You see an empty stage, with a microphone and a very tired looking brunette with messy hair. (okay, so it's not exactly empty, right?) She has a piece of lined paper in her hand. "Alannapurple would..." she yawns, "would like to....." she yawns again, harder this time, "to thank..." she passes out with a thud.  The stage is silent for a only a few seconds, before a little five year old skips out on stage. She picks the paper up and reads it to herself. She looks up at the microphone, but it's too tall. The little girl snaps her fingers, and a stool appears in front of the mike. She gets on it and looks at the audience. "Dear Santa," she reads, "I've been a vewy good girl this year and for Chwistmas I wanna pony and a Malibu Barbie!"

"Google!!" alannapurple shouts from offstage. "Get off the mike, now!" She storms out.

Google  shakes her head. "Yes," alannapurple says. "NO!" Google replies. Alannapurple thinks a minute and then pulls out a big Hershey's chocolate bar and hands in to Google. The girl grabs it greedily, and runs off. "Wait!" alannapurple cries, and runs after her. The stage is empty for only a minute, then alannapurple walks back holding the paper out in front of her. She looks at it and blanches. "Eeww, chocolate fingerprints. Anyway, I, alannapurple, would like to thank everyone who read the first chapter of my story. And a big thanks goes out to those five who reviewed. Yay!!" The sign above the stage blinks on "Applause!" and there is some half-hearted cheering in the audience. "Oh come on, is that the best you guys can do?" The cheering stops. "Guess so. Okay, I would also especially like to thank, drum roll please..." There is an anticipated silence. "I said, drum roll please..." Still there is silence. Alannapurple looks at the back of the stage, which is, as always, empty.

She sighs, and snaps her fingers. A bewildered callmesquirrel appears, sitting at a drum set with drumsticks in her hands. "Like I said before," alannapurple continues, " I would also like to especially thank, drum roll, please..." This time, callmesquirrel obliges. "Much better. PapillonStar, thank you for being the first one to review my fic. As you can see, I am continuing. 'squirrel, you can stop now," alannapurple says, turning to callmesquirrel, who is still doing the drum roll. "I said, 'squirrel, you can stop now," she repeats, a little louder. "'squirrel, stop it!" Her teeth are clenched. "'squirrel, enough! SHUT UP!!!" she screams. Callmesquirrel stops, cowering. She mutters and apology.

"Now, the disclaimer. I DON'T own DBZ. I would like to, but it would be wa-a-a-a-ay too much trouble, and since I don't have that chance, my opinion doesn't really matter. I also don't own Malibu Barbie. Mattel does. I don't own callmesquirrel, either. She owns herself. And who owns that drum set?" The last statement is directed towards the back at 'squirrel. "The RHS band program," is the reply. "Figures," alannapurple mutters. "As you can see, I also don't own that. I do own Giggle, Gaper, Google, Iffie (the first one), and Kermit. And 'squirrel, Kermit doesn't sumo wrestle, okay? On with the show." The curtain drops.

Preciously on 'Going Back'

**  Suddenly, the phone rang. She reached around and grabbed it. "Hello?"

"Hello, is Pan Son there?" The caller was a man, and not too old sounding, although his voice was urgent. Kara didn't recognize the caller's voice, either.

"Yes, she is. May I ask who's calling?"

Kara heard a faint laugh. "Yes, you may." Kara was silent for a moment. The guy was laughing at her!

"Who is calling?" she asked, a little peevishly.  She blinked when he answered. Kara put her hand on the receiver. "Phone for you, Mom," she told her mother.

Her mother snapped out of her daze. "Who is it?" she asked.

"Some guy named Trunks Briefs..."  **

Before that day, Kara could have sworn know one could move as fast as her mother could when she ran around the kitchen and tore the phone from Kara's hand. "Hello?" her mother gasped into the phone.

Kara couldn't hear what the reply on the other end was, but whatever it was affected her mother deeply. Pan's knees collapsed, and she clutched the counter with one hand for support. "Yes," she agreed with whatever he had said, "it has been a long time." She took a deep breath in, and moved the receiver away from her mouth. "Kara, go away. Anywhere." She made a shooing motion with her hand.

Kara moved away, reluctantly. She thought as she moped down the hall. Trunks Briefs. It was a very funny sounding name, one you could be sure of remembering once you heard it. That was the strange part. Kara could have sworn she had heard that name before, and not too long ago. She just couldn't remember where... Not from her mother, certainly. She never told Kara anything about her past. Only that she came to L.A. from Japan before Kara was born. Kara didn't even know who her father was. She had asked her mother once, and the reply was, "It doesn't matter. I can raise you on my own, and you don't have any sort of genetic problems where you would need family as donors, so if I were you, I would just forget about it." Of course, Kara hadn't forgotten about it. All of her other friends, with the exception of Mal (short for Mallory), had fathers. Mal's dad died when she was four. That was just one of the many things the two had in common.

By the ways her mother had reacted to the caller's name, Kara knew Trunks was a friend from Japan. So when she got to her room, she had to fight the urge to pick up the phone. She had wanted her own phone line, but her mother had refused. At the moment, she was glad it was on the same line as the rest of the apartment. She stared at it. "To eavesdrop, or not to eavesdrop. That, is the question." She laughed at her own joke. Her curiosity won over. She picked up the phone.

"...was that who picked up the phone?" Trunks was asking.

"My daughter, Kara," Pan replied simply, yet uneasily.

"How old is she, fourteen, fifteen?" His voice had a distinct edge to it, like he almost didn't want his question answered. Like he knew what the answer was going to be.

Kara almost growled on the phone, but didn't because they would have heard. I don't sound like I'm fourteen, you nut!  

"She'll be 17 in July," whispered Pan.

"Ah." There was an uneasy silence. "Are you married?"

"No. You?" Pan asked hastily.

"Naa. Almost, a couple years back, but it fell through."

"I'm sorry."

"No, you're not. Besides, I don't need a wife. I've got my sister and her kids. They love taking care of me."

Pan chuckled slightly. "K-kids? As in more than one?"

"Yup. They've got three now. And they're all great, if you wanted to know. But then again, if you wanted to know, you would have called or written, wouldn't you have?" There was a different edge in his voice this time, an angry one.

Pan gulped audibly. She opened her mouth to reply, but she couldn't find the words. So she shut it with a snap. Then opened it again, this time to change the subject. "Are you in town? How did you find me?"

"Yes, I am. On business. And when I got here, I thought I felt your ki, so I looked you up. You're in the phone book you know. And you don't exactly have a very common name."

Pan blushed slightly. "No, I don't."

"And not to mention I saw someone who looked astonishingly like you earlier today."

"That was probably Kara."

"So were back to her again." Trunks sighed. "I have one question to ask about her."

"Shoot," Pan replied quickly, not even thinking of what question he might be about to ask. Foolishly.

Trunks took a deep breath in. "Who's her father?"

Pan blinked. Dammit, stupid!! You should have known he would ask you that! What are you supposed to tell him? The truth? Pan laughed at herself, inwardly. "Wouldn't you like to know?" she responded testily.

"Pan," Trunks began.

"No, I'm not done. What right do you think you have, just bursting in on my life like this? Don't you think there was a reason I just left!"

"Yes, I do, in fact. And I would be very interested in hearing it." Trunks' voice was completely serious. And very, very stubborn.

"How long will you be in L.A.?"

"A few more weeks. Why?" Trunks asked, glad that Pan's sudden outburst was in the past.

"I-I was just thinking that maybe we could get together sometime and talk. It'd be easier than over the phone. And cheaper, too."

"I agree."

"Good," Pan replied. She knew he would agree, she just didn't know why the hell she was agreeing. She had wanted to put that part of her life behind her, for good. It looked like that wasn't going to be possible. "How about tomorrow?"

"I can't, I've got meetings all day. Sunday's good though. I'll come over to your place alright? I'm sure I can find it."

"Okay. About ten A.M.?"

"Fine with me. See you then," Trunks replied, about to hang up.

"Wait. I'm sorry about blowing up at you before. I should have realized you would want to know that. I was yelling just as much at myself as I was at you."

"It's alright. I've taken much worse of beatings from my father." He laughed, dryly.

"I know, but that was uncalled for."

Trunks nodded, absently. "Yes. You've matured a lot these past 17 years."

That comment earned him a chuckle. "You'd be surprised how much you have to grow up in order to raise a teenager." There was another silence, this one just as uneasy as the last.

"Isn't it funny the way whatever we talk about seems to bring her up?" Pan asked, softly.

"Funny 'ha ha' or funny peculiar?" Trunks asked.

"Funny peculiar."

"Yes, it is." There was a pause. "She's beautiful. Just like you."

"No," Pan swallowed, "she has your eyes."

Before he could respond, Pan quickly hung up the phone and turned away from it, sobbing.

Aren't I just evil? Review, or not only with both Kermit and Miss Piggy be sent out after you (that is, if 'squirrel will let me barrow Piggy for a little bit), you will be left forever wondering what Pan meant by that statement. Of course, the smart peoples among my readers will have it figured out. A box of thin mint cookie crumbs to whoever gets it right! And a lined piece of paper covered with chocolate fingerprints to the runner up!!

Alannapurple

RaWcK oN