Ch. 7: Breathless

Dende stared at Piccolo in disbelief. "You can't be serious. You can't just do this!" He moved to block the older Namek from entering the dwelling behind him.

"I can and will," Piccolo growled at him.

Dende crossed his arms and glared back at him. "No, you can't! If you'd listen to the voice of Kami inside you, you'd know that!"

From where he stood, Popo winced as Dende stood up to the furious Piccolo, but a small part of him admired the young Namek. He'd changed so much since taking over the position of Earth's Guardian. He'd matured faster than could have been expected and he took his duties very seriously. He was proud that the youngster was holding his ground.

Piccolo shook his head. "Do you think you can stop me?"

After a moment, Dende's shoulder's slumped. "No, I can't stop you. Not physically. You're far stronger than I am and you know it." The spark in his eyes flared again, "But that doesn't mean that I'm going to move out of your way, either."

Gaping at him now, Piccolo laughed. "I've got to hand it to you, kid. You've got guts, but it's not going to stop me." Smile vanishing, he moved in front of the Guardian so fast that Popo could barely see him go. Hauling Dende up by the front of his robe, Piccolo spoke softly directly into his face.

"This is for Gohan. If I have to, I will tear this place apart."

"How is this going to help Gohan?" Dende screamed back at him, feet still dangling. "You getting yourself killed is not going to help him." His voice cracked and he was ashamed to feel tears welling up in his eyes. Still, he refused to back down until he could make the older Namek listen to reason. Somewhere behind the eyes of Piccolo, he could feel Kami looking out… and Naill.

"I can't help Gohan." The rage that underlay that simple statement left Dende breathless and he reached up to grip the wrist of the hand that was so effortlessly holding him up.

"What do you mean? Gohan loves you. He'd do anything for you!" Dende whispered. "How can you turn your back on him now?"

Shocked, Piccolo dropped him. The unexpected fall took Dende by surprise and he sprawled backwards. Popo immediately moved to come to him, but he held up a hand in warning. Piccolo was staring at him with his mouth slightly open as he struggled to find words to explain.

"Gohan is so far lost in himself, that he doesn't hear the voices of his friends anymore." Piccolo turned away, to keep the despair in eyes hidden, but the sharp eyes of Dende picked it up. "He can't hear anything, won't hear anything."

"Surely it's not that bad…" Dende whispered, still laying where he'd been dropped. "Gohan is strong. He's the strongest person I've met." The Namekian youth could not imagine his young friend in the state that Piccolo described, but in his heart he knew that Piccolo would never lie to him about Gohan.

"If I don't do this," Piccolo didn't turn to look at him, "then we will lose him. It's a risk I'm going to take."

Swallowing hard, Dende tried to force his brain to work, but he couldn't seem to catch his breath. He'd only been on Earth for a few days when the Cell Games had taken place. Goku had come to him on New Namek and asked him to come to Earth. He'd been so excited to see his friends again that he'd agreed with no regrets. Of all the Nameks, he alone knew how much he owed these Earth Saiyans, how much they all did. They had saved his people and he would repay them however he could. But part of it had gone deeper than that, deeper and yet ever so much more shallow.

Gohan had been his friend. The demi-Saiyan had been only a child when they'd first met, but he was still older than Dende. It was with no small amount of hero worship that Dende had watched Gohan stand up to Frieza, to Vegeta, to any danger that appeared. Their time on Earth had served to strengthen their friendship and Dende had left him with sadness and regret.

During the months that Dende had spent with Gohan on Earth, he had seen first hand how much Goku's absence had affected him. Only the knowledge that Goku was alive somewhere, and would come home again, had kept the cheerful spark in the boy's eyes. He and Gohan had spent long hours together, both talking about their fathers. Dende still missed his own father, Guru, but it had been the old Namek's time and there had been no regrets when the Eldest Namek had finally passed to the Next World.

He had watched in horror from his position at Kami's Tower as the Cell Battle had unfolded below. When Goku had vanished, Dende had been torn. He was later ashamed of the fact that his first reaction had been relief. Goku and Cell had both been obliterated by the blast of energy that had ripped from the clone's body, but the Earth had been saved.

From where he had knelt, watching the battle unfold, Dende had felt his own heart break when he heard Gohan's scream. Tears streaming down his own face, Dende's relief had been overtaken by grief and sympathy. Then horror struck, he had felt Cell's Ki again. Eyes glued to the drama unfolding beneath him, he had been sick when Trunks had been killed.

Crawling away from the edge of the platform from where he watched, he had considered the likelihood that Cell couldn't be killed. That instead the Earth that he had sworn to protect would instead be ripped apart like so much garbage by the next blast that the monster created. He had been afraid then that he would lose a second home world in his young life.

But that hadn't been. The Earth remained and he knew that the only reason that was true was because of Gohan. He stood slowly and faced Piccolo. The elder stared back at him, calmly. After a moment's hesitation, Dende stepped away and gestured weakly towards the dwelling.

"Don't fail him, Piccolo."

Surprised by the admonition, Piccolo nodded at him. He walked inside without any further delay, Kami's memories guiding him on his way. This had to work. It had to because he didn't have any other ideas.

Unlike Dende, Piccolo hadn't been able to look away from the battlefield that day. When Trunk's body had hit the ground, he'd heard the death rattle in the young man's throat. He had seen the blood fly from his mouth and he had known that it was over. They would all die that day. Determined to sell his life as dearly as he could, he had spun to face Cell. But he not expected what happened next.

Vegeta, screaming in rage, had launched himself at Cell with a fury that was breathtaking to behold. Even Gohan had fallen back, unable to compete with the wrath of the Last of the Saiyan Princes. Caught of guard, Cell had plummeted into the rocks, sending them flying.

"You killed my son, you bastard!" Vegeta had screamed as he gathered enough energy in his hands to devastate a small city. Throwing himself out of the way, Piccolo had wondered briefly at the unexpected display of emotion. Vegeta had never so much as acknowledged Trunks was his son before that moment.

When the smoke had cleared, Piccolo looked around desperately for Gohan. Above him the battle raged as Vegeta took his vengeance on Cell, but he had ignored it. Finally, he had spotted the boy, still glowing gold and his heart had stopped beating. He had seen Gohan afraid, desperate, terrified… but he had never seen hatred on the boy's face before. It had radiated off of Gohan's frame in almost tangible waves.

Gohan was not crying any more. Instead he was waiting. The aura of energy around him intensified. Goku had once attempted to explain how he had become a SuperSaiyan.

"It's not about strength, Piccolo. It's about purity of emotion."

Piccolo stared across the gulf at the only person he had ever loved in his life and been afraid. It was not the fear that Gohan would die that rooted him immobile to the ground. It was the fear that the pure hatred in his eyes wouldn't be released when Gohan took his revenge. Hatred like that was a cancer. If he couldn't exorcise it, it would eat him alive.

Hatred was an emotion that Piccolo knew intimately, but he wasn't willing to watch it consume Gohan from the inside. He knew that no matter how much he told Gohan that it wasn't his fault, the boy wouldn't believe him. After Cell's death, with no place left to go, Gohan had turned his hatred towards himself. He believed that he was responsible for Goku's death and he hated himself because of it.

There was only one person that Piccolo knew could break through that shell of hatred and convince the boy inside that he was not a monster. Unfortunately, that person was dead. Still, Piccolo mused as he found the secret entrance to the Next World, he wasn't about to let that stop him.