A/N: See chapter one for disclaimer. I think any excuse I could offer on the lateness of this chapter would be very lame and over looked. Basically I vacationed for the rest of my summer, did time consuming job training, adjusted to back to school, and saw Pirates of the Caribbean a million times. In short, I had a life. I'm sorry it resulted in such a late chapter.

Last Time: Pan realizes she is sad that Trunks will have to leave the next day, a worried Goten tells Pan about her friend's death and possible murder, Pan is very upset and comforted by a surprisingly knowledgeable prince

"Unspoken Name"

Trunks closed his eyes, mentally willing the image of the large oak doors away from his sight. He was of course, ecstatic to be where he was. His eyes opened again and he had to look at the doors carefully.

He was home. Or, close enough to it. Just beyond those doors and he would be there. And he couldn't wait to be seen again. And to just be there. At home.

There was just something about it.

But… there was just something about what he would have to leave behind too. He wouldn't be stupid and pretend that the small taste of the outside world had not affected him. He… no.

No. It wasn't this world. It was nice; a comfortable change of scenery. But he wasn't feeling this hesitant to return to his own life, just because he'd miss the country side. He was feeling hesitant because he would miss the person next to him.

He could die never seeing the country again and not think much of it. It was the girl, staring at him as if he were mad, a questioning look of 'why haven't you gone inside yet?' plastered on her face.

He turned to Pan.

How could he possibly convey to her what he wanted? How could he express that he wasn't sure he wanted to never see her again. They could be friends… they could… pass letters back and forth to each other. Banter on parchment.

"Is there a reason we are just standing here?" she asked him, a small annoyance creeping into her voice. Trunks looked at her and sighed.

"It's just… I don't think I realized what this entailed. I don't know, Pan. We've kind of… well… gotten off kind of good, haven't we? I mean, we've become… well…"

"Friends?"

"Exactly," he said, clapping his hands once. "Friends… of sorts. And it just seems… When I open these doors, it puts that rift back between us. You will be the farm girl. I will be the stuck up prince."

"First off, I won't be a farm girl. You promised me a title, remember? I'll be Lady Farm Girl, thank you very much. And besides, if you think we're friends… I mean, if we both…

"We don't hate each other," she said, obviously gathering her thoughts through her head. "And I've never had someone I could insult so amusingly. But we spent enough time being angry at each other, that we had less time to like each other. I think, maybe we aren't friends, but we get along well. And maybe we could be friends… just because we are a day apart doesn't mean we'll never see each other, and-"

"We could write. You know, just to…"

"…keep in touch…"

"Right."

"And I'll be at the Ball. Didn't learn to dance for nothing," she said, a coy grin on her face. Trunks smiled himself.

"Which will only happen upon my return. And as soon as I open those doors, I really become the prince again. So this is a good bye. An informal goodbye. A thank you.

"Thank you, Pan. For putting up with me. For taking the effort to be with me, to amuse me, to let me into your house. To agree to break my spell. You could have decided your farm was a small price to pay compared to having me be obsolete for the rest of my life. You had little reason to help me, but you did. And I must thank you for that."

The prince swiftly grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips. At first his lips brushed a coarse fabric and he looked down to see her bandage and smiled. She was smiling as well, and discreetly shifted her hand so when he moved in again, his lips touched smooth skin.

"This is how we say thank you at the castle," he murmured, giving her a slight bow of the head, a practiced step backwards so he could sweep his back. Pan didn't seem to notice his rehearsed bow and gazed openly at her hand.

She suddenly looked up at his face, searching it quickly before she took a step forward and grabbed his cheeks in both of her hands. Cupping his face she yanked him down to her level. Her eyes blinked owlishly at his, their noses touching.

She turned her head and completed what had been hinted at the day before. She pressed her lips against his, and he wasn't shocked or proud enough to stand and not respond.

She tore herself away from him, and only then did he realize she must have kissed him for a long time as his breath was coming in gasps. She smiled.

"That is how we say thank you in the country."

"I knew I liked it better there," he said, not taking his eyes off her. "But Pan. You once told me that when they kissed you in the country it meant something. That you didn't do it just to do it, but had to have purpose… meaning."

"Yes. I did say that."

"Then Pan…" he swallowed, taking in all that was implied by her. She was looking at him expectantly, almost nervously. He just wanted to know what she meant by the kiss. She seemed to understand because she placed a hand lightly on his arm.

"I'm sorry. It's just, you're right, Trunks. We didn't get along. But you've been there for me, and I've come to feel that- what?" She raised an eyebrow at him. He was staring hard at her.

Same lovely hair. Same piercing eyes. Same height, same lips, same feel, but…

"You're not real," he said stubbornly. Pan raised her other eyebrow.

"Excuse me?"

"You're not real," he said with more conviction.

"I don't know what-"

"You said my name," he said quickly. She stopped in mid word and gave him another look. He was not dissuaded. "You said my name. Ever since you got a visit from that fortune teller friend, you haven't said my name once. Well… you did yell it when were trapped outside and that storm was starting… but that was different.

"I don't know why," he continued, jabbing a finger, "but you stopped saying my name. I'm almost dying to know what she said to you to make you stop something like that. A name is a powerful thing against someone. If you don't say my name, you can't get close… what did she say to you Pan that was so bad?"

"I don't know what you're-"

"Oh never mind," he said shortly. "But you'll see. The real you doesn't say my name. Doesn't kiss me that well either. Heck, doesn't kiss me at all…"

Pan smiled at him and shrugged.

"Panny? Are you awake, hun?"

Trunks blinked. Pan smiled the more.

"Time for you to wake up," she said. "And you're wrong. What she told me… wasn't a bad thing."

Something fell and landed on his chest. Hard.

He blinked awake in shock, not seeing the Pan had her fingers crossed.

Usually Pan had not been one to sleep in through the morning. She had liked getting up with the chickens as a child, more so just to run around with the boundless energy of youth that seemed to annoy the bleary eyed workers so much.

As an adult, she had let herself sleep in a bit more.

As of that morning, she had let herself sleep in a lot. It could have been that she had been out later the night before, the trip back from her mother's tree house taking longer than she had remembered. Or it could be that she hadn't sleep quite as peacefully as she would have liked and was making up in quantity what she lacked in quality of sleep.

But a small part of her wondered if it weren't due to the lavender haired man sleeping at her side. She had enjoyed waking up the morning earlier, curled up against a chest that was warm, another person's breath brushing her hair.

The prince's body added a peace and comfort to her bed and sleep that she hadn't had before. She had a feeling that that would be what it was like when she got married. Laying next to the one you had sworn yourself to. She pictured herself waking up every morning to the comforting arms of the prince – no. To whoever she married. Unless it was Keipher…

Pan felt like sticking her tongue out at the thought, but she wasn't fully awake yet and motor functions were a bit of a dream at this state. She would have loved to slowly come to as everyone did in the morning, but she was woken with a start by a voice in her ear.

A voice that didn't belong to the man sleeping next to her.

"Panny? Are you awake, hun?" Pan mumbled that she was not awake and did it look like she was awake, and flung herself away from the voice, arm thrown out landing hard next to her, on Trunks, eliciting a surprised yelp from him as he shot up.

Pan gasped at his reaction, and turned over, blinking foggily up at the person who had woken her up, afraid that they would have heard the prince's cry.

By the look of slight confusion on the man's face, Pan guessed he had. But she was more concerned with the face itself than the expression on it.

"Dad!" she cried, jumping from the bed, and flinging her arms around his neck. An act a bit beneath her age, though her father would never pass it up. She had missed her father, and with the storm and worrying about their safety more than she had ever had, she was extremely thankful he was home.

Home and safe.

He chuckled into her ear.

"I see someone has missed me." Gohan moved his daughter to arm length and looked at her seriously. "Goten told me what happened," he said softly. Pan closed her eyes, remembering her friend. But Trunks was right. This wasn't her fault, and it was okay. Or it would be.

"Yes," she said, as if the one word would settle her father's fear for her. Gohan's grip tightened slightly. She smiled. "It's okay… I will be okay… in time."

He looked at her oddly, but gave a small smile of support despite whatever was running through his brain. She breathed in deeply and sighed.

"So," he said, his inherited smile on his face, "did you have fun without parental supervision?"

She laughed.

"Yes. The farm boys enjoyed it too," she said, eyes scrunching impishly.

"Ah yes. Goten mentioned he thought you had someone," her father trailed off. Pan's face fell slack and she let her jaw slip.

"What?" she made out dumbly. He nodded sagely at her.

"Goten said that when he was over here once, it seemed that you were off… that some boy perhaps…"

"I have no idea what you are talking about!" she said with indignity, too enthusiastic to be taken at face value.

"I know," Gohan said, missing his daughter's tone. "Goten makes those things up all of the time. I know that you, of all people, wouldn't masquerade around with the boys like that. My Panny trouncing around in hay stacks and seducing them to bed." He laughed.

"Dad…"

"Oh, well, maybe you would do it. But just to bug them," he looked down at her, the words said with a smile but a sort of realization crossing his face. "Which I do not condone and is not funny in the least. Stop flirting with the boys Pan, next thing I know I'll walk in and one will be in your bed."

"Dad!" The look on her face was easily misinterpreted by her father. He took the gaping mouth and fierce blush over her cheeks to be indignity at his suggestion, ignoring her nervous look to the bed and the coughed laugh that came from it.

Gohan suddenly shook his head, rubbing his fingers over his eyes.

"I'm sorry. We just got home, riding all night. I'm not thinking straight," he apologized. He stood rubbing the back of his neck in obvious discomfort, giving Pan time to compose herself, but unfortunately also giving her uncle time to barge in.

"Ah, you're awake. And blushing," he added, raising an eyebrow. "What are you two talking about?"

"Remember when you said that Pan-" she cut her father off by throwing her hands at his shoulders and turning him forcefully to the door.

"Okay, I'm standing here in my under garments, get out," she said, shoving her father, and Goten ducked out as well.

Pan marched her uncle and father from the room and glared at the door. Her arms were folded across her chest when she spun on her heel and faced the final occupant of the room.

Trunks was awake now, sitting up in bed, a very small up turn to his lips proving he had been watching and listening to the conversation with no small amount of amusement.

"I find that odd," he said looking at the ceiling.

"What?" she asked, her tone saying her mood without having to look at her face.

"Your father seemed less than stern about you and the boys around here. I thought fathers were very protective when it came to that type of thing. But he made it seem that finding you seducing an innocent-"

"Oh, stop it. He was teasing. If I actually had some boy in my bed he would react accordingly, and I have no doubt it would be unpleasant. Besides," she said, waving her hand off-handedly, "I don't have boys in my bed."

Trunks stared at her pointedly.

"You don't count," she said dismissively. Trunks feigned a sudden case of severe shock, and when he cracked an eye open from his dramatic faint on the bed, what he expected to be a look of amusement or annoyance, he saw none.

Pan blinked at him, her face blank. He was starting to hate when she got that look. There were many looks he wasn't sure he could take from her. He never knew what to do with her. He had thought he could read her like a book when he met her, but sometimes her emotions just changed. Switched so rapidly.

"This is the last day," she said suddenly. "You'll never be in my bed again." If he didn't know better he would have sworn she was saddened by this.

"Are you going to kiss me?" he asked innocently.

Her mild sad look dropped and she glared.

"Excuse me?"

"Only you've just mentioned last day well wishes and, well I will never sleep in your bed. This is true. But I also won't be able to- ah. Have to kiss you my way before…"

Pan took a step backward from the prince that was taking confident steps forward. She frowned mentally, wondering just what he was up to and that she had no intention of being kissed, for final good byes or not

On the prince's part, he fell into a proud bow, lined with uncertainty, and reached for her hand. He paid close attention where he kissed this time, well aware of the bandage that covered her hand. He brushed his lips across it. He released it almost immediately, and Pan slowly lowered it back to her side where it sat quietly. He glanced to her expression and she was staring at him with confusion.

"It's a gentlemen's kiss," he said. "From my world," he added. He looked at her expectantly, almost expecting this Pan to also grab him and force her smooth lips onto his. She didn't move.

"Or perhaps," he murmured, almost embarrassed at her lack of response. "You would prefer a different kiss. Chaste, gentlemen like, however…" he trailed off, pulling at her hand once again and bringing him to her to delicately kiss the corner of her mouth.

This gained a reaction, though not quite the passion wrenched one he was hoping for.

She shoved him much like she had her father and looked up and down his body repeatedly as if trying to figure out what about him irritated him the most. He sighed, resisting the urge to cross his arms, and waited for the blow about kissing. Waited for her to rant and be angry with him.

But she didn't. She looked at him doubtfully, and once again he felt her eyes roam him. If he knew she wasn't thinking it, he would have thought she was looking for something physical opposed to whatever she was really looking for. He bit back a retort about her shifty eyes.

Finally, as the silence progressed from thick to unbearable she met his eyes.

"I appreciate the thought," she said flippantly, "but I still have to get you to the castle. It's not goodbyes yet."

"Pan?" he asked, as she had turned to walk apparently to the door. She paused and gave him a questioning look.

"Can I kiss you at the castle?" he asked quietly. Her breath seemed to hitch, her lip returning for another day of teeth biting abuse, and she shook her head slowly.

"That won't be the end as well. I mean… there's still the Ball. And you don't want to be seen kissing me," she said with confidence. "I'm just a farm girl."

"I promised to make you a Lady," he argued.

"Slapping a title on someone doesn't change the way a person is. I'll always be a farm girl."

"I don't doubt it," he said. She blinked at his response and didn't respond. With an odd nod she turned back to the door and walked out.

Pan scrubbed diligently at her face with the coarse soap by the basin. She wasn't ready for this. She knew on a level that she had started to feel different about the prince. It wasn't that she liked him, it was that with each day she was beginning to despise him less. And she didn't know how long it would go. If the longer she stayed with him, the more likeable he became… it didn't seem to be a thing to give up.

She liked looking at him and knowing that whoever this prince was, she had partly shaped that. Or at least brought out who he was. It was sort of rewarding though she couldn't say what she had done to change him. She didn't much care. It wasn't as if a new invisible prince would show up and she would have to weave the redemption blanket all over again.

So, it became quite clear to Pan that she had acquired a mixed feeling for the prince. And though she had to give him up soon enough, there was a part of her that wanted him to stay. A curious part of her that wondered how much he could change in her eyes. If she was with him long enough would she love him?

But that wouldn't be right… she didn't believe in fortune telling.

While it had occurred to her that she wanted something longer with Trunks, it also occurred to her that he wasn't making things any easier. Playing warm comforter in her bed, kissing her non-aggressively, non-formally, non… Keipherish, that it made her want this to be longer then what she wanted it to be.

It wasn't fair.

She glared at the looking glass above the basin and glared harder at her reflection, sure that the girl glaring back was the source of her confused state.

"Vegeta?"

"Mnn," came the disgruntled response. The king was lying on his side, his back towards his wife, arms bent and sprawled. Though the position would look comfortable and sleepable on any one else, he managed to look dignified and proper even in his sleeping state.

Beside him Bulma moved up on one elbow, her thing chin resting in her upturned palm. She had slipped on her husband's favourite night dress of hers after the time they had spent together. A vague pain in her stomach attested to their skipping of dinner the night before. But her hunger wasn't what she was trying to talk to him about.

She reached over and ran soft fingers up his bare arm, earning a subtle shiver from him and a clenching in his back muscles that let her know that he was awake and listening. She kept her fingers on his arm, rubbing in slow, lazy circles.

"Vegeta?" she tried again.

"Hmm?" he grunted back, but in a more coherent tone.

"I was wondering…" she broke up with a small laugh and shook her head, an action the King couldn't see with his back to her. He steadied himself for an embarrassing or amusing question that she was dying to ask. He sighed.

"You know Trunks' fiancée?"

"Bulma…" he interrupted patiently. "I've already told you that I would let our son marry the woman of his choice, there is no need to keep asking."

"No, it's not that. But anyway, until he says otherwise his fiancée keeps her title."

"I suppose," he said, not having thought the question before, but agreeing with his wife's logic.

"Yes well, what's her name?" she asked bluntly.

"What?" he asked, finally opening his eyes fully, turning his body so he was facing her, her rubbing hand pulled back at his sudden movement.

"Her name? I've never heard it," she said and he caught a flash of confusion over her face.

"You've spent enough time with her, I would think…"

"What?" Bulma asked almost desperately, gripping the blankets by Vegeta's chest.

"I… I don't think I know her name either…" he said thoughtfully, a small smirk on his lips as if this amused him greatly. "We'll just have to ask her for it."

"Wha?" Bulma cried, almost slurred. She sat up in bed and glared down at her husband. "'Ah, gee Bulma, let's just go and ask the girl we've been almost official parents in law to and ask her her name. She won't mind and then we are stupid,' Bulma reeled off in a deep voice that was supposed to be reminiscent with Vegeta's voice but she was failing miserably.

He mock glared at her.

"Well, it's not like we'll ever have to know it. We're royalty my dear." Bulma huffed.

"If she's going to marry our son-"

"Now now. You're the one that pressed for him to be given a choice. Do you think he will choose her? He hardly knows her," Vegeta said calmly, enjoying teasing his wife about a point she had so vehemently fought for.

"You wanted him to marry her," she said, looking at the ceiling. She shrugged. "He likes to make you happy."

Vegeta snorted.

"If you're so sure he's going to pick her, then why did we even bother with all of this fighting?"

"Because I'm not sure. And… I just wanted him to have a choice. Even if that choice is obeying his Father's wishes," she said, turning to her side again, and draping her leg casually over her husband's.

"Because everybody should have a choice…" she said again, closing her eyes, content to sleep a bit more of the early morning haze away, as neither had gotten sufficient sleeping times.

She dozed off quickly; Vegeta did not.

"Pan, can I ask you a question?" Trunks asked, sitting on the bed, his knees tucked underneath him. She looked up from where she was picking up her discarded clothing and gave a vague interested look.

She had already changed her clothes, and he found himself pausing to look at her, mentally appraising the outfit that his parents would see her in. Not for the first time he saw the huge differences between her and the girls he had grown up with. While he wouldn't doubt that Pan would look lovely in the fancy dresses of his home, there was a classic sort of comfortness in the simple ones she wore.

A shirt with long dark sleeves peeked from an over-dress without sleeves made of soft cotton. It bunched under her chest then fell to the floor. Trunks couldn't see it being comfortable, but it did look rather natural on Pan.

She had left her hair down after washing, a length of gray ribbon wrapped half hazardly in a crisscrossing motion along the side of her hair, which had curled at the tips from yesterday's humidity.

"Yes?" she broke the silence, bringing him to remember his question. He stood to make them on even grounds, albeit he was a head taller than her. He ran his fingers through his hair, lavender locks falling back into place. Her father's tunic was still around his chest, looking good for wear.

"What do you think of names?" he blurted, which was met with a raised eyebrow.

"Your name?" she asked with a snicker. He shook his head impatiently.

"I mean… do you know there is a hermit island out to the East. All that have joined have remained nameless. Because when you give out your name, it gives the person a power over it. But when they do know their name, it makes the knower more responsible."

Pan stared at him.

"I was just wondering what you thought about that. The power of a name. Only… you haven't said my name since I kissed you."

"Since my fort-. Erm. No. I've said your name plenty. Look: Trunks, Trunks, Trunks. Happy?"

She was looking at him with a vividness and barely suppressed worry that made Trunks not let the discussion draw to a close.

"Not really," he said briefly. "Since your fortune. That's what you meant to say, right?" He looked steadily at her. "Oh, Pan. What did she say to you?"

Trunks remembered it well. It had intrigued him. At that point in time, while his mind was welling up the courage to walk over and kiss her, this was before he had seen a wide array of emotions from her. And Pan's face had been a tornado of them.

How the Teller had leaned over, strands of red hair falling from behind a handkerchief. Whispering into Pan's ear; the girl's face paling and blushing in a fantastic mixture. Pan's brief murmur of her unwanted betrothed's name. How her friend had shaken her head, and her meaningful glare had told Pan what she needed to know. Nooo, Pan had murmured out. Yeees. She hadn't wanted whatever it was. But seemed resigned to except it… and it wasn't Keipher.

What was it?

"What did she say to you to stop using my name? What made you stop? What made you turn from it? Not saying my name won't keep me here. Nothing will keep me here. Why, Pan?" he asked, intrigued, carefully measuring the tone of his voice and standing so that he was looking down at her and she was looking up.

"What did she say?" he said quietly, his breath coming in a raspy hush, the exhaled air brushing over her cheek. She swallowed and refused to look away from his eyes.

"She told me something that I didn't believe at the time," Pan said in quite the same breathy tones, lip twitching with grim satisfaction when her breath had the same shivery feeling as it tickled his cheek.

Trunks didn't blink.

"What did she say?"

"I can't tell you," she replied, eyes not wavering.

"Why not?"

"Because it came true," she said truthfully, and he looked away from her steady expression. He missed her sigh of relief at the broken connection.

"It's the reason you don't say my name though, right? Whatever you were trying to deny… you thought you could stop it by not saying it. Why?"

"It's just a name," she evaded.

"A name is the connection to a person."

"I know," she said levelly.

"Why didn't you want that connection with me? What did she say?" he asked for the umpteenth time. Her eyes flashed.

"I won't tell you."

"Why not?"

"I already said; it came true. Whether I refrained from your name or not."

"So you admit to keeping it. If it doesn't matter either way, why can't you tell me?" It was Pan's turn to break their look lock.

"I can't tell you right now."

"Well then. When?" he asked, folding his arms.

"After the Ball I suppose…" she trailed. " When we say good bye," she added, looking into his eyes briefly before turning on her heal and leaving the room, and leaving Trunks in a lonely yet anticipated mood.

There was nothing to do now but wait. Wait to go home.

I believe the whole Fortune is in chapter ten, if Trunks' recollection was to vague for your memories. I know I wrote that over Christmas which was ages ago. I'm such a slow writer; wah. My apologies.

Angel Eevee