Disclaimer: *wishes Jack hadn't burned that picture*

A/N: Told you I'd get this chapter up faster. I'd have had it up last night if not for whatever technical difficulties ff.net was suffering. And I know it's not operator malfunction this time either because Cyberleah couldn't get on either! Anyways, yeah. Here ya go guys.

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Petrified Tears
chapter 80



Slowly, Gohan turned and left him there alone in the hall, the older man's anger and power falling away as he trudged down the stairs.

Trunks leaned against the wall, pressing his forehead against the paint and drawing a shaky breath between his teeth before turning and placing his back against the wall, tilting back his head and letting the wall support him.

He could still see the reaction on Pan's face when she figured out his 'fiancé' was her…it was hurt and yet…almost…hopeful…

He shook his head violently putting the heal of his palm to his forehead. He knew he should get downstairs, but he couldn't. Every time he moved to follow Gohan, his insides twinged, something inside of him protesting with the resonating hurt that had been in Pan's voice.

Was she betrayed because she thought I had deliberately not told her, or had forgotten too…or because I hadn't asked her to be-

He tore the thought off with an angry snarl.

She didn't think of him like that-he was too old, and might as well be her brother, or another uncle for the brothership he and Goten had once had. She didn't think of him like that.

He looked down at his hands. They still tingled with her warmth, with the hard and yet soft curves he had felt beneath the towel…

With a groan, he raked his hands through his hair in agitation, ruining the perfect placement of every strand that he had painstakingly prepared for the image he upheld as president of Capsule Corps.

Do it, something inside of him whispered. You've been wanting to all week…just tell her. Say it through the door, stand at the window with your back to her; you've told her while she's slept every night…just tell her.

Perhaps his exhaustion was why he dared to listen to the tiny voice…one that sounded almost like his mother's, but that he knew was his own. But he pushed himself away from the wall and moved to her door, hesitantly bringing up his hand and knocking quietly.

"Pan?" he called hoarsely, softly, through the wood. "Pan, can I talk to you?"

There came a frantic sound of shuffling from within, then her voice, tired and hurried.

"Yeah, hang on a sec and you can come in."

"No, Pan, it's ok. You don't have to let me in, just listen, that's all," he said hurriedly. He pressed his forehead against the wood, his voice quiet. "I just need to talk."

There came another scuffle, and then the door opened. He lifted his head from the wood, his tormented eyes taking in her agile form, the way the dark blue dress clung to her as she stood there, midnight's homespun silk tumbled about her shoulders and back, disarrayed and hued the deepest indigo in the light of the sunset. Her deep blue eyes, as blue as the sky around the moon at night, twinkled with their own stars, filling with concern…her skin looked like porcelain, and yet it didn't; it looked soft and supple. He knew it was.

He sighed inwardly…he couldn't do it. He couldn't say it.

He couldn't do that to her…put her in situation where she'd have to make her up mind, possibly her heart. Couldn't risk losing her.

"Trunks? Trunks, what's wrong?" she asked, reaching out and setting the soft underside of her wrist against his forehead.

He smiled and laughed silently, pulling his head just out of her reach.

"Nothing's wrong," he told her. "I just want to know if you're ok with this…I mean…"

She smiled at him and poked him in the chest with her index finger.

"You mean being your future wife for the night?" She laughed, but there was a weight to it. "Nah, I don't have a problem with it. I've been everything else in my life where you're concerned;" she begin listing off 'occupations' on her fingers as she let him into the room and closed the door with her thigh, "best friend, sister, niece, prom date, confidant, daughter, mother, supervisor, therapist, secretary, bodyguard…the list goes on. Why not add wife or fiancé on there while I still have the chance?"

He looked over at her. She was just as uncomfortable with this as he was, but she was going through with it, because he needed her to.

"Look, Pan," he started, but she cut him off, turning her back to him and asking him to tie the back of the dress closed for him.

Say it now! Say it now! the voice inside of him commanded.

"Pan, there's something I want to tell you…"

"Yeah?"

His hands fumbled with the strings, and he shook his head, clearing his mind.

"I just want to say that…" he trailed off as a picture on her vanity drew his attention. Tying off the strings, he felt his heart crush.

It was a picture of Pan, clinging to another guy, a guy with short and fluffy blond hair, his steel-blue eyes laughing as he looked up at Pan, who had draped herself over his shoulder. She wore his glasses on the top of her head and he was trying to get them back, the two were in the midst of toppling over. Her hair was tied off into two braids, one to either side of her neck, her deep blue eyes just as happy as his.

Trunks lost his nerve; he knew without saying that the boy in the photo was Jack.

He had seen her on the phone a few hours ago, he had heard the love in her voice.

And he could see it in that picture.

"Trunks? You alive back there?" she asked, turning around and kneeling before him. She set her hands on his knees, surprising him with the ease she moved in the dress. She looked up into his eyes. "Trunks, I think I should be the one asking you if you're ok with this."

He smiled and startled her with a hug.

"Shit, you're beautiful Panny," he whispered, squeezing her tightly before reaching behind him and snatching a blue silk ribbon from the box his mother had left her.

"Trunks?" She pushed away, then laughed and walked towards her vanity, picking up a brush and running it through her hair. "Don't worry," she laughed, winking at him in the mirror, "I won't let Daddy do anything to you."

He glanced at her, then smiled and wove the ribbon back and forth between his fingers. She didn't get it.

Let her think what she wants to think, the voice inside of him whispered sadly. There's no point in telling her otherwise.

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A/N: Could it-could it be? Am I really...no, I couldn't finally be getting to the point, could I? No...it's not...no....'cause that means.....WEEEEEEEEEEE!

*laughs* Ain't it great when you can laugh at yourself? Anyways, just something I should tell you all: All will be explain in time, and time is coming to an end.

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