I WILL WAIT FOR YOU
If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life. – Oscar Wilde
Disclaimer: No, not my characters. Yes, stupid enough to do work for no money.
Chapter 7: Beneath Summer's Ashes
Pan woke up the next morning feeling strangely released, yet there was a distinct guilty twinge to her pleasure. She did not know that Trunks was dead, despite the feeling that wrenched at her gut. After all the deception in her life she had never actually told a lie of such magnitude. Even feigning her own mental respite from the world did not seem so treacherous as speaking of an uncertain death as if it were a certainty. Of course the past was firmly embedded there and no amount of desire could restore it to the present so Pan continued to live...in a loose sense of the word.
It didn't take her long to decide that a quick visit to Capsule Corps was necessary. Dragonball radar and transportation would be essential and it could hardly be called looting. With renewed energy Pan drifted in the general direction of the building, trying not to see all the destruction that surrounded her. In amongst the corrupted bodies there were acts of extreme kindness reminiscent of a long forgotten humanity. It was almost beautiful to see others come together. Almost. It was both beautiful and repulsive at once. There was an echo of death and despair across the countryside, yet there was also new heroes born that day. Death and love had met in a swift embrace and become one and the same. Pan looked to the sky. There was less confusion there.
Capsule Corporation had clearly been a last post for many. As Pan neared it she became unwillingly aware of the increasing concentrations of bodies. The building itself had never looked so dark. It appeared to have grown taller and broader, the windows shrunken back into the cold walls. The very scent of the place seemed to have changed. Not only did the lingering decay produce a blistering stench, but the walls smelled of unwashed bodies and sickness. Pan softened her step as she grew closer. She noticed a middle aged man hunched over a tiny fire, with the flaring light illuminating his face with a terrible glow. He looked like a goblin, crooked, small and dark.
With almost religious respect Pan gave the front door a gentle push and was not surprised when it easily swung open.
Without the usual noise and haste of the Briefs residence it seemed empty and she suddenly realised exactly how large the building was. She had walked over these floors so many times and simply forgotten to see them. Now this skeleton was all that was left of her friends and the man that she loved.
She shuddered, unsure of what caused it. Perhaps the cold, but more likely the thought of walking across Trunks' home knowing he would never return.
As she stepped across the threshold the hem of her pants caught on a piece of steel. Instinctively Pan bent over to brush a hand over her pants. And as she swept her eyes up from her fussing the sudden nearness of such destruction made her queasy. The once homely building now appeared the domain of a sadistic madman, trapped in the grip of a nightmare. Pan quickly scanned the area, searching for any immediate danger. How ironic it would be to survive a holocaust only to suffer a careless fall. Each tentative step met the crunch of gravel beneath her, causing her to flinch at its apparent loudness. The rubble that blocked her path was damp and now appeared jaundiced, like a healing bruise. The sour taste of soil hung heavily in the air and for a moment Pan would have believed that the smell itself had aiding in casting the long shadows. Pan swallowed in distaste, feeling her steady heart-rate flutter in her chest. To fear, nobody was sacred.
Pan's impetus led her at an inevitably slow pace across the entrance. This frustrated her and without thought she took to the air between the bowed roof and the remains at her feet, gliding with ease towards the hallways. Once more, the silence rung in Pan's ears and she felt that she would surely go insane if she spent too long in this place. It was like walking through a tomb, bodies waiting where least expected. If it had not been for auto-pilot Pan might have walked the same route ten times over and not known it. Her feet were dragged along by memory though and she eventually found herself deep in the bowels of Capsule Corporation.
Bulma's lab was in distinct contrast with the rest of the building...and the rest of the world it seemed. Pan eased her breath, as if she had entered a haven and swung shut the remainder of the door behind her. It didn't help her state of mind to see the juxtaposition of the seemingly different worlds. It had amazed her that she still felt guilty about breaking the door, although she knew that her actions would undoubtably have the blessing of the Briefs.
Grave Robber.
A quick drop to the ground shuddered Pan's conscience into a brief respite and she began to get to work locating all that she needed.
The Dragon Radar was easy. In that same drawer it had been for probably all of her life. Finding a ship was a little harder. Bulma usually worked on strictly experimental things, meaning that everything was carefully hidden from any unwanted attention. Pan worked quickly, not wanting to remain there any longer than was required.
With a sigh of relief the capsule was found and Pan headed towards the door. She looked at her watch, but it was a pointless action, an attempt to feel normal perhaps. She hadn't noted the time for many hours, or what had seemed like hours. Time hadn't meant much to her lately anyway. The years drawing out like an ancient katana from its sheath. The brief pause alerted her to the absolute still of the room. In meteoric insanity Pan blasted a hole through the wall of the Lab, chasing the light that ran through the windows in chalky streams.
After winding through the rest of the corridors at a wild pace Pan eventually found herself back in the barren outdoors. She slowed her pace considerably, but continued away until the ruins were out of sight.
But not out of mind.
And with a well practised click and flick of the wrist she opened the capsule and boarded her new spaceship. The thought alone of possessing such a device brought her a little joy. Escapism can work on many levels.
***
It took Pan a further day to prepare for her embarkation. Even though she had been through the motions before the entire business weighed heavily on her. Already she was missing her parents, despite not having felt the loss much during the many years wasted in The Room of Spirit and Time.
Throughout the day of preparation Pan managed to keep her mind off Trunks for a good portion of time. Of course, every now and then small memories would jump unexpectedly into her consciousness. After telling everyone of his death it all seemed much more real to Pan and she had come to believe the lie. After all, it did seem an inescapable truth. Her ki had been high enough for long enough. If he was going to come, he would be here by now. At least that was a truth she assumed she could rely on. As strong as she wanted to be about it, she still found herself chasing echoes of his laugh and smile through the tunnels of her head.
But as Pan sat in the pilots seat looking down on the shrinking world of her past she didn't even attempt to stem the flow of shadows and memories that lay on that now barren earth. Letting the tears roll down her cheeks didn't stop the pain, but it did help. Not much, but it did help.
Before take off she had stood quietly looking over all that she was about to leave behind. It crossed her mind that she many never return here. She bent and reached her had towards the gritty dirt at the base of her ship, rubbing it between her fingers. A chilly wind blew through her as she did so and to Pan it seemed so invasive, as if it were penetrating to her deepest chambers and nipping at those nerves. In a panicky haste she boarded the ship and prepared to take off.
Now, as she kept her eyes fixed steadily on the green and blue world, swirling with white she ran her fingers together, still feeling the grit in her pores. Secretly, a part of her hoped it would never wash away, but another voice in her couldn't wait to find the sink.
***
A small gathering of young men stumbled through the broken streets. Yelling out over and over, "Is anybody there? Can you hear me? We're here to help! Hello?" It hadn't taken long for humanity to truly come through. Such makeshift Search and Rescue groups had popped up everywhere. This particular group had taken shelter in a former government building. The stronger men had dragged as many beds as they could and those less fit stayed and tended to the few survivors that they found. Unfortunately, without a doctor there wasn't a lot they could do for most of them, save the decency of a funeral.
However, there were always exceptions. One boy in particular stood out. He had been brought in on the edge of life and the one nurse that was present didn't give him more than a few hours. Two days later he was still breathing, tottering on the brink of death, but certainly no worse than when he had been uncovered. The rescuer who found him claimed that he was conscious initially. Apparently a weak and bloodied hand had been reaching through the rubble. Nurse Kawata had told this boy, Takashi, that he mustn't be silly – it was clearly evident that this kid was lucky to be simply drawing in breath. The matter was dropped quickly though. Such times were not suited to petty differences.
This boy's recovery was widely desired though, as a good meal had become a rarity in these times and there were rumours that the boy was a Chef. It was only a pipe dream to most, but Takashi still insisted that the boy was calling out for his Pans in his last moments of consciousness.
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