Another chapter! This one was put together in pieces, I have to say. I would feel like writing one scene, and then another time I'd write the scene before it, when usually—almost always—I write everything in order. (that is, my fan-fiction things) Sorry this has taken so long, I've been working on my website—Shangra La—and hopefully it'll be totally flawless by the time I finish it. (the link's on my profile if anyone wants to stop by) Hope you enjoy the chapter!

Jace saw Pan onto the plane the next day, still so excited about the job opportunity she thought he might break out into spasms.

The plane ride back to London was pure torture. She had fourteen hours to do nothing but think. Riding alone could be bad for that reason, that reason, and, well, that reason. She had no one to talk to except for the wanna' be rapper sitting next to her, who listened to his music so loud she could have jammed to it as well, or perhaps the lady across from her who had bought an entire ticket for her miniature white poodle.

Was it just her, or was she truly surrounded by nutters day and night? Was she perhaps simply imagining the oddity in people with their weird quirks, or were they truly this insane? Was she honestly the only sane person on the planet?

Again, riding alone for fourteen hours could do be bad for a person's mental health. And Pan sure had a lot of things to pore over and drive her insane.

She and Jace weren't literally dating. But, in a way, kind of, they were. He did invite her to the convention, they did call each other, they were attracted to each other…but Pan's heart really wasn't in it like that. At least, not as much as she felt the relationship would deserve if it were a relationship.

Her life at present was shifting once more. Her job would end next month, half of her roommates would graduate, thus it would be time for her to go back. But, the question was, back to where?

She didn't feel that she should stay in London. It was a feeling as if she were growing out of her childhood. Like, she didn't want to let go of something she loved and enjoyed so much, however the time had come, it was time to move on.

She could go back home, and perhaps get a job there. She could probably get a job at Capsule Corporations if she desperately needed a job, but she would only fall back on that when other alternatives fell through.

She could go to any major city in the world. Capsule Corporations gave her the flexibility that even if she didn't have a job in a city, she could pick one up at the closest Capsule Corps. office. There were unlimited possibilities in that instance.

She could go to New York. Jace was moving there in two months—as soon as school let out—to work in the New York Capsule Corporations office. But that brought her back to Capsule Corporations, which she would love to avoid at present. It also brought her back to Jace, whose relationship with she was questioning. And, besides, Jace was going to be training in the capitol for almost a year anyway.

Done pondering those different topics? There could always be limitless pondering and questioning and confusion to go along with her strange meeting with Trunks. It had left her with a nostalgic, bitter-sweet feeling that was in the same family as melancholy.

Was it perhaps a form of remembrance? A sadness for history? A nostalgic reminder of what was now unmistakably past? An era that can't be recalled?

Seeing him there, casually leaning against the wall, his lavender hair brushing across his forehead, dusting his brows. His cerulean eyes that so many times she had looked into his soul through.

He hadn't changed, it seemed. But she had, though she couldn't place what had changed.

Do you love him?

She hadn't talked to her mother since that conversation. Hadn't had a chance to respond, to reply to her question. She didn't think she did. Love him, that is.

Love isn't rose-colored glasses and meadows full of flowers.

Then why was it always portrayed as such? Why has she always been told one, then the other? One, then the other? Fantasy, and then reality. Back and forth, back and forth. She caught herself glaring at the poodle, and kept her frustrations in check.

She didn't know what to think anymore. Didn't know what to feel. Didn't know what she thought, didn't know what she felt. She dinged the flight attendant for some soda with a frustrated sigh.

~*

Pan truly wasn't surprised when she ended up moving home. Her parents seemed to have expected that anyway. When she called them to tell them the good news they didn't seem surprised or necessarily excited. More of an "OK—when do you come in?" totally void of emotion.

And so she had said goodbye to her friends, most of whom were leaving as well. The parting at the plane was excruciatingly hard and she found herself crying while she walked down the ramp into the plane.

But now she was home, and unpacking several clothing boxes in her good old room at her parents house. She insisted, however, not to unpack everything, as she'd find a place of her own soon enough.

And so, one bright and sunny May morning she broke out into the world, both apartment hunting and job hunting as well.

Both didn't go as well as she'd hoped.

Most jobs she found were low-paying, teenage-type jobs which she groaned at, and as far as apartments she soon realized if she didn't want a fifteen-by-fifteen square she'd have to have a higher than minimum wage job.

She came disheartened but prepared to launch into the capitol once more the next day. However, when the alarm went off, she was less than bouncy. Instead she stumbled into the kitchen dressed in a mix-match way, her hair in a sloppy braid that she had slept in the previous night.

"Orange juice, please." Was her only request, while her mother fetched her some with one of those understanding, motherly looks. "I don't want to go today." She admitted, and another understanding look was shot her way.

"You know, sweetie, you could always work at Capsule—"

"I will not work at Capsule Corporations!" She exclaimed, and her mother turned once more to looking thoughtful. "What I need is Capsule Corporations housing." She mused in a sarcastic tone.

"You know, they do!" Videl, suddenly excited, poured a second serving of orange juice for her daughter. "You can stay at a Capsule—"

"I do not want to live with the Brief's." She announced hotly, but her mother rolled her eyes at her ignorance.

"Capsule Corporations has apartments, condo's, housing complexes everywhere throughout the city. I'm sure Bulma would let you use one until you're on your feet. In fact, I'll ask her today." Pan's luck was beginning to look up.

~*

Turns out, not only was Bulma happily willing to help Pan out, she even let Pan pick which complex and neighborhood she wanted.

And so, the next day, Pan, Videl, and Bulma were at the door of an impressive, suite-style apartment in the downtown area. Bulma opened the digital lock and let them inside, where both Pan and Videl were struck breathless.

A roomy sitting room was the first room they saw, and beyond was an open dining area that connected to a balcony. A kitchen was to the left, and a twirling staircase took you upstairs to a loft-style bedroom.

"Awe-some." Pan found herself floating from space to space of the furnished apartment. It was decorated freshly, with a definite modern, contemporary, artistic air. Pan was in love.

She also took it without a second thought.

A week later Pan was moved in, and beginning a taste of a different sort of independent lifestyle which she was coming to love.

~*

Pan set down the plastic dish of food for Miss Kitty, her new cat picked up at a stray adoption center. She had sworn off cats after living in London with them creeping around everywhere, but when she saw Miss Kitty, chirping away, barely older than a kitten, she couldn't resist.

She had taken up a job at—unsurprisingly, when all was said and done—Capsule Corporations. Though she refused Bulma's offer to work in he main complex. The same skyscraper that Trunks had his office in.

She instead took a job just outside the capitol but close enough to still be considered city property, in a research facility. She liked the work well enough that she couldn't complain about it. She was, after all, only taking it until she got another job.

The clan had initiated a welcome back party for her—she hadn't even been gone long enough for some to notice—and she reluctantly attended one balmy, humid night.

Her flip-flops flipped-flopped on the sidewalk to Krillin and Eighteen's house in a quiet suburb, and the door opened before she even had to knock. Her mother and Bulma had decided that holding it at a family's house—a.k.a: her parents home or her grandparents home—and since, for some reason she hadn't been told, the Brief's house wouldn't work as well.

Marron greeted her with a hug and a cheery smile, ushering her into the family room where a small but cozy group were sitting around. She was glad it wasn't overcrowded; she didn't feel like having to update lots of people about her life. Especially since most of the time they only pretended to be paying attention whilst smiling and nodding. She didn't care, just disliked the waste of speech.

She fell easily into the groove of things, discussing London with Marron, telling Bulma of her plans. And when dinner was announced they all ushered themselves into the kitchen where a buffet-style meal awaited them.

The homey feel of everything made Pan feel at ease, but when an irritated chi entered the house her fur stood on end.

Trunks waltzed in, obviously in a temper, and when Bulma pulled him aside in the hall, asking what was wrong—was it work?—he shrugged her off and slouched into the kitchen for some food.

Pan's irritation was beginning to fuel itself as well at the sight of him. Mr. Trunks Brief's who had hired Jace. Oh, why had he done that? She was fidgeting with her carrot sticks when he came into the family room and plopped down on the couch.

The current speaker in the group—Bura—didn't even pause, nor did any of the listeners pay any heed to the moody prince of Saiyan's.

For what seemed an eternity conversations continued, Pan's carrots and broccoli suffering hair raising abuse as she fiddled with them. Trunks didn't say a word, mostly because no one felt like bothering him while he was in this mood, and because he didn't utter a word.

But, when different groups had dispersed into different conversations, after a trip to the bathroom, Pan found herself in the foyer with Trunks.

"Could I speak with you please?" She asked stiffly, and he nodded, motioning to a nearby sofa. "Bad day at work?" She questioned, though without sincerity. Expressionless he answered her, and she knew the answer before she had asked it. She nodded quickly, offering only fake empathy.

"You offered him a job." Her voice was taught, the words clipped. It wasn't a question and yet it was. Trunks sighed, frustrated.

"I didn't think it would bother you." He tried to sound casual, but it was a long shot. Everyone was sitting around them, talking the usual small talk, telling stories, playing video games. They couldn't be heard. They both knew they wouldn't let themselves be.

"I have to admit it does." He gave her a mocking surprised look. One that seemed to say, high-toned and casual, "Oh!" just to spite her. "I don't want Jace to work there. Me have to be around—"

"Me." He finished her sentence. She didn't attempt to deny it. There was a moment of pause where both of their eyes seemed to gaze around them good-naturedly, however neither of them were paying attention to their "surroundings".

"And so I take that last sentence to mean that the two of you are, say, an item? A couple? Wherever Jace goes, Pan follows?" She snorted.

"I didn't move here for Jace." He nodded, but not in agreement. "Is that what you think? That I moved here to be with Jace?"

"Why didn't you stay in London?" He returned.

"There was nothing for me in London." She tried to carry her volume down a touch. It was hard. Pan wasn't used to controlling her tongue or volume.

"You mean, Jace wasn't there for you in London."

"No—"

"Because there was plenty for you in London. Just as much as there is here in the capitol save for Mr. Jace Winthrow." He threw on a mimicking tone, imitating her. "I love London. There are so many historical things to see, so much to do." He dropped the mocking tone. "But no Jace, eh?" She snorted again, folding her arms.

"What, no comeback?" He then asked her, and she rolled her eyes. "OK, I guess not. Well, here's the deal, Pan. Sweetpop. Cupcake. Doll." His voice was becoming louder, but he didn't seem to care. "The bottom line is that I'm a business man. I guess it comes in the genes.

"But whatever the case, I didn't hire Mr. Nuclear Physics major just to bother you. I hired Mr. Jace Robert Winthrow because I need a guy like him. Believe it or not, he's got the stuff to go far. I want him to go far in my company. OK?"

She forced out a rough sigh.

"OK, good. Then things are straight." And with that he got up and left her sitting there on the sofa, fuming.

~*

For several days she still fumed, until her fuming just wasn't practical anymore. Then she was only bitter inwardly. Perhaps she would have felt foolish, taking it personally, flattering herself by imagining Jace's hiring a brilliant scheme. But she didn't—that is, until the next morning.

But she wouldn't let it eat her up. She preferred to fume and be bitter in private, without discussing topics with herself, in her mind. It was better that way. You don't have to argue with yourself or ultimately prove yourself wrong.

Work was slow, but steady. She admitted to telling family members and life-long friends that she didn't have time for social gatherings or hanging out. The truth was she just didn't feel like it. Pan was going through one of her hermit stages. Where the world was one big thing she had to do, and felt like being lazy.

So, instead of doing anything useful, she sat in coffee shops and read newspapers, wrote in her journal. She took long walks, tried new restaurants on her own. And, in truth, she enjoyed the time terribly.

It was rainy at present. The kind of rain that just won't stop, even for a moment. Instead the only relief was the slight drizzle that occurred around noon, or sometimes it might actually stop for a few moments in the early evening.

On one such night, when the rain had reduced to thick moisture in the air, Pan threw on some track pants and a tank top. Lacing up her sneakers she jogged out the door and down the street.

She pushed herself hard, knowing she needed the workout, already the exertion making her feel great. Her feet slapped the sidewalk, and her laces bounced as she pounded along, now taking a path in the local park.

Her ponytail whacked against her back, the little hairs towards her forehead sticking to her face in a mixture of sweat and the wetness in the air. Already her hair was reacting and springing up into deep waves; her ponytail becoming thicker and thicker.

She heard the rain beginning again slowly, lapping upon the leaves of the trees above, but she paid no heed and continued running.

Soon the rain was undeniable. It was coursing down in what couldn't still be referred to as a drizzle, or even a light fall. Still Pan continued to run, feeling too good, not wanting to stop.

Her body was soaked through by the time she came home, but she was feeling better than ever. She was on a post-workout high as she entered her apartment, and reached for a glass which she promptly filled with water.

Setting the now empty glass into the sink, she got a towel out of the bathroom dresser and hopped into the shower. She lathered the soap thick, and washed her hair twice before she deemed herself ready to leave. Not that she wanted to, though.

Getting into cozy pajama's she sunk into the couch and turned on the TV, ready for a good relaxing night. Before fifteen minutes were up, she was asleep.

Late into the night she awoke to Style Court shivering from head to toe. She turned off the TV by the remote, tugged the blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around herself. She was asleep within seconds.

The next morning the sun shone through the window, burning her eyelids. She was sore all over, achy, and her neck had a monumental crick in it. Everything seemed to hurt, even to the tips of her hair, and she coughed a cough that shook her body, ripping at a scratchy, sore throat.

She cursed herself for her stupidity. Sure, her run had cleared her head, made her feel great, but it was that same run which had made her now sick with an awful cold.

She groped around for the phone and dialed her work's number with an explanation for her absence, and with how awful her voice sounded, no one seemed to question.

The simple phone call wiping out her energy, she slumped back into the depths of the couch and pulled the blanket up over her head. Miss Kitty sat at her feet, licking her paws, and offering extra heat.