Greetings, loyal readers! Your Author is now nursing a multitude of frying-pan-shaped bruises, but I shall soldier on. So, without further, ado, here's the next chapter.

Disclaimer: If I owned Dragon Ball Z, the humans would have had a much larger role than cheerleading squad, Spirit Bomb fodder, and getting repeatedly pounded into the ground just to show how awesome the Saiyans are by comparison.

They were going to die.

That was the foremost thought in Piccolo's head as they stared down the madman. He tried to come up with a plan, an alternative, anything, but they were out of options. Android 18 had failed, and he and Pan were both too spent to hold their own. Their efforts had been in vain.

He'd let Gohan down. He'd led his best friend's daughter into danger, failed to protect her when she'd needed help, and worst of all, she wasn't the only one Piccolo had failed. The likelihood of Pan being killed along with him was bad enough, but far worse was the thought that Dende would be kept alive, subjected to horrors that might very well make death the preferable alternative. At the sight of Gero he had begun to shake violently, hiding his face in the front of Piccolo's gi, and Piccolo tightened his arms protectively around the younger Namekian.

Not that it would make much difference at this point.

Gero was speaking again. Piccolo might not have been able to hear the words, but he could see the gleeful malice in the human-turned-android's normally cold eyes, and it frightened him. Not of dying – he had not feared death since the day he had hatched – but of what would happen to those left behind, the horrors that they would have to face because he had not been strong enough.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Pan drop into a fighting stance. Inwardly, he praised her: though it was possible – no, likely – that they would lose, they must not go down without giving it everything they had. It was the only way he would be able to look Gohan in the face when they met again.

Piccolo started to lower Dende onto the nearest available table so that he could join Pan. As soon as Dende realized his intentions, however, his eyes filled with terror and he clung with Piccolo's gi with all of his failing strength.

I have to put you down, Piccolo sent, hoping against hope that Dende had retained some shred of his reason through the terror and the pain. We have a better chance of winning if Pan and I fight together, and I can't fight if I'm carrying you.

Meanwhile, Gero was laughing. He began to speak again, sweeping his arm in a gesture that encompassed the entire lab, indicating the tables around them, the bloody instruments, and, finally, Dende. If Piccolo had ever had any hope of successfully disentangling him it was now gone; tears were leaking from Dende's closed eyes as he clung harder than ever.

Piccolo was briefly distracted from Dende when he felt a spike in Pan's ki. It was low, little more than a blip, and it flickered out an instant later, but it had definitely been there. Looking at her, Piccolo saw that her demeanor had shifted from fear to anger. Her brows drew down in a scowl and she stepped forward aggressively, replying to whatever Gero had said with words of her own. Her retort, however, only caused him to laugh again, and before anyone else could blink he had phased in front of Piccolo and hit him across the jaw.

Piccolo couldn't react in time. He lost his hold on Dende as he flew backwards with the force of the punch, colliding with one of the tables so hard that his back screamed out in pain. For a second his vision was filled with bursts of bright light, but that was the least of his worries – no sooner had he hit the floor than a hard punch landed in his midsection, followed by a rapid series of blows to other parts of his body. He managed to get his arms up in time to block some, but many more hit their intended targets. That Gero did not actually grab him was cold comfort – he probably did not have enough energy left at this point to be worth stealing.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. As Piccolo's vision cleared he saw Pan picking herself up from the base of a wall – she must have tried to come to his aid – and Gero kneeling on the floor, next to the trembling and now-defenseless Dende. As Piccolo watched he reached out a hand and, smiling sadistically as he said something Piccolo could not hear, caressed Dende's forehead, lingering particularly long on the scars where his antennae used to be.

Snarling, Piccolo forced himself to his feet – he would not, could not, let this continue – but was stopped abruptly by a sudden spike of ki.

Pan, across the room from him, was back on her feet. Her ki level was skyrocketing – and it didn't feel like it was going to stop anytime soon. Her normally gentle face was contorted into a mask of rage; sparks flashed about her body as she strode toward Gero, and Piccolo knew what was going to happen a split second before it did…

Pan screamed. He didn't need to hear that cry of rage and despair; he felt it reverberating through his body on a level that was deeper than sound, deeper even than ki. As Pan continued to pour all of her hopeless need and desperation into that scream, her hair began to flash gold, black, gold, black…

Gold again. And this time, it stayed that way.

She flickered out of sight, and in a movement too fast to follow she was in front of Gero and had knocked him away from Dende's prone form so hard he slammed into the wall opposite, leaving a dent. Unfortunately, the damage to Gero's mechanical body was not as significant: he got to his feet, slowly, and he no longer looked even faintly amused.

Ignoring him for the moment in spite of the danger he posed, Pan fixed on Piccolo with eyes that were hauntingly blue. She made a gesture at Dende, who was struggling to rise, and then jerked her head toward the door.

Piccolo got the message. Limping over to where she stood, he knelt to pick up Dende; Gero attempted another assault but was swatted aside, effortlessly, by Pan. The last he saw of them as he carried Dende out of the lab was Pan effortlessly catching hold of Gero's wrist as he tried to grab onto her.

As quickly as he could, he made his way back to the entrance. He had just reached the end of the hallway when a tugging on his gi caught his attention. Looking down, he realized that Dende was speaking.

I can't hear you, he sent. There was an explosion earlier that damaged my ears, and I haven't recovered enough energy to regenerate.

Dende lifted his hand and pointed, shakily, to the wall. Ki… field… Even this close, his mental voice was shaky and faint. Turn… off…

Piccolo walked over to the wall he had indicated. Seeing a lever set into the wall he reached out for it and, at Dende's nod, pulled it down.

He was just about to leave when something on the floor caught his attention. Looking more closely, he saw that it was Android 18. She was not moving, she was not breathing (thought Piccolo had always been unclear on whether one such as her even needed to breathe), and her eyes were open, a look of surprise etched onto her face.

His first thought was to leave her. The situation was urgent, and he could not spare the time to retrieve a dead body. But… he couldn't be sure that she actually was dead. She functioned differently than an ordinary human; there was a small chance that she might be able to wake up again.

Given that she had helped them out, Piccolo thought that he owed her that chance.

Shifting Dende's weight slightly to free one of his arms, Piccolo knelt down and picked her up. Her body was stiff – not with rigor mortis, but with the same unyielding rigidity of a machine. Settling her over his shoulder, he jumped to the ground.

Piccolo barely had enough energy to stop himself from plummeting to all of their deaths. By the time his feet touched earth he was panting for breath. Seeing the condition he was in, Dende raised a shaky hand, but Piccolo grabbed his wrist before he could do anything more – Dende's ki was dangerously low.

Don't even think about it, he warned. My life isn't in danger – but yours will be if you try to do any healing right now.

A look of pained resignation crossed Dende's face, and he allowed his hand to drop. He never had liked to see anyone in pain, but he understood just as well as Piccolo did that some times called for necessary sacrifices. This was one of those times.

Still limping severely, Piccolo began to walk away from the lab. For the moment, he had no plan – only to put as much distance as possible between them and Gero. To walk away from a fight rankled, and leaving Pan to fend for herself was even worse – but Dende needed help, immediately. Reaching out with his mind, he managed to make contact with one of the few other natural telepaths on the planet.

Piccolo? Korin's response was instant; apparently he had been anticipating the call. What's up?

As quickly as possible, Piccolo explained the situation.

Bring him here, Korin said immediately. I can patch him up, and it's closer than Capsule Corp.

Piccolo gave him a quick affirmative and cut the connection, only to find that Dende was frantically trying to get his attention.

Pan… Dende's face was screwed up in concentration; without his antennae, it was taking everything he had just to make himself heard. Needs help…

Alarmed, Piccolo reached out with his senses – only to find that Pan's ki hadn't dropped at all. If anything, it was higher than ever. Against all odds, she seemed to be winning the fight.

What are you talking about, Dende?

Dende shook his head. Hear… He took a few deep breaths, obviously trying to focus. …in trouble… bad… help her… The younger Namekian was now shaking violently in his arms.

Dende, I will not drag you back into battle with me! Nor can I leave you out here, alone, without any defenses!

Piccolo, please…

At that moment, the solution presented itself. To be more specific, it presented itself in the form of a small, golden cloud that was wandering around aimlessly, much like a puppy that had lost its master.

Piccolo had his doubts as to whether it would respond to anyone not of Goku's blood, but Nimbus came when he called out with his mind. For the first time in his life, he wondered whether the thing could actually think – did it have a will of its own?

Gently, he lowered Dende onto the cloud. Piccolo's arms passed through Nimbus as though through a mist, but it supported Dende's weight as solidly as any rock.

Android 18 he set on the ground. She was strong, and a warrior besides. If by some miracle she was still alive, she could survive on her own for another few minutes. He returned his attention to the cloud.

Goku and Gohan had never needed to give the Nimbus verbal commands; it had obeyed their thoughts, without even the need for telepathy. Piccolo had no idea whether this would work – but he had to try.

Listen, he sent to the cloud, feeling ridiculous. He shook off the feeling; this was no time for pride. I know that you won't obey one such as me. But he needs your help, and he's in no shape to direct you himself. So please, take him to Korin's Tower.

For a second, the cloud merely hovered… but then it floated higher into the air, and it was going in the right direction. It was moving at merely a fraction of the speed of which Piccolo knew it was capable – a speed which the barely-conscious Dende would be able to handle.

Perhaps it could think.

Dismissing thoughts of the cloud, Piccolo turned back toward the lab. He no longer had the strength to fly, so when he reached the entrance he hyperextended his arm and grabbed hold of the doorframe, retracting the arm to pull himself up.

The first room was just as he'd left it. Pan's ki was emanating from the direction of the hallway, so she and Gero must still be fighting in the lab. Limping worse than ever, Piccolo set off in that direction.

He didn't know what he expected to see when he reached the lab, but the first thing he saw was Pan. She was standing with her back to the hallway, her aura blazing, her golden hair straining against its bonds as the ends stuck out in spikes. A few more steps, and he was able to see Gero as well.

Gero was lying on the floor. His hands – both of those horrible, deadly hands – had been ripped from his body, leaving nothing but protruding wires. As Piccolo watched he picked himself up off the ground and shifted his weight as if to lunge, only to be slammed into the nearest table by a ki blast from Pan.

Something was wrong.

Gero got up, only to smash into the ground again as another blast hit him in the chest. Sparks were dancing all around his body.

Pan was stronger than this.

Why was he still alive?

Pan, he sent. She turned her head, just enough to fix Piccolo with a single, blue eye. Finish it.

She turned toward him fully then, idly striking Gero with another ki blast that drove him once again into the floor but did not kill him. Her face was a mask, her features twisted with rage, a steady trickle of hot tears dripping from her eyes only to be immediately boiled away by the force of her ki.

She looked so much like Gohan in that moment.

Her mouth moved. That blue-eyed glare was now turned fully on Piccolo, and even though he could not hear the words he somehow knew exactly what she was saying.

He will suffer his share when he reaches the afterlife. But that judgment is not yours to make. Finish him, now.

Pan spoke again, her brows drawing down into a harsh scowl. Piccolo was well aware of the danger he was putting himself in by confronting such a powerful being in his currently weakened state, but he did not back down. Not to seek his own death was not the only promise he'd made.

Right now, the only one you're hurting is yourself. He paused, and recalled a very painful memory. Trust me, Pan. If your father were here, he would tell you the same.

Pan glared at him, and for a moment, Piccolo thought that he was going to be on the receiving end of her next blast. He braced himself – if she hit him with even a fraction of the force with which she'd hit Gero, he would not survive – but then she turned, hand held palm outward, back to the inner lab. Gero tried to scramble away, but it was too late for him – a single, enormous ki blast shot from her hand, and when the smoke cleared all that was left of Dr. Gero was a smoking crater on the floor of the lab.

Good. He stepped toward her, and took it as a good sign that he was not hit by a similar blast. Now power down. She was still glaring, her chest heaving, her shoulders shaking with emotion. Power down, Pan, he repeated, as gently as he could. There's no one left here for you to fight.

For a second, she did not move, did not show any reaction at all. Piccolo did not speak again; something was telling him that he should wait.

Then, Pan let out a sigh. Her aura dissipated. Her hair darkened and settled, the spikes flattening down against her head. The blue leached out of her eyes, which faded to the same dark color they'd always been.

More pronounced than the physical transformation, however, was the hatred that fell away from her face, as visibly as if she'd removed a mask. In that instant, she went from a glowing golden monster back to the strong and sensitive woman Piccolo had only just gotten to know. Her bottom lip trembled. Her eyes filled with tears.

And then, before he could do anything to stop it, Pan had fallen against him, wrapping her arms firmly around his waist and burying her face in his chest.

Piccolo was not someone who either invited or enjoyed unnecessary physical contact. This time, however, he did not push her away. Instead, because there was no one else to do it, he put one hand on her shoulder and another on her back, and held her awkwardly as she sobbed into the front of his gi.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, so faintly that he later wondered whether he'd imagined it, he heard Gohan's voice.

Thank you.

A/N: Pan's been through a lot these past few days. I think she's entitled to a breakdown.

And yes, this is her first time.

Remember what I said earlier about Piccolo's loss of hearing coming at me completely out of nowhere? Well, it wasn't until I was approaching this chapter that I realized I really liked the idea of doing the climax of this battle as a silent scene. Plus it saved me from having to write any potentially-corny recycled dialogue. Wow, subconscious, you have some good ideas sometimes... but geeze, I wish you'd tell me what you were up to once in a while.