he sacrificed himself on the battlefield, yet it was so much more different.

Outside the window the tiny being inside the iridescent green chrysalis, compelled by the call of time and the need for freedom, began to move.

Gohan sat down next to the bed, reached over the bedrail and took Piccolo's hand. It was cold, colder than it had ever been, and his fingertips were starting to change color. On impulse, he started to stroke the frail fingers in attempt to warm them as his choked voice began to speak, "Hey, Piccolo....it's Gohan. Wanna get outta here and go train? How about meditating? Or a swim in the lake?"

Piccolo's fingers closed around the hand grasping his. A hot lump rose in his throat and threatened to choke off his breath as tears filled his eyes.

"A man like you didn't deserve the lonely life you lived."

The green fingers tightened their grip.

"Hey...it looks like this body doesn't want you anymore, so um...kiss it goodbye." Gohan sniffed, lowered his face closer to Piccolo's and spoke into his ear, "Let it crack open and fall away like an empty chrysalis shell and leave it behind. There's so much more you can do with that rare, powerful soul of yours..." His pain knotted up like a fist in his chest, causing him to sob softly. "You're the best friend I've ever had, Piccolo. And you never left my side when I needed you. So here I am..." He gulped down a stream of sobs, the absorbent mattress cover on the bed crackling a little as he slid one arm under Piccolo's shoulders to hug him, "...repaying all your kindness standing by your side. I promise that you'll never be alone again, because I love you, my friend. I love you with all my heart, and I promise that I'll never forget you..." The young man lowered his head until his forehead was touching his best friend's, the motion causing the Namek to blink slowly and refocus his eyes. "Piccolo...you're allowed to let yourself go...you have my permission..." That last sentence barely escaped his clutched throat, "Don't suffer for me any more...I'll take care of Doramu, and I'll be OK..."

Piccolo's lower lip began to tremble slightly as he felt Gohan's hands slowly move away from their place below his shoulders. Now he was floating on the silver sea by his own power alone. Gohan was soon going to fade into the distance, but he wasn't ready to let go of him yet, even as the current grew stronger and tried to force his fingers to go limp. He had to tell him, he just had to get out a simple word to thank him for everything. One word that he could never say to show how much he truly cared until now.

On the twig outside, the chrysalis dangling helplessly from the twig began to move as the creature within trembled.

"A..." It was weak, and so hard to form, but he managed to get his voice out fully in all it's rumbling glory one final time, "...Aishiteru..." He squeezed the young man's hand again with all the strength he could manage, "...aishiteru...aishiteru..." The Namek repeated as loudly as he could manage, which was barely above a whisper. Tears were coming with the word as he finally spoke what had burned in his heart since Gohan had shown him what it meant to have a friend.

Gohan was in tears as he watched Piccolo's heart fully open itself to him. Even if he was using the wrong word to say 'I love you', it didn't matter. The fact that it had finally come from him, did.

Piccolo's eyes drifted shut after he tired himself out from the effort it took to speak. He allowed his hand to relax, keeping it extended to Gohan as he faded into the distance and disappeared. Keeping his hand like that caused him to sink below the silver waves, and he struggled desperately until he was safely on his back again.

ChiChi, with Doramu babbling in her arms, poked her head in and saw Gohan straightening with tears on his face. He nodded when she gave him an expectant look, and she nodded over her shoulder to the others. The room was soon filled with the familiar faces Gohan had grown up with.

Piccolo stopped breathing while they were filing in. Trunks and Yamcha looked at each other in confusion. Bulma and Trunks lifted their eyebrows. Krillin was scratching his head. Tien and Chao Zu looked very tense. ChiChi was frozen in place where she stood. Doramu was babbling away. Gohan appeared to be on the verge of a panic attack.

There was a small noise as the Namek started breathing again as if nothing had happened. His eyes had taken on that weird slightly-open look once again.

Effectively startled, the group of friends settled in the places where they had been before they had been chased out. All eyes were on the Namek in bed.

Gohan carefully took Doramu from ChiChi, moved closer to the bed and placed him next to Piccolo, just to see what he would do. ChiChi was afraid the child would pull the morphine pump, and she even opened her mouth to protest. She was quickly silenced by her son when he touched her arm.

Doramu didn't pull out the morphine pump. He just sat there, comically, fascinated by the rise and fall of his father's thin chest. Then he leaned forward, poked Piccolo's forehead with his index finger and giggled. The motion made Piccolo's head roll to the side a little, and ChiChi reached down to pick the baby up.

Once again, she was stopped by her son's hand on her arm.

In protest, she asked, "Just what is this supposed to accomplish?"

"Shh, mom. Let them be together one last time."

ChiChi growled and looked to the others for help, but they were all wearing small smiles and shaking their heads at her.

Doramu proceeded to mouth one of Piccolo's shoulderpads and grasped ahold of the white cloth covering his collar. He poked his father's forehead again with a small finger, this time punctuating it with a single sound. A sound he and Gohan had been practicing for a long time.

"Da-da..."

The entire room and everyone in it seemed to stop moving, all eyes on the baby.

"Yeah, that's right." Gohan said with tears in his eyes, "That's your da-da." He looked down at Piccolo's face, "You hear that? His first word..."

Piccolo didn't open his eyes, didn't have the strength right then, but he had heard. He could feel himself smiling as he drifted slower on the icy silver sea. The cold didn't bother him anymore, because the warmth of his child's breath helped him to fall asleep.

Doramu's first word followed him into his dreams, where he repeatedly saw his own birth and the events following afterwards. There was so much bitter loneliness in the beginning, yet that all seemed to melt away when he came to the times where Gohan had come into his life.

And outside the window, the tiny chrysalis hanging from the twig began to lose its iridescent green luster as it prepared for the fragile being inside to burst free.

More than twelve hours passed before Piccolo started to feel awareness again. Though he didn't want to open his eyes, he could hear the others were still there. Soft voices whispered around him in another language...no wait! He understood that! It was Namekian!

He quickly opened his eyes just enough to see and found himself drifting towards a group of green figures bobbing in the silver water. They immediately came to his side when they saw he was aware of them, and he was soon surrounded by gentle people with caring faces and loving eyes. Gentle hands began to touch his body all over, mainly in the places where pain was bothering him, as if they knew exactly where his body was rejecting him the most.

Piccolo watched as the group of Nameks took their hands away from his body, one by one, and stepped back until he was floating alone in the center. When he lifted his eyes to the sky, the clouds began to part like an opening curtain until the entire universe be-dazzled him with all its glory.

Among the twinkling lights above, he spotted a single red star that shone like a jewel of incomparable worth. Its light was brighter than everything else in the sky, and it gave off a warmth that lessened the cold numbness of the silver water around him. His eyes started to close from the brightness of the light, only to snap open at the realization of why he was drawn to that star like a moth to a flame.

That star was God. It was Home.

He belonged with that light. Realizing that only made him want to go there more, but it was so far away.

Piccolo extended a frail arm towards the star in a last effort to reach it. Then he closed his eyes as his body began to sink beneath the icy silver waves. His mouth fell open when he tried to breathe, and a silent cry of pain escaped when water began rushing into his lungs.

The chrysalis hanging from the twig outside the window had lost almost all of its iridescent luster and shone dully in the light of the moon. Inside the shell, the creature began to struggle for freedom.

Shadows from the twig and chrysalis danced across the bed where Piccolo was lying. Gohan was standing by the window while the others slept on the floor or in chairs. For the umpteenth time in two hours, Piccolo stopped breathing. His eyes slid open and he emitted a watery half-cough before starting to breathe in shallower breaths. The sound alerted Gohan, who cocked an eyebrow at the sudden change

There was no consciousness in the Namek's black eyes, not even a hint of a thinking mind. They just stared at the ceiling and blinked whenever reflex forced them to.

Just by looking at him, Gohan knew the end was almost upon his beloved friend.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, he massaged Piccolo's chest in attempt to make breathing a little easier. Then he reached down and placed his hand in the frail green one lying on a pillow. "Piccolo, it's OK...it's OK...I'm going to get the others..." He felt the cold green digits squeeze his hand tightly like an icy vice around his fingers, a silent plea to stay.

Piccolo stopped struggling to stay afloat when the pain of water filling his lungs no longer ailed him, and his face soon disappeared beneath the silver line separating air from water. His body felt heavy like a boat taking on water, and when he opened his eyes, he saw his reflection on the silver underside of the water.

Instead of seeing himself sinking into darkness, he saw himself lying on a bed with silver bedrails, struggling for breath. Gohan was at his side, holding his hand and protecting him.

Frightened by the image of himself fighting for air like that, Piccolo struggled back to the surface and gasped as he cast his eyes on the red star twinkling above. His heavy body made it nearly impossible to reach the air he so desperately needed...

The chrysalis hanging outside the bedroom window became paper thin as the creature within actively moved about.

"Piccolo..." Gohan lowered his head and pressed a kiss into the Namek's brow. It was the same kiss his mother always gave him whenever she was leaving for a little while. He tried not to cry with all his might, to avoid waking the others, and sat the bed up a little further to make the Namek's breathing easier. Piccolo's head slumped back against the pillow, which exposed his neck fully and caused his jaw to fall open, revealing the tips of his fangs. The young half-human saw right past the strange face and said, "Face your fear. I'm with you, Piccolo. You're not alone...you hear me? You're not alone..."

Piccolo had exhausted himself for the last time, and he knew it. The icy water began to creep over his skin like liquid silver until it covered his ears and left only his face exposed to the air. With his ears underwater, the Namek could hear a voice speaking from far off, a voice telling him to face his fear and that he wasn't alone.

The voice was right, and Piccolo knew it. If he wanted to face his fear, he would have to sink beneath the waves.

Heaving a deep breath, the Namek ceased all movements and felt a strange calm settle over him as the icy water rushed over his face. Just as before, he looked up and saw a reflection himself lying in a bed with Gohan at his side. He could see the others asleep nearby, in chairs or on the floor.

His lungs started to burn in their want for oxygen, but he was too weak to struggle to the surface. So he did the only thing he could think of to end this pain quickly: he exhaled. Bubbles escaped his gaping jaws, foaming up the reflection until it was only a blur.

Letting out his breath seemed to take away some of the weight in his body, but not enough. He could still feel the cold, and without warm air inside to keep it at bay, the icy water came at him full force. His body quickly began spasming in attempt to stay warm.

A long crack formed along the entire length of the chrysalis shell hanging outside the bedroom window, making it look like a peanut shell that had been split down the middle.

Gohan's eyes widened when Piccolo stopped breathing completely for nearly two minutes, and he put his arms around his dying friend. Tears trembled in his eyes as he leaned over, squeezed his hand and allowed their foreheads to briefly touch. "Go on now..." He sobbed, "Come out of that shell and fly! Fly away and don't look back..."

For what seemed like forever, the Namek didn't move. Then, for no reason at all, he suddenly took in a deep gurgling breath that sucked his lower lip halfway into his mouth and held it. The effort caused his entire body to grow rigid in Gohan's arms, and the young man's eyes widened in horror at the look on his friend's face.

"Piccolo...oh Kami..."

A full minute passed before the Namek began to exhale. He seemed to be exhaling the rigidity as well, the way he began to go limp as the air rushed from his lungs. The hand grasping Gohan's was the last thing to go limp, and his face became very calm as the last gasp of air escaped his gaping jaws.

Piccolo hovered below the water's surface until the last bubbles had risen from his throat. He hung there for several moments, struggling with an open mouth to reach the air that was only two inches away, his blurry reflection in the bed doing the same.

Wait a minute, where was the pain? The lack of breathing didn't hurt at all! It may have been uncomfortable, but it wasn't painful. The new realization surprised the tall green warrior, and he quickly became aware of how it much trying to breathe was tiring him out.

Piccolo slowly became aware of a sinking sensation and realized the weight of his body was pulling him away from the water's surface. His white cape and purple clothes rippled and flowed as he plummeted slowly towards darkness like a feather lost in flight. The lack of air was no longer uncomfortable, in fact, he had already forgotten how it felt to breathe. It was so natural this way.

On the twig outside, the crack in the chrysalis began to widen as the creature inside pressed against the constricting shell.

Gohan slowly began to realize that Piccolo had stopped breathing. He was surprised at himself when he didn't totally break down into sobs the way he thought he would. All he could do, in fact, was continue talking him through his death, "Now, there should be a light nearby...if you ever want to reach it, you have to let your body go..."

Doramu awoke to the sound of Gohan's voice. He could feel his father moving away, yet he was still lying on the bed and his eyes were wide open! The baby didn't want his father to go away like that, and he whimpered when he felt their bond growing weaker by the second.

"...I'm still here with you..." The young man placed a hand on the Namek's cheek and continued speaking softly into his ear, "Get to that light..."

Sleepy from the lack of oxygen, Piccolo looked up to discover he'd sunk hundreds of feet away from the water's surface. The red star glittered tantalizingly in the distance, making him want to journey towards it even more. As he watched the light grow further away, the Namek started to realize that freedom had been right there the whole time, even when he was too stubborn to see it.

Piccolo opened his arms, closed his eyes and smiled at the rush as his body began to sink even faster. His white cape whipped and rippled around him like a pair of wings against his skin and clothes, but he could no longer feel its softness. He could no longer feel the loose material of his gi tickling his skin, and he no longer felt the coldness of the water. He no longer heard the sound of the voice that had been speaking to him the whole time he was sinking. He no longer heard the sound of his heartbeat or the water rushing past his ears. He no longer saw the distant light against his closed eyelids or the growing darkness surrounding him.

When the glow of the universe was just a flicker in the distance, the plummeting green body split itself wide open like hollow walnut shell. A ray of light shot up from the open shell and stabbed the surrounding darkness, illuminating a mass of glowing bubbles rushing furiously to the surface, compelled by the urge for freedom.

Outside the window, the newborn butterfly wriggled free of its chrysalis shell, changing it from green to transparent, and crawled up onto the twig.

Gohan was still whispering softly to Piccolo's still form, even though his heart had stopped and his lips and fingertips were turning pale from lack of oxygen. "Freedom..." He choked as he stroked the Namek's cooling cheek, still able to feel a faint flicker of his ki "You're almost there..."

The others in the room were still asleep, all except for Doramu. The baby Namek continued to watch his father, mouthing the side of the crib as shadows from the emerging butterfly outside fell across his face.

"Thank you for being my best friend, Piccolo...thank you for the time you shared with me..." Gohan was trembling all over with the excitement of Piccolo's impending freedom and the sorrow of his departure. He kept stroking his face and talking to him, more to comfort himself than before, "Thank you for everything..."

Piccolo, or rather, a mass of glowing bubbles, continued spiraling madly towards the surface. He was no longer 'Piccolo'. He was no longer a 'Namek'. He was no longer 'himself'. He was no longer a 'he'. He simply 'was'.

There was no need for a sense of self anymore, not when there was an eternity to live in.

The silver water boiled, then exploded in all directions when the mass of bubbles broke through the surface, forming a swirling blue and purple column of rising spheres. Nothing could stop the traveling soul as it was swept, swirling and curling around itself, towards its glowing red destination in the distance.

Beneath the water, a forgotten green body that was split open from forehead to groin like an empty shell, continued to sink until it disappeared into the darkness.

Outside the window, silhouetted by the sunrise, the Monarch butterfly crawled onto a leaf, spread its beautiful wings and flew away. Its empty shell glittered dully on the twig, already forgotten by the being that used it for so long.

Gohan was sound asleep, having unintentionally dozed off while talking Piccolo through the long journey. His arms were still around the Namek's still form, his head resting on one of his shoulderpads. Piccolo's eyes, still open, stared sightlessly at the ceiling like two glass orbs that glittered dully when the sunlight shined across them. His jaw still gaped the way it had when he had taken his last breath, allowing his fangs to catch the light. It was nothing like the calm face of death depicted in movies, but there was calmness surrounding him.

A dark-haired woman stirred in her chair when the sunlight moved to shine in her face. She squeezed her eyes shut, rubbed them a few times and straightened to look at the Namek. Her eyes widened and she instantly rushed to the side of the bed.

"Piccolo?" ChiChi took Piccolo's cold hand and leaned over to stare into his eyes, being just in time to see the last flicker of life fade from them forever. She used her fingers to touch his wrist, his neck, then his chest, able to feel only stillness. Her body started to tremble as she placed an arm under his shoulders to hold him close and stroked his cheek with her free hand. Then she took his hand and kissed it, then pressed her lips to his brow, kissing him goodbye. "Oh, Piccolo...bless your heart..."

A few sleeping bodies groaned or shifted, but none were awakened by ChiChi's soft sobs. It seemed like hours, though it was only a moment, before she could even reach far enough to shake Gohan's shoulder.

"Mm?" Gohan groaned as he was jerked from his dreams of a butterfly flying free. He looked sleepily at his mother, then down at Piccolo.

"Gohan, he's gone..." She whispered, completely unaware that he had seen the whole thing

Gohan lifted his head up and looked down at the empty shell that was once Piccolo. The moment he fixed his eyes upon him, he knew Piccolo had intended to share that final moment of transition with just him and no one else. Keeping with the pretense, Gohan turned his eyes to his mentor's face and brushed his fingertips over his eyelids to close them. Then he adjusted his head so his pointed chin was resting on the collar of his shoulderpads, thus closing his gaping jaw. Now his face looked more like what the movies depicted, though paler.

ChiChi gazed at Piccolo with heavily-lidded eyes, "He looks so peaceful..."

The young man looked across the bed at his mother with a strange calm. Then his face reddened as he started to cry, "It's over...it's finally over..." He buried his face in the Namek's gaunt neck and sobbed softly, "I miss you so much already, Piccolo..."

ChiChi walked around the bed, put one arm around Gohan's shoulders and placed her other hand on Piccolo's cheek. Gohan reached towards his mother's hand and squeezed it tightly in attempt to withstand the storm of grief buffeting his heart. She squeezed back and closed her eyes to the pain of her son's grasp as tears leaked down her pale cheeks.

Bulma's snoring suddenly ceased its racket when she awoke. She looked around sleepily until her eyes fell on ChiChi and Gohan. When she saw the way ChiChi was crying and Gohan was holding Piccolo to his chest, she was immediately able to guess what happened.

Reaching over to grab Trunks's shoulder, she gave him one good shake, "Hey."

"Uhhh?" Trunks sat up with his hair all disheveled and his eyes still half-closed, "Wha?"

"I think Piccolo just died. Get the others up."

Immediately awake, Trunks grabbed Krillin's pillow, threw it at Yamcha and nudged Tienshinhan with his foot at the same time. Krillin promptly sat up when his head hit the floor, Yamcha ripped the offending pillow in half and Tien rolled over into Chao Zu, who promptly shot up to hover above the mass of groggily moving bodies.

"Trunks!?" Krillin groaned. "What's the big idea?"

"Guys!" Trunks hissed, "It's over. C'mon, they need us."

The sleepy complaining promptly fell into shocked silence, only to be disturbed by Doramu's angry wails. Bulma promptly walked over to the crib, lifted the child into her arms and held him. Little did she know that Doramu had been a silent witness to his father's demise, and the pain of that emptiness had awakened him.

Tien and Chao Zu were already standing at the foot of the bed, both with their heads lowered. Krillin was beside ChiChi and Gohan, patting them on the back. Trunks was standing opposite to ChiChi and Gohan, staring down at Piccolo's calm face. Yamcha was beside the purple-haired youth with his hands curled around the bedrails. Bulma carried Doramu with her when she moved to stand next to Yamcha, her eyes full of tears.

Doramu put his thumb into his mouth and turned his black eyes towards the blindingly bright window, looking almost directly into the sun. The butterfly was sitting on the windowsill, its wings opening and closing. It stayed there for a few moments, seeming to watch the activity inside until Doramu stretched his chubby hand out towards it.

Startled by the sudden movement, the orange-and-black-winged butterfly took off from its perch and fluttered away in a flurry of orange.

Piccolo's still form was lying at the top of a huge pile of wood. The grand liquid whiteness of his cape was spread out neatly beneath his body like a blanket. A pillow propped his head up just enough to keep his mouth from falling open, making it look as if he had just settled down for a quick nap. His hands were carefully folded one atop the other on his navel, appearing so thin and fragile that a single touch would shatter them into a million pieces. The rest of his body looked the same way, though ChiChi often commented he looked as young as he was when he first encountered Goku.

Gohan, showing his respect by wearing a black suit, hovered beside the wood pile where his friend was lying, stroking one of his green hands. Tears were blazing trails down his face. "I know you probably can't hear me anymore...but...I hope that, wherever you went, you found peace. Nothing will be the same without you, at least to me it won't." He put his head down and briefly marveled at the differences in skin color and hand size.

No one else was around to hear what he was saying, not even ChiChi. The only witnesses were the cliffs and soil of the desert-valley where he had been trained for the first time.

Gohan lowered his eyes to Piccolo's face to get a good look at his features one last time. The sun was shining directly onto the Namek's face, allowing no shadows to fall upon it. His brow ridges were still drawn into their characteristic frown above the curves of his closed eyes. The cracked terrain of his lips were pulled into the tiniest smile one can get away with, for once able to rest in their natural position. With the way he was always scowling, nobody could ever tell he had a heart-shaped mouth.

He looked so serene that way, with his face to the sun, an expression that not even sleep could bring about. Gohan knew that, for the rest of his life, he would remember Piccolo's face looking that way.

The young man sniffed, slid his free hand into his pocket and produced an empty chrysalis shell. He placed it carefully on his dead friend's palm and closed the long green fingers around it. A sigh laced with tears escaped him as he cast a last glance at the green figure, passed a gentle hand over his green brow and whispered, "Piccolo-sama dai-suki..."

Only one breath of wind bore witness to him as he floated away from the pyre and lowered to the ground. The silence was disturbed by the gurgle of liquid hitting a hard surface as the half-Saiyajin spread kerosene over the outermost edge of the pyre.

Gohan hesitated after throwing the empty canister aside before finally extending his hand to the wood. He closed his eyes and said the loosely-translated phrase he heard the Nameks chanting for Saichorou before they burned his body, "You came from the ashes with fire illuminating your arrival. Now you shall return to the ashes from which you came, with this fire to illuminate your departure."

He continued to chant the last sentence in a low whisper as he extended a hand and shot a small white blast that ignited the ring of kerosene. The pyre was soon surrounded by a ring of fire dancing around the base, black smoke rising straight up towards the distant blue sky.

Not a sound disturbed the peace around the area as the fire grew. Dew drops stood still on unmoving blades of grass, and the trees seemed frozen with their leaves hanging limp in mourning. Even the animals were silent, not moving a whisker as the dark-haired man stood before the orange blaze.

The flames were soon roaring over the wood surrounding Piccolo's body. A soft crackle sounded when edges of his cape started to burn. His head dropped back against the wood when the pillow burned away, and his fangs were revealed to the world for a final time as tiny flames formed a halo around the cloth of his turban. His clothes caught and began to flicker with orange brilliance, occasional pieces of burning cloth being swept up into the rising pillar of smoke.

Just before Piccolo's skin began to burn away, the flames thickened and shrouded him from view. The roar they created was deafening, and the column of flames burning over the body turned blue as it was reduced to bones. Gohan caught a glimpse of the skeleton when a piece of wood fell away, but the blaze quickly returned to fill the gap.

Gohan turned his face away from the burning pyre and closed his eyes, just remembering his friend. For a moment or two, he could see those old times as clear as day: The day Piccolo took him away to be trained. Piccolo's cold glare when he tried to invite him to his birthday party. The look on his face before he faded away after taking that blast from Nappa. Several moments where he caught the green man in the middle of meditation. Those times at the lake when they went swimming or stargazing. The moment when he held Doramu for the first time. That hilarious moment when he unwrapped the thong at the birthday party. Several moments in the tournament. Those last days in his room, especially the night before he died.

Out of all the memories Gohan had of his beloved friend, the most precious one was when Piccolo died. Watching him take his last breath was like watching Doramu take his first. Same gaping jaw, same sighing sound upon exhalation and the same sense of awe. The only difference was one breath signaled a departure while the other signaled an approach.

"Life is all just a big inhalation. It begins in a gasp and ends in a sigh. But you, on the other hand, came out talking and never will shut up 'till you're a pile of bones underground." Piccolo had once said with a grand show of sarcasm. At the time it was said, Gohan was pretty angry, but now it made him smile because it seemed so right sometimes.

The fire was dying down, a ring of embers marking where all the wood had been. A few spots continued to spit and crackle like angry little tongues lashing out. Some wisps of smoke curled and twisted like ribbons traveling up to join with its mother column, which hung like a black cloud around the area.

Gohan had no trouble stepping over the charred wood, nor did he feel any pain when he lifted the metal bin where Piccolo's ashes had fallen as his body burned. The metal shoulderpads his cape was attached to failed to burn, almost as if it were to be left behind as a memoir.

With gentle care, the young man removed a brown rawhide sack from his belt and untied the black leather drawstring. Then he carefully dumped the contents of the metal bin into the bag without losing a single ash.

"There..." Gohan breathed as time seemed to restart, allowing the birds to chirp and the wind to tease his black hair. The smell of smoke, ash and burnt wood all permeated his nose as he picked up the metal shoulderpad frame, the metal bin and turned his back to the circle of charred soil. Not a sound came from him as he walked towards his home in the distance.

Doramu squealed in ChiChi's arms as he looked upon the world for the first time from the colorful Lookout tower. The view was beautiful with the red and gold sunset in the distance, outlined in lacy purple clouds.

Gohan said nothing as he stared at the brown rawhide sack in his hand. First Piccolo had been reduced to a skeletal-thin cancer victim, and now he was little more than a bag of ashes. He hated that thought and pushed it aside as fiercely as he could.

ChiChi shifted Doramu in her arms and looked over at Gohan, the wind playing in her black hair a little. She had left it down since Piccolo had once told her he thought she looked pretty that way, and she felt that if he could see her when she said her last goodbye, she should at least look nice for him.

Dende stood between them with a hand on their shoulders, giving a gentle squeeze whenever one or the other showed signs of tears. He, too, was suffering from the loss. Nail and Kami had gone with Piccolo when he died, their traces present as memories and thoughts mixed into his soul. He half suspected those two personalities "died" long before Piccolo's body ever did.

"Ready?" ChiChi looked over at Gohan and Dende as she turned Doramu so he could see what was about to happen.

"Hai." Dende replied faintly. Though he had reached adolescence, or as close to it as a Namek can get, his voice still hadn't changed quite yet.

Gohan offered only a solemn nod, handed the brown sack over to Dende and waited with his hands cupped. The young Namek untied the leather strap, carefully positioned the opening over Gohan's hands and turned it upside down. Chalky black ashes trickled into the young man's cupped hands, there being just enough to fill them both. He closed his fingers around the silky substance to protect it from an early launch and nodded his thanks to the Guardian.

Knowing this was the last time he would ever hold his beloved friend, Gohan lowered his eyes to the ashes in his palms and whispered, "Rest in peace, Piccolo." His voice choked on the last word and one of his tears dripped onto the ashes.

ChiChi kissed her fingertips and gestured towards the ashes as tears streamed down her cheeks. She turned her head and nuzzled Doramu, who was giggling and cooing at a monarch butterfly flitting around nearby. "Bwa, bwa, bwa! Aah! Hehehe!"

"Goodbye Piccolo....Nail...Kami..." Dende whispered with eyes filled with tears. He pretended it was only the wind and turned his head to keep his sorrow from showing as his half-breed friend closed his eyes, turned towards the sunset and walked onto the very edge of the Lookout.

When you love someone so deeply
they become your life
it's easy to succumb to overwhelming fears inside
Blindly I imaged I could
keep you under glass
Now I understand to hold you
I must open my hands
and watch you rise...

When he reached the edge, Gohan held his arms straight out in front and opened his hands.

A gust of wind came along quickly, sending most of the ashes straight up in a cloudy whirlwind. Gohan tossed the rest up to join the hazy mist overhead. He watched the wind play with the ashes for a moment or two before another gust came along to scatter them.

Now all that remained of Piccolo were memories, photographs, videos and Doramu. As if to punctuate that thought, Gohan turned to glance over his shoulder at the little Namek in ChiChi's arms. He smiled at what he saw.

Doramu was still watching the butterfly that kept flitting around nearby. He extended a hand to point the butterfly out, only to have it land on the tip of his chubby green finger and flutter its glorious orange-and-black wings.

...Spread your wings and prepare to fly
for you have become a butterfly
Fly abandonedly into the sun
If you should return to me
we truly were meant to be
So spread your wings and fly
Butterfly

Soft fluttering noises sounded as a butterfly took up residence on a new perch that happened to be a tapered green finger. Its pretty wings fluttered gently, as delicate and fragile as life itself, adding silent music to the noiseless sound of the surrounding forest.

"Hey," came the voice of a man with spiky black hair wearing a nice suit.

A turban-clad head turned slightly, and a white cape rustled against baggy purple cloth. Brown shoes shifted in the grass as a tall shadow fell across a nearby bush. A raspy baritone voice spoke up in response to the greeting, "Gohan...hey, it's been awhile!"

"Yeah, I know. Being a doctor isn't easy and doesn't give me much time off. I mean...I had to sit through two weeks worth of seminars, and all those years in the university before it...blah." Gohan tossed his briefcase to the ground and let his gaze rest on the Namek's back, amazed at how much he had grown up. "You look just like..."

"You still haven't told me much about him." Came the cool reply.

"I know." He bit his lip and lowered to sit on his black briefcase, "But I'm going to change that right now."

There was a soft rustle as the green figure turned. Piccolo's eyes peered down at Gohan's slightly sad expression. Piccolo's lips pulled into a slight smirk, and Piccolo's brow ridges drew together in mock confusion. "I've been waiting for this for a long time."

Gohan looked up at the familiar face and smiled with tears in his eyes, "Me too, Doramu, me too..."

Doramu placed a hand over the butterfly on his fingertip to hold onto it for a little longer as he lowered to sit indian style in front of his older friend. Not a word passed between his lips as he lowered his head in meditation and listened to the tale Gohan had to tell.

Gohan spoke for over an hour, telling Doramu everything about Piccolo there was to know. He even shared that precious last breath with him. As Doramu listened, his eyes filled with tears, and a smile was beginning to crack through his stoic expression.

When his close friend's voice had fallen silent, the Namek smiled a little more. He was about to speak when a smaller green form, dressed in overalls, waddled out of the bushes and tripped over a raised root. He hit the ground hard and started to wail in frustration, "WAAAAAHHHH!!"

I have learned that beauty
has to flourish in the light
Wild horses run unbridled
or their spirit dies
You have given me the courage
to be all that I can
And truly feel your heart will
lead you back to me when you're
ready to land...

Doramu's arm shot out to help the little one up. The butterfly on his fingertip took flight in alarm and fluttered up to land on a nearby flower. "Awww, it's alright, little guy."

Startled by the other presence, Gohan wound up on his back.

He sat up, shook out the cobwebs and fixed his eyes onto the sobbing Namekian baby that Doramu was holding. Thinking he was seeing things, he blinked, then lifted his gaze, "Who...?"

Doramu grinned at the child in his arms, held him close to comfort him and gently wiped the miniature tears away, "This is Mandorin. He's my son."

"Your...son?" Gohan blinked in disbelief at the miniature Doramu/Piccolo sitting in the Namek's lap. The overalls were a little too big, often slipping off his tiny pink-muscled shoulders and falling down to reveal the top of his cloth diaper. "He looks just like you!"

"Naturally! It must run in the family!" He barked in lively laughter and helped Mandorin to stand back up. The baby giggled and wobbled unsteadily on his feet, then waddled up to Gohan and grabbed his leg to stay up.

Lowering his eyes to the baby's oversized ones, he felt his eyes fill with tears. He reached down, picked Mandorin up and stared at his face. It was hard to believe Doramu was ever that small. "Hey, Mandorin...you're sure a cute little guy..."

"Vrooooooom!" Mandorin babbled happily, following the orange butterfly with his eyes. He reached towards it when it came close enough, and it landed gently on his thumb. It seemed to show now fear of the child at all, fluttering its wings instead of flying away whenever its perch moved.

"Mom always spoils him." Doramu shook his head playfully and got to his feet. Though he wasn't as tall as his father had been, he was close enough for the difference to be missed. "Speaking of, she should be telling us that dinner is ready in about five, four, three, two, one - "

"DINNER!" ChiChi's voice called from the edge of the forest.

Gohan burst into laughter at the knowledge that his mother still hadn't changed. Even though she was only cooking for one, she still had to yell about it. His amusement level really grew as he realized his mom was in for a big surprise, because he wasn't supposed to be home for another two weeks.

"Well, better not keep her waiting." The Namek smirked as the wind caused his cape to rustle along with the trees surrounding him.

Nodding, the half-Saiyajin watched a spot of sunlight dance over a group of tree roots. "Go on ahead. I'll catch up."

"See you there." He answered, waving briefly before turning and disappearing into the foliage leading to the house. Not a sound punctuated his footfalls as he crept up the path to the house. Gohan watched Doramu go for a moment, then lowered his eyes to Mandorin.

In the child's eyes, he could see Piccolo as he once was; turning to smirk at him as the wind blew his white cape around like a pair of wings.

Mandorin cooed and clapped his hands. The startled butterfly on his thumb promptly took off and fluttered above a nearby bush. Gohan followed it with his eyes for a few moments before his eyelids lowered.

"Goodbye..." He whispered, now finally able to let go.

As if hearing the softly-spoken word, the butterfly promptly flitted towards the treetops and disappeared into the sun's glare, images of its flight reflected in Mandorin's glittering onyx eyes.

...Spread your wings and prepare to fly
for you have become a butterfly
Fly abandonedly into the sun
If you should return to me
we truly were meant to be
So spread your wings and fly
Butterfly

I can't pretend these tears
aren't over flowing steadily
I can't prevent this hurt from
almost overtaking me
But I will stand and say goodbye
for you'll never be mine
until you know the way it feels to fly

Spread your wings and prepare to fly
for you have become a butterfly
Fly abandonedly into the sun
If you should return to me
we truly were meant to be
So spread your wings and fly
Butterfly

Spread your wings and prepare to fly
for you have become a butterfly
Fly abandonedly into the sun
If you should return to me
we truly were meant to be
So spread your wings and fly
Butterfly
So flutter through the sky
Butterfly
Spread your wings and fly
Butterfly
-- Butterfly, by Mariah Carey.