Another chapter! It's short, I'm sorry, but I couldn't add any more to it; it's too important, and don't worry, I'll try to update ASAP. This chapter made me sad, in fact I'm a little emotional right now thinking about it, to be honest—and corny. Hope you like it, but don't worry, it's not over.

Pan had made up her mind. Pan had always been sensible, always been a thinking sort of person, and once she made up her mind, most usually, it was made up for good.

That being said, she cried harder than she had ever cried all morning. More than when she had overheard Trunks and Conner talking about the bet, and more than the flight to London—yes, she admitted to crying quite a lot during that plane ride.

Her mother checked on her once when she first heard her daughter crying, but after poking her head in, realizing the fact of why her daughter was being an absolute boob, she had left and hadn't come back besides lunch time to give her medicine and some food, and to make sure she was comfortable.

At six o'clock she picked up the phone, and called Capsule Corps.

"Hi, is Trunks there, Bulma?" Her voice was even croakier after crying all morning and afternoon, and she vaguely wondered if Bulma could recognize her. Apparently she did, because she told Pan to hold on a moment, and several minutes later Trunks' voice, croaky as well, picked up.

"Panny?" She bit her lip to stifle another outbreak of sobs at the sound of his voice saying her nickname, and swallowed with determination.

"Trunks, I…are you sick?" She questioned, and she could have sworn he had nodded on the other end.

"Yeah," He commented after a moment. "you are too." He had stated it, not asked it, and she begged to Dende, "Where will I find another man that knows me so well? Who gets my brain waves like a psychic?" But that was it: she knew she never would.

"Hey, um, I need to talk to you," She began, but was interrupted.

"I'll be right over." He said simply, not fanatically, or in a rush, but without even a moment's hesitation.

There was a pregnant pause, an awkward silence where usually "I love you's" were present, but Trunks waited for her; as he had just finished speaking, and Pan sighed silently.

"I'll see you in a moment." She hung up without another word.

~*

Trunks set the phone down, and a sick feeling in his stomach made him want to vomit. He leant his forehead on his fist, pinstriped sheets rumpled around him on the bed, and sat in silence for a moment before he sighed, sadly, and got up to put some clothes on.

~*

Pan had thought, several times, about calling Trunks' cell and canceling the "appointment". She kept feeling sick, waves of nausea would hit her like a sickening caress, and once or twice she thought she would have to sprint to the bathroom.

Why was she feeling this way? She was making the right decision…right?

So when, about half an hour later, she heard Trunks' car pull up, there was a flurry of confusion and chaos inside her mind, a twisting, turning roller coaster, and she felt like bolting out the window and disappearing for a few days into some vast forest.

So when, just moments after that, she heard her mother answer the door, totally unsurprised, she questioned her decision—everything was spinning…no, she was doing what was right.

She heard his footsteps coming up the stairs—such a familiar sound she felt like another bout of tears—but that was nothing compared to the way her body nearly shook in a sob when he opened the door.

His hair was tousled, messy, he was tousled, messy, in a half and half of regular clothes and pajama's. He looked like the devil, obviously sick, obviously tired…she just wanted to hold him, he looked so sick and helpless.

He was Trunks. The Trunks she had grown to love, the Trunks who hadn't waited a moment before coming to her at the tiniest of beckonings.

She smiled, at least in her heart she did, and he tilted his head to the side.

"Hi." It was only one word, and a two letter on at that, but he knew; she could tell. It was no surprise to him. How could she have doubted that, when he knew her better than she knew herself?

"Sit down." She patted the bed next to her, and he slouched down where she had indicated as she pulled her knees up and hugged them. She looked at him, and sighed, and his cerulean eyes didn't stray from her face, though they took in everything. The tiniest, thoughtful smirk she had, the way she leant her head sideways in her knee, the slow blink, the piece of hair that fell over her brow and hung in her eyes, the way she was looking at him now, taking in everything, loving everything about him, and yet…

"I'm sorry—" Her face crinkled, just enough, and she blinked at tears that fell anyway, though slowly. He leant his forehead to hers, then lifted it briefly to turn his face to the side.

"I am too." His finger traced her cheek before her took her in his arms and leant back on the pillows.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" She threw her face into the curve of his neck and her body shook with quiet sobs, but he merely sushed her, quietly calming her down, silently comforting her.

For many minutes, he merely ran his fingers through her hair, or sighed softly, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, and she basked in him, this physical and spiritual him she had come to know…and love—

…and lose.

"What is she like?" She asked softly after what had seemed like an eternity, when she realized she could stay suspended in this moment forever and be content. She had known, from the very moment he walked in the door, that they had been caught in a double betrayal. She felt, rather than heard, him sigh, and she waited for his words.

"She…" He began. "plays the violin. She…works at a luncheon restaurant in the old downtown area…and, Panny,"—oh, how that word made her ache!—"I don't know much about her." He admitted. "And him?"

"Nuclear Science." She found herself smiling at the humor in the situation. She could also sense Trunks' confused surprise. "He's a Nuclear Science major at the university. I met him at the library, when my father sent me on a research errand. I met him the day before yesterday." She confided, and she could sense a smile.

"How ironic." He said. "I met Aiko that same day. That's her name, by the way."

"Jace." She said simply, but he understood. "Jace Winthrow."

"Aiko Takahachi." The room gave way to silence for several moments before he spoke again. "I was going to call you last night. But…I couldn't. I couldn't—"

"Hurt me?" She offered, and he nodded reluctantly.

"No, not like that, not just through a phone call. Pan, I—"

"Don't say it." She said firmly, sadly.

He twisted around to have an arm on each side of her, and traced her jaw.

"But I do." He brought his face closer to hers. "Oh, I do, Panny." He leant his forehead to hers, and her breath became shallow.

"Have any of our parents, any of the parents we know, had doubts about the person they were marrying?"

"Maybe my dad had some doubts…" He mused with a touch of humor, and she shook her head.

"Did they, Trunks?" She demanded. He closed his eyes for a moment in defeat, and she looked at him. "Maybe we should—just for a while—"

"I know." Though a decision was made, one he had agreed on, his mouth snuck closer to hers, his warm lips greeting hers in a kiss that was familiar and welcomed. Her hands stretched to the sides of his neck as his tongue crept into her mouth, and she took in a sharp breath but didn't protest.

She didn't want the kiss to stop when he pulled away slowly, but it was a selfish desire that she pushed away.

His lips caressed her jaw and neck in barely-there kisses until he rested his head in her shoulder.

"It would be unfair of me to ask you not to go," She said. He turned and leant on his back beside her, pulling her close.

"It would be unfair of me to ask to stay…" He held her close until her breath became deep and even, until he knew she was deep in sleep, and then he crept out of her room and out of her house.

~*

Pan had woken up with the knowledge that Trunks had stayed with her until she had drifted into sleep, and when she looked around, expecting, for some reason, to see him, she was disappointed.

Now, an hour or so later she undressed herself in the bathroom. She brushed her hair out while the water made its steady climb in heat, and she began slipping off any jewelry she had on.

Her body gave a slight jump, more like someone had grasped her behind the navel and pulled, when she came to her left hand and saw the single ring on it, simple yet distinct.

She set down on the toilet and held her fingers splay out, wriggling them gently. The stone caught the light and dazzled against the wall across her, and she took a deep breath.

She slid it off her finger and set it on the edge of the sink before getting in the shower.

~*

For several days Pan drifted. She felt lazy, unproductive, as she spent her mornings, afternoon's, and evening's doing nothing in particular or doing whatever seemed interesting at the moment.

She seemed to mope around, and it depressed her that she was depressed. It was an endless cycle of time that was meaningless. Her life had taken a drastic turn off onto another road…but she didn't know where that road led. Didn't know what would become of her life. Didn't know what she wanted to do with it.

And then, one day, whilst checking her horoscope that had never, in her life, been correct, that she realized what she'd do next. She voiced her plans to her mother one rainy night when they were munching on ice-cream. (She had also noticed to her distate that while she had been moping around that she had put on three pounds)

"I'm going back to England." She said after a few moments of silence, and Videl looked at her, though not with surprise. She didn't answer though, and Pan shot her a raised brow, urging a response.

"I knew you'd want to." Videl then said, and Pan looked at her curiously. "But Pan, what is there?"

"The rest of school."

"What do you want to do with it?"

"I want to teach."

"Pan, don't throw your life into a direction simply because you feel you lack one." Pan opened her mouth to defend herself, but her mother cut her off. "When did you decide you wanted to teach? Last night? Today? When have you ever thought of it before?"

"You'd advise me not to follow a passion?"

"Where is the passion, Pan?" Her mother argued. "A passion is something you've had for more than two days. A passion is something you've wanted to do for a long time, or at least more than a week. Just because you feel—"

"I get it, OK?" She snapped, and Videl shook her head.

"No, you don't, Pan. Right now, you want to escape what's happening. You feel like there's nothing of meaning ahead of you, nothing to really go on for, like you're life is now a waste." Pan clenched her teeth. It was exactly how she felt, and she didn't want to admit it.

"Pan," Her mother continued. "I won't stop you from going to London, but…don't go because you feel you have to be doing something."

Pan stood up and set her dish in the sink before leaving the room and going to her own, and her mother's eyes watched her exit.

Videl sighed.

She didn't want Pan to make a mistake.