Disclaimer: *cries* I don't have anymore apple juice! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.....

A/N: Sorry this took a while guys, I really don't have any excuse. I've gotten hooked on Escaflowne, and am dividing my time between PT and my Escaflowne fic Between Dreams. Also, my social life has pciked up. *quirks eyebrow; face fault* Dude, I have a social life?! *laughs at herself* But yeah. Between this chapter and the next, I can guarantee there won't be nearly as long you guys will have to wait.

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Petrified Tears
chapter 79



Ultimately, it was the fear of drowning that made the decision for her.

As wonderfully sensuous as a bubble bath sounded, she was terrified of falling asleep in the tub and drowning; and the headlines for that would be absolutely hysterical:

World Savior, and daughter to Saiyaman and Videl Son, dies under attack by fluffy pink bubbles.

However, a too-hot-to-handle shower was just as luxurious.

Even if the water had been cold for the last half hour.

Pan let out a groan as she turned her face into the ice cold spray.

It was over.

After a week in that damned, fancy box, it was over.

No more budgets, no more patents. No more clients, no more conference calls. No more Sock Puppet of Smelly Death. No more copy machine.

No more waking up to find Trunks sleeping at the kitchen table waiting to take her back to work. No longer would she throw sharpened pencils at the ceiling, aiming for Trunks, or he at her. She wouldn't have to fight with the fax machine from hell ever again, or deal with teeny-bopper spawn of Lucifer. If she got home at one in the morning, it'd be because a party ran late, not because she was behind; and she wouldn't have to get up six hours later and climb back into "the box".

It was over.

It was finally over.

She smiled almost bitterly into the steady spray of ice water, trying not to let her eyes roll back into her head from the sheer joy of the knowledge that she'd be in bed by fix o-clock pm, wearing fuzzy flannel pajamas beneath clean sheets, her head on the pillow and her eyes closed to everything but her dreams.

It was nearly an aphrodisiac.

Turning off the water and reaching past the curtain to grope blindly for her towel, a thought slashed across her mind as if she'd be shot by an arrow.

What if she missed working at Capsule Corp?

What if she missed waking up every morning able to see Trunks fast asleep? What if she missed his childish antics when stress and hunger got to him? And would she ever see him so unguarded and open again?

And what about the clientele, and the girls in the building-who had finally started to get used to her. And the Sock Puppet of Smelly Death, and the copy machine. Hell! The rabid fangirls that stormed the office like a Southern California SWAT team on a daily basis; what if she missed them too?

Wrapping the towel around her lithe form and using another to dry her hair, she opened the bathroom door and padded down the hall, rolling her eyes and mentally telling herself that 15 hours of sleep would remedy her delirious thinking.

"Pan?" she heard her mother call from downstairs as she passed the stairwell. She backtracked, standing at the head of the stairs. "Pan!"

"What?"

Confused at her mother's mortification, she looked past her, and suddenly noticed a very red faced Trunks-in-a-tux standing by the open front door, sunset's rays streaming in behind him and up the stairs, the rectangle of light painting her legs and the bottom three inches of the towel in blues and pinks and yellows. She felt her insides boiling with embarrassment, but she didn't let it show. She instead forced herself to stay put, and addressed the fact that Trunks was dressed up and standing in her living room, as opposed to the fact that she was hardly dressed and standing in full view of everyone who wasn't in the kitchen.

"Trunks, do I want to know?"

Blushing violently, he shook his head.

"Pan! Go put some clothes on!" Videl hissed, obviously outraged-she had raised her daughter better than this. "Before your father comes in here!"

As if on cue, Gohan stepped out of the kitchen.

"Vide-oh, hi Trunks. She was in the shower when you called, I ha-"

He abruptly choked on the words as he followed the mortified gaze of his wife to the head of the stairs and found his daughter standing there, quite naked under a thin white towel that was too short, too small, and showed too much of her body for his liking.

Especially where Trunks could see.

"Pan, what in the name of-"

"Daddy, calm down. He's seen me in less."

"WHAT!??!"

Trunks coughed violently, his insides wrenching up inside of him, using any excuse to turn around and not look at her before Gohan hurt him.

"You were also three, Pan," he wheezed weakly, shying away from Gohan's angry gaze.

"Pan, go get dressed," Gohan ordered through clenched teeth.

"Shit."

Trunks whirled away from the doorway and blurred up the stairs, grabbing Pan and yanking her out of sight.

"Trunks! Watch it, I need that!"

He ignored her exclamations and leaned past her and to his left, peering down the stairs.

He was met face-to-face by a very angry Gohan.

"Care to explain?" Gohan growled, joining them behind the wall, his eyes flashing green as he stared down at the younger half-saiyan.

Reflexively, Trunks's hands tightened their hold on Pan and the towel; he swallowed and glanced back down the stairs, watching as his client greeted an awkward and confused Videl.

He swallowed and leaned back, looking at Pan and about to piss his pants as he realized the position they were in.

She giggled quietly as it finally dawned on him that he had her pinned against the wall, mere inches between them, his hands on her hips hiking up her towel to almost-not-so-decent heights. He stepped back to let his hands drop to his sides, but she grabbed the front of his tux and yanked his face down to hers.

"You let go, the towel lets go-so don't let go!" she hissed nervously, her eyes wide with the fear of flashing her father and best friend.

"I'm waiting," Gohan growled, growing impatient. His hair moved as if in a breeze, his eyes now a solid green. "Care to explain?"

Trunks swallowed thickly, then smirked disdainfully, his palms sweating against Pan's hips. Instinctively, his hands tightened, grasping her almost intimately.

The action didn't go past Gohan unnoticed.

"Trunks…"

"Alright…I have a business dinner tonight with a very 'family first' client…nothing new, Bra and I have handled them before. Unfortunately, my mother decided it would be cute if she were to tell him that my 'fiancé' and I would be taking them out for this little business negotiation."

"Fiancé!?" Pan and Gohan spat out, staring at him in shock.

Downstairs, they could hear Videl talking with unknown voices.

"My 'fiancé', 'wife-to-be', yes."

"Since when have you been engaged!?" Pan demanded, her eyes flashing with emotions she was trying to surpress.

Trunks turned his gaze to her, the hurt in her voice striking a chord inside of him that resonated with guilt, even if there really was nothing to be guilty about. He blinked, his blue eyes hesitant, but was cut off by Gohan.

"Who in the name of Dende is your fiancé?" he growled, the shock of Trunks's words wearing off. He stared, hurt, dejected, and almost…accepting…as he watched Trunks gently squeeze Pan's hips again, obviously uncomfortable with her forced lack of modesty.

Trunks flicked his eyes to hers again before slowly turning his head to look at her father, giving him a look very reminiscent of that of a smug cat.

"I'll give you one guess."

Gohan's rage manifested itself in blond hair and a raging inferno.

"What?!" Pan hissed, eyes wide. Trunks pressed her against his chest and turned his back as the inferno of power that had gathered around Gohan exploded in every direction. She braced herself against him, clinging desperately to her towel.

"Gohan! Not in the house!" came Videl's voice from downstairs as his energy shattered every window and escaped into the night.

Trunks warily replaced the distance between himself and Pan and set her back against the wall, eyes boring into hers as he tried to ignore the white swell of her breast that peaked up over the top of the towel. Face beat red, he coughed quietly; she got the hint and turned just as crimson as she pulled the top of the towel back up.

Taking a deep breath and looking down at her, then back at Gohan, he sighed. His face went from smug cat to whipped puppy with a devastating crash of his features. "As of two hours ago, my mother decided that I asked you to marry me this morning at dawn," he sighed. "My mother also decided to send you with me instead of Bra-not just because you know what's going on with Mr. Summer's dilemma, but because she thinks it will be cute. To top it all off, she went all out to make sure we can't get out of this in any way, shape, or form that short of making a scene and 'calling it all off'."

Pan shivered and pulled her towel tighter around her breasts to compensate for the unladylike break in the towel that reveal the side her of her entire left leg and part of her waist, Trunks's hand the only thing keeping it from falling open completely.

"My thoughts exactly," he said gently, his head falling a little as he looked down at his hands. Carefully, he fixed the parting of the towel and put his hand back on her hip, though there was obviously no reason to have it there anymore. He glanced back up into her eyes, and they both knew where this idea had come from.

The security cameras.

Gohan growled beside them, and Pan let her head fall forward, surprising both Trunks and her father as she let her face fall into the crook of the younger half-saiyan's neck. Gohan went into shock; Trunks' breath caught before his left arm lifted of it own volition and his hand settled in the hollow between her shoulder blades, his fingers tenderly pressing against her bare skin.

"So I can assume Bulma's gone to great lengths to make sure I have a dress and all of that too, huh?" she mumbled into his collar, turning her face. Her eyes landed on her father, seeing the look of loss in his eyes. Blinking rapidly, suddenly aware of the conclusion he was drawing, she swallowed thickly.

"She told me she'd sent all of that over about an hour ago."

With a slow and tired exhalation of air, she pushed herself away from him and leaned back against the wall. His hand fell back to her hip.

"That explains where Mom was this afternoon…" Breathing deeply, she rolled her lips in on each other and tightened them into a pitiful smile; she raised her eyebrows and lowered them again as she let the breath out. "Alright then…guess I'll be out here to play her little game in about 20 minutes."

And with that, she pulled away from him and padded down the hall to her room.

Closing the door behind her, she staggered. The towel fell away and she leaned back against the door, sliding slowly down it, legs to either side of her, knees pressed together.

She didn't know which was worse.

The touch of Trunks's warm hands still lingering on her skin and the emotions they stirred, or the betrayed look on her father's face that made it obvious he didn't see himself as needed.

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A/N: *yawns* I just love week-long breaks from school; I have all the time in the morning to write, and then the evenings are free to socialize as late as I damned well feel like it. Anywho, yup. Oh, and the voting for my fanfic challenge is taking place right now. Go check it out and vote, it's all at my page.

-Panabelle ;P
www.angelfire.com/dbz/storytellers