Courtesy of your friendly neighborhood fanfic author: Note that its 1:30 in the morning...and I'm putting this up. I finished it seconds before I left for work and decided, after making two pies, that I should edit and post it for you guys since you're so good. Thank you all for the reviews, once again. I do so enjoy them. And here's some answers to your questions:

Draguna: Yes, I updated ;) I had to mention you since you've been with me since the beginning.

Aquasage: Bless you for being on cross country—my body couldn't handle running like that ;) And I guess I didn't mention, but should have, that Layrial had less than one bottle of water when she picked up and left. She's also not your athletic type, so 6hours for heris more than she could chew.Sorry 'bout that. And her mention of a "lousy specimen" was actually her way of giving Cell a bit of a hard time; she basically figured that's all she was to him at that point. She still has faith in herself, except she finally got tired of putting up with the nonsense she was going through. Couldn't blame her really…I deserve to get kicked after what I've been putting her through ;) hehe

SSJSkaterTrunks: Thank you very much and your also welcome ;) hehe. I have been trying. I can't stand seeing characters out of character XD

I have no idea when I'll get another chance to update again—hopefully before the end of the weekend—but I will tell you that chapter 14 is already titled and set to be started. Happy Thanksgiving to all you Americans! And a jolly weekend to everyone else:

Chapter 13: Starting from scratch…

At first I thought it was my imagination; somewhere near me I heard a constant and steady beeping. It was starting to get irritating the longer I listened. Finally I made a move to find what cruel object was keeping me from my restful sleep. When I moved, though, I discovered there was something attached to my arm. Eyes opening, I saw that it was an intravenous. I was in a hospital. The annoying sound was a heart monitor. My eyes looked around to see mint-green walls, pink, yellow and blue curtains hanging around my temporary bed, and a small window to the far right. It was me, myself, and I at the moment, and for the life of me I couldn't remember just how I had gotten here.

I had held my head up for several minutes looking around, wondering just what had happened; finally I relaxed and my head sank back into the pillow. Was it all a dream? Had I gotten into a car accident or something and the entire encounter with Cell was merely a figment of my imagination? Maybe I was losing my mind…

The last thing I could recall was walking in the desert. I know I had been tired and really hot, but other than that I couldn't figure out how I wound up in a hospital bed. It had to be a dream, because in that dream I was miles and miles from the city or even a town. So then what caused me to pass out badly enough to get me here?

A tall dark women appeared in the doorway, knocking gently on the door. She wore scrubs and carried a clipboard, so I figured she was a nurse of some sort. "How are you feeling?"

I shrugged and watched her come in to check the readings on the monitors. "How long have I been here?"

She glanced down at her clipboard. "Since May 11th, so about three days now."

"Three?" I asked in astonishment. "How'd I get here?"

"Well, I wasn't on duty the night you arrived, but I heard that you were found just outside our front doors here, completely unconscious. We don't know how you got here otherwise. The only way we knew who you were was because you were reported missing."

"Who reported me missing?" I asked stupidly—I should've known the answer.

"Your boss posted it and when we notified the police they put two and two together. Do you still feel thirsty and tired?"

"No?"

"Good," she said. "You had heat stroke and we were afraid you didn't get here in time."

I idly wondered if heat stroke could give you such terrible nightmares. Then again, how the hell was I exposed to the sun for so long if it wasn't all true? I never stood outside more than ten minutes, even if it was for work; as soon as I was off the air I made my way to a shady spot.

"Heat stroke," I said without really realizing it. "That's it? No mental illness?"

The nurse laughed. "I don't think so—you seemed to be in perfect health otherwise and there were no abrasions or anything to your head. We looked up your file from your primary physician and you've never had a record of mental illness before. Why?"

"Just wondering," I replied softly and looked away. So it was true. Cell was real. Everything that I kept thinking about had actually taken place. Damn it.

"Well, I'm sure you're ready for some real food," she said as she turned towards the door. "I'm Su, by the way, if you need anything."

"Thanks," was my simple reply and I was once again left alone with my own thoughts. And of course, those were sticking to the whole matter at hand. Somehow I had been brought from the desert to the hospital. I know I couldn't have done it myself—it was impossible. Someone must've found me. Some really nice person who was traveling along saw me half dead and decided to help. I'm glad there were people like that still left in this world.

"There you are!"

I looked up quickly and my smile faded. The last person I really wanted to deal with right now was Sazuke. "What the hell happened out there?"

"Do we really need to discuss this right now?" I asked as I felt my headache threatening to return.

"They said you were awake—I've been sitting out there for hours."

"How kind," I said miserably. "Somehow I doubt it was out of concern for my well-being."

"Of course it was!" He said, that vein on his head starting to appear. "I want to know what the hell happened. We never got the transmission from the camera or the van, so I've been left in the dark for the past five days! When you guys didn't come back, I figured you met the same fate as the other news teams did."

"Thanks," I said dryly.

He didn't seem to hear me; instead, he just went on with his own babble. "Then when I heard you were found right outside the hospital, dirty as hell and looking as if you've been through a war, I hurried right down to get some answers."

"What did you think happened?" I asked quickly, topped with annoyance.

"I already told you," he said. "Layrial, what happened out there?"

I thought for a moment. Did he really need to know? I could already tell that the moment I started speaking of my experiences with Cell a camera crew would fly through that door and I'd be on international television. No…he didn't need to know. What happened out there was my business and no one would ever find out. If that Goku-character knew anything more than what he already did from the day I arrived, fine. I didn't care. But I didn't need my boss using me to get the top story of the century.

"I don't remember," I lied.

"Oh c'mon, Layrial," Sazuke said with a laugh. "Surely you remember something—you survived this long, didn't you?"

"It took me this long to get back here since our van was destroyed," I told him. "Look, Taka and Chuck are dead—that's all I know. I don't remember anything else after that."

"Well, what's this Cell like?"

"I'm asking you kindly to give me a break, Sazuke," I said between semi-clenched teeth. "I don't remember. Can we please just leave it at that?"

"You're not making any sense," he said. "You should go through some therapy or something. But once you do, I'll make you my top reporter. If you can remember anything, I'll raise your salary higher than you can imagine."

For a moment my heart stopped. I had just been offered what I had wanted the most—I would be the top reporter, the highest paid, and I'd never have to look up to someone again. This was it; this is what I had worked for, what I had longed for since I was in high school. I'd be the best and everyone who watched TV would know it.

"No," is what came out of my mouth. My mind worked it out. This wasn't what I wanted. I wanted to be happy, to live peacefully away from all of this. "I don't want the job."

"Say what?"

"I said I don't want it. You can find someone else, Sazuke. I quit."

Sazuke's round face turned red as he stared at me with curious eyes. Then he laughed loudly. "Layrial, I really think you need to get some sleep."

"I've been here for three days," I told him. "I think I've slept enough. I've made up my mind…after this whole thing, I don't need it anymore. I quit—that's that."

He frowned. "Fine…be that way. I'll call up Cerise."

"Go ahead." That must have been the final straw because he said nothing more and turned and left.

- - -

The hospital discharged me later that evening and I caught a cab back to my apartment. It felt good to be home, but odd all at the same time. I hadn't slept in my own bed in a quite a while—first from being on vacation, then that political assignment, then the whole Cell thing. I wasn't as tired as I had been, so collapsing onto my couch in front of the television with old movies playing for hours on end wasn't the first thing that came to mind. I made the choice to call my parents and see how they were—it was the least I could do after surviving death several times; I figured from here forward I was starting over. Making sure my parents were good and letting them know I was ok in case they had heard about my disappearance was the top priority right now.

They weren't home. Figures. I could've left a message on the answering machine, but I didn't. I made a note and left it on my kitchen table as to remind myself tomorrow morning to try again. I figured they might not have heard anything about me since they hadn't rushed down here to see me. Either that or they were notified I was dead and never found out I appeared in front of the hospital a few days later.

I heated up a frozen dinner and ate it silently—no music, no TV in the background. I just sat and thought. Why did Cell just let me go? I remembered the agreement he had with the blonde guy, Goku; he said he'd let me live, but would keep me there until the day of the tournament. That way, he'd have insurance and wouldn't be giving in to Goku's request. Either he forgot about that whole conversation, (though I doubted that) or he did just finally give in. But why? He didn't care about my life.

Yeah, that's why he allowed you to get food, to freshen up, and ultimately leave. He could've easily killed you countless times, and didn't. Get it through your thick skull, Layrial—the guy loved you. Impossible. I refused to believe it.

I kept telling myself that for the rest of the night until I crawled into bed, wearing nice clean pajamas, tucked under nice clean sheets after having taken a nice hot, relaxing bubble bath. I had been the first person to survive Cell's presence. And the reason why was something I was trying to keep myself from accepting because unfortunately…it was the only logical explanation I could think of.