___Chapter 2- hands (of fate, fortune, life, death, chance)___ ~~ By Velasa

~~NOTE- Finally got around to typing- I've been working on this, brainstorming c68 of "dreams" and writing c3 of "shadows" simultaneously... not to mention the other three epics that my muses keep pressing on me *glares at Piccolo and Scythe* those two are rather indignant about keeping me busy.... but I'm babbling Oo Musical inspiration- had the midi for 'one of us' on repeat. Read on- here's the next chapter of my Krillan series. PG13 for language. ~~

The silent air surrounds us as we all pile into the aircar. Noone really feels like speaking.

As capsule ship 192 takes off, I glimpse into the back, past the second set of seats, past Goku's stretcher, to where three steel shapes sit. The things are simple metal and plastic, you'd almost think they were holding tools or oranges or something equally benign.

They hold corpses.

I shake my head quietly, touching a hand to where it's still pounding. Corpses. But it's not just WHAT, it's who..... Tienshin and Yumcha- friends I've had for ages, it hurts me even to look at those makeshift caskets and know they're in there...

As I glimpse back, I see the third one as well. More than the others, which only depress me, that's the one that disturbs me the most. I shake my head again- I still can't believe it.

Piccolo's died as well.

I don't know if I'll ever be able to believe it.

For a moment I almost fool myself into thinking that that's why Goku's so beat up, that the fight with the sayian had never been and that he'd finally killed that m- I stop in mid-thought. Glimpsing back again, I bite my lip until a thin stream of blood joins all the other crimson streaks on my face.

{{Monster. Why can't I say 'monster'?}} I ask myself, though I know perfectly well why.

Monsters don't die like that.

My eyes slip close, and I can hear the screaming. A shiver runs up my spine... Now more than ever I know that I'll never escape that sound for the rest of my life.....

A lurch, and we pull up into the air. Bulma's driving again, unlike earlier. If she had been then, we would have crashed- she'd been so hysteric over Yumcha that she hadn't been in the state to drive a tricycle, let alone an airship. She's hiding her feelings well now, for our sakes- she knows what we've been through today. Bless her- she acts heartless sometimes, but she's always there when you really need her... But as I drone out the hum of the motor, my mind drifts to just a while ago, only a few minutes...

~~~~~~~

I had been glad Chichi had left Gohan inside. The kid needs to sleep, not to see this hell again. The wind whips slowly over us, tossing the other's hair, spreading the dust over the ground, from the pocket-marks from the thousands of little renzokou kikou to the massive pit that we'd thought we'd lost Chautzu to. The plain has been blown nearly flat, almost all the rock towers toppled upon themselves, broken like toy blocks before a toddler's hands. It's completely leveled.

The others walk forward, but I hang back, veering off in a different direction- I don't want to see the look on Bulma's pretty face when she sees him, don't wand to see Tienshin, don't want to catch the sound of Chichi scolding us all on the futility of fighting.

I know that already. What I don't know is the thing that still seems a dream to me, no- more like a nightmare. I had to have been imagining things...

Walking toward where I know the trench is, made by a blast so massive it would have cut me in two, into dust, when I had been lying just a few hours ago, praying that I would have been given safe passage, that it wouldn't hurt too much when my head popped like a cork under the sayian's foot.

My feet stop at the edge of the gouge, but I keep my head down, staring at my boots which I turn toward the center of the attack. If my thinking, my memory is correct.......

It takes fully thirty seconds to reach the center, though whether that's because of the size or my slow steps, I don't know. I would have kept going, as I'd closed my eyes, but my foot kicks something very faintly warm.

A hand.

Even though I'd known he was there, I nearly jump out of my skin, unable to hold in a shout of surprise as I jerk back. It takes a few seconds of staring before I can breathe again, and I exhale loudly in a relived sigh. For a second there I'd thought he'd grabbed me.

Squatting down a foot away I find myself staring at him, for the first time really able to see his face- my vision had been considerably blurred before. The second time today, my heart stops.

"....Damn......"

I've got to sit down.

I don't know what sort of face I'd been expecting, probably a grimace of pain or the usual creased-face glance, but certainly not this, not that peaceful, tear-streaked one before me. I'd seen him as he died, but in the time afterward I had convinced myself it was a trick of the light, an after-effect of one of some hidden internal injury in my head, but now that I've had a senzu I know what I'm seeing is true... He was crying.

My head slips into my hands, and I say nothing, just sit there by the still form of the being who in life had terrified me, invoked my greatest hatred, now only invoking confusion, and a strange tinge of sadness. But not pity. Never pity. Not even death could make him any less awe-inspiring.

The muscles still stand out like chords, what of his claws that remain unbroken are still razor-sharp, and I guess he probably still had that scent the others always said hung around him, the scent of old blood. His height's still as imposing as ever, and I know that if he still had his cape, it would be whipping around in it's own breeze, even when no wind touched it.

And I still can't bring myself to call him 'monster'.

I don't think I'll ever be able to. Not now.

{{Monsters just don't die like that.}} I repeat somberly to myself as I glance back at that protected strip of earth behind the trenches his feet had formed.

As I close my eyes, I hear it echoing through my mind again, as fresh and agonized as it had been the first time.

"What are you?" I ask to noone who can still hear me, my eyes latched onto that face I don't recognize. "Who are you? Where did you come from? I thought I knew you, but I just don't know anymore..."

A hand touches my shoulder, silencing me, and I look up over it to see my teacher, Master Roshi. Funny though..... there most be a fog, because he appears so blurry...

He sits down by me and glances over his sunglasses, in that quiet tone you rarely hear from him "Strange, isn't it?"

".... Yeah."

A nod. "That's the last thing I expected, you know. Him, I mean."

"Dying?"

"Yes." With a sigh he leans more heavily on his staff- the same thing I'd seen Kami do when he thought noone could see him- it seems that old men, when the world is changing all around them, are more heavily weighed upon by it all- they've seen how things were in their prime, and they knew that they could always fight against the evils that besieged them, but once they are old, they feel helpless, trapped in a constantly shrinking bubble out of which they cannot escape. But I don't just mean physically. These battles, and fighting, and death, and fear, and pain, have made us all old men inside. I'm so caught up in my train of thought that I nearly miss his next words-

"I expected Goku to finish him off one of these days, or him killing us all, and not having to worry about it anymore. Krillan, my boy, what happened?"

I glance over, confused- the last part was a question. All I can do is look back to my feet quietly- damn, I can't even answer myself on that one, let alone someone else. It's.... impossible to understand... but still he continues, quietly yet forcefully. "You know as well as I do that deamon or not, Piccolo was no fool. He wouldn't have just taken a hit he knew he couldn't handle. And one look at everything here tells me that's just what happened. Krillan, why?"

Silence is all there is for a few seconds, I cannot speak. I've been struck dumb it seems, my voice gone. Even if it wasn't, I wouldn't know what to say. So instead I start babbling, I can't even remember half of what I said, I just remember venting and having my vision getting foggier and foggier....

I don't know how much, but later I felt a hand squeeze my shoulder reassuringly, and my teacher says to me "It's alright, Krillan, calm down." On a side note he adds "You don't need to do that, you know."

"Huh?"

Reaching for something in his pocked, he pulls out a small cloth and dabs my eyes- "Cry like that."

"WHAT??? I was not-"

"You were crying, Krillan. I know you're sad about the others, but there's nothing we can do for them. Kami's gone."

I'm silent, feeling uneasy. I've never felt this sick inside, this helpless. They all died, and I lived.......

"... Comeon Krillan, let's get something to put him in... we're keeping the bodies, can't leave them to the wolves."

I thank him silently for the distraction- he notices the look and smiles back, but sadly.

I don't think any of us will be truly smiling again soon.

He returns a minute later, and opens the capsule holding the same sort of 'sepulcher' the others are in- the other two bodies were already done with, but the others are afraid, and refuse to come here, come near the deamon prince. So the two of us have to lift him up and lie him in the cold metal. I'm left feeling slightly guilty as my hand touches his arm and sucks that last bit of warmth from the green skin, leaving the body as cold as the ground beneath my feet.

I take one last glance to try to sort out my confusion, but it doesn't close so easily as the lid. So I merely grasp the bottom on one side, my teacher takes the other, we lift it up onto our shoulders as one and march slowly and somberly to where the girls, Korin, and Yagirobe are.

Noone says a word. Chichi looks like she's about to, but she must have seen the look of our eyes, the set of our faces, the drag of our steps, to stop her. So there was silence as we walked up the ramp, and laid our burden beside the others, fastening it to the bottom of the airship so that it wouldn't be disturbed.

Goku watches us. His face shows nothing, but his eyes say it all. He knows what we're doing. He knows what these things are. He knows who. And his eyes hide both a sadness and an anger- but it's only at himself. I've been around Goku long enough to be able to tell what he's thinking.

Master Roshi's talking to Korin, Bulma buts in and takes the wheel, I sit down in shotgun and stare outside.

~~~~~~~

And here we all are, back in the present. I can start to see the clouds fit by, and there's speaking, but I tone it out, mulling over my one, last hope. It's so faint it barely seems real, but..........

Hope is all we have right now.

I won't give up on that.

END

4/13/02 7:27 PM