When Pan steps from the shadows I understand why he spoke to me from darkness. Though his voice is the same, had I seen him first I would have denied it was him. What was once a handsome face, chiselled like his father's, is now more machine than man. In the split second that he is illuminated by the flickering street-lamp my face falls from elation to horror and then to a controlled visage of concern. I know if he was whole I'd be running forwards at this point, throwing myself into his arms but I can't. I step forwards, keen that he shouldn't go. After so long without him I think I'll just die if he leaves now. I need him, I hope he needs me. When I try to speak my voice falters into unintelligible croaks, I want to tell him I love him but I don't think he'll believe me and I'm afraid it will sound hollow. Maybe he's disappointed in me, he doesn't know I never gave up looking for him, never gave up hope he'd return. Then I move close enough to touch, his eyes are the same, still that vulnerable boy from the meadows - the one who the horses all followed like he had pockets of sugar. The his hand raises, silently despite the robotic components and he touches my hair. I wish I'd washed it today, I wish I'd put on the make-up I'd been saving for his return, but he doesn't seem to mind the tired eyes. Then he says "Goodbye, Love" and I snap inside, snap like brittle glass and feel the shards tearing at my guts. I can't speak, the blood leaves my face and I grip at his decaying uniform. He stops. Watching me break right before his eyes. His face stays robotic but something shifts in his posture. "I'm sorry, love. I won't go, not if you still want me."