This is the part where you all find out what's been happening to poor Dende, and I find out whether Wulfeh has any violent tendencies. I guess if I wake up in the middle of the night and see a shadowy figure standing over me brandishing ChiChi's frying pan, I'll know for sure.

Disclaimer: Seriously, even if I did claim to be Akira Toriyama and own all rights to Dragon Ball Z, would anyone believe me? This is all being posted on a site with "fanfiction" in the name, for crying out loud; it's obviously being written by fans who aren't making any money.

For a moment, nobody moved. Then Android 18 fixed Pan with her ice-blue gaze.

"What are you waiting for?" she snapped. "Get going."

Pan nodded. Pulling Piccolo's arm over her shoulders, she helped him to stand. They made their way, slowly, to the back of the lab. As they reached the door Pan turned to #18, who had taken her eyes off of them and was now staring intently at Gero.

"Thank—"

"Go."

With a nod from Pan, they slipped through the door.

She heard running footsteps – Pan did not look back, but she knew that Gero had given chase – followed by the clang of metal meeting not-quite-flesh. "Don't even think about it," said Android 18, and Pan, though she had always had trouble reading Uncle Krillin's distant wife, could now hear the anger beneath her seemingly impassive voice. "Your fight is with me."

The door clanged shut behind them.

Even through the thick metal of the door Pan could hear the fierce exchange of blows, battle-cries, and the occasional clang of a body propelled into a wall, but she did not stop their slow walk down the hallway or even look back. Android 18 could hold her own. As a matter of fact, at the moment she was better equipped to take on Gero than either of them – aside from being at full strength, she had no ki to steal.

Pan, I can walk.

She stopped, wanting to ask Piccolo whether he was sure, but there wouldn't have been a point even if he could hear the question. So she kept silent and paused for a moment for him to remove his arm from around her shoulders. He immediately began to sway on his feet, eyes closed, and Pan began to doubt the wisdom of withdrawing her support. She was just readying herself to catch him if he fell again when his eyes snapped back open.

I feel Dende's ki. It's faint, but it's here.

Pan's eyes widened, and she stretched out her own ki senses. After a moment, she felt it too. It was, as Piccolo had said, faint, but that could mean any number of things; Dende had never had a large ki signature to begin with. The important thing was that he was here, and that he was alive.

Feeling her face break into a broad grin for the first time in days, Pan sprinted down the hallway with renewed energy, letting the faint ki signature lead the way. Piccolo followed, still panting but managing to keep pace; for once, he was not speaking words of caution, but seemed to be just as eager as she.

Before long, the hallway let out into what looked like another lab. Pan moved forward, searching the room for Dende, and let out a gasp of horror at what she saw. The room was furnished with several metal tables, all of them equipped with straps that could only be restraints; smaller stands beside them held an array of surgical instruments, as well as several other wicked-looking metal tools whose purpose Pan did not think she wanted to know. The tables, the instruments, and the floor around them all sported reddish-brown bloodstains, and she dearly hoped that whatever it was Gero did in here, he had not done it to Dende.

Piccolo, meanwhile, was also looking around, his brow ridges lowering in a scowl as he too took in the meaning of what they were seeing. Pan swallowed and forced herself to look away from the tables, reaching out with her senses. Dende's ki felt stronger here; he had to be somewhere close by…

Then, she saw it. There was another door in this lab, opposite the one from which they had entered. It was flush with the wall and had neither handle nor window, only a small access panel set into the wall beside it, so it was no wonder they had missed it at first.

Waving at Piccolo to get his attention, she pointed to the door. He gave a nod and strode across the room, Pan by his side. They both bent to examine the access panel.

I don't know how to open this.

Unfortunately, neither did she. Guessing the passcode would take time – much more time than they had – and Pan's skill with machines was limited, for the most part, to following instructions in a manual and hoping she had understood them correctly. Hacking the door open was beyond her abilities. Blasting it down was not an option; even if they did have sufficient strength left, which Pan very much doubted, Dende was somewhere behind it. If they used force, he would likely get hurt. Hopelessly, she looked up at Piccolo and shook her head.

All right. I'm going to try to get through to him again. Maybe the proximity will help. Piccolo laid his palm against the door and leaned in close, closing his eyes. After a few minutes that seemed an eternity they snapped open again.

He's here. Pan smiled in relief, but in spite of the good news Piccolo was grimacing, and his mental voice sounded troubled. He's… coming in faint, for some reason. I can barely hear him. He concentrated again, his face taking on the same focused look as when he was meditating. Pan did not interrupt, but watched his back in case any more of Gero's creations decided to show up.

Finally, he removed his hand from the door and took a step back. He saw Gero enter the code at least once. The memory wasn't coming in clearly, but at least we have somewhere to start.

With that, Piccolo started pushing buttons on the access panel, presumably basing his guesses on the vague details of the memory Dende had shown him. Pan, feeling jittery, continued to keep watch, gripping the Power Pole tightly. Every time the access panel beeped she jumped in anticipation, only to be disappointed when she heard Piccolo's snarl of frustration.

At long last, however, he managed to hit the right combination. Pan positively sagged with relief when the door slid open with a faint whooshing sound, allowing the two of them to step through.

"Dende?" she called. There were no windows in the room – prison cell, more accurately – but as her eyes adjusted Pan could make out a crumpled form lying on a stone slab that protruded from the wall, back turned to them.

"Dende?" she said again, more softly, kneeling down next to the slab. "Dende, it's okay, it's us. We've come to get you out of here."

"Ungrateful child!" Gero spat as he dodged yet another one of #18's blows. "I created you! I gave you eternal life, a perfect body – and this is how you repay me?"

"You created me as a power boost for Cell!" This time he wasn't fast enough, and Android 18's foot connected firmly with his midsection, sending him flying into a wall. "The only reason for my existence was to be swallowed by that monster!"

"You would have become a part of something much greater than yourself!" he countered, picking himself up off the floor. "Why can you not understand that?" Pushing off from the wall, he lunged at her again.

"Greater than myself? Don't make me laugh!" They moved back into the middle of the room, exchanging a barrage of punches, neither gaining the upper hand. "Your 'perfect creation' was destroyed by one of those 'weak organics' – a mere child, who wiped out every last trace of your crowning achievement!"

"Yes – and that child is now dead of old age." Finding an opening, he landed a punch to her jaw, so hard that she went flying into a table. It crashed to the floor, its contents flying all across the room along with Android 18, who was hurtled end-over-end several times before she came to rest, gasping in pain, against the opposite wall. "Whereas you, my dear, will never grow old, never die." He walked toward her, seeming to be perfectly at ease, his arms outspread as if to welcome her into his embrace.

#18 got slowly to her feet, her left arm now spitting sparks of electricity. "You seem to think that you've given me a gift." She was no longer shouting. In contrast, her voice had gone deadly soft, and her eyes were mere slits of anger. "But you took Krillin away from me." She stepped forward. "You took Marron away from me." Another step. "Everyone I've ever loved has died, but I'm stuck here, because of you!" She lunged.

Gero, who had seemed so sure he'd gained the upper hand, fell back in surprise as she slammed into him and started hitting every inch of his body that she could reach. It didn't take long, however, for him to regain his composure and start blocking her attacks, adding in a few punches of his own.

"Love? You disappoint me. I thought I had programmed you better than to indulge in such weak human emotions." He nonchalantly caught a furious blow that was aimed for his face, reaching for the table behind him with his free hand. "But if you wish for death so badly, I can certainly oblige you."

Gero pulled his hand out from behind his back: he was holding the deactivator. He hesitated just long enough for Android 18's eyes to widen in shock.

He pushed the button.

"Dende?" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Piccolo move to stand beside her. "Dende? It's me, Pan. We've come to take you home."

At that Dende finally turned to look at them. His face was streaked with blood and grime (and, she thought, more than a few tearstains), his normally bright eyes dulled by pain. Piccolo let out an involuntary gasp of shock.

Dende's antennae had been removed, the wounds cauterized so he could not re-grow them. She knew, now, where the blood on the Lookout had come from, why Piccolo had been unable to contact him for so long. Seeing that he was shivering, Pan reached out to feel his forehead, but he flinched away violently when her hand got too close to the twin scars. So she touched the back of her hand to his cheek instead, and cringed when she felt the heat that was emanating from his skin.

"He's burning up."

Digging into her pocket, Pan found the capsule that still held the cloak Piccolo had made for her so long ago. Clicking it open, she retrieved the warm, heavy garment and draped it lightly over Dende. Grimacing, Piccolo knelt beside her, and, with more tenderness than she had thought him capable, he tucked the ends of the blanket around Dende's body and stood, the smaller Namekian cradled in his arms.

Let's go.

As they left the prison cell, Pan resisted the urge to throw a few well-aimed ki blasts all around the room; she managed the restraint only by reminding herself that she had to conserve energy. Still, she vowed that when all this was over, she would come back here and blast this place until not even ashes were left.

She owed Dende that much.

They were halfway across the lab when the door to the hallway was blown off its hinges. For a brief moment she entertained the hope that Android 18 had come to get them out, but when the smoke cleared it was all Pan could do not to sink to her knees in despair.

There, in the doorway, stood Dr. Gero.

A/N: Ah ha ha, I did it again! Once again, I have left you off on a cliff—

*dodges thrown frying pans*

Antennae as telepathic amplifiers is, admittedly, a guess on my part. It's based on the fact that from what I've seen telepathy seems to come more naturally to Namekians than to other races, and what the hell else are those things for? That, and the most strongly telepathic being in the universe is probably King Kai, and just look at what he's got sprouting out of his forehead.

Speaking of which, poor Dende! It's times like this I wonder whether I have some hidden sadistic tendencies...