Ok. This is my first fanfic ever, so bear that in mind. I'm really just trying to test the waters, so this is a very short "intro" of sorts to a story I have in mind. It will contain spoilers for both Dragon Ball Z and GT, so read at your own discretion (some things may not make sense if you haven't watched the entire series). It is a Piccolo/Gohan romance fic, so bear that in mind as well (as in: you may not see their love for one another as surpassing a father/son kind of thing, but I do - so please respect my fictional interpretation of these fictional characters' fictional relationship).
Note on the content: No vulgar language (maybe a "damn" or two?), no lemons, and no outright explicit content is intended. I'm going for romance and angst, here.
Full Summary: This fic takes place many, many years after the events of Dragon Ball GT. Gohan and Pan have outlived the rest of their family (disregarding Pan's offspring and husband), but Gohan's time on earth is coming to an end. Dying of old age, Gohan can think of little else but Piccolo: the beautifully strange namekian who had trained him in more than just physical ways. He continues to dwell on the thought of being sent to heaven, while his lover resides in hell. Piccolo likewise feels this despair, but what can these two possibly do to ensure their eternal afterlife is not spent in absolute misery? As Gohan's time draws near, he relives many of his memories with Piccolo while Piccolo rages and plots in the pits of hell for the chance to spend eternity with his beloved saiyan.
Without further adieu... I bring you my first fanfic! (Go easy on me! xp )
Gohan lay silently on his bed. The evening was just approaching, and his day had been filled with visits from his family, friends, and well-wishers from Satan City. Pan had been by not five minutes ago, but Gohan didn't like for her to see him in this state, and had feigned sleepiness to coax her into retiring for the night. At his own behest, he had been staying at the West City Hospice; he just couldn't bear the thought of tainting their home with his death. She had regretfully agreed, realizing that an argument would only speed along the inevitable. His condition was bad, although he didn't show it willingly. Pan would not have even realized something was wrong had he not sat her down one morning to discuss her life after his passing. But Gohan felt that his time was coming to an end, and he meant to accept his fate without argument or struggle. His life had been a good one. Both long and filled with happiness. Looking back, he would really only change one thing... but no, that was beyond his power, wasn't it?
Gohan's eyes were closed, but the loud click of heels on the floor told him that the evening nurse had just arrived. She spoke softly to him, inquiring dutifully about his day, and letting him know that she would be near if he needed anything. Even his sharp, saiyan hearing had begun to fade in these last few months, and he scarcely understood her, but he nodded politely and kept his eyes closed.
He had done so much good, saved so many lives. He never regretted a moment of it... until now. Like his father before him, Gohan was surely destined for an eternity in heaven. Unlike his father, however, Gohan wasn't sure he wanted that.
"Piccolo..." Gohan's voice was faint, but the nurse knew what he had said. She had been warned when she first started her shifts watching over the man, not two days before, that Son Gohan had been having increasingly active nightmares, calling out in the night for a piccolo. Upon waking him, he had no recollection of his dreams, and the presence of a small flute on his nightstand had only served to cause him visible distress. The staff had ultimately decided to leave it be, not wishing to upset him in his fragile state, and reasoning that he could not very well play the instrument on his own anyway. Even so, she sensed something in the man's voice. A thought occurred to her, but she brushed it off. After all, who on earth would name their child Piccolo?
But Gohan was not asleep. He wanted to be awake for this, and refused to allow his body to slip into the sweet unconsciousness of sleep. His time was nearing an end, and all he could think about was the namekian he had unknowingly killed so long ago. His biggest regret and it had been completely out of his power to prevent it. He had spent years beating himself up, asking why he hadn't been strong enough to stop Baby from possessing him. Why he had allowed Goten to be possessed in the first place. In the end, though, he knew that he played no part in any of it. What happened, happened, and that was that. Piccolo had sacrificed himself valiantly for Gohan and the rest of the earthlings; remaining on earth in its final, fiery moments so that the black star dragon balls could be destroyed. At the time, he had been angry at him. How dare Piccolo leave him like this when he had promised he would always be there to protect him! Then he had confessed the reason why saving him would be pointless, the nature of his injuries, the identity of the one who had inflicted them… and Gohan finally understood: He had done this. Possessed or no, he had killed Piccolo. The anger he felt towards himself was unimaginable, and only his father's knowing comfort was enough to keep him going.
For a short while, he had come to accept his life without Piccolo. Videl and his mother never understood his feelings of loss, but at least he had Goku. But then his father had done something unforgivable: he had allowed Piccolo to be sent to hell in order to get back to earth himself. Goku had told him in private that there was no other option, but Gohan refused to accept that answer. He wanted to believe that there could have been another way. That Piccolo could still be waiting for him in heaven. The tension between the two faded, but his anger was still there. In his eyes, his father was responsible for what would be an eternity of heartbreak. But Gohan stayed strong for his family, and for the memory of Piccolo, if not for himself.
And now memory was all that was left. Videl, ChiChi, Goku, even little Goten, were all gone. Pan had started a family of her own, but it just wasn't the same. He was immensely happy for her, but he felt... disconnected. His time in the hospice had further served to widen the gap between him and his daughter's new life, something he didn't entirely regret. Most of his time was spent alone, in quiet contemplation, just waiting and wondering how much longer he had left. There were times when he had felt physically close to dying, but nothing topped what he felt now. There was no pain, but a burning, emotional certainty that he would not see the rising sun.
Gohan risked a glance at the nurse, sitting but five feet away, reading a book. She glanced back up at him and offered a smile coated in false joy. He struggled to show her the same courtesy, but even that mere physical exertion had caused him to grunt and sigh with exhaustion. The nurse immediately realized her folly and blushed, turning her head down apologetically. He closed his eyes again, and was greeted by the stern face of Piccolo. Gohan chuckled, as softly as his body would allow, and submitted to his mind's need to relive the past in his final hours.