Full Bloom

Piccolo sleeps soundly. The blankets swallow his thin, ravaged body, making him appear smaller than his actual seven foot height. He still has his muscles. His body is just much thinner, almost delicate. He still looks so graceful and perfect. Hanging on to life like a feather drifting towards a black hole. Barely alive and not yet beyond us. Everyone has said goodbye. Everyone but Gohan.

But I know he will when he's ready.

Piccolo...he's so close to the end now. Each breath he takes is a strain, even with oxygen to help him. His skin is cold and getting pale. He'll probably die before the sun rises tomorrow. He could also stop breathing right now.

I think he's waiting for Gohan to come around. Over the months I've gotten to know Piccolo...and love him...I've learned that he would do anything for my son. Gohan is like a son to him, just as important as little Doramu.

His heart is like a closed rosebud that refuses to open. It will bloom when the time is right.

Trouble is, stubborn roses usually die soon after they open.

I take Piccolo's spindly hand in my own. It's so cold. I kiss and caress the papery skin until it warms. Then I say all my goodbyes. He can hear me, I know it. Suddenly the thin fingers in my grasp close around my hand. I look down and see Piccolo is awake. This may be the last time he'll ever be conscious.

Raw emotion paints a new picture on the canvas that is his face. His dark eyes shine like polished onyx and his bottom lip quakes violently. He bites it furiously. Struggling for control he lost long ago. That iron lid on his emotions can't protect him now.

I've never seen him show so much feeling. I can see all his pain, sorrow and fear. He's terrified of what's coming for him.

No, I can't just sit and hold his hand. Piccolo needs more. "Piccolo...it's okay to cry...it's okay. Here..." I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him close to my chest. He's trembling so hard! My throat clutches up, my heart aching for him. So much pain and he still tries to conceal it behind apathy. I rest Piccolo's head on my shoulder so I can stroke the back of his bald, green head.

Moisture brushes against my collar and neck. He's losing his battle.

"Let it go, it's okay. I'm here, you're not alone in this anymore." I beg him to release his agony...the only way he'll ever rest in peace is if he lets everything go.

Piccolo's eyes screw tightly shut. I hear him gritting his teeth harshly, like pieces of granite rubbing together. I just know he's scared. So much he'll never see.

"ChiChi..." the battle decides itself. The weakened Namek's entire body shudders with violent sobs. They are far from silent, almost like he's never cried before in his life. Like short growls, the sound rumbles from his throat, trembling in search of freedom. His hands grasp my dress tightly as he sobs into my shoulder. "I'm afraid, ChiChi...I don't want to die!" He admits his pain. The walls are down. He lays out every dream he'll never see come true between gasps and sobs that twist his voice unusually small. "I want to see my son grow up! I want to see Gohan become a man! I want to see his wife and children! I want...I...I...want..." for a moment he mumbles something unintelligible. Then he bursts out, "I want to live, ChiChi...I want to live...please, I want to live..."

He's begging me for his life...or pleading to a higher power. These tears hold every wound on his soul. The scars are torn open and bleeding. Waiting for love to soothe them.

I continue holding Piccolo close. Running my hand up to his scalp and down the back of his neck like I've seen him do for Doramu whenever he cries. My other hand snakes up under his pajama shirt and brushes skin on skin against his back. Finding his spine is easy now, when it wasn't before. I hum an old lullaby my mother used to sing for me. Softly into his ear so I won't startle him. "Shhh...I know, I know..." I sway back and forth as if he were a child in need of a mother's care. In many ways, he is.

I can't believe this gentle man, whom I once thought was evil incarnate, held all that pain inside his whole life.

Piccolo's sobbing starts calming down. Just soft breathing, sniffling and occasional shaky sighs. His hands let go of my kimono and rest flat against my back. He rubs his face against my shoulder, his soft breath tickling my neck. The material feels cool because his tears soaked completely through. Years of pain released and evaporating into the cool afternoon air.

I feel his heartbeat next to my own. He's gone fully quiet now, like I've given him something he desired for a long while. All the time I knew Goku, I never saw him cry. Not once. Never did I imagine I would be in this moment with Piccolo.

"I...I understand now," Piccolo lifts his head to stare at my eyes. His antennae are erect, he looks completely alert. In his liquid black eyes, eyes now glowing with a new light, I see a dawning epiphany. Innocence surrounds this new, awed expression. And his voice reflects this with the three simple words that set his heart free, "I love you..."

Just like that, I watched the rose burst open in a brilliant flash of color and light. Nothing is more beautiful than a heart in bloom.

I close my eyes and struggle for control. This is not time for me to wail like a madwoman.

Leaning forward, I brush my lips against Piccolo's forehead, his salt-streaked cheeks and finally his boyish lips. Piccolo clasps my face between both large hands and kisses me back. Not just a clumsy little parting of the lips like he used to. No, this kiss is flooded with passion and desires never to be fulfilled. His tongue is like velvet against mine. Soft and pliable, yet powerful. Though his body is weak, his lips are still strong. He's kissing me the way I kissed him on his birthday.

More tears leak onto his face. I feel my own escaping. They meet in the middle to become bigger blobs of liquid. Dripping over our hands like rain on windowpanes. Trails of desire.

Briefly I wonder if he ever...if we ever could've made love. I don't think his anatomy would allow it. I didn't feel anything there when I washed him the day of his accident.

Piccolo's lips continue their dance with mine. My breath is stolen. I would throw away my soul to give him my body for just one moment. To have those hands grow strong again and touch my body...but this fantasy will never be realized.

The kiss ends abruptly. I inhale his exhaled breath. Trying to absorb some part of him into myself. Against his lips I whisper, "I love you too..."

Obsidian eyes stare up at my face. Exhaustion clouds them, green eyelids soon shrouding them from my sight. His large frame goes limp in my arms as he rests against me. I want to hold him longer. But if I do, he might become too tired to speak with Gohan one final time. I don't want to deprive Gohan of Piccolo's last conscious moments on this earth. I've told Piccolo all I need to tell him. Now it's Gohan's turn.

I help Piccolo to lay down, fix his pillows so he's comfortable and pull the covers up to his chin to keep him warm. His handsome...yes, I could use that word to describe him...his handsome face is so radiant now. Like a stained glass window lit from within, it's beautiful.

Now I know I won't be sorry if I don't see him pass on. He probably wouldn't want to share that moment with anyone other than Gohan.

I slip from the room to release my own pain. Gohan hears me and comes to comfort me. I send him away to say his last goodbyes to Piccolo. We almost fight...but he gives in.

Piccolo wakes up for Gohan. They gaze at each other. Then Gohan dresses Piccolo in his fighting garments, and Piccolo pulls Gohan into his arms the same way I did for him a few moments previous. I can't hear what they're saying to each other. Gohan is in tears.

As Gohan speaks to him, Piccolo gradually loses consciousness. I think he's letting go. His hold on life is growing more fragile by the second. I almost expect him to die right here. But his breathing continues. Softer than ever.

Still, his face remains turned towards Gohan's voice. His eyes gleaming with pride even in his unconsciousness.

I approach Gohan and touch his back. He immediately controls himself.

"It's okay," I hug him against my chest, stroking his lovely black hair, "He heard you...I could see a small glimmer in his eye as you spoke."

Gohan doesn't want my comfort, he wants to be alone. He slips from my hug and departs into the hallway, again in tears. He needs a moment to think.

I approach Piccolo again. His eyes are closed now and his mouth slightly open, his abundant collar keeping it from gaping too far. His breath hisses in and out between his lips as he breathes like someone deeply asleep. There is no response when I speak to him. I try rubbing his arm, but still nothing. He has let go. I'm pretty sure he'll just slowly stop breathing and slip away the middle of the night. That's the best way to die - while asleep.

Alas, I must leave to make dinner.

Everyone has eaten and those who came over to say their goodbyes have all left. I check inside the bedroom and see Gohan removing Piccolo's weighted cape and turban. Piccolo is so limp now and his skin is changing deathly colors. So pale and weak.

Like I feared, the rose in bloom is wilting.

He is definitely going to die tonight. There's no way he could linger like this for another day. Especially since he's let go.

Gohan stands by Piccolo's bedside, holding his hand. The Namek's chest heaves each time he inhales. His breathing is labored. The hollows in his neck deepen. That must hurt. I watch how the pillow cradles his head and fragile neck, shadows playing over his closed eyes and naturally frowning brow. Anger no longer twists his emerald features. He looks...happy.

"Mom, I think he's wet."

I reach over and check. Yes, he is. Gohan and I both change him, using a towel to preserve his privacy. There isn't much liquid...I think Gohan just wanted to change him for comfort. I don't mind. I wouldn't want to see a friend die in his own fluids either. Piccolo doesn't respond at all when we shift him around. The only sign he still lives is his chest moving slowly up and down. I believe he's aware of us. So I tell him, "It's okay...we're just getting you comfortable again."

Dear Kami, I'm so exhausted. Piccolo was really bad last night, he had a pain-seizure, and Gohan wanted me to sit up until either the inevitable happened or the suffering passed.

Before I sit down to rest, I place a soft kiss on Piccolo's parted lips and sing softly, "Swing low, sweet chariot...comin' forth to carry me home...swing low, sweet chariot...comin' forth to carry me home."

And that's the last thing I do before falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Something startles me awake. I jerk my head up to see Gohan holding Piccolo tightly in his arms. Piccolo's eyes and mouth are open, his face relaxed into a weird, unnatural expression. It dawns on me that he's no longer alive. All I see is the empty chrysalis shell left behind...the butterfly no longer resides inside.

But his eyes are open. That means he must've been conscious when he died. Or at least partially so.

Gohan looks at me helplessly. I realize he said goodbye, but didn't mean it. His heart is torn to shreds and he can't turn back the clock to say his true farewell. My heart aches for him...I don't know if he'll ever get over this pain. I'm still numb with disbelief, and check Piccolo's wrist for a pulse.

Not even a flutter.

"Gohan..." I hedge. Piccolo's hand is so limp, like an old log devoid of anything living. "He's gone, Gohan."

That only makes him hurt worse. Piccolo's life is over and Gohan must accept that. I know I have, I did when I held him in my arms this afternoon.

My son wants no part of my solace. It takes him ages just to put Piccolo down and physically let him go. His bald head rolls sideways, lifeless, against the white pillow. Fixed black eyes peer into me, beyond me. I get a sudden chill when I realize I'm staring at death itself.

From what Gohan tells me, Piccolo spoke of a beautiful sunrise...and then just went quiet and stopped breathing. No struggle for breath. No pain. Just...silent peace. Like I hoped it would be.

I close Piccolo's eyes and massage his face into a more natural expression. Even in death he still smiles at something secret. Like he knows the punchline to a joke nobody understands. I never knew he had a heart-shaped mouth, he always had his lips twisted up in thought. Even while he was unconscious, they found a way to tense enough to hide from view. His noble face is perfect. Chiseled in stone and made flesh - and soon to become ash.

Piccolo is so still and peaceful. I curl up next to him and pull him to my breast again. Only this time his arms don't move to wrap around me in return. They'll never move again. I caress his face and his tapered hands. Still slightly warm, almost as if life hasn't completely left him yet. Like some part of him is lingering for a moment longer.

They say hearing is the last to go when someone dies...he must be waiting for something.

Gohan moves away and picks Doramu up. The baby says his first word. "Da-da."

My son breaks down. Doramu repeats his new word, smiling towards his dead father. Not aware that those ever-changing eyes are eternally closed.

The last lingering warmth leaves Piccolo's skin. I think I felt his soul being whisked away to wherever people go after they're time on Earth is over.

And that is when I realize flower that is Piccolo's heart didn't wither away after all. It'll stay in full bloom forever, a lovely multi-faceted rose in Heaven, casting light into eternity. I know this because he planted it in Doramu, myself and Gohan. He died knowing this.

Hearts in full bloom never wither. Not even the stubborn ones.

Goodbye, Piccolo.