To Where You Are
By: Kitten Kisses (Manna)


"Can it be,

That you are mine, forever, love;

And you are watching over me,

From up above…?

Fly, me up to where you are,

Beyond the distant star…

I wish upon tonight to see you smile…

If only for awhile,

To know you're there…

A breath away's not far to where you are…"

-Josh Groban


She wanted to follow him.

Briefly, she wondered; if she could find the strength in her arms to hold them out as far as they would go, could she fly to him?

Her body was old, now. The amazing ki-controlling abilities she had once thought to be amazing and wondrous had completely disappeared in her old age. What she wouldn't give to go back to a time where the two of them had flown together through the clouds on a warm summer night…

He had aged slower than she had- physically- but she had to wonder if his heart hadn't aged twice as fast. The older they had gotten, the more it seemed that family and friends were leaving them behind for a better place.

Even though he had never said it to her in so many words, she knew he had wanted to the first of them to go.

"I've seen too much death," he had said to her at his mother's funeral. Seeing the once-feisty woman who had been such a big part of his life lying so still obviously had unnerved him. She remembered it had taken him a long time to get through it. "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you, too…"

The truth was- she could admit it to herself now that he was gone- it was she who didn't know what to do without him. They had been together for so long- had seen so much… She had to think hard to remember the days of her childhood where he wasn't there. And it hurt a part of her to accept that they had been perfect together. The two halves had created one whole, wonderful being. Them. And one half just wasn't enough.

She missed him so much her heart fairly ached as she tried to continue watering her flowers and cleaning her unused kitchen. When she made breakfast for herself, and noticed she had made enough to feed all the grandkids, too, she felt as if a part of her own soul was dying.

Even if she could wish him back with the Dragonballs, she knew it would be her own selfish desires speaking. His family loved him, missed him- mourned him. But they didn't need him. He would return to his old wife, who was struggling between wanting to die and wanting to live. She would have to wait it out- after all, if she did manage to get him back, he could still die before her. Worse yet, she could die first.

She had seen what Bulma's death had done to the once-proud and boastful Saiyan Prince. She had never felt more sorry for anyone in her life as she did for the lone man who sat with his wife day, after day, as she slowly slipped through his fingers. If he had been distant before, he was now downright reclusive. He spent much of his time alone, avoiding everyone except his own children, who he held at arm's length… almost as if he were afraid that if he touched them, they too would meet a fate similar to their mother's.

She would never wish that on her own husband, and it raised her spirits a little to know that it was her who would be carrying that burden. Though she had traded in her crime-fighting ways to be a housewife (and had been happy to do so), a small part of her had wanted to help the man that had always been there for her in a way that didn't deal with food or physical desires.

She would do anything for him. She vaguely remembered a time when that statement wouldn't have held true, but it was so fuzzy that she wasn't sure when that could possibly have been.

Her eyes stared out of the window of her bedroom at the darkening sky- the orange sun fading into the ground, leaving the grass and trees silhouetted against the gorgeous backdrop.

Her small hand reached over to his side of the bed, fingers slowly stroking the material of his pillow. It had been months, but it would always be "his side". She smiled, then; just a small curve of the corner of her mouth. When she closed her eyes, she could remember how they had fought over their own side of the bed during an argument many years in the past.

The memory made her happy, but it also made her heart twist with love and adoration for a man she had been married to for more than 50 years. The older they had gotten, the more their love had grown. It hadn't faded in the least; her feelings were steadfast.

She remembered laughing off old age when Bulma and ChiChi had complained of it. When they had hit their 70s, their husbands had looked twenty years younger…and gosh, how those women had hated it! She knew how they felt, now; how every bone in her body ached with each step… She knew how embarrassing it was to admit to her daughter and granddaughter that she needed help with the simplest household chores.

She had never imagined she would need a phone next to the bathtub in case she found herself unable to climb out, or that she would struggle to stand for an hour after tripping over that phone cord.

She hated being old. She hated relying on anyone other than him. And he was gone.

Her phone rang, then, and she slowly reached over and picked it up, holding it to her ear before saying anything.


"Mom?" The voice of her daughter, Pan, was a welcome sound to Videl's ears. Her sweet, spunky, helpful daughter, who was getting closer to old age, herself.

"Yes…" she answered, unsure of what to say.

"Hello, Mom. How are you feeling today? Any better?"

"I'm fine." Her answer was short and sweet, but not to the point. It was a flat-out lie, and she knew it. She felt like crap, but she knew she couldn't say that every time her daughter called to check up on her. She didn't want to end up in a nursing home.

"You're not fine, Mom. I know you're not. I can tell."

"I'll be okay, Pan."

There was silence; neither woman knew what to say.

"You know, Mom…" her daughter said, her voice slow and unsure. "I loved him, too."

It took her mother a few moments to digest the information, and to format a reply. "I know that, dear. But did you need him?"

Pan sighed, knowing that she was clearly going to lose this argument with her still-stubborn mother. "I understand," she said. "You'll be able to see him again."

"I know. I can't wait."

Those words, in any other situation, would sound almost sarcastic, in a funny sort-of way. But when Pan heard them from her mom, she knew that she was as serious as she could possibly be. "Are you sure you'll be okay?" she asked again, her voice uncertain.

"I'll be just fine," Videl answered her.

"I'll call you again tomorrow, okay, Mom? I love you."

"Love you, too…"

After the phone was set back into its cradle, the elderly woman took a long look around her bedroom. Gifts from family and friends sat on shelves and their bureau. 'Our house,' she thought to herself, pulling the covers up to her chin as she let her head fall to her pillow. 'Our room, our bed, our love, our life.'

She could feel a tear weave a path down the side of her face, and she didn't make a move to wipe it away. She didn't think she would ever be all cried-out. It had gotten dark outside, and here she was, lying in a bed alone, while the half that belonged to her husband remained cold.

"I miss you, Gohan," she whispered to the ceiling, her voice creaking with old age and emotion. "I want you, I love you, and I need you."

A few moments passed, and no answer came to her. She sighed heavily and turned onto her side, willing the darkness to take her to her silent dreams of the past.


Pan awoke in the middle of the night, her forehead covered in sweat. Wiping it away, she tried to catch her breath. She knew what it was that had woken her from an otherwise-peaceful slumber, but she didn't want to admit it to herself quite yet.

"Are you okay, honey?" her husband asked, his eyes clouded with sleep, one hand rubbing at the left one tiredly. "What's wrong?"

She bit her lip and turned to him. "It's Mom," she said, her voice wavering a little. She loved her mother so much, but… she knew it was for the best. "She's gone."


Author Notes:

Gah, I came up with this yesterday at work, and wrote about half of it down at lunch. I only got around to typing it today, because the power keeps going out in my room. Why? Because I only have two electrical outlets, and my computer, TV, and air conditioner are all connected to one. The other outlet's on the other side of the room. Ugh.

I don't know if I like this or not. I'm sorry if you found it boring. I guess I just felt like I should write it. A coworker of mine recently had her father-in-law pass away (early this week), and I think that was part of the inspiration for this.

The song, "To Where You Are", is by my absolute favorite singer, Josh Groban. The man has talent. Some of his songs give me goosebumps when I listen to them…they're that good!

Let me know of any mistakes (spelling, grammar, characterization), and also, feel free to tell me what you thought. Too depressing? Too boring? I'd appreciate any input you can give me!