A/N: See chapter one for disclaimer. Waah, I just got to spellcheck this today after a week of fieldtrips. I got to see the musical Mamma Mia worships Latin class. That was my squee. Once again, thank you so much for all of the reviews; I'll have to write a more personal at the end of this whole story. You guys are great.

Last Time: Trunks marvelled, once again, at the disguised comfort of Pan's life. Vegeta and Bulma had a moment, where Bulma decided to give up her pursue momentarily to find where Trunks had gone off. Goten learns of the fortune teller's death and makes plans to see the body the following day. Vegeta remembers little-Trunks. And after being woken up, Trunks goes into Pan's room and hops into her bed, albeit with slight more tact.

"Apple Picking"

Trunks usually found himself to be a deep sleeper, however, given the right circumstances, he could be awoken by the oddest of things. Minimal candle light from the night before ranked up to be one of them. And a knee in the stomach was certainly another.

He slowly willed himself to wake up, making no direct move to snap awake, instead allowed his body to adjust accordingly to being awake. His eyes, still slightly unfocused, looked down to see just what was protruding into his stomach and causing him such odd discomfort.

He was mildly surprised to see a knee there.

He was even more surprised to follow the leg up and discover that the knee belonged to Pan.

The night's events came back to him, though at the moment, the memory of himself walking through the hallways and climbing into bed with her were slightly hazy. He remembered that she hadn't wanted to be alone. He remembered that he hadn't wanted any light. And that he had taken the matter into his own hands and had simple hopped into bed beside her. And for all of the fuss she had made the night before about him in her bed, she seemed to accept him in there quite easily.

Perhaps she was merely exhausted…

Trunks debated whether he should leave the bed in case she woke up and didn't recall the last night, and flew into a fit at him beside her. But if she did remember and she woke up alone, it would be as if he had broken his word, as he did say he wouldn't leave her alone.

Debating, the answer came to him before he had even reached a decision mentally.

His arm was underneath her body.

If he tried to move to get up, there was no way that he wouldn't wake her. So he would just have to wait. He'd have to wait until she began to waken… best pretend to be asleep himself when the time came, because heaven forbid she think that he was intently watching her… which he wasn't…

He did cast a look down at her, his blue eyes shaded by half-closed eyelids. Pan was turned towards him, one knee brought up to her chest and brushing his stomach, the other only slightly bent over her leg. Her hands were folded above her raised knee, and from his perspective, the position didn't look remotely comfortable.

However, he was a guy, and he had learned the hard way that there was just some things that a girl could do that a guy could not. Sleeping in such bizarre postures was one.

Breathing with corsets was another.

Not that he had ever tried to breathe in a corset.

Not that he had ever tried a corset on in the first place.

Pan mumbled something rather incoherent, and unconsciously brought a hand up to pull away the hair that had fallen across her face and was tickling the tip of her nose. She pushed the hair away, in her sleep, and made a few more yawning motions before dropping her hand and falling further into sleep.

He liked that she did not snore.

He had, once as a child, read about some of the horrid habits the lower class folk take part in, and snoring, for some unexplainable reason, had been one of them. Since that point on, he had avoided the peasant population on a whole, but was somewhat intrigued to get to know one, to see how many of the perceptions were true. Since meeting Pan, he decided that the book needed a little re-writing.

Her face was turned upwards, eyebrows raised ever so slightly in dream, lips parted… Trunks made a face and closed his eyes. He refused to give in to his lips' will. What was he to do? A dashingly handsome young prince, with a pretty girl curled up beside him, lips parted and turned upwards… the whole set up was screaming 'kiss! kiss!'.

He had been in places like this before. He was a young prince, he would be lying if he said he hadn't taken other girls to his bed before, however… Pan was not a castle girl to pass around. He glanced down at her, the way she curled up in sleep, against his body. His hands were resting at the small of her back, and he stretched his hand, silently marvelling how well her figure fit against his own.

He wondered if all the other girls had as well and he simply didn't care to notice, or if Pan was special in that way. He looked at her face again, and debated. She was sleeping… she would never know. And she did look like she would like to be kissed.

But then there was the whole morning breath issue…

Pan shifted slightly, a sigh passing through her throat, and her lips fell pressed together. Trunks let himself relax fully into the bed and closed his eyes.

Not today. Not yet.

He began to cautiously count out the coins he would need, keeping steady eyes on the man that was packing the food supplies he had requested. He didn't trust these peasant folk, and he wouldn't have them cheating with his provisions in any way.

His fingers shook with slight anticipation. As soon as his pack was ready he would be able to set off. He'd start for the hill that would lead him to the path which, eventually, would lead him right to her little farm, where the little prince must be hiding. He would set everything straight.

It wouldn't be that difficult after all. Trunks would recognize him right away, and he would claim his father had sent him to return home. But who knew what crazy spell had been placed on him… it would be stupid to not think she had placed something on him…

His little servant; the princess-to-be. She was too clever and too beautiful for her own good. And far too trusting, really. Hadn't all of that gotten her under his control in the first place? He smiled, despite the rustic and primitive surroundings which sent cringes up his spine. How anyone could live in this lifestyle was quite beyond him.

But no matter.

His coins clinked on the counter, where the shop keeper greedily snatched them up. He took his food and supplies and carefully arranged them in a pack to be slung across his shoulders. He glanced outside, slightly dismayed at the amount of rain still left on the ground. Walking up the grass hill would be murder…

He debated, and thought that maybe, he would wait until midday to give the sun a chance to dry off all of the grass. Surely in the long run it would save him more time than if he left at that moment.

And it didn't matter all that much. He was coming to see Pan. Whether it be now or in a few hours. And he would take delight in putting an end to Pan. The silly girl that decided to get into affairs that were far beyond her capability to comprehend.

He smiled an ugly smile.

Soon.

The prince had fallen back to sleep after his morning wake up, and it was to a sleeping, lightly snoring face that Pan opened her eyes. She blinked twice, holding back the strong urge to yelp and hop out of bed because surely there was a reason there was a person in her bed.

Pan leaned back a bit, pulling stray hairs behind her ears. The prince was in her bed. Her first reflex was to reach for the candle stick by her bed and turn violent on the peepish prince. However, her hands stayed where they were, because somehow she thought that perhaps he had permission to be there.

But why would she let him near her bed? She closed her eyes briefly, willing any memories of the past night return to her.

Ah, yes. He couldn't sleep because of the light… and she didn't want to be alone. It had been rather beneficial to the both of them. Win win, as it were. And it was with the knowledge that she had let him sleep by her, that Pan pushed away any thoughts to be violent towards Trunks.

She breathed in, smelling the world through her window shutters. While she disliked huge storms, she could find some good things about them. Her mother had always drilled into her the proverb to see good things in bad situations.

Yes there had been a storm, and yes it had frightened you beyond belief. But now you can lay in bed, slowly stretching those muscles, and just smelling that fresh earth smell. The land has been cleaned, and outside there were huge fields of grass, swamped with dew and rain.

When she had been little she had loved to run through the grass bare-foot just after a rain. It was fun and left the feet freezing, so all your father could do was bundle you up inside in front of a fire and your mother could make something warm to eat.

And speaking of eating…

Pan turned sharply and suppressed a giggle at the sound of Trunks' stomach. It was protesting rudely against the prince's… healthy… diet of pies. Her eyes were drawn back to his face, as if from some outside force. She reached up her hand, and ran a finger very lightly across his cheek.

Pan frowned. His face was so different, she observed, after living with her family whose faces were soft featured and curved. His sharp cheek bones and chin were features she hadn't really seen on people before.

Her finger slid down to his chin to feel the shape. Her eyebrows knitted in contemplation, feeling the curve of his lip, her finger skimming between them.

So it was to a delicate finger brushing his lips that Trunks opened his eyes. He pulled his face back abruptly, running each lip through his teeth.

"Gah, that feels weird," he murmured, rubbing his lips. "Tickles," he added. He was absently rubbing his own fingers over them when he suddenly stopped and turned his eyes to Pan, who lay frozen; hand still positioned where his face had once been.

Trunks blinked.

"Were you touching my face?"

"No!" she said, bringing her hand down. Trunks raised his eyebrows. "Well, yes. But not in that kind of way."

"Pan… it's a face. How many different ways can you touch it?"

"I don't know, but whatever way you are thinking of, it's dead wrong. I was just seeing the construction of your face, that's all."

"Why?"

"Because I wanted to see if your skull would fit in my human sacrificial bone pit. Congratulations, it's going to match the arm of the Barbarian Ant-Eater's perfectly."

Trunks gave her a look that indicated her humour was unappreciated.

"You said they were human bones, so you couldn't have an ant-eater there. If you're going to lie, at least do it convincingly."

"What? I didn't lie. He was a human that ate ants."

Trunks stared. Pan laughed and sat up. She ran fingers through her untidy hair, in such a way that seemed so automatic, that Trunks would guess it was out of habit.

"You sacrifice humans?" he asked after a moment, not prepared to take her seriously, though a small part of his mind wasn't quite sure…

"Only on full moons," she replied smoothly. "And only people who bug me." With that said, she swung her feet gracefully to the floor and stood up, her dress trailing, from her knees where it had bunched up in sleep, to its proper length at her ankles. She pulled it needlessly straight and cast a glance at Trunks.

Whatever the glance was for, he wouldn't know, for she turned it away just as quickly as she had settled him with it. She hopped back on the bed and leaned over Trunks' horizontal body. Leaning forward she pulled at the shutter's holder and pushed open the window.

Annoying sunlight filtered in onto Trunks' face and he shut his eyes against it.

"Am I doomed to be darkly-challenged in this place? Heaven forbid you dim the lights," he said sharply towards the window.

Pan shook her head.

She leaned back off the bed, and stood with her hands on her hips, standing on her tip toes in order to stretch out her legs. Lifting her elbows over her head she sighed. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes before she walked across the room to her cabinet. She pulled out her under clothes, and was about to order Trunks not only out of bed, but also out of the room when she paused.

She raised her eyebrows in thought for a moment, before turning her head slightly and impishly smiling. She dropped her night dress to the floor, the garment pooling around her ankles. While pulling the strings across her chest to fasten her new clothes, she cast a discreet look back at Trunks.

His face was turned fully away, the faintest of blushes dashed across his cheek bones. Her smile broadened. She tied off the garment with ease coming from years of practice, and straightened the cloth. She pulled on her first dress before walking out of the room, a quick glance back revealing Trunks was still turned away.

She didn't bother to close the door, but instead trekked downstairs to where she knew a fresh basin of water would be left for her by the women. Above the basin was a decent sized mirror that caught her eye. She stared at her reflection.

What would her father think? she wondered idly as she wound her hair behind her neck. Here she was, sleeping next to a boy, and not just any boy, but the prince that was stealing his life away. She could just see her father now, torn between shock and rage. The imagined expression was one she had seen before, and was rather amusing, though she only saw it in un-amusing situations. His eyebrows would cross down and his jaw would open and close like a vacant fish.

However… her father wasn't here. And she hadn't done anything wrong… well, she didn't. Nothing happened, so surely there was no rules about sharing a bed as long as nothing happens of the sexual nature. Surely.

Pan frowned and picked up the rough soap near by, before plunging her hands into the basin and splashing the water onto her face. She scrubbed her face clean as well as her arms and set to drying them off with the near by towel.

It was weird to think that there was an invisible person in her bed right now. More weird that it was the prince, a man she could comfortably say she despised. She still remembered vividly, a few days ago, when she had gone to the palace. She had acted most civilly towards him; something that she didn't have to do, and yet he had been completely priggish about the whole thing.

What was it to him if she kept her farm? They hadn't done anything wrong in the first place. Just because his father thought that he could make it more profitable, it didn't matter, because it was their farm. He didn't have a right. Not in the moral sense.

And yes, now he agreed to give her the farm. But, he only did it because she refused to lift his curse.

Pan put the towel down and leaned her elbows on the rough table. She chewed her lip softly. She wondered, if she had proposed the same question now, if the answer would have been different. Curses aside, if she had come to the prince now and asked him for her farm, she wondered if he would have considered it. Because the prince… he seemed different some how.

Pan wasn't sure if it was just because she had gotten to know him better. Sometimes first impressions could be completely misleading, and her first of the prince wasn't a terribly flattering one. But now… he seemed different. They had danced together… laughed together… He had saved her from Keipher the day before, and the night before…

She wouldn't have imagined it. She had not spoke to anyone about her connection of storms to death. She had never mentioned it even to her family. Oh, they suspected, surely. But they wouldn't know the deepest reasons. Yet she had told Trunks. Had told him without mountains of hesitation. And he hadn't laughed. He had been almost… compassionate… understanding.

He had not left her alone last night. He had been by her side all night, and she truly hated to admit it but…

She couldn't remember a time when she had felt more safe. Nestled up to him, warm and comfortable. His own even breathing acting as an anchor for her. It was frightening in a sense. It was frightening in almost every sense. Because Pan wasn't just a stupid girl with no clue as to what was happening. She wasn't oblivious to what was going on, and she wasn't sure if the prince was either.

But he didn't seem to be doing anything to stop it. He seemed to notice the same feelings that she did, but he wasn't avoiding them. He was practically encouraging them.

And it wasn't fair! It wasn't fair that he just let her…

Just let her fall in love with him. Because then in a few days he would be gone. And she would be alone. And she would not set herself up for that. She wasn't going to play his game. She didn't doubt, that if she let herself play into emotions, as he was doing, that she would play completely. She would win, and let her heart take full control. And when he was gone, she would get game over. And she knew what that felt like.

Pan had read enough romance tales in her pre teen years. She had sat around for enough gossip in the kitchens to know what it was like to have a heart broken. She had seen woman collapse and never get back up from it. She had felt the same way with her grandfather… but her grandfather had been her friend. Had been her supporter.

What would be like to lose your whole world? To lose your life, and not to death, just to an unresponsive recipient. An unrequited love.

She would not give away an emotion she held dear, to the snobby prince of the country, only to pick up the scattered pieces in a few days.

It wasn't worth it.

No matter how much her heart was telling her it might be.

Her brain refused the notion.

Pan stood up and looked at her reflection in the mirror one last time. Her face looked tired and almost sad. But this was the way it was going to have to be.

She pulled on a smile, and walked back up stairs.

Trunks was already standing in the kitchen, staring at a cupboard for no specific reason, when Pan came into the room. He himself had already dragged himself out of bed, and found his now-dry clothes from yesterday and pulled them on.

Pan came into the kitchen some time later, having already gone down stairs and washed, then returning upstairs to get fully dressed. She was wearing a pale blue dress today, and he found himself glad that he was wearing a borrowed black tunic instead of his own he had worn here. It too was a light blue, and his eye for coordination told him they would have repelled each other.

Her hair was tied behind her in a braid, and a ribbon seemed to be woven through the parts. It was a style he had seen at home, and was surprised that she had been able to do it on her own, as he always thought a second person would have to do it. He slightly wished he had seen her do her hair, just because it would be interesting to see someone braid their own hair.

Pan was looking through the cupboards with small enthusiasm, and Trunks caught sight of her hand. She had raised her left hand to open a cupboard, her sleeve riding up to show off the well bound hand. He stared at it, knowing full well why her hand was bandaged, but the knife accident seemed so long ago, instead of yesterday morning.

Had it only been a day since he had kissed her?

It was strange standing there, watching Pan reach up on tip toes, and scuttle around the kitchen, her skirts swishing at her ankles. It was like he had seen this routine every morning of his life, and he would not know what to do if it were suddenly gone.

Trunks swallowed. He hated being here. He hated being on this stupid farm.

Because he didn't want to leave.

He shook his head, utterly refusing to think about his feelings on this place, or even Pan, and cleared his throat in an obvious gesture of impatience.

Pan turned from the cupboard and sighed.

"I'm not overly hungry, are you?" she asked. He made a small noise and tilted his head in an 'I don't know' fashion. She threw him a look before closing the door she had opened. "It rained last night."

"Did it? Thank you, I didn't notice," he replied, which was met with another look.

"Yes well, it's the best time for apple picking," she said, walking towards the door outside. Trunks looked after her, then turned to catch up.

"Apple picking?"

"Yep. You'll get a bit wet, but the apples soak up all the rain, so they're very juicy. Come on," she said, opening the door and walking outside.

The grass was thick with rain causing Pan to have to hike up her skirts halfway to her knee in order to keep herself somewhat dry. She was walking towards a round tree not far from the house, which was obviously filled with apples. The tree looked rarely picked from, and Pan quickly explained that it was a private tree more than a crop tree.

She stood underneath the tree and let her skirts drop. She looked up for a moment before kicking her foot up at the trunk and grabbing for a branch. Trunks looked on in mild awe at the way she could quickly swing herself up along the tree, especially in a dress. She swung her feet onto a branch and edged forward along it.

"Catch these, will you?" she called down. Trunks obediently moved to stand more below her. She reached across and pulled a large red apple from it's twig. It snapped off, causing the branch to whip lash upwards, the dew on the tree showering down.

Trunks made an unmanly noise and hopped out of the way of the water onslaught. Pan laughed from her branch and tossed the apple at him before going to get another one. Trunks decided to keep his distance from underneath the branch this time, and wait where he was for Pan to toss the apples down.

She threw three more down, then grabbed one last one which she held in her hand as she dropped down herself. She landed on bent knees, water shaking down on her. She didn't seem to mind terribly as she took a large bite from the apple she held.

She walked over and grabbed the other apples from Trunks, shoving them into her apron, then returning one for him to eat.

"They're good," she said when he shot her a glance. He took a bite. He had half expected, with the surprises he seemed to get on her farm, that the apple would taste as if it had fallen from heaven. However, an apple was an apple. And while he would admit that this particular one was one of the better ones he had ever had, there was no call to sing its praise.

Then he realized that Pan wasn't really either. She had commented that they were good, which they were, and that they would eat some for breakfast. He scowled at himself for trying to be contrary to something she hadn't even said.

Sometimes he just liked being contrary.

He looked up, expecting to see Pan watching him for signs of approval, but instead was met with the sight of her retreating form. He jogged to catch up.

"I'm going into town," she said, once he caught up to her.

"Oh? And I have to come?" he asked, remembering that she had forced him to come with her last time they had left. She looked at him casually before shrugging.

"Not really. I think I can trust you enough… can't I?"

"No. Well, I mean, yes, but I'm coming anyway. What if your loving fiancé shows up, hmm?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows in what he thought was an amusing fashion. She side-glared at him.

"Come if you like then, but don't wander off by yourself. You could get lost and then I'll have bought it for nothing."

"Bought what now? Sorry?"

Pan moved her hand by the corner of her skirt, a bag clinking as her fingers brushed it.

"When we go back tomorrow, you said your father will call a ball. It's what you got sunburnt for yesterday, remember?" she asked, lightly hitting his head, where it wasn't truly burnt, but rather sore from the sun's heat.

"Yes, you learnt to dance so that you would go to the ball." Pan nodded.

"Right, so… I need something to wear," she said simply, walking slightly ahead as Trunks paused in his own walk. He raised an eyebrow then caught up. She looked at his expression and raised an eyebrow of her own.

"What?" she asked.

"Don't you have a dress? You're wearing one now." She looked at him as if he had gone half mad.

"Well… yes. But this isn't really for a ball," she replied, gesturing at her clothes. Trunks have a crooked smile.

"I didn't think I'd see the day when you behaved almost like a girl. A little girl who only has to worry about colour coordination and her curls." She glared.

"Just because you wear every day clothing to special occasions, doesn't mean I will."

"That's because my 'every day clothing' is nice enough for any occasion."

"Which is why you can't even dress yourself."

"My heritage allows people to tend to me, whereas all you have is yourself."

"And I'll always have myself."

"Yes, and I'll always have my heritage."

"And that's all you'll have," she said, quickening her pace to show that she wasn't amused by him. He caught up anyway.

"Do you really think that's all I'll ever have?" he asked. She glanced at him, and looked at him searchingly. He wasn't sure what she was looking for, or whether she found it, but she looked away and sighed.

"No. I think that what you have will be up to you."

"And what do you think I can have?" he asked her. She paused in thought.

"I think… that you could have the world, if only you tried not to get it," she said simply. He opened his mouth to reply, but then stopped. He wasn't positive what she meant, and wasn't sure if he even knew what she was talking about, but he did know it was a compliment of sorts.

It amazed him how accustomed he had gotten to Pan's facial expressions and tones of voice. So when she said something, with an almost distant look, voice lowered into a soft sound; he knew that what she was saying was coming right from her. From Pan.

And he wanted to keep her cryptic compliment to himself, with no explanation. So one day, when things got rough, he could remember.

Remember that stubborn annoying Pan, thought that he could have the entire world… if only he didn't try to get it.

And a faith in a boy like that, from a girl like Pan, was something that wouldn't be forgotten, even long after the girl was herself.

I came, I read, I reviewed. Good Romans.

Angel Eevee