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The weight of Cell Max’s foot was intense, like the planet of all androids was bearing down on him and Piccolo had nearly given in to the weight of it. Gamma Two, Krillin and himself had nearly been crushed by it. All his ligaments had been strained, detaching from bone as he forced himself to hold the monster back. Krillin was talking but he could barely hear it, all he could hear was the sound of death, the colour of it darkening in his unsteady vision. Gamma Two was lying limp on his side, curled up like an infant in the dust.
He wouldn’t save him, all the pain had meant nothing, his tendons had snapped for a fool’s errand because the android had flittered off into the wind anyway. Nothing Piccolo did mattered, not for the perpetually smiling Gamma. He didn’t know why it bothered him quite so much but the image burned in his mind regardless; not the vision of the android disappearing or the sadness on his brother’s face, not the moment Gamma Two had brought down all hell and somehow missed. The sight that haunted Piccolo was the pitch black of the monster’s boot as he stared up at it. The thought of Cell Max stepping on Gamma Two had curdled everything Piccolo had inside.
As the weeks went by, he’d see it less, as the months passed, he saw it only in his dreams. It was a relief but every time he was unfortunate enough to relive it, he’d wake up cold. Startled awake by the weight of the beast, by Krillin’s kind insistence. The dragon balls were useless and Piccolo didn’t even feel guilt for thinking it, if the dragon wanted to smite him for being disrespectful, it could. Apparently, nothing could bring back the young man that had died for them all, yet any number of questionable people had lived time and time again, even himself. How many chances was he going to be given whilst Gamma Two had only one?
Who ruled the world if not the very Gods who denied innocence yet let demons live again?
Piccolo went about his day as usual, he poured himself a cold glass of water and meditated as the sun climbed in the sky. He trained until the late afternoon, until his nerves were severed and his fingers were numb, until his feet wouldn’t pick up. He bled, he bruised, but he lived, he healed. Another gift given, another limb he would regrow. The injustice of it felt like acid on his tongue, he started to hate himself, to resent his own skin, his regenerating blood, the wrinkles that wouldn’t form on his face. The feeling he was sinking in wasn’t familiar to him and he was too far in its grip by the time he remembered its name. It was too late. For the first time in his tumultuous life, he resented his long life. It was precisely why, later that evening, he was so stumbled, so overwhelmed.
Piccolo was watering the late blossoms Chi-chi had gifted him, once the sun had dwindled. They flourished at the Son’s but so far up high, they were grateful for every drop of water not burning or icy. He turned to look over the lake but instead of finding comfort in the silent blanket of autumn water, his eyes fixated on the man standing on its bank. He had no chi, no trace of life that Piccolo could sense. The Namekian stalled with the silver watering can in his hand, wondering if finally, after months of pondering and drowning, he had gone mad. The images in his mind now stalked the waking world.
He said nothing as Gamma Two walked towards him with a smile broader than anything Piccolo had managed to elicit in anyone. His voice was deeper than his demeanour warranted.
“Piccolo Daimao”
Piccolo stared at the man’s amber uniform and it’s large, obnoxious buttons. At the cape that his twin had cradled when he had died. Lime eyes greeted his own and they squinted along with his smile, full of that senseless humour Piccolo didn’t understand. Piccolo’s voice was quiet, too quiet really considering it was so remote, but he didn’t want anyone to hear him talking to himself.
“Is it…is it really you?”
Gamma Two laughed and the sound made Piccolo’s antennae burn.
“Who else? I know I died but…you know I’m not organic right?”
Piccolo did know that but it wasn’t helpful in the least. The android walked up to him confidently and Piccolo resisted the urge to run into his house, to shamefully hide from the apparition. Gamma Two stopped a couple of feet away.
“They rebuilt me, downloaded my memories. I don’t know if that means I am me or not, but here I am”
The Namek stood straight and swallowed, fighting the fit of emotion that wanted to spew forth. By they did he mean Dr Hedo and Bulma? Gamma Two smiled again but softly this time. Piccolo looked caught, human, or something like that. The last time he had seen the Demon King, he’d been a figure of stone, a fighter for all mankind; now he looked like a man who’d seen a ghost, without his cape, without his smirk. Piccolo still said nothing, he couldn’t conjure a single thought but he knew it was amassing like a spectacle on his face. He could feel his jaw clenching, his traitorous eyes sting.
Gamma Two stepped forward and tried not to be discouraged when Piccolo took a step back, and he didn’t flinch as Piccolo collided with the wall of his home.
“Piccolo”
He dare not go any further, Gamma Two stopped with inches to spare, close enough to trap the man but far enough to let him breathe. He felt commanded to keep Piccolo close, to not let the man run a second time. Gamma Two stared up at the tall Namekian, at his dark, unyielding eyes. He’d awoken in confusion and Bulma had told him the tale, then Gohan had given him details with clipped words. He’d gone to his brother first, and Dr Hedo, but as the week ended, he’d itched to see Piccolo Daimao, the demon that had evaded him. The man that had tried so fucking hard to save him. Gamma Two found it odd that he cared, really, but the desire to seek the Namekian out was too strong to ignore. Whatever tether that tied them was as concrete as his own skin. Piccolo finally replied.
“You’re alive”
Gamma Two smiled again and Piccolo watched as it lit up the android’s colourful eyes.
“I am”
“And you came here”
It wasn’t a question, but Gamma Two answered it anyway.
“I did”
Piccolo searched Gamma Two’s eyes in the fading sun for deception, for a reason, but he didn’t find anything but fondness. The softness in the man’s gaze couldn’t be for him, it wasn’t reasonable. Piccolo dropped the water can and it landed softly on the flower bed below. The android ducked his head, unsure of the emotions displaying on Piccolo’s face and unwilling to confront them. He chuckled, hoping for the best anyway.
“Surprised to see me?”
Piccolo immediately looked away, just catching the edge of the sun on the horizon ahead. He contemplated lying, he considered doing anything but telling the man the truth, but the words tumbled out of him because he could see Cell Max lifting his leg. He could see Gamma Two lying there like a dead deer on the ground, and the rage he’d felt was blinding. He’d have done nearly anything to save him and for little to no reliable reason. What did it matter? Sense was gone, here was the man that had died and who couldn’t be revived, even by dragons. Piccolo swallowed again and whispered.
“I don’t understand, are you…is it you?”
The man I barely know but have cried over, anyway.
Gamma Two wanted to embrace Piccolo but he knew it would be too much, too soon. They were just strangers in the street, caught in a landslide. Quick comrades in war, friends for no good reason at all. The question was the same one Gamma Two had asked himself, he felt the same, he thought the same, but was he a facsimile? He hadn’t been sure until now, because that same feeling he’d felt when he’d set eyes on Piccolo Daimao was the same one he was feeling now.
Here was the Namekian man that beguiled him, even now.
“What do you think?”
Piccolo didn’t know what to think and he hated being asked, what words could he possibly cobble together to explain the turmoil in his mind? He’d wished the android would appear so many times yet now he was here, Piccolo didn’t want to face his feelings on the matter. They were too alien and best left buried. Gamma Two closed the distance between them but he did nothing else for a moment, he just stood so close that he could feel Piccolo’s heaved in breaths.
Piccolo didn’t answer, he was still as the android leaned against his chest and the man’s arms laced around him, pulling him from the wall. For a lithe man, he was strong, and Piccolo didn’t fight as he was embraced. He looked down at the two grey fins that lined the man’s head and smirked, finally raising his own arms awkwardly because this was him. Piccolo could feel it, and he was warm.
He was alive and in Piccolo’s arms, of all places.
CC.