He was falling.

Falling from his pristine balance in paradise. Falling into a sea of uncertainty and despair. The dark, flowing sea swallowed him, engulfed him, but he could not struggle against the pull, because he was dead.

He was not physically dead, but on the inside, in his very soul, he was nothing but a corpse. A walking, defenseless corpse.

His heart felt like lead in his chest as ut was pumping the blood he wished would stop flowing. He wanted the pain to stop, he wanted the ache to disappear. But he couldn't give up. He had to fight against the current, to fight for another day...for them.

As he held her cooling hand, her pale skin against his green, he kept his eyes closed. He didn't have the strength in him to look at her, for if he did, he wouldn't be able to his composure. So, instead, he listened.

And as he listened, he felt that the elements in nature were all against. He could hear the calm wind, which, in his opinion, should've been in a ragging fit, ripping of the leaves off of the trees that were rustling calmly in their place. The chirping of the damnable crickets made him want to force all of them out of existence. But...there was a sound that made his white anger dissipate. A sound that he hadn't heard for many, many years. The sound of pain, sorrow, loneliness, regret, and self-loathing. All of the emotions he was feeling, but what the young teen beside him was showing.

The kid's choked sobs stung his ears, forcing his eyes to open. He instantly wished he kept them closed.

The kid had his mother's hand clasped in both of his trembling, weak hands. Bent over, he mumbled, "Please, no. Please, no." His eyes were tightly shut, just like how his use to be, not wanting his last memories of seeing her emotionless, clammy face.

The sight of the boy nearly broke his resolve. He had never, truly seen the boy this broken, even when his father died he was never this low. .

His pink, swollen eyes glistened with tears that streamed from his cheeks and nose, staining the thick sheet below. It tore at his already decaying heart. He never wanted him to feel this pain again. He had seen the effects of what Goku had done, but he knew that the pain the boy was feeling now was greater. Of course, it was to be expected. She was the one who raised him, taught him, disciplined him.

He wasn't sure how he would go about to comfort the teen since he was not one to openly show affection. He knew, though, that without him, Gohan would fall back into the pit of despair that he took years to get him out of. He knew the real reason, however, and that he didn't want to let go of her hand. If he let go of her hand, then she would truly leave him forever, but Gohan needed him.

With a deep, pain-staking breath, he opened his mouth and reached out his hand when he heard the door squeak open. Both of their gazes were directed to the four-year old standing in the door way in his jammies, rubbing his eyes with a chubby fist. He mumbled, "I want to see Mama."

Something caught in his throat at that little, innocent statement.

"Daddy? Why are you crying?"

Raising his clawed hand to his face, he felt his hot, silent tears. Why was he crying? Because I just lost something that I took for granted. He stared at Gohan and instantly knew he couldn't burden the boy with this. With the explanation.

So, he knelt to knees and reached out to the toddler. With a soft, raspy voice, he said, "Goten, come here." Goten waddled over to him, letting his father give him a rare but welcoming embrace.

Reluctantly, he pulled from the child. With a hitch in throat, he spoke softly, softer than Goten had ever heard him, "Goten...your..." The toddler looked up at him with large, confused eyes. "You...your mother, Goten..." Why was this different from the times before? A little voice in the back of his mind called back, Because they were never someone you cared for. He breathed deeply, and tried again, "Your mother is...gone, Goten. She's...she's dead." She's dead.

The boy thought slowly, scrunching up his face before the horrific truth hit him. Though as young as he was, he knew and was taught about death.

His eyes widen in disbelief and shock before burying his face into the large chest. His tiny body was wracked with cries and whimpers. Gohan began to sob again, only he dove to his former teacher, and recent friend, clutching his shirt with desperation.

He wrapped his arms around his boys (because they were and always will be his boys) and held them closer to him, protectively and affectionately.

He did not whimper, moan, or sob. He just allowed the tears to flow as he held the only people who would ever be considered his family for dear life; afraid that they, too would disappear.

Not only were they the only people that he cared so deeply for, but he was all they had now. He had to stick through this new tragedy for them, for himself...

For her.

I hope I didn't make Piccolo too OOC. And if you didn't know it was him...then my bad.

So, yeah, Chi-Chi died, I'm going to say from natural causes. I'M SORRY DON'T KILL ME! Anyhow...

I really like this one because it's so heartfelt and I'm bad a creating love stories...for anything. It could be a rock and a dust bunny and I still couldn't make one work. So, this is the closest to romance I'll get. That and I love tragedies. I just do. Took a while to put up because my lap top charger broke and now I have to use the library's computers to do everything I do!

Hoped you guys enjoyed it. Review and subcribe.