But Can You Go Back Once You Know?

Warning: heavy themes

Chapter Sixteen – The Good Death

It's not a good death, but the good death. Like, how the virtuous main character jumps in front of the girl and takes the knife for her, or how the hero takes the bullet for his best friend. But instead of a knife or a bullet for one person, it's a scythe along his throat for the entire universe.

The good death: something Gohan Squire never thought he'd even consider.

Gohan's not the good guy; he's not even a good guy. He'd assisted the doctor with his work, pushed people away, made his teacher's lives a misery, and caused a whole lot of fuckery for anyone stupid enough to give a shit about him.

Could all that be erased should that shiny metal slide through his skin? His throat has already been cut once, possibly superficially compared to what Acciperé can really do with that thing…

"It's peculiar how the universe plays its' hand, isn't it?" comments Acciperé, clouds of black smoke from the fire framing his dazzling form. He holds a tone of whimsy, but his face is harsh, lines sternly running down purple skin. "The universe is cruel. She offers you nothing, and she offers you everything, despite anything you may have done for her. Her balance is a cold one, but one that must be maintained, nonetheless. You asked for a world where you hadn't defeated that monster, Cell… and she gave you that, but at what cost?"

Gohan's head bows with a sudden heaviness. Cell. Cell.

His hand trails down his face, fingers pressing deeply into their path.

I beat him. Cell.

Me.

I defeated Cell.

I beat Cell, and… and those many small versions of him, right? I beat them too… I... Me… by pummelling them, kicking them, blasting them into dust –I… I did. It.

Cell…

He swallows.

A quick flash of horror blinds him. Those eyes, the beady ones of that green, decrepit monster, had been haunted, terrified. And Gohan knew what of.

"He'd begged for mercy too," Gohan feels the need to tell Acciperé.

The god doesn't even blink. "As did many of his victims."

"That I helped hurt –with Cell," Gohan continues, eyes manically darting left and right. "I helped the doctor. But I also stopped Cell. But I also helped the doctor—I…" He glances up desperately at Acciperé. "I don't understand. What… what's real?"

Argh!

Gohan's hands snap up to cradle his head when a sharp strike courses through his cranium.

"A splitting headache for a split universe," Acciperé sighs, "a fractured moment created this disjointed mess, and now we have to fix it."

"But I remember watching the Cell Games on TV –I remember seeing them; those fighters, all gold and –and, but-! Argh, my head! I –goddamn it." He tics under the pressure. "I also remember fighting Cell –killing him- and…argh!"

"The wish was poorly worded," Acciperé informs, scythe wavering against the dimness of the sky. It murkily watches on as Gohan tries not to cower too visibly. A soft click of the tongue sounds. "This is why we should cull the dragon balls. Anything with power to reshape the universe so openly doesn't deserve a place in it. You see, Gohan, when you made the wish you didn't give the dragon enough specifications on how to grant it." There's a flexing against the sheath of the scythe, causing the fiery light bouncing from off of it to twinkle. "You asked for a world where you didn't beat Cell, and that's what it gave you, but in doing so, it had to warp our existential narrative to suit this new demand."

Gohan's mouth turns dry. "N-no…"

"Yes." Acciperé settles the blade a little lower in a moment of silence. "Gohan Son, it's my belief that the only way your father would have been the individual to rid the universe of Cell is if that you were never an option in the first place. How could he train a son he never had?"

Against the cooling twilight, the teenager feels a gust of air leave him. It's quickly lost to the wind.

"Why didn't the dragon just… just get rid of me then?"

"It's curious," the god says lightly, "I don't really quite know. But If I was a betting man then I'd wager that, like myself, omnipotence isn't as unbiased as believed."

Gohan splutters a desperate laugh. "The dragon liked me?"

"Liked… Pitied… Even then, suppose it just one option. And who knows what ridding you from the universe would have done?" Acciperé strokes a fluid hand through white, waterfall-like locks, and considers the thought. "Hmm, who can say? Fate does always have her way, even if we don't understand her decisions. And when those decisions become messy then I'll always be there to clean it up."

"And… will all this go back to normal when you… kill me?"

The blues of Acciperé's orbs positively dazzle against the flames behind him.

"The balance will be restored."

He sniffs, eyes growing wide as he takes in a deep breath of that spring air.

Good.

And so he doesn't hesitate.

Gohan lowers his head, baring the nape of his neck. The wind kisses at it as it carries the scent of burning between them, and helping give Gohan an excuse to why his eyes sting. He tries not to shake too much and focuses on how one shoelace is longer than the other.

From out the side of his peripheral vision he spots Acciperé's spotless boots draw ever closer.

"I'm pleased, Gohan Son. Not many will face their fate with such a sense of duty."

Gohan would have laughed and reminded Acciperé about Libera's death if it still wasn't so horrifying.

"Any last words?"

Tight-lipped, he shakes his head and attempts to swallow the lump at the back of his throat. What can he say? What can he really say after all this?

He has killed, he's sinned, he's failed, and this is the only thing that can do to make it right.

A rustle of fabric indicates that scythe is about to swing, and so Gohan tenses. No one image runs through his mind, but instead; a collage of the faces of the people he knows. His dad, the doctor, Len, his mother –oh, God, his mother- flashes against the threat of death;even the all-knowing smug smile of Miss Appleby turns up.

Squire wasn't my only choice.

Am I bad to wish that it was?

Because I'm scared.

I don't want to die.

The scythe falls, reminding Gohan darkly of a guillotine. The anticipation seems to make everything draw out so much more slowly. It's torturous. A new sense of hyper awareness takes him, and he can hear everything; the squawking of a murder of crows overhead, the crackling of the fire, the shouting of the nearby crowds near Squire… it all echoes about his mind.

And then there's a sudden calmness. It's silent.

Gohan breathes. There's a hitch in his throat.

This is okay.

A hot tear runs down and over his nose.

He prepares himself for the abyss, for that darkness again –he prepares to be struck by his maker.

But the blade doesn't make its mark.

There's an abrupt ruckus, and a commotion of bright light which makes Gohan flinch, and causes him to stumble back and trip over his heel. As he lands, a splatter of warm sprays down against his face, and on reflex Gohan turns to cover his eyes. There's a grunt, not his, that catches him mid-recoil and he looks back up only to feel another splash of wet trickle past his nose.

Something catches in his throat, and he tumbles against his elbow.

Dad.

Goku stands above him, bright in his trademark orange. In the wind, the orange gi spreads and dances in a slow motion, dream-like state, entrancing Gohan to feel as if time really has stopped around them. If only to add to the surrealism, the glow of the fiery embers in the distance coats Goku in an almost god-like dazzle and if Gohan wasn't crying, he'd be laughing. Really, talk about timing.

There's a fresh drip against Gohan's cheek that shakes him from the stupor. Another drop falls and that's when he notices the messy result of Goku's hand. Blood. It slips down his arm and rains liberally over Gohan's crumpled, pathetic form as he hangs bellow the scythe.

Goku screams as the blade is pushed further down, and more red splays against the dirt. The captured knife-edge doesn't move past the determined grasp, however.

"Gohan –move!"

Gravelly, harsh, and not at all like the warm tones he'd shared with Gohan back at the apartment.

But it's enough to shock Gohan out of his daze.

Goku?!

"G-Goku? M-move!" he calls back with equal heat. "Move!"

Goku twitches, looking over his shoulder at Gohan before twisting back to focus on Acciperé. There's a gutteral cry as he thrusts the blade from his flesh, dislodging it messily and sending it back in the direction of the wielder. Acciperé, pushed so forcefully, drops down against his weapon in a smearing of Goku's sopping blood.

"Gohan," Goku breathes quickly, dropping to his knees, wound forgotten. "We've gotta' go."

Go?

Something in Gohan's temple aches, and there's a flash. An image blinds him. It's Goku -and he's pressing two fingers against his forehead. There's a smile, a nod, and a look of concentration. Then he's gone…

…and Gohan hurts deeply.

"Gohan. I'm proud of you."

Then the image fades, leaving Gohan to stare at this less saturated version of the man. Blood still courses down his arm, dyeing orange red, but it's no less distracting than the questioning look given; one so intense.

Gohan wants to recoil. Everything screams at him to run. His natural reaction is to get the fuck out of there, but he can't move. His legs have turned to lead, and even then, he's made his choice.

His fists ball.

Gohan Squire needs to die.

The teenager sits, covered in a fine layer or not only his blood, but Goku's, and stares up at the man who's come to save him. A flurry of obnoxious orange against the orange of the fire makes his eyes ache, and his head hurt. In fact, everything hurts. Is it the tower? Has it started to fall already?

He twitches against the dirt, collapsing ever lower.

Huh?

Is… is Goku talking? His mouth is moving but Gohan struggles to hear anything over the loud ringing in his ears.

Who are you?

But that's a ridiculous question because Gohan knows exactly who he is.

The scene around him starts to blur, and the nauseating shine of the flames dance to their own techno beat. It cascades over another scene in his mind. It's that mountain house again. The lights are warm, inviting, but then there's the fire encroaching on it; less inviting. They merge, bonding together in a disgusting embrace.

Numbly, he stares.

Gohan the Body stares back.

Who am I?

And then, Gohan's alone as the fire burns. It's silent, but at least it's not the abyss again.

Am I one or am I two?

Suddenly, a firm collection of fingers grasp at his chin and Gohan's forced to look into the darkness of his father's eyes.

Cell.

"-an, can you hear me?"

The androids.

"—han?"

Dad?

Dad. Father.

"Gohan!"

The teenager's gaze focuses just as Goku goes to place his good hand on Gohan's shoulder, his other hand poised into two fingers resting against his forehead. Straight away, Gohan bats it free and pulls himself back and away from the hungry grasp.

As though he'd just been burned, his Goku recoils in mild horror, hurt.

No.

No. He's not stupid -he knows what that technique is. They'd nearly Instant Transmission'd the hell out of there. Gohan remembers it well. Cell –Cell; he could do it too.

"We need to go," Goku says hurriedly, quickly recovering, "trust me."

But he doesn't need to. He can fix this. "No! N-no, I need to die!"

"Wh-what? No! Gohan, we've gotta' go! Take my hand."

Argh, he doesn't understand! The teenager whips his head back, anguished. Doing the right thing is hard enough without this… this interference. "I don't want to hurt anyone else!"

"Gohan!"

"Get out of here!"

But Goku does no such thing, instead gruffly grabbing him by the collar before going to use Instant Transmission again. It's unsuccessful if only because Gohan wastes no time in aiming a particularly sharp punch to the man's chest.

Tumbling back, Goku drags Gohan with him and they fall into an awkward pile. However, Gohan's not done. He twists himself free and strikes again, planting his trainer into Goku's chest for a second time with such ferocity that it propels Gohan forward several feet. Clearly surprised, Goku also glides back freely over the mud and gravel and into the bark of a nearby tree. The ground vibrates with impact.

Gohan breathes deeply. No.

I have to do this.

It's at this time that Acciperé reminds them that he's still there. Gohan nearly chokes as the god turns his attention on him.

He makes his move towards the teenager, scythe raised, open in his desire to end this. Despite being impassive, there's a great sense of frustration that seeps out from the suffocating pressure orbiting his form. It's as if Gohan can feel the unease inside his bones.

Acciperé advances fast, faster than Libera had been, and enough so that Gohan actually struggles to see the god make his steps to move. The teenager flinches and tries to mentally prepare himself. Blade high, it goes to strike down against Gohan yet again. But it's all for nought as Acciperé forgot about the unpredictablity of one man.

Goku's not done, and is quick on his feet. He jumps and makes another grab at the scythe. The first time, he misses, but second is wrought with luck and he actually manages to take hold of it. Acciperé appears to have been taken by surprise, as is Gohan, when Goku shows an unpredictably dark tactic in head-butting the god.

Acciperé falls right away, hissing, giving Goku the chance to swipe the weapon in his moment of weakness. The moment, however, passes by without succession for Goku as a second wind allows the god to release some strange magic Gohan's never seen before; a force that pushes the blade far away from either of them and making it lodge into puddle of mud.

Right next to Gohan.

A hiccough sounds, and he jumps up against the cries of the two men. No time is wasted and he snatches it from the ground with manic vigour.

With a flourish he didn't know he could handle, the teenager twirls the blade so it pricks at his throat.

"Gohan!"

"You stay back!" Gohan warns, flinching as his head screams at him. It pounds with vigour. He cradles one of his ears, praying the oncoming pain away. A dull thrum follows, signalling the metaphoric countdown until the world is nigh.

"Gohan," Goku repeats, clambering to his feet and pushing Acciperé south, "you don't understand. Let me help you –I can help you!"

I don't understand?!

Gohan breathes deeply, feverishly, and stares between the man that's supposedly his father and the god poised to steal his life.

"I need to do this." I need to make it right. "I need to die."

"Give him his honourable death!" Acciperé presses as he collects himself from the floor. The shiny fabric is a mess of many different stains now. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be, Goku Son!"

"I have to!" concurs Gohan in the face of Goku's horror.

The man's –his father's- hand outstretches, grasping at the air, as he takes ginger steps forward in the direction of Gohan's menacing, wobbly blade.

"Do not do this."

The edge digs deeper, tempting an old wound open with its kiss. Gohan enjoys the feeling, just so he can focus on the pain of it rather than the agony inside his chest and inside his head. And disgustingly, that familiar heat collects in his eyes once again. His throat constricts and tears start to run against the smears of red.

In contrast, he laughs. It's a hysterical sound. It echoes around the openness of the space.

"I'll save the world," he tells Goku, but it sounds more like a threat. His mouth, thick and wet, splutters, and tears slop down his cheeks in embarrassing succession. "I can save the world. I'll do it right this time."

"Gohan!"

The teenager's chin lowers against the steel and he chokes a sob. "I'll do it... I'll do it… right this time."

Levelly, Acciperé soft drawl speaks above the crackle of the nearby fire. "Yes, Gohan Son, you have the power to make it quick."

Goku turns with ferocity, "shut up!"

"With haste. Before the last tower falls."

"I said be quiet!"

Suddenly, a drilling of anguish distorts Gohan's vision, and the blade lowers just a fraction, something that seems to be enough for Goku to dart and make an attempt at it. But Gohan's reactions are good now, better than either expected, because he raises the scythe, slicing cleanly through orange and intensely into Goku's arm.

The cut cries, distracting them both. It is a generous slit and compels Goku to withdraw just enough for Gohan to repurpose the edge against his own Adam's apple.

"Stay back!" Gohan warns, garbled.

Goku hisses as he presses on his wound, eying the blade with heavy concern.

"Do it," calls Acciperé. He hasn't moved an inch. "The tower will soon fall."

"Don't listen to him," Goku says, panic colouring his tone somewhat. Gohan can tell that he's trying to stay calm but the wildness in his eyes betrays him. "Please. Please. If you do that… if you… if you kill yourself with that thing then there's no coming back."

"Don't you think I know that already?!"

"It's more than death… It's… Gohan, please. Lower the knife –sword- thing. If you do it then... then… we can't," he blanches, "we can't use the dra…"

Goku stops there, and for some reason, it infuriates Gohan. How many times has the man stopped himself now?

Say it!

Just say it!

"The dragon balls?" Gohan laughs cruelly. He laughs until a fresh wave of tears prickle at wide, furious eyes. There's something satisfying about the way Goku's face pales, about the way that the lines run down his forehead, like he's putting this together all very slowly.

The man twists on the spot, clenching the fabric over the growing crimson stain.

"G-Gohan," he balks, "what do you know?"

The teenager swallows. A naked vulnerability grows in his father's dark orbs.

What does Gohan know? -What does he know?

Does he know?

The grip on the scythe loosens only to reaffirm twice as tight.

"It doesn't matter!" Gohan snarls; tears, spit and blood flying ubiquitously as he crushes his forehead against his free hand. "Just let me do this! Let me finish this!"

"Gohan, you can't do this!" Goku cries, panicked. "We'll get to the bottom of this. Together."

He does know.

"Gohan. I'm proud of you."

"Stop saying that!" he shrieks, before proceeding to yank on his hair so tightly that he starts to feel it rip. "Stop it! Stop it! Just shut up!"

"I d-didn't say-"

"Shut up!"

"Gohan!"

"Shut the fuck up!"

A swoop of dull ache thumps him at the top of his nape before riding up and positively burning through his skull. Immediately, he screams, but still manages to keep hold of the scythe. In fact, he brings it closer, actually managing to pierce the thin skin under his chin.

The tower must be burning. The agonizing torture is getting ready to start its performance, and so, Gohan's about to lose his fucking mind.

The loud image of a wasteland cascades through his memories. Something. He's remembering something.

Oh, God, it fucking hurts.

"Release it Gohan, release everything. Remember the pain he's caused, the people he's hurt. Now make that your power!"

"Shut up!"

I don't want power!

I don't want to hurt anyone else!

"Gohan!"

"Now!"

"No! I don't want to!" he cries, "I don't want to do it! You do it! You fight him, Dad!"

Blue blinds him. Always blue. It's her blue, or his blue, or the blue from the Kamehameha wave. But it's always blue.

"I don't want to," Gohan sobs, "p-please, it hurts."

And it does. The burning soars down from his head and into the rest of his body, singeing his chest as the searing contorts his very essence.

His grip fails him with the sudden burst of fire. And so, the blade clatters to the floor, catching him in his thin trainers. Whether or not he cut himself he could never know. The brutality of the headache has him incapable of even seeing straight.

He scrunches his eyes shut and whine wrangles out from his very core.

The blade on the floor shimmers, mocking him.

Fuck, He can't even kill himself correctly.

"N-no..."

It's a shock of warmth surging down Gohan's arms that has him snap his neck up, and he peers just long enough to see the bleary outline of his father.

"You're my kid, right?" he says, sounding both so unsure and sure of himself at the same time.

Already dry-mouthed, Gohan can only stare with vacancy and with little ability to reply. His mind is slowly turning to mush. Surely there isn't long left.

Yet Goku holds out, clasping those shoulders not without affection.

"You've gotta' stay with me," he continues, "There isn't an easy way out for us saiyans." A strained smile is attempted, and even though it's half-baked, it's still infectious and something within Gohan stirs. "You've gotta' see this through until the end, Gohan. You have to try."

There's a dense pause, silence between them so heavy that only another wave of pain is enough to have Gohan flinch away.

"Dad," he whines, head lolling, pulsating, throbbing, "it hurts – it really hurts. I… I don't want to… The Order…"

"We can't give up."

"The tower-"

The fists curl up against his arms, pressing firmly against Gohan's shuddering sides. "We'll beat this thing."

But Gohan's tired, he's really tired. He just wants this all to end. "I don't wanna' fight anymore…"

Acciperé's cool voice lingers at the back of his mind.

"You have a choice now."

Heat smoulders and the teenager sees red."Then let me choose! I choose to quit! I choose the good death!"

Slap!

It stings. His entire left cheek burns, but for the first time in minutes he's able to see straight.

A part of him wishes that he can't when he focuses on Goku's expression. Hard creases streak down through the confliction.

"There's no such thing as the good death," his father then comments in a low sort of voice.. "You die, and that's that. And, Gohan... dying doesn't mean anything except that you're dead."

"Take care of your mother for me. She needs you. Tell her that I had to do this, Gohan."

Gohan grits his teeth, glaring up from behind dark lashes, "you don't get to say that."

Those hands return to his arms and before Gohan can react, they pull him in close and into that encompassing wall of orange. The gi cloth feels familiar to him, like home. The way it pillows his cheeks makes Gohan feel like he's a little kid again, and reminds him of the times he trained for the androids, or the times when he was really little and he used to ride that cloud. He can't remember the name now, but he recalls its fluffy texture and the way it used to bounce along the stretching horizon.

Slowly, his hands climb up and palm the material resting against his dad's back.

A mirroring hand then leans against the top of his head, reminding him of the very few times Doctor Mort had actually patted him on the head for whatever ABC reason, a rarity –but something cherished.

The piercing light striking in his mind goes ignored and he hiccoughs.

His eyes close and he's back on that field, the one with all the stars and the warm light from that strange, spherical house he'd seen in the mountains.

"One thing I learned from my father is to never give up, even when the odds are stacked against you." Gohan the Body tells him, still softly stroking those daisies, gaze unfocused, but serene all the same.

"I don't remember him saying that," Gohan says.

"Of course not, silly," comes the reply, making him feel stupid. There's a fleeting pause, until Gohan the Body turns to him, torn grass in hand, "but you could."

He stammers backwards.

I've hurt so many.

You're not a bad person, Gohan.

I can be.

Then you can be good, too.

I… I don-

Be good. Be strong. Be brave.

His eyes bat open.

Live.

Goku's saying something in his ear, but it's hard to focus when there's a loud, ear-crushing crash nearby. It's not the agonizing pain that alerts Gohan to the fallen tower, but the sick feeling swirling around his stomach.

It's time.

He brings his head up, eyes red and sore as he blearily takes in his dad's fearless smile. As much as he can't bring himself to return it, an attempt at the sentiment is made with his weary, frightened twitch of the lips.

"I'm scared," Gohan whispers, trying to his very best to look anything but.

Valiantly, Goku's smile twists into something of a radiant expression. It's almost cocky, bordering over-confidence, but nonetheless fills Gohan with a renewed strength.

"But you're brave," his dad says, echoing Gohan's earlier thoughts. "So it doesn't matter if you're scared when you can overcome it."

He pulls away and then offers a hand out, palm up. His two fingers ready themselves atop his forehead.

"Let's defeat this together."

Gohan stares down at the hand, and then back up at his unafraid, ridiculous father.

"It's… it's… not going to be easy. The pain… it's excruciating. I don't think-"

The fingers flex, daring him forward.

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I see this chapter as an extension of the last one so I wanted to get it out fast. But yeah, sorry about the wait before the previous chapter. I'd planned on getting it out before I went travelling, but alas, I'm rubbish. Oh well, I'm back so let's get this show on the road! I just wanna' say thanks again for the feedback. It's just such a morale boost. I've LOVED reading all the comments and PMs -especially theories.

So yeah, Gohan made the wish many a moon ago. This story has been a bit of an exploration of his emotional state. A good few folks have mentioned that they were put off with angsty, cynical Gohan at the start -and I say good. We peeled those layers away and got this mess. Bad mental health isn't pretty.

Ugh, I'm not a disclaimer kind of lady, but yeah, it's a dark story. And we're not out of the woods yet.

On a happier note, I should get another update out soon. I hope you've enjoyed the last two chapters. Please drop a review or PM to make this author a happy bun bun. Cheers, stay safe!