Chapter Four

Pan sat in the kitchen long after her parents had gone to bed, a mug of hot chocolate in her hands. The steam rose in front of her eyes, and she studied the curling white patterns it made. She sighed. She couldn't sleep because all she could think about was how close Trunks and Marron had been at her grandmother's house. After spending one of the most memorable afternoons in her life with him, he'd greeted her with a pat on the back as if she was Goten. Then, he turned around to hug and kiss Marron. He'd even walked her to the door when she and her parents were leaving. Pan gripped the mug tighter and was shocked out of her reverie when the hot liquid poured onto her hands. To her dismay, she realized she had just broken her favorite mug.

"He's too old for you, you know," said a voice from the doorway.

Pan didn't turn around. She walked the sink and grabbed the sponge so she could clean up her mess. Gohan carefully picked up the broken pieces and deposited them in the garbage can.

"What are you talking about, Dad?" Pan asked, feigning ignorance.

"You know what I'm talking about," he replied, sitting down at the table.

Pan felt her lower lip tremble. She gripped the edge of the sink as she fought for control.

Don't cry in front of Dad dammit, she cursed inwardly.

She would have successfully held back the tears if Gohan had not walked over to her and took her in his arms. It was her undoing. She wept into his shoulder as he stroked her back and made comforting noises.

"It's hard isn't it?" he said softly.

"Why does it have to be?"

"It doesn't if you don't want it to," he said cryptically.

Pan pulled away far enough to look him in the face. She sniffled and wiped away her tears so that he wouldn't be a blur.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Is he really worth all this pain, Pan? Remember all the other boys you swore you were in love with, but you always discarded them when you realized they weren't the one after all."

Pan took a deep breath. Gohan dropped his arms and she left the kitchen to head for the darkened living room. He followed her. She stood at the window, the streetlight making a halo around her head. Gohan sat at the couch and waited for her to talk.

"I always wondered why I could never find the right guy for me," she said, her voice steady. "At first, there would be something about the guy that would draw me to him, but then after a few days or weeks I'd be done with them. The magic would disappear. Then another one would come and the same thing would start all over again.

"I went on my quest to try to figure out my feelings," she finished, the suffering she'd endured in her voice, "and I found them, Dad."

"You're only nineteen, Pan," Gohan said.

"I feel so much older," she said, turning to him for a second. "Dad, I've gone around the universe in a spaceship with my twelve year old grandfather, for crying out loud! I've fought and won against the bad guys. I've died and been brought back to life. I've probably gone through a lot more than other people have at my age."

Gohan smiled to himself. Pan sensed rather than saw his amusement. She smiled despite the seriousness of the situation.

"Well, non-Saiya-jin people that is," she corrected.

She didn't say anything for several moments. Gohan turned over the facts in his head. He was afraid Pan would only end up getting hurt. From what he saw, Trunks didn't see her to be anything more than a younger sister. With so many years between them, he wondered if Trunks would ever see her as anything more.

"I'll be fine, Dad," Pan said, sounding tired. "You should go to bed. You have to get up early tomorrow."

Gohan stood and kissed the top of her head. He knew she needed time to sort things out. "I hope that you'll be happy, Pan."

"I hope so, too."

"Trunks!"

Trunks and Vegeta stopped their sparring, breathing and sweating heavily. They turned towards the house and saw Bulma standing at the doorway, her hands on her hips.

"What did you do now, Kid?" Vegeta asked his son.

Trunks swallowed hard as his mother approached them. She reminded him of a lion stalking a monkey.

Too bad they cut my tail off. That would make the picture more accurate, he mused.

Vegeta stood off to one side and watched amusedly as his wife picked apart their son. The boy had enough power to zap her into another dimension, but he only stood there and took her berating with a sheepish look. He glanced at Vegeta as if asking for help, but his father only shrugged.

"This is the last time, Trunks!" Bulma yelled. "You need to take your work seriously. You're thirty-three years old for chrissakes! You are the president of a successful company. You need to start working!"

Vegeta could see Trunks about to lose his temper. He decided now was a good time to intervene.

"I'll talk to the boy, Woman," he stated as if passing a royal edict. "You go in and cook dinner."

Bulma glared at him, but she did make her way back to the house. But not before knocking Trunks on the head with the wooden spoon she'd been holding.

"That didn't hurt, did it?" Vegeta mocked as Trunks rubbed the spot.

"Of course not," Trunks retorted. He smiled. "Thanks, Dad."

Vegeta held up a hand. "Don't start, Kid. I just didn't want your mother to blow her top. I'm the one she's going to take it out on, you know."

"I know."

Vegeta crossed his arms and studied his son. Trunks was just an inch or two taller than him, but other than that they had the same build. If not for the lavender hair and blue eyes he'd inherited from Bulma, they could have been twins. He could see the stubbornness Trunks had inherited from both his parents glinting in his eyes and he grinned.

"Not cut out to head a multinational organization, Son?"

Trunks was startled to see his father bare his teeth in such an engaging way and even more so at being called "Son" that he didn't answer for several seconds.

"I never was," was the reply.

"But you do know how...heartbroken" --he made a face as he said the word-- "your mother would be if you gave up the presidency. She wants the business to stay in the family."

"I know, but I really don't like this job, Dad. Maybe Bura..."

Vegeta laughed. Trunks joined him soon after. It was hard to imagine his flighty sister sitting behind a desk to do something other than her nails.

"I guess not," Trunks digressed. "I guess I'm stuck with this then."

"You're the son of a Saiya-jin prince, Trunks. You're never stuck with anything."

With that said, Vegeta turned and headed for the house. Trunks sat on a patch of grass that had somehow escaped destruction during the sparring match. He cupped his chin in his hand.

Now what does that mean? Does he think I should give it up? But if I wasn't president, what else could I possibly do?

Pan blinked away the sweat that had dripped into her eyes and was glad she'd had the forethought to wear a headband or else she'd also have her hair to contend with.

One-thousand and two...

She'd been working out for nearly four hours, but did not feel the exhaustion that should have made her stop. Usually, she could go at it for two and a half hours before taking a short break, but not today. All the frustrations she felt, all the boiling emotion inside her needed to be released and working-out was the only she could think of to vent them--other than kicking the crap out of someone, that is.

She let out a hissing breath between her teeth and forced herself to do a hundred more push-ups before stopping. She rested on her stomach on the green lawn behind her parents' house. Her white gi was soaking wet from her sweat, and clung to her body uncomfortably.

Shower time.

"I was wondering when you'd stop."

In the blink of an eye she was on her feet and facing her unexpected visitor, her fists ready in the air. Her dark eyes flashed angrily as she realized she hadn't sensed him nearby. In response, Trunks shrugged out of his Capsule Corp. jacket and went into a defensive position with a feral smile. His muscles flexed eagerly, visible even through the white t-shirt he wore and drawing Pan's admiring glance. She quickly averted her eyes and focused on the matter at hand.

Trunks raised his eyebrows, inviting her to take the first shot. Pan nodded and attacked, her fists flying. He blocked them easily. She let him block her again and again until she could see the cockiness in his stance and his face. Then, her foot swept across his knees, knocking him on his back. She threw herself on his stomach, sitting down comfortably. She waited for him to catch his breath before speaking.

"Getting a little soft, are we?" she mocked, although the body beneath her felt far from soft.

"You just took me by surprise," he explained, still gasping. "That was very nicely done, Pan."

She grinned and leaned forward until her elbows were resting on his chest. She cupped her face in her hands and looked down at him.

"So, what did you stop by for?" she asked.

"I wanted to see if you wanted to go out to dinner," he replied.

She felt as if fireworks had gone off inside her head until he added, "Bura and Marron wanted to go see a movie, so Goten and I volunteered to take them. We were thinking about dinner after."

Pan tried not to feel disappointed that it wasn't just her and Trunks. He waited patiently as she made her decision, staring up at her as if they sat like this often.

At least you'd still be able to go out with him, she reasoned.

"It's settled then," he said, satisfied.

"What?" For a brief, panic-filled moment, she thought he'd read her mind.

"You're coming with us," he said. "You better shower first, though. I don't think it's me that's smelling like..."

"Jerk," she cried, yanking hard on his hair.

She got up and flew up the stairs. Trunks had brushed himself off and turned around to go in to wait for her when he ran right into a figure blocking the doorway. He raised his head slightly and smiled at Gohan.

"Hi, Gohan. I just came to pick Pan up," he said.

Gohan smiled tightly, and gestured for him to come in. Trunks wiped his shoes on doormat and entered the house. It was much smaller than his parents' house, and in fact this could probably fit inside his house, but Gohan and Videl had made their home comfortable and homey so that the lack of space really wasn't something people noticed. In some ways, Trunks preferred their home to his. His house sometimes made him feel agoraphobic.

"Where are you taking her?" Gohan asked.

"To the movies and to dinner."

Trunks started to feel a little nervous. There was something in Gohan's face that didn't sit well with him. The older man was watching him like a hawk.

Does he think I'm taking Pan out on a date, Trunks thought worriedly. "Marron, Bura, and Goten are coming too," he said aloud. "We're going to be picking them up after Pan gets ready."

"I see."

Trunks shifted restlessly. Gohan just stood where he was, his dark eyes zeroed in on Trunks.

"Um...is something bothering you, Gohan?"

Gohan only put on an innocent face that was reminiscent of Goku's and cocked his head to one side. "No. I'm perfectly content. Why would you ask that?"

Trunks averted his eyes and stared at his boots. "I don't know. You just don't seem like yourself."

"I'm just acting like any father would when he finally realizes that his daughter is no longer a little girl and he finally sees things that are right underneath his nose."

Something in his voice made Trunks' head shot up. "Gohan..."

Pan bounded into the room and interrupted whatever he was about to say. She was dressed in a dark green sweater and a pair of faded jeans. The scent of her shampoo made Trunks' body tingle. However, he quickly smothered the feeling when he remembered Gohan was nearby. Sure, Gohan didn't train as often as he used to, but he could still beat Trunks to a bloody pulp—if not worse.

"We better get going," Pan said, tugging Trunks to the door.

Quickly, Trunks bade Gohan farewell and went to start the car. When he was out of an earshot, Pan whirled to her father.

"Did you say anything to him?" she demanded.

"Of course not."

"Then why did he run out of here?"

"Because he doesn't want to be late for the movie," Gohan answered matter-of-factly. "You better go."

Pan frowned at him, but did as she was told.