Things Behind The Sun

The Beat That My Heart Skipped

May 12th, 767

Iron.

There was iron, Gohan was sure of it. Molten iron – he could tell by the smell. Over one thousand degrees then – he remembered sitting at his desk, under the window of his bedroom, and drawing a fluorescent yellow line on his science book, beneath the number.

It seemed like – or maybe it actually was – yesterday.

He was vaguely aware of the pounding of his heart – a bass drum so fast it was turning into a continuous vibration at the back of his throat. There really was no other sound and, in that muffled and cocooned environment that was his head, he found himself thinking of another page of that same science book – telling him that a body natural response to being in danger was to fight or flight, without wasting valuable grey matter, not when death was only inches away. Something about the adrenal gland, something about epinephrine. Something about glucose.

Training, and experience, made the rest. The problem was – Gohan couldn't quite remember the last time his body had been pushed to the limit like that. Which was weird, because he could remember that random number highlighted in yellow and he could recite step by step the pathway that was allowing his feet to pound relentlessly on the ground as he moved on autopilot but – nothing else.

Useful.

The fact that the air around him was acidic and unbreathable, scorching hot, hanging around him like a cloak, didn't help his comprehension. All he knew was that his heart was racing – his ribs were on fire. It was so hot – the world was grey, and on fire, and it was getting progressively harder to think in a straight line. He could scarcely catch his breath – he was drowning and his thoughts were scattering and his legs were suddenly weak as he stumbled and slowed down–

A pair of hands grabbed him forcefully and shoved him forward without ceremony.

"Gohan! Come on!"

Krillin's voice was sharp and loud, clearer than his mind could take and it was enough to thrust Gohan back to full consciousness.

They were being chased – they were running. Not flying – because flying made an easy target out of them, since it made them stand out and offered no cover whatsoever. They had learned it the hard way, watching helplessly as Chiaotzu couldn't dodge the energy beam that came from behind and traveled through his heart, so clean and fast there was hardly any blood. Images of Chiaotzu's empty eyes flashed in Gohan's brain, the way his small body convulsed – Krillin's lucid eyes as he yelled to "Leave him! He's dead!" as they scrambled for cover.

Gohan had not wanted to leave Chiaotzu – but there was nothing they could do but run if they wanted to find someone who could still need their help.

So they were running, and running, hoping that if they could squeeze themselves close enough to the walls of that narrow alley, they would become invisible to the eyes of those killers.

Krillin was at his heels. He was pushing Gohan forward with impetus whenever needed – steering him as if he was blind and he might as well have been – the smoke was frying his eyes. They reached the end of the alley; Krillin's hand shoot forward and caught Gohan's arm making him stumble again but effectively stopping him in his tracks. They pushed themselves flat against the wall, side by side, breathing hard. Krillin looked back and forth frantically.

"Ok," he said when he felt they were in the clear. "Let's go."

They darted forward in the open. The street they had to cross was huge and uncovered, probably one of the main arteries leading out of South City. They zig-zagged through the upturned abandoned cars – a lot of them were on fire. With the corner of his eye, Gohan saw the bodies – dozens of slaughtered bodies. His feet grazed one of them while he ran and he looked down, but Krillin kept urging him forward and then – a flash of blue lightning struck to their left out of nowhere–

"Go!" Krillin was shrieking."GO!"

There was a deafening explosion and they swerved, taking off in the opposite direction – there was screaming, and shouting – a screaming that seemed to be non-stop and Gohan glanced over. Through the dust that clogged the air, he saw a number of people running for cover, clinging to each other, yelling–

"Krillin…" Gohan panted.

"I see them!"

They accelerated, rushing toward the small crowd and they were almost there when they heard a rumbling sound rapidly gaining on them–

"GOHAN!"

A tremendous barrage shook the street, making them fight for their balance–

"DOWN!"

Krillin flung himself over Gohan, knocking him over – they fell sideways, hard, rolling on the burning asphalt. Gohan's skull bounced on the concrete and he saw flashes of red for a second, as if his head was filling with blood. A moment of absolute silence filled his ears and he thought he was dead – he heard a stifled gasp and more screaming, more crying – he lifted himself on his forearms and blinked once, twice, to watch the blue energy beams flying over his head to kill those defenseless people right in front of his eyes. He lay there, watching them fall like bowling pins. And yet, somehow – he was convinced he could still hear their screams of terror.

"Get up!" Krillin hissed, seizing Gohan's shoulders and hauling him up with a grunt. Gohan let himself being dragged on wobbly legs for a moment before regaining his footing – he started to run again at Krillin's side, both of them hunched over, their heads low to avoid the energy beams that were flying around, following their steps closely and fast. The explosions they caused when they hit the ground were raising so much dust and black smoke that it acted to Krillin and Gohan's advantage for once, giving them a brief moment of total invisibility at the right time. Krillin suddenly changed his direction; he careened to one side, throwing himself in the thin passage between two tall buildings – Gohan followed just barely and together they stormed down the alley until Krillin slammed on the breaks.

"In here!" he roared and they shouldered their way through an emergency door.

Inside, it was dark, and silent.

Gohan coughed and spluttered, leaning against a wall – the dust that had been accumulating in his throat in the last couple of hours was burning. His eyes were tearing up and he blinked, looking around, breathing hard. He could make out just enough of his surroundings to be sure they were standing in a school hallway. He could see the neat rows of lockers lining the walls and a bulletin board, the polished floors. It was eerie, the way places that should normally burst with life always were when they were empty – but the thought that that present darkness and stillness could have another meaning made all of Gohan's hair stand.

At his side, Krillin was keeling over, his hands on his knees. There was blood painting the side of his shirt, Gohan noted and, after Krillin let out a cough, he noticed that blood had started to dribble down the chin of his friend.

Gohan swallowed dry. He swiped the back of his hand across his sticky forehead, hissing when he brushed against the rapidly forming bump at the side of his head. It was as though his skull was trying to split from the inside and sweat was clinging to him like a clammy, dust-coated second skin as he slowly, gingerly, limped towards Krillin.

"Krillin," he said softly, finally able to put together something that made sense. "You're hurt…"

"It's fine," Krillin said through a clenched jaw, though he gratefully leaned his weight on Gohan, as they wobbled toward the nearest classroom in an attempt to get themselves out of dodge even further. "It's just a scrape. Lucky."

"Yeah…"

Gohan pushed the door open with one foot and they entered. He deposited Krillin by the wall again and took a step forward. It was as if the room had been frozen in time. Through the semidarkness, he saw that on almost every desk there were open books and notebooks – there were backpacks hanging from the back of the chairs – someone had dropped a pencil case and a number of crayons were scattered on the floor.

But there was no one.

Wincing, Gohan knelt. He started to gather the crayons, on the off chance that the owner was safe and sound somewhere. With a supreme effort, he tried to focus, but it was hard, so hard – that brief moment of respite was giving his body the chance to feel all the pain and the burning of the scrapes and cuts that were littering his skin from head to toe.

"Do you… do you sense anything?" he asked eventually, getting back to his feet.

Krillin's breathing was still ragged. He shook his head. "There's no one," he croaked, holding a hand against his injured side. "No one, no one, not a damn survivor!"

Krillin was shaking. Gohan didn't know if it was from pain, or grief, or anger, or all of them.

"It can't be," Gohan said. "We need to k-keep going. Keep looking."

Krillin shook his head again before sagging, sliding down the side of the wall to sit on the floor.

"Gohan…"

Gohan took a step forward and crouched in front of his friend, wanting to take a better look at his wound. "What?" he said frantically. "What is it? Does it hurt?"

"What?" Krillin said dazedly. "No – no, listen to me. We don't stand a chance right now. We have to get away from here now, while we still can," he said and he got up, using the wall for support. "Come on."

Gohan blinked dumbly as he watched Krillin head toward the door and he made no immediate move to follow him. His heart was picking up all over again, a painful staccato against his ribs. There was a tingling void where his stomach was supposed to be.

"Gohan, come on, we've got to move–

Gohan cut across Krillin.

"No, no, Krillin," he said, jumping to his feet, grabbing Krillin by one arm, making him turn around. "Wait," he said breathlessly. "I think we should go back first. I think–

"Gohan," Krillin said. "No."

"But Piccolo could still be alive!"

"Please, don't make it any harder than it already is," Krillin gritted his teeth, he squeezed his eyes shut. "I said no…"

Gohan's grip on Krillin's arm tightened convulsively.

"But what if he needs my help?" he all but sobbed. "What if he needs me?! H-how can you do this?!"

Krillin wasn't answering. Gohan raised his chin petulantly. "I don't care what you do, I'm going!"

"Gohan, stop it!" Krillin yelled, freeing his arm from Gohan's hold. His face fell, his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. "You - you really think I don't want to go back to our friends?"

Krillin's voice broke on that last word. He was almost out of breath, almost seething – Gohan had no retort whatsoever. He just stood there, feeling lifeless.

That was it, then?

Piccolo was dead? And all their friends – gone, just like that?

Gohan blinked again, stupefied.

It was – no.

He thought about his dad – who at the moment of his death wasn't the man he'd always known. He was another person, who cried for help, who needed holding, who begged for death. There were no surprises, only the cruel and plain reality, Gohan had always known it was going to happen. There were those brief windows, though – where his dad wasn't in agony. Where he was able to actually smile at him and every time he did, even if no one said it, it was a goodbye full of love. Until the sickness claimed him again and the cycle of hell resumed.

But – he never got to say goodbye to Piccolo. So it couldn't be.

Gohan shook his head. He couldn't just let it go, like it was nothing.

"I d-don't think they can't sense us," he pressed on. Though something in his throat was starting to swell. "You noticed that, right? They need to see. I… it won't be that dangerous."

"We can't sense them either, can we?" Krillin replied, in a furious hiss. "There's no life force coming from them, at all! I don't know how, I don't know why – but we can't fight those things if we don't know what they a– wait. Wait-wait-wait-wait-wait."

Krillin's eyes darted left and right. He held up a finger, signaling Gohan to be quiet.

Gohan widened his eyes. "W-what?"

"There," Krillin whispered. "Do you hear that?"

Gohan looked over Krillin's shoulder, shaking his head slightly, straining his ears – then he got it. The noise of a door creaking open and there were steps – muffled, far away, but there were steps – Gohan's heart shot in his throat. His eyes were bright, even brighter when he glanced at Krillin before dashing to the hallway with newfound energy. Maybe there was someone who was still alive!

"Hello?" he yelled. "Is somebody there?"

"Gohan," Krillin muttered, sprinting behind Gohan. "Keep it down–

"HELLO!?"

"Oh, dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit."

Krillin cursed Gohan's optimistic spirit under his breath as he caught up with him outside the classroom and into the hallway. He could not help himself – if there ever was a small chance that they were momentarily safe in there, under the radar inside that desolated school, now it was probably all over. The kid could scream and he was stubborn as hell – two traits Krillin wearily suspected came from the maternal pool of genes.

Without stopping, Krillin gritted his teeth at the pain radiating from his flank.

He didn't actually know how or why – in the span of half a day – he had found himself from lounging on the beach of Kame House to running for his life through the misery and degradation of South City. He couldn't wrap his mind around the inescapable reality that all his friends had been there beside him one moment and then gone, forever, the next. He didn't understand what had brought upon humanity the rampage of those brutal monsters who had the outward appearance of a smooth-faced boy and a pretty girl, their strength of another world.

"Gohan, wait!"

One fact stood out in the midst of all that insanity, though: they were alive. Banged up and on their last legs, but amazingly alive and he was determined to keep things that way, and to keep it together – for his sake and for Gohan's sake – but right now Gohan wasn't helping either of the two causes.

"Somebody?" Gohan was yelling again. "Is somebody there?!"

There was no answer and just when they were about to turn a corner, Krillin convinced himself that it was a trap and that they had fallen right into it. He was sure that the icy stares of those killers were waiting for them on the other side. He mentally prepared himself to gather the remains of his energy – to fend off the monstrous pair, to at least give Gohan a chance of survival.

"Here! Here!" a male voice shouted instead. "I'm here!"

Krillin had never been happier of being wrong, but he barely had the time to register the elation. He hurried up along with Gohan; they veered around the corner and the man finally came into view – big and tall, burly and tanned. He had this huge curly hair and was wearing a dark dougi – a white cloak was billowing around his shoulders as he thundered forward, flailing his arms wildly.

"Help, help, you have to help me – oh!"

The man spotted Gohan and skidded to a halt. Suddenly, almost fascinatingly, his whole demeanor changed.

"Hello kid!" he thundered jovially. "What are you doing still here? It doesn't matter, you're safe now! Be not afraid!"

Krillin and Gohan exchanged a glance as they approached at a considerably slower pace.

"…who are you?" Gohan said blankly.

There was a small pause.

"Hahahahaha!" the man positively boomed, his voice reverberating in the empty hallway. "Not a big fan of sports, are you, little guy?" He puffed out his chest and then, under Gohan and Krillin's astonished stares, he proceeded to execute a number of martial arts poses, exaggerating them, moving his arms and legs with flamboyance. "Hah! Hah! Haaa-hyah! I'm Mr. Satan, world's martial arts champion, here to protect you!" he said. His whitened teeth stood out in the shadows as he flashed a roguish grin and flung an arm around Gohan's shoulders. "Everything's gonna be fine now that you're here with me!"

While Gohan slowly turned his head to send a nonplussed look at the huge, damp hand that had come to rest on his shoulder, Krillin looked the man up and down. Sure he was massive, but there wasn't an ounce of power coming from him – it was no wonder they had not being able to sense his presence at once.

"Is this a joke?" Krillin asked wearily.

Mr. Satan's smile disappeared under an indignant scowl. "You wanna touch my belt and see for yourself?"

Krillin's felt his face burn as he took a nice shade of purple. "What?" he blurted out. "No! Shut up!"

"You sure?" Mr. Satan inquired. "Because people would pay to–

"Yes, I'm sure!" Krillin interrupted quickly. He shook his head almost furiously against the insanity of the situation. "Listen, huh, Satan, right – where are all the kids? The teachers?"

"Oh, it's all under control!" Mr. Satan boasted, now back to beam down at Krillin. "I helped evacuate the school!"

"You helped?"

Mr. Satan missed entirely the disbelief lacing Krillin's voice. He nodded proudly. "The military sent me down here to help this morning, after we got the news of Amenbo Island. We cleared this place but then they left me – I mean," he cleared his throat. "I elected to stay behind. To cover, as you can see. You don't have a car or better yet a jet that works hidden somewhere, do you, midget?" he concluded, sternly looking at Krillin down the bridge of his nose.

Krillin glared. "Midget?" he repeated incredulously. "Hey, listen, you dumbass–

"Krillin."

"What?" Krillin said, a little snappish because his tirade against the blundering idiot had been interrupted – but under the smudges of grime, Gohan's face was a mask of death when he set his eyes on it. Krillin knew at once why it was – not a second passed that a terribly human scream of terror came from the direction they had come from – a flash of light filled the hallway– the subsequent explosion made the walls tremble and the pavement shake. Mr. Satan tumbled on the floor ungracefully, with a shriek.

"No-no-no!" someone was shouting.

Two distinct, but equally chilling laughs reverberated throughout the halls.

It was them and they were getting close.

Krillin forgot about Satan, he forgot everything else – they were screwed. Only a couple of meters, and a corner – to separate them from almost certain death.

His heart was pounding fiercely in his chest. His throat was dry. He swallowed and turned to Gohan. "Stay close to me," he whispered hurriedly. He tried to smile at the petrified boy, he hoped he succeeded. "It's not over yet. Kamehameha at the count of three and we go from there, okay – HOOF!"

Krillin had not been anticipating the hand that grabbed him by the scruff of the neck – he felt himself being dragged away along with Gohan.

"What are you doing–!"

He tried to protest, but it came out more as a desperate wheeze – Mr. Satan did not stop until he reached a door and threw both Gohan and Krillin inside. It was yet another deserted classroom, rather large – Krillin suspected it had been Satan's hiding place all along.

"Enough talking!" Mr. Satan said as he ushered them to the back of the room. "Get in there!"

He pushed Gohan and Krillin into a closet and squeezed himself after them before shutting the door. It made a sound like a guillotine.

"Satan, you idiot, now what? We're stuck here like sitting ducks!" Krillin hissed. He felt someone's elbow hitting him square in the guts and barely repressed the curse that was on his lips. He wondered morosely if that closet was at least bigger than a coffin.

"It's crammed, but it's b-better than nothing," Satan said, trying to control his panicked breathing. "I don't wanna die, okay, I can't! So – don't move!"

Krillin found himself face to face with Gohan. Even in the total darkness, he could make out the huge eyes of the kid, so alike those of his father – for some reason Krillin thought of Goku accusing him of stealing the stone with the Kame school kanji written on it.

He tried to send Gohan a silent warning. Whether they wanted it or not they were responsible for Mr. Satan's life now–

Don't do anything stupid…

Gohan tore his eyes away. Krillin didn't dare to breathe. He willed the ferocious beating of his heart to slow down, summoned all his energy into remaining motionless.

Abruptly, someone barged into the classroom and slammed the door. Krillin could hear the heavy breathing, the panting and whimpering and then, despite the heat – despite the terrible heat – the air in his lungs froze right over when he heard the unmistakable wail of a baby on the other side of the wooden door. He heard Satan's strangled gasp. Gohan writhing next to him.

"Mommy –"

"Sweetie, sssh – please be quiet, please be quiet– "

The voice belonged to a woman – she was trying to soothe her baby, but it seemed to be an impossible task – the sobs and desperate gulps were only jumping in volume.

"Krillin–" Gohan was whispering – Krillin's hand shot in the dark. He reached, he frantically searched for any piece of Gohan to grab, to hold him in place – while he strained his ears and his senses. He could feel Gohan and Satan, and the feeble life-forces of the woman and child, both quivering with fear – and nothing else. Why the hell – why the hell couldn't he sense them–

"Krillin, we can't–

Krillin reinforced his hold on Gohan. He raised a hand and clasped it over the kid's mouth, pressing hard, muffling his voice – it was at that moment that an icy drawl traveled across the room, chilling them all to the core.

"Game over, friend. Where are you gonna run now?"

The woman was gasping violently.

"Please spare us – please," she was bawling. "I swear – I swear I won't tell anyone I saw your faces… please..."

"That's funny."

This time, it was a feminine voice, though it was just as flat and cold as the previous one. Krillin could almost picture her in his mind while she spoke, fixing her pale blonde hair behind her ears, the way she had before she'd landed the finishing blow on Tien.

"You're a funny lady. Oh – hey there! Peekaboo! Peekaboo!"

"No! No-no-nonono take me! Take me!"

Krillin felt his blood grow solid. It crystallized with sickening speed in his veins and arteries – he felt Gohan starting to shake and he never loosened his hold on him – but he had to bite down on his own lower lip hard, until he drew blood, to keep himself quiet.

"He's just a kid… I beg you…"

"And a cute kid too!" came the male voice again. "Hi there, little boy! Hi! What's your name? What happened, cat got your tongue? Don't you know that you're supposed to be nice to those who are older than you?" There was a pause. "Hey, you!" the man snarled. "What have you been teaching to your kid?"

"Leave him alone! Leave him alone!"

"Mommy!"

"Tut-tut-tut – no running."

Krillin felt the blood from his lip fill his mouth, he felt it stain his front teeth – he felt Gohan's tears fall, hot and heavy and burning on the palm he was still clasping over the kid's mouth. He felt him struggle desperately but, again, Krillin didn't let go.

"Mom-mom-mom-mom-MOMMY!"

"Oh Kami, nooooo! Noooooo!"

The scream of the mother was not of this earth. A keening sound that rose high from the deepest circle of hell before breaking into a sob and resuming again.

"Aaaaaargh! AAAAAAAAAARGH!"

Krillin closed his eyes – he wished he could cover his ears. To his dying day, he knew he would never forget those screams. He tried to let his thoughts go blurry at the edges. He was doing it so Gohan could survive. He was doing it for the son of his best friend in the world, the first he had ever had. But he was choking there. It was guilt, thick and raw, like sandpaper in his throat.

"Stop screaming, would you," the masculine voice was saying. "Oh, okay, if you insist. It's your turn now. Let it never be said that we don't have a heart."

The mother kept screaming throughout. There was a terrible noise – then it was all silent. Unnaturally silent until the man spoke again.

"Well... this was pretty fun."

"Mh. A medium," said the woman.

"That's because your expectations are too high."

"Seventeen, we've been at it for hours. We burned this stupid place to the ground."

"Right?"

"And we got the green one…"

"That we did."

"The three-eyed guy with the little friend, the guy with the scar…"

"The two weasels ran away, though."

"Who cares? Son Goku's not coming."

Krillin kept holding onto Gohan's shaking form for dear life. Their eyes met in the shadows, they exchanged a look of horror and disbelief.

"What an asshole."

"Whatever. That'll teach us to listen to anything Dr. Gero had to say. Let's go, I need to find some clothes. Can you believe how much blood that kid had in him? Look at my shirt."

"Oh, fine. Should we at least wreck this place?"

"What for? There's no one in here."

"You're the boss, Eighteen."

"Wasn't it nice when she started to wail like a siren?"

"No actually, I thought it was annoying…"

The voices started to grow progressively fainter, and distant, until they disappeared entirely.

A moment passed, then another – gradually Krillin became aware of his own breathing loud in his ears – of Mr. Satan quivering beside him – of the look in Gohan's eyes like a fever burning and Krillin knew what was about to happen before it did.

"Oh goddammit, wait – GOHAN!"

Gohan banged out of their hiding spot with a fury Krillin had seen on the boy only once or twice before–

"Hey, don't leave me here alone!" Satan was shrieking.

Krillin went after Gohan but they didn't go far – immediately, he saw him pitch forward, face first. Gohan hit the floor with a thud and, while his heart skipped wildly, for a terrible moment Krillin was convinced that the boy had been shot down by the two murderers.

It took him a moment to realize – when the reek of fresh blood hit his senses – that Gohan had just slipped.

It was everywhere, the blood – painting the floor, the walls, filling the room with its sharp, metallic stench. Krillin stood very still for a moment. Only his eyes moved, taking it all in. He felt bile threatening to crawl up and out of his throat and he swallowed hard, clenching his jaw.

"Oh, Kami… oh, oh good Kami…" Mr. Satan's booming voice had reduced itself into something else, into something squeezed thin. It was echoing strangely in Krillin's ears. "They cut her head off for Kami's sake!"

Krillin dropped to his knees next to Gohan. He put a hand on his back, helped him to his feet.

"A-are you alright?" he asked and even as he was saying it, he knew it was wrong. Gohan's face was contorted – smudges of blood that didn't belong to him smeared all over it, the whole top of his gi soaked in dark, in black. His eyes were glazed over, far away.

Krillin looked at him, wary. "Gohan, buddy…"

"AAAAAARGH!"

With an inhuman scream, Gohan's aura exploded. Krillin flung a hand across his eyes to shield them, he felt Mr. Satan screech in shock over the tumult – once again, he knew he had to act fast.

"What are you doing?" Krillin yelled, grasping Gohan's wrist firmly just as he was about to flung himself out of the room. "What are you doing?"

"LET ME GO!" Gohan bellowed.

"Gohan! I know this is scary but–

"I'm not scared I want to kill them!" Gohan screamed, all in one breath, as he fought and thrashed and clawed against Krillin as though possessed by a demon. "I want to kill them! Do you hear me? I'll kill them!"

"Gohan, don't!"

Krillin shook Gohan, struggling desperately to hold him back because he knew that if he let the boy slip from his fingers, everything would be lost forever. But it was getting so hard – fueled by his rage, Gohan's ki was almost abrasive. "Stop it! Calm down! We can't do anything, we don't have the–

"I'LL KILL THEM!"

"Stop! You have to – you have to stop it! This – this has to be worth something!" Krillin screamed and it came out hoarse and painful because he wanted to cry, to outright weep, and he couldn't. "Think about our friends! If you die today their deaths will be all for nothing! Is that what you want? Keep shouting and they'll come back and then we will all die because you can't keep it together for one se–

The impact of Gohan's fist against his face sent Krillin reeling back. The pain exploded in tiny little dots in his vision for a second, before his sight came back and he was able to regain his balance – he saw Satan staring at the scene in shock, mouth hanging wide open and, for an insane second, he was actually tempted to laugh.

"Ugh, okay…" Krillin muttered, dabbing at the fresh blood trickling down the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. "At least now we know you pack one hell of a hook. Not that I had doubts, but great. Great…"

Gohan was staring at him with eyes impossibly wide – his breathing was ragged, he was blinking fast – Krillin saw the tears and exhaled deeply, taking a step forward, trying to imagine what Goku would have done in his place, then quickly pushing the painful thought aside.

"Come here, buddy," he said, snaking an arm across Gohan's shoulders, hugging him tightly, trying to make him feel that he wasn't alone. "Come here…"

Gohan let himself being cradled, limp like a doll while a sob and then another escaped him. Krillin thought that they were always too quick to forget Gohan was just a child, as he let the boy bury his face in his chest to weep his heart out.

"G-guys," Mr. Satan rasped after a while. "I think I hear something–

Krillin looked up, remembering what they were doing there in the first place. Satan was right – there was something. He gently disentangled himself from Gohan. Gohan didn't protest, he did nothing. He just stood there, looking like a ghost, shut down, not sobbing anymore.

"We can't stay here," Krillin said. "We've got to move."

He glanced at the mangled bodies feeling like the shittiest human being. Knowing that he was doing what was necessary for Gohan, who was a kid, and hope belonged to kids – but as for peace, peace in his soul – Krillin knew he would never find it again.

They left the room, moving in silence down the deserted hallway, back to where they had come from – every shadow disorienting in the encroaching darkness. Then the little noise repeated itself. It was a ticking sound, almost rhythmical – Krillin felt something cold crawl up his spine, between his shoulder blades. Once again, he hoped to any deity that was listening that he wasn't leading them into a trap.

"Oh no!" Mr. Satan said, clinging to Krillin's arm. "They're back! They're back, they're back! What do we do now? What do we do now?"

Krillin twisted his arm away. "Kami, Satan, shut up!" he snapped, trying to keep his voice low as possible. "You're freaking me out! I think I…"

Krillin trailed off. He looked around, he made a three hundred and sixty degrees spin with Satan cowering behind his back – he had a hunch, but it was so out there that he didn't dare to trust his senses. It was then that the sound intensified and then a ferocious racket of broken glasses echoed throughout the halls.

"SSSHH!" Krillin said harshly, seeing as Mr. Satan had already opened his mouth to let out a scream – Satan gulped and he kept quiet while they edged closer.

Another couple of steps and they saw the window. On the other side, there was a very familiar figure hitting what once had been a double glazed glass with the back of a gun.

"I knew it!" Krillin exclaimed, but still, he couldn't quite believe what was happening before his eyes. He ran. "How – BULMA!"

Bulma was aiming the final blow to the window.

"Krillin!"

The relief in her voice was palpable. She quickly sneaked her hand inside the hole she was responsible for and blindly grabbed the handle on the other side, twisting it. She pushed the window open and clumsily climbed over, mindful of the broken glass – Krillin reached her, he extended a hand to help her down.

"Take your time, will you," Bulma said breathlessly. When both her feet were firmly planted on the ground, she finally looked up and Krillin felt her eyes flicker all over his face. "You don't wanna look at yourself into a mirror now," she said.

No kidding, Krillin thought sourly – but for the first time during that cursed day, for the space of a heartbeat, he actually felt normal. It was the way they always talked to each other and it felt good. He tried to smirk, even if it came out more of a grimace.

"Oh, y-you think?!" he replied nevertheless. "What are you doing here?"

Mr. Satan and Gohan had caught up with them. Gohan was moving like an automaton and Bulma's eyes, sparkling in the darkness, were glued on him as she answered briskly. "I'm getting us out of here, what do you think I'm doing?"

Krillin shook his head in disbelief. "You're crazy. Crazy. Crazy…"

But Bulma wasn't paying attention. "Gohan…" she was saying, her voice softer than Krillin had ever heard it, gentle as anything. "Hey..."

"Baldie here is right, miss!" Mr. Satan chose that moment to butt in, and to do it loudly."This is no place for a woman!"

Krillin gritted his teeth. "Satan, huh, remind me later to kill you, please," he said. "In case we don't die."

Bulma's eyes were flashing and Krillin thought he didn't envy the guy one bit. He watched her looking down at the man's feet, then up at him, her nose scrunched up, her lips curled into a grimace. "And who the hell are you?" she snarled.

There was a very awkward pause.

"Ha!" Mr. Satan said, smiling widely at Bulma. "A sense of humor for a change! I like it!"

Bulma seemed on the verge of exploding – but then she apparently decided to not rise to the bait. He turned her glowering eyes to Krillin instead.

"Krillin, what is wrong with this guy?"

Krillin rolled his eyes. "A lot."

"Oh, good."

Mr. Satan looked between the two of them with wide eyes – the realization that they absolutely, genuinely, categorically didn't know who he was finally hitting home.

"I…," he said, in a flat tiny voice and shaking his head slightly. "I can't believe I'm facing the apocalypse with the most uninformed bunch of the planet."

Krillin gaped at him for one long second, in actual astonishment, hoping for Mr. Satan's sake that that was just shock talking and nothing else; then he shook his head forcefully once again, trying to hold on to what little sanity he had left, to what little fuel he still had to function. It wasn't that much. He could feel his legs getting progressively weak.

"Tell me you have some water…" he said to Bulma, almost beseeching her.

"Water, sure…" Bulma said. She rummaged in her crossbody bag and came up with a capsule. A moment and a poof later, they discovered it contained enough bottles of water to quench the thirst of a small army and neither Krillin nor Mr. Satan needed further encouragement - they catapulted themselves over and drank greedily, trying to wash away the dust, and the smell of blood and death that was clinging to the back of their throats, to their sinuses like some kind of cancer.

Gohan made no move and Bulma turned to him.

"Gohan, hey," she said again. "Are... are you okay? Aren't you thirsty?"

Krillin chanced a glance at the pair over the rim of his bottle. Gohan wasn't answering – he was looking at Bulma as if she was a fountain, an inanimate object spitting inconsequential words as though they were mere water. Krillin couldn't find it in him to blame the boy.

"Here," Bulma said, taking a handkerchief from her pocket. "Wipe your face. Here."

She was handing the white piece of cloth to him, but Gohan disregarded that too. He made no move to take it, he made no move at all.

"It's alright," Bulma said calmly. "Is – is it okay if I help you?"

There finally was a blink. Then a shrug.

Bulma hesitated for a moment, chewing on her lips. Then she took a step forward and began to wipe the grime and the blood off Gohan's face. Krillin observed the way she was strikingly out of place with her unblemished appearance in that hell they had found themselves into and her tentative movements – as if for once she didn't know if she was doing it right – and, while his mind fluttered to Goku for the umpteenth time that day, he thought – not without a pang of longing – that that, without the shadow of a doubt, was what love looked like.

"What happened?" Bulma said after a moment, while she folded the handkerchief to find a clean side and then resuming her work. Krillin knew the question was for him. He drained the last of his water and winced, as the pain from his injury made itself known again.

"I'll tell you later."

While Krillin bandaged his wound, Gohan was sitting down, slumped hopelessly on the hallway floor.

Once cleaned, his skin had no color at all – Bulma could see it, translucent in the semi-darkness. His eyes were glazed over, and wide - he looked so young it was hurting her. She wanted with all her heart to tell him again that she was there to help if he wanted but, even in her mind, the offer felt empty. It was an awful feeling – her entire body was buzzing with the need to move, to make it better, to do something.

It was then that she noticed that Mr. Satan was nowhere to be seen. They had to leave, and soon – and while she didn't like the guy one bit, she guessed it was up to her to go look for him. She sent an unnerved glance to the looming darkness of the hallway and swallowed, the feeling of foreboding intensifying when she pointed her flashlight to the floor and took a good look at the three different sets of bloody footprints.

I'll tell you later.

She walked slowly, following the trail backward – she thought about Krillin's terse words, about Gohan's vacant eyes and she had the certainty that she was walking right into the mouth of a tomb.

When she found Satan, she knew she had been right. She was always right.

The air smelled of long forgotten rust. Bulma stood, still as stone, at the door of the room – she saw Mr. Satan, the guy she didn't like that much, kneeling beside the broken body of a little boy.

Bulma's heart lurched. She thought for a moment that she was going to be sick, but then she didn't – her pale fingers were tight around the flashlight, so much that the plastic creaked – her other hand was trembling and she closed it in a fist to control it, fingernails buried deep into her palms.

There was another body, much larger, in the opposite corner of the room – it was covered with what she recognized was Mr. Satan's white cloak.

Moving stiffly she took a step forward, then another. Then she kneeled next to Satan. Her mind reeling, freefalling. She wished her soul could leave her body so it did not have to deal with any of that. After that – what could there ever be, after the death of a child?

"He was barely older than Trunks," Bulma heard her voice say, barely above a whisper. "My son."

Mr. Satan kept his head down.

"I have a kid too," he said after a long moment and to Bulma it was as though it was the first time she heard him talking. "She's waiting for me at home. I'm – I'm all she has."

Bulma tore her eyes away from the boy. She looked at Mr. Satan, long and hard, and nodded. Then she undid the jacket she had previously tied around her waist because it was so hot and gently covered the poor remains with it.

They sat there for a long moment, without a word. Then they squared their shoulders and got up because, even if it was almost impossible to conceive, they at least owed it to their kids to pull themselves together and keep putting one foot in front of the other.

"Bulma, listen," Krillin said, balling up the remaining of the gauze she had given him earlier and throwing it to one side. He climbed to his feet. "We have to get out of here, fast… but I don't think I can fly that far and..."

Bulma watched him pause and throw a sideway glance at Gohan.

"What would you ever do without me?" she said. "I've got it."

Krillin rewarded her with a small smile. Lips barely curved but it was there.

"Right, riiight..."

They climbed out one at a time using the window Bulma had forced open, Krillin for last.

"Krillin," Bulma said once they were all back in the street. She was about to throw a capsule and halted her arm in midair. "Where are the others? Where's Yamcha?"

Krillin said nothing. Bulma didn't need to look over her shoulder and see Krillin's stern face. She knew. She knew that for like forty-five seconds, that morning, back in her kitchen, she had held in her hands the power to change Yamcha's destiny. But she hadn't and now it was too late. The knowledge grabbed her heart and squeezed without release. She felt her eyes burn and her throat swell, the pain as useless as it was inexorable.

Bulma looked in the rearview mirror. Gohan was in the back of the small, inconspicuous flying car, squeezed beside Mr. Satan. She couldn't see his face – his bangs were covering his eyes and she hoped against hope that the kid was asleep. She exhaled heavily.

"Do you want me to drive?" Krillin said from the passenger seat.

Bulma shook her head. "I'm fine."

Her grip on the steering wheel tightened. She focused on the road ahead – trying desperately to hold onto her promise, onto the task at hand because it was the only thing that made her not want to curl into a ball and cry herself to death thinking about this sweet desert-bandit boy she used to know and love.

"We're almost there.

"And that's… that's about all."

Krillin sighed and leaned back in his seat, looking completely and utterly spent. With the corner of one eye, Bulma saw the trees flying by her side, past the window in a blur of green as she continued to steer the car north-east. She let Krillin's tale settle on her skin like mist before speaking.

"Are you sure?" she said eventually, sending a sidelong glance to her friend. "I mean, the Red Ribbon Army…"

"Yeah, I told you," Krillin said. "I saw the symbol on their clothes."

"But–

"I know, but I know what I saw today."

Bulma scowled but she kept quiet; she hoped Krillin knew that her letting him talk to her that way was a once in a lifetime special occurrence. She inhaled and exhaled deeply.

"Okay, sooo…" she began. "You're saying they looked like perfectly normal human beings, that they shoot blasts out of their hands but that no life-force came from them. So what are they? Machines? Androids? Cyborgs?" she fired and she got a deadpan glare for her efforts.

"You're asking me?"

"Well, since you seem so sure of what you saw!"

"How should I know?! I feel like my head's gonna pop off!" Krillin exclaimed. "Is there a difference between those things anyway?"

Bulma rolled her eyes, not bothering to hide her impatience anymore. "Of course there is," she said. "You see, a cyborg is – pfft, nevermind."

Krillin shook his head.

"They were… murderers," he said, looking out the window. His voice sounded very distant. "Cold-blooded murderers. That's what they were… incredibly strong. I've never seen anything like that before. Never, ever – I think the whole population of the South Continent is gone. I – I don't think there's anyone still alive down there."

Bulma went to object – to tell Krillin that he couldn't possibly know that for sure, but the words died before they even reached her lips. She thought it was very tiring, very difficult – to do Goku's job. To remind their friends that as long as they were alive and kicking maybe, just maybe, that wasn't the end. At her side, Krillin was squeezing his teeth so tight she could hear the jaw creaking, she could see the articulation flexing at his temple.

"Yamcha…" he was saying. "Tien… Chiaotzu… Piccolo…"

"The dragon balls…" Bulma murmured.

For a crazy, irrational moment she felt that the tears that were long due that day were finally about to pour out – over something that wasn't even alive to begin with. And she really wanted to cry as she imagined the orange glow of the dragon balls fade and disappear – as they turned to dust and died altogether.

"They don't exist anymore," Krillin finished for her, grimly. "There's just us. Humans."

"Mh."

"Unless…" Krillin's face amazingly lit up. He sat up straight. "Unless…" he repeated slowly. "Hey, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Bulma snorted. "That's highly unlikely."

Mr. Satan's curly head emerged between the two of them from the backseat. "If you're thinking about me, I may be strong but I'm one hundred percent human, I can assure you!" he said. "I'm flattered, though."

Krillin threw the guy yet another incredulous glance. "What? No! Shut up!" he said quickly. "Bulma!"

"What?"

"You know what."

"Are you kidding me?" Bulma said. When Krillin's stupid expression didn't change, she sighed irritably. "Look, for all I know he's not even here on Earth anymore!"

The lie tumbled off her tongue with ease. Krillin's stare was too intent, though, for him to have bought it.

"If you say so," he said.

"I haven't spoken to him in ages, I don't know where to find him," Bulma went on. "But if I did, I would tell him to go to hell! I wouldn't go to him for help!"

"I wouldn't either, but we're a little short on options right now!" Krillin countered hotly. "Teaming up with Vegeta might the only chance we have to put a stop to this madness!"

Bulma almost wanted to laugh."Yeah, good luck with that!" she said and then, for a few minutes, there was silence but for the low whirr of the car's engine and Bulma dared to hope that the subject had been dropped. But then Krillin turned on his seat again to look at her.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" he insisted and Bulma growled under her breath. She gripped the steering wheel so tight it was a wonder it didn't come off.

"Because I really, really, really don't want to talk about him," she said through gritted teeth, trying to keep her voice at a reasonable volume. "DAMMIT!"

"Well..." Krillin was unfazed by her short outburst. "Think about it, it would be team Namek all over again," he said and he wiggled his eyebrows. "Remember?"

The irony had not escaped Bulma, but many other details had most definitely escaped Krillin. "Sure," she sneered. "Because it ended up so well for everybody, huh? Especially for you."

She didn't take her eyes off the road. Krillin opened his mouth then closed it, then opened it again–

"…except Vegeta's Super Saiyan now."

"What?!"

Krillin and Bulma both yelled at the same time – the shock of the news outdone only by the relief that Gohan had finally broken his self-imposed silence.

"I sensed it," Gohan explained, in a flat, dejected voice. "A long time ago. I sensed a ki rising and morphing into something I knew I had felt before and for a moment I thought… but no, it was Vegeta. Vegeta is a Super Saiyan, I'm sure of it."

"...a super what?"

"How could I miss it?" Krillin mused out loud, squirming on his seat, blatantly ignoring Mr. Satan's question. "Those Saiyans! They have it so easy, they irritate the hell out of me! No offense, Gohan. You too, Bulma."

"Shut up," Bulma replied automatically, without thinking of it, without stopping to process what exactly she was supposed to be offended about. On the backseat, Gohan was quiet again and a trace of humor touched Krillin's eyes, a glint of fondness. "Man, if Goku was here we wouldn't hear the end of it!" he said. "I wish he was here. He'd know what to do–

The blink of an eye and the world exploded.

It turned upside down with a catastrophe of broken glass, of frightening screams, of flashes of light, of their surrounding disintegrating into no place at all.

"Oh, shi–!" Bulma shrieked.

The light burned blue through her closed eyelids and the collision rocked her forward then backward – she hit her head against something and she inexplicably remembered about a sky that was impossibly bright and wide and blue, glittering like an ocean. She guessed she was dying and she hoped it would be quick, then she saw something. There was something she had to get, something she had to reach no matter what. It was spinning before her eyes like a firefly, bobbing in and out of reach, in yellow, in gold.

"Goku–! "

She extended a hand and snatched the balloon holding it firmly because, if she held it tight enough, nothing would take it.

.

.

.

Author's note: Hello everyone! First of all sorry for the long wait and thank you to anybody who's still interested and who still has the patience to stick with me and my mess of a fanfiction!

This chapter – well, it was hard to write for a number of very different reasons. I hope you can like it somehow and that you can find something positive underneath it all, in Bulma's character and motivations at this point of the story, and the Krillmaster also, who I feel is a very loyal friend in canon and to whom I'm trying to do justice here. I love him, even if he doesn't have a nose and we can't even write a scene where he properly gets punched in the face! Krillin do you even know how lucky you are? XD

Thanks to each one of you who has left a review, an advice, critique or a little nod of encouragement! I feel like a special thank you should go to my good friends Noldien and Light Angel who were there for me when I was very close to drop the ball. Love you guys!

Hugs to you all,

aquapen