Hello everyone, sorry it took a few days longer than expected. Please read and review... I love you all! I couldn't do this without you, it was just be horrible! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (cough cough) hehehehehehehehehehe. Well, enjoy. I promised a longer chapter, and here you go.

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"Welcome." Her black hair hung down covering part of her face. The little girl reminded me of someone I knew extremely well.

"Are you me?" She nodded anxiously, her head bobbing happily.

"Yep. Well, I'm a memory of you." I wondered about the room, staring far out into the white room, if you could call it that. The floor didn't have a feel or temperature; I suppose you could say it was like standing on stale air. No walls, just the continuation of one long white image.

I looked at myself, dressed in overalls and a pink tank. Hers was clean, but I remembered I had stained it after Bra had given it to me. And there was the stain, now a red splotch of marinara sauce. The little face stared at the tee then turning back to stare at me; a look of wonder on her face.

"Bulma was making spaghetti. I got really hungry so when she left the kitchen I snuck in and tried the sauce, though I didn't go about it well. When she came back in she found me covered in sauce. She tried to wash it out, but she never could get it out." I answered her silent question.

"Why are you here?" Kneeling down, I beheld my younger self. "I'm not sure, I really don't know where here is."

Nibbling on her lip she scanned the area for others then when she was satisfied with her examination, she leaned in. "We're up here." Her tiny finger pressed into my temple. My eyes narrowed before I really had meant to. Young Pan's lips were set firm the pouting bottom lip was swollen from the chewing.

Her gaze was blanched, she, I seemed very contained. Her teeth found her lip again, and she stood poised eyed the forever room. "Where is everyone?" I drew her attention back to my face her incessant gnawing stopping for a stage.

"I don't know. They're all gone." The puffy pink lower lip trembled bitterly, grasping at something so she wouldn't cry. "Can you help me find them?" I began feeling a bit gloomy watching her struggle; I wasn't sure what to do.

"I don't know how." Now she was crying, but I could still hear her pushing plea.

"Please, I want to see Daddy." Daddy? Dende, how I miss you so. When was the last time I actually wanted to remember you. I stared at the young girl her eyes with red rings around them begged me for mercy.

He's not my father. She is his daughter; I'm not his daughter. "He loved you."

"He never had to go." Warm tears tickled my already rosy cheeks. "He never had to go."

"He never stopped loving us." I was engulfed by her small arms, wrapped tightly tiredly around my neck. "Please, please don't let me loose him."

I remembered his short spikes, his irresistible smile. I could see his orange gi, the dragon symbol residing on his chest. His black eyes, the ones I examined so detailedly. Just like his lasting scent: musky, sweaty, so much my father. The hug loosened. I could smell him; I could feel him with each step.

"Daddy?" She ran, as I fell onto the perfectly manicured lawn. My tears streaking off the corners of my eyes hitting the skinny leaflets like raindrops. I rolled onto my back the sun shinning and blinding me with the wet tears still attached to my lashes. The shadow covered me, blocking rays of light. "Hi."

I jumped up hugging him with all the force in me, no longer struggling with the tears, letting the flow freely across my skin. Muscular arms held me, held me. I buried my face into his shoulder and for the first time in a long time I actually missed him. No hate, no anger towards the stupid hand of fate, just the feeling of being comforted and the sounds of my sadness.

His grip loosened, his hands on my biceps moving me far enough away so he could look at me. For those few seconds I was 6 again. I was nothing more than a pouting, frustrated young child reunited with her father. "You look so much like your mother."

Another rush of salty tears weld up in my eyes, hitting their peak than overflowing in small droplets. "Your back." The smile that graced his lips seemed to be more of ease before the words.

"No Panny, I'm not." I willed myself to control my shaking, the shiver that came when there were no more tears. Above the sun melted away, heavy clouds pulling in from the north.

"But why! Why not? Can't you stay for just this once?" The clouds sparked, light rolling across their rippling forms. The lightning came before the thunder, and I was no longer six years old.

His voice was mild, his face not pleasant, but no longer a stretch for serious. "Because this isn't real Pan. You know that." A sense of grief washed over me, even a sense of jealousy, they'd taken me from him.

"It's not fair! IT'S NOT FAIR!" The storm above swirled, a mix of rumbling and specks of light spun in the chaotic ceiling. How could he act like this? Didn't he know how much I miss him? Strange now, but I can't help but hate him for knowing how much I still needed him.

"STOP IT!" The clouds dissipated quickly, the short green grass sheltered itself underneath the white floors. Once again I was in the forever room, white spread far beyond my reach. I don't really ever remember being stunned, surprised maybe, but knocked off my feet stunned, forever. My father had never yelled at me, not in those few years we spent together, even when I disturbed him with questions of my mother. I had tried to get him to react to them, to see if he felt something for her still, even just a speck of hate for her abandonment of us, for dying on us. But there was nothing, but now he was ridged, full of…disappointment and I couldn't help but be shocked at my own glee.

How could I not have guessed? I recognized that hurt. It was my own; of course, I should have figured this out before. "Your not him are you? Your not even Gohan." I knew he was really dead. I just didn't want to believe it sometimes.

"I'm what you need." I nodded, my narrowed eyes rolling back briskly. I pulled away from him, disgusted with myself for being so naïve. Left, right, left, my feet shuffled backwards.

"Well, you know what. I don't need you anymore." I knew if I lied enough to myself I would believe it. What was I really so afraid of, needing someone? Was I really petrified at the idea of being alone? "So, you can just go back to where you came from." I waved him off, a strange nausea washing over me. As I turned, my eyes averting from his own, I met mine. I suppose they are mine, open blazing ebony, scorching me deeply.

"Please, listen to him." The cold flame leaped into my stare, Dende knows I want to. His hand squeezes my shoulder, and I feel the warmth and strength of it easing the tightness away from that place. My eyes narrow, blurry now, if I close them I'll push the tears from their ledge. I don't want to cry anymore.

"You're not alone, Pan." The rumbling in my chest was low, crawling up into my throat, the laughter becoming audible.

"You're what I needed? I apparently don't know myself that well. I'd never guessed I was that stupid." As I turn to yell the hand leaves my shoulder, the tingling sensation of something once resting there infecting the skin underneath my shirt. "What kind of bullshit is that? I'm not alone, what a joke-" I felt the twinge near my eye before the sharp stab in my head appeared. I was remembering; my father, sitting on the ruble of our old house, the orange sash laying on a rock. His hand caked in blood, Mom. She was lying there that black hair draped a crossed her face, her lifeless body sprawled out. The endless cry of a baby ate away at me; the pain washing over me like a flood.

"Stop it, STOP IT!" My head jerks back, the breeze tossing my hair about. The trees bend in the gentle caress of the wind; leaves find their ways across the sky, gold, always gold. The lake rippling, the soaking yellow leaves riding the tiny waves. The stones sat their still as ever, markers to ones who I refuse to grieve for.

His feet rustle the sleeping golden flakes, on the forest floor. I remember the smooth whisky sound his voice was, and the words hold the same flavor as he speaks. "Why don't you visit them anymore?"

It smells of early fall, the flowers still sugary sweet as their smells waft by me, mixing with the cinnamon scent of the dying trees. "I used to visit the lake all the time." I kneeled in front of the graves staying far enough away; fear I would step on what was left of their bodies. Afraid they would feel my heavy footsteps on their resting places. "I just never knew what to say."

"What's the use in talking to the dead?" My eyes never left the spot on the ground, trying to picture them underneath all the dirt.

"My father used to say he could hear his father when he spoke to him."

"Talk to them then." Why would I find that outrageous for him to say that? I find it insulting though I'm not sure why. It's as if he had walked upon their graves, by evening asking such a request of me.

"Why did you bring me here?" His smile is infuriating, the flame burning within in me again.

"To show you the kind of bullshit, you need to see. You aren't alone, unless you really believe you are." What was he saying?

"I do believe." His long legs helped him reach me to quickly for my liking. He leaned into my space, my body shifting to escape the heat radiating off his skin. I would move my feet, but behind me was where they laid. I looked into his eyes, the humor still there, though I watched the glint of victory shine in his eyes.

"The dead don't feel you know. They can't feel your weight pushing on the bodies, when you tread on their graves. They can't hear you."

"Yes they can. I know-" His fingers grazed my lips silencing me. His hair tousled by the wind; his head shaking to emphasize his next words.

"No, they can't." Yes, they can. Why can't he see that? They were still somewhere they were still here. My eyes narrowed, closing enough to push a salty tear down my cheek.

"They can. They have to be able to. I don't want to be alone!" His arms encircle me, my face buried in his shoulder.

"Fear implies, that you already are something. How can one be afraid of being alone when they already are." I look up, looking like a child who has just been caught lying. "You're not alone, Pan. You'll never be alone."

The wind staled, the warmth no longer pressing into my skin. Pain oozed into my muscles, the tightness returning to my body. Everything was black, still everlasting, but I was gone, I wasn't sure where I was. I frantically sprung from my dead like state shoot up from the bed. The red haze of sunset poured in through the shades, painting my ivory skin. I was back at Capsule Corps, wires attached to me. I ripped the suctions from my flesh, tossing them towards the monitor, reading my heart rate. The rate faded into a dull ring, the bouncing lines now one continuing line.

I opened the window, breathing in the late summer air. Cinnamon. I flew off out into the evening sky, raising my ki to warm my bare skin. I stopped blood wading in the water, the imprints of the clouds there as well. I landed by the water. Where the stones, would rest. I could feel his presence as I stood there, the tingling sensation returning as I remember the embrace. I turned towards the falling sun, closing my eyes, imaging the markers back in their place. "Hi Mom, hi Dad. Sorry its been awhile."

A golden leaf snagged from a nearby tree passed the day dreaming Pan floating farther into the dense forest. The wind halted as though it had hit a wall, the leaf dropping out of its capturers grasp landing softly on the form of a man; its color bleeding from it, the leaf moving through its life cycle faster than normal. A bleeding, unconscious sayian lay upon the yellow carpet of the forest, the air entering his lungs, his coal black eyes opening. He watched another gold leaf fly by, his hand reaching up and snatching from its peaceful state. "Where am I?"