Title: Determination

Author: Toreina-Mei a.k.a. Jenna

Aftermath

:

It Can Never Stay the Same

*****

It seemed like it was another peaceful day; the sky was cloudless, the sun shone warmly and a pleasant breeze kept the air enjoyable. Unfortunately, that was not the case. The ground was painted with blood; in some areas it had spilled into puddles, in others it had splashed in scattered droplets, but it stained a large portion of the ground.

And mingled with the dirtied, dried red blood of Saiyans and humans, and the yellow blood of the blue-skinned men, was the purple blood of a Namek. The Namek, though his body was in tact, was scalded and his flesh was melted, raised and giving off wisps of smoke. A rancid stench floated in the air, complimenting the grotesque scene.

He moved his hand cautiously, testing it. The single, simple movement made his arm burn with pain and the muscles throughout his arm felt as if they were tearing like wet paper. Even breathing was a torturous labor, forcing his hardened skin to stretch passed its charred limitations. Piccolo was sure he appeared to be a dead carcass, which is what he was drifting toward becoming. He felt his life, his very strength and energy, fleeing from him. He should know what it was like -- he had already died thrice.

For a brief few seconds he thought he heard Gohan's voice, asking him if he was all right. He concentrated on that voice, sure that he had seen Gohan die, but hoping in his disillusioned condition that maybe he had survived. Then the voice became clearer, though still distant in his ringing ears, and it became dispiritingly apparent that it wasn't Gohan. It was just his little brother Goten. Goten who, as far as he was concerned, was nothing like his former pupil. Nor was Pan anything like him: a stubborn, hot-headed little brat is what she was. Training her had been like being with Gohan again… in some distorted way. He had really hated that kid in the beginning, but he couldn't recall why. With Pan, she made it too hard for anyone to like her. But, even though she had been a nuisance, he didn't honestly hate her.

Someone told him to hold on. Trunks, perhaps? Did it really even matter who was talking? He had nothing to hold onto, but he did have a desire to live. Not because he was afraid of death, but because he wanted to avoid Hell. It was ironic that Piccolo Daimao, Jr., the Demon King, was now avoiding the very place he had willingly sacrificed himself an eternity to for Goku. Hell wasn't for him anymore and, though he might have once tried to deny that, he could accept it now. He imagined himself sneering. I've changed too damn much.

His breath was ragged and he was wheezing with the nearing end of his life. He was trying to stop the last sands of his life-glass from falling, much like a man would get in front of a bus and try to stop it from running over his child. Each second that passed was a second closer to Hell, and he was beginning to accept his fate, though he still warred against it. Something was put into his mouth, onto his tongue. He bit into weakly, but he chewed greedily. And suddenly he wasn't being swallowed into an enveloping darkness, his agony abruptly ceased and his life-threatening wounds healed. Piccolo was still tired, or rather imagined himself to be since he had felt so weak. Other than that though, he was fine. There were no traces of the violent battle, at last nothing visible on his body.

Piccolo stood and scanned the vicinity out of habit. Gohan's body had faded away; undoubtedly he was allowed to keep it in Other World. He didn't find the person he had searched for, although unaware that he had done so.

"Where's Pan?" he growled.

"She… left." Goten said hesitantly.

"Where?" he repeated.

"…In- in the ship."

"What!" he bellowed. "Was she kidnapped? Why didn't you go after her?"

"Don't sound too concerned, Namek," Vegeta taunted.

Piccolo looked at him, hard and menacingly; Vegeta was covered in soot, his hair was sprinkled with ash, and tiny scrapes of dried blood littered any revealed flesh. He had sounded far from desperate, but he admitted that he was concerned. Somehow it was his duty to protect Pan. Damn obligations. Gohan had better be grateful.

"The brat left on her own. And I'm the one who stopped the boys from going after her. Let her make her own mistakes instead of fixing them for her. Spoiled brat. She'll be back within two weeks," Vegeta said callously, staring at Piccolo with a smugness that he didn't like, daring him to challenge his decision.

He dared to challenge the almighty Prince of Saiyans.

"That's assuming she can even get back. Look Vegeta, if this is your idea of entertainment…" he said dangerously, letting the would-be threat dangle.

In response, Vegeta chuckled, but offered no inclination as to whether he had made the decision for the purpose of entertainment or for some other, ulterior motive. Because she was related to Goku might even be cause enough to him.

Frustrated, Piccolo growled.

"You can't tamper with lives like this! She's a kid," he said, as if that explained everything.

"So?"

His patience was reaching its limit, hanging on as if it were a piece of overstretched gum.

"Look, Namek, I don't have to answer to you," Vegeta said snidely, rudely.

Then he took off, leaving Piccolo with Trunks, Goten and several unconscious, if not dead, bodies scattered about. He turned his attention to the two boys. Goten looked absolutely miserable, his head bowed and his foot stubbing at the ground; and Trunks was entirely indifferent and calm about the situation. Piccolo was furious with them.

"How could you just let her leave?" he demanded, his voice sharp with accusation.

Goten shrugged dejectedly and looked to Trunks as if he had the answer. Could the brat not think for himself?

"My father has a point. Pan needs to take responsibility for her own actions. We can't always bail her out of these messes that she gets herself into," he explained, entirely supportive of his father's choice.

Trunks had no backbone, Piccolo decided, if he couldn't stand up to his father. He was intelligent, but he followed Vegeta blindly, putting his faith in him. Even if he knew Vegeta's decision wasn't the right one, he would still pretend to see his side of it and support him. Piccolo never understood it. Vegeta wasn't always right, in fact his decisions usually only served a purpose for him. As far as Piccolo knew, Pan had done nothing that would warrant that kind of ill-treatment from him. He didn't have any right to screw with peoples' lives. Screw his Saiyan royalty lineage.

"You're father has no right to interfere with her life," Piccolo said.

"Neither do we," Trunks replied, dispassionately.

"There is a difference between interfering in someone's life and help them. You may have very well killed her," he hissed.

Piccolo gritted his teeth, turned and left. He was embarrassed about letting his emotions explode like that, for revealing so much when it was usually buried away from even him. There was no reason for him to act (and feel) so protective and maternal. Especially where Pan was concerned.

As he flew over Gohan's house, he consciously began to slow. Videl was entirely oblivious as to what had happened; she didn't know that her husband was dead, or that Pan was gone. Should he tell her? He knew how Bulma and ChiChi reacted to such news: they got angry and loud and usually screamed at the news bearer. Piccolo sighed and dropped out of the sky. Only out of respect for Gohan would he do this.

He paused before he went toward the house. His clothes were almost nonexistent, as most of them had been incinerated. Before he had had no reason to care, but humans were different. The woman especially. If he was going to visit Videl, then he had to be dressed in proper garments and so he quickly materialized a new, clean attire. He then resumed his trek up to the house and stood on the cement step in front of the door. For a long time he stood there, staring at the door with a blank mind. What was so difficult about this? Piccolo, finally determining that it was pointless to put off what had to be done, knocked on the door carefully. He really didn't want to break it down.

Videl opened the door and it was suddenly obvious that he couldn't simply say "Gohan's dead and your daughter has left the planet".

"Gohan's not here, but you can come in, if you want," she said politely, but almost uncertainly. He had never liked being in houses, they were too confining.

"No- I know Gohan's not here. We left earlier…" he paused, searching for a way to tell her lightly.

"Really? Where'd you guys have to go?" she asked for the sake of conversation. It had to have been awkward to talk to a giant, green, unfriendly-looking Namek.

"…Pan, Trunks and Goku were wanted criminals on another planet. The aliens attacked us, and there was a fight-"

"Where's Gohan? Where's my daughter?" Videl said briskly, finally seeming to ascertain what he was trying to say, but not wanting to believe it.

Piccolo stopped trying to find a gentle way to tell her.

"Gohan is dead, Videl…"

She squinted her eyes, but tears had already dripped out.

"And Pan?" she choked, holding back a sob.

"She took off. On a space ship."

Her shoulders slumped forward.

"How could you have let this happen?" she said quietly, through her crying and gasping.

That hurt more than any angry tirade from ChiChi or loud invective from Bulma. Videl didn't even raise her voice to him, she just whispered, blaming him. Even though he thought she might not have meant to, she was telling him that he could have prevented all of this. Those few words made him feel guilty. Like, somehow, he was the one responsible for all of this. He looked away, at the outside wall of the house, thinking about the battle. He recalled all the moves he made, and then he thought of all the moves he should have made.

Videl stepped forward and laid her face against his chest, sobbing silently and intaking an occasional, sharp breath. Although Piccolo wanted to back away from the uncomfortable situation, he didn't. She had just lost her family, he felt it would be wrong to push her away. Or maybe he just didn't want her to have any reason for her to blame him for what happened. He wrapped an arm around her loosely, feeling that the gesture of comfort was awkward, but maybe necessary. It was a pitiful attempt, but at least he tried.

Piccolo wrapped his other arm around her and focused on not crushing her tiny frame. She was tough, stronger than the average human, but he could still break her in half and had to remain aware of that.

"I'm sorry," he said, hoping that the apology would mean something to her.

He looked down at the top of her head and her petted her hair apprehensively , not really sure if she would approve of it. Videl didn't seem to mind. Piccolo sighed inaudibly and shifted his eyes toward the ground. There was no way to bring Gohan back, but he could go after Pan. He just wondered how he would. Maybe Bulma would have some way of helping him?

Videl peered up at him. Her eyes were glossy, red-rimmed and, although his features remained expressionless, he felt a great amount of sorrow and compassion for her. The suffering already tinted in her gaze made him resolute. He would go after Pan. And he would bring her back before she got herself killed.

*****

Author's Note - And so there you have the happenings on Earth, just in case you were curious. ;) A little late, ne? Yes, I do apologize. But anyway, I am in the process of writing up the Alternate Ending, which I should have up in a week or sooner. I also have two other chapter stories that I'm working on and a one-shot thing as well, so my free-time is booked. And don't worry! I haven't forgotten about the Piccolo story.

Thank You's To - Chaotic-Souls (You mean I was predictable? Oh dear me… ^_^;; Not good at all) and Moose (couldn't have gotten back into my writing groove without you! *hugs*) for their reviews. ^_^

Planned Update - 2/1 for the Alternate Ending. Half of it is already completed, so it should be done and edited soon.