Rainwater
Chapter 21: Consequences
Rating: R for sexual situations and suggestions, adult topics and language.
WitchyPrincess

Consequences

I've heard it told that what goes up comes down again. I believe it's said that what went around comes back again. The Boomerang Affect. Karma. But I don't think I've actually believed it until this moment.

This minute in time that's frozen forever in shock and natural realization. What you give, you get back ten-fold. It's no myth, no legend, no exaggeration. You pay for your mistakes in the end. I wish now that I had believed in confessions and repentance and forgiveness before all of this happened.

I know I would have begged for it if I had known the fire would be so hot.

–Marron Chestnut

She stormed into the office without much opposition; people averted their eyes from her as if it were painful to look. And it probably was, she was wearing a scowl the size of all of Europe, but Pan knew it was more than just that. They were guilty. Each and every single one of them.

They all knew something was up and they knew that, somehow, it was unfair. And, yet, none of them were going to do a thing to stop it. If Trunks asked, Pan knew, the security guards would escort her out of there. She wasn't going to let that happen, however. She wasn't a quarter-Saiyan for nothing. This time she was fighting her battle and it wasn't going to be pretty.

She had an inkling that it was going to be messy for both of them.

She threw his office door open and walked right up to his desk, sweeping a few papers off and snatching the phone out of his hand. His mouth dropped open as he looked up at her, an emotion that she didn't care to identify flashing through his eyes before she registered the shock, and then his eyes went wide with confusion and horror.

"Mr. Briefs will have to call you back," she stated curtly, before slamming the phone back on the hook. Her hand found her hip as her eyes narrowed, an award-winning glare on her face.

He lifted his eyebrows and reclined back in his chair. "Angry?" He questioned easily, tone light despite the darkness in his eyes.

"Boiling," she corrected.

His eyes danced in askance. She didn't respond to his nonverbal play, it was too close to something she'd rather not remember, her stomach dropping at the very thought. If he wanted to know, he'd have to ask.

"All right," he conceded, as if reading her thoughts. "What's wrong?"

"Who died and made you Dende?" She fired off the second after the words left his lips. His brow furrowed.

"Care to elaborate at all?" He tested, hope clear in his tone. Her narrowed eyes told him the answer to that question. "All right then," He gave, nodding his head and straightening in the chair. "No one did. I'm not guardian of the world."

"Good, I'm glad you acknowledged that." She provided, taking a seat in front of his desk with distinct authority surrounding her.

"I take it there's more to this conversation," he stated dryly, trying to keep his voice level.

She knew the turmoil in her eyes was clear when he adjusted his vision, averting his eyes away from her. There was guilt in that avoidance and that was all she needed right now. He was not going to do this to her, he was mistaken if he thought she wasn't going to fight it.

"You must have thought that I was the same person that walked out of your house without a word, like a coward. You must have thought that I'm the very same girl that let you berate her, defeat her, destroy her as if she didn't matter. But you're wrong. I'm not that girl, Trunks, and I'm not going to let you hurt me again." She told him sternly, leaning close to his desk and resting her elbows on the edge of it.

His eyes shot back to hers in a hurry, disbelief, panic, and...hurt in them as he stared. What on earth did he have to look so pitiful for? "You still think I want to hurt you?" He asked incredulously, voice rising from the intensity of his question. Clearly, this meant a lot to him.

But he didn't have the right. He didn't have the right to make her feel guilty about questioning his motives. He didn't have the right to look like he had never done anything questionable to her. For the last five years he had done nothing but hurt her even though, for four of them, she hardly even saw him. It wasn't okay. It just...wasn't.

"Don't speak to me like that." She commanded roughly, eyes dark and voice threatening. "You're in no position."

He stood up sharply, eyes lighting with a passion she had never seen in them before. He marched around his desk and stood right in front of her, leaning over so that their faces were only an inch apart. His eyes bore into hers, reading her soul. She felt distinctly uncomfortable and tried not to shift positions, she knew this was a silent challenge of sorts. He was sizing her up and she wasn't going to lose this one. She had lost enough to him.

"What's this really about, Pan?" He asked softly, his voice just as menacing as the looks she was shooting him.

"You fired me, Trunks!" She yelled, flinging her hands in the air and pushing him back roughly. In a quick motion, she was standing up, arms crossed, and looking up at him with fire. "How dareyou fire me?" She half-questioned, half-challenged.

He sighed, brow furrowing as he moved back and bumped into his desk. Smoothly recovering, he sat atop the desk and looked at her curiously, tilting his head to the side.

"Is that what this is about?" He asked after a tense moment of silence between them.

She felt lost, like she had just stepped out of a pool or bathtub. That swerving feeling that accompanied having sat in the water for far too long. Her equilibrium was thrown off and she swerved as if she might faint. Recovering her balance, she retook her seat, replacing the menace on her face.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She asked, not liking how light and curious his tone was. What had he thought this was about? Did he not even realize the insult he was throwing her way? Did he think she wouldn't care that he was firing her? Did he think it was all right, she wondered incredulously.

This couldn't really be happening to her, could it?

"I mean, Pan, that I had no idea you'd be upset about me firing you." He answered honestly, having the nerve to keep his tone light and even. She couldn't help but glare. "I mean, I thought you wanted to get out of this job. But if my firing you is the problem then consider it withdrawn. Feel free to quit anytime you'd like."

Her mouth went dry as she tried to regain her temper. He hadn't just said that to her. He wasn't just brushing this off, he wasn't going to treat her like this. It wasn't all right for him to be brushing her off as if she didn't even matter.

She had thought...

Well, it didn't matter what she thought. Clearly, she hadn't been thinking correctly. She hadn't been a good judge of character back then, so nothing that she had thought mattered now. It was all irrelevant now. She didn't matter to him, obviously, she had never mattered to him. That didn't mean, however, that she would let him brush her off like this.

Sucking her teeth, she sat back in her chair and looked up at him with contempt. "You're kidding me, right?"

"Why would I be joking with you, Pan? This is hardly a joking matter. And, honestly, I didn't mean to offend you so would you stop looking at me as though you just pulled trash from your shoe and it's stuck to my forehead?"

"Actually, it was more like you were the trash I pulled off my shoe. And, no, I will not. You can't treat me like this."

He drew in a confused breath. "What are you talking about, Pan? How am I treating you?" He sounded exasperated.

She knew the feeling. Just being in the same room with him was play havoc with her senses. She was exasperated just looking at him because it was hard to tell her heart that he didn't matter anymore. That organ still thought he did, as was obvious by the rapid beating that wouldn't slow despite her attempts to calm her pulse. And it wasn't because she was so angry with him at the moment, either.

"Like I'm worthless. I'm not worthless, Trunks Briefs, and it's time you take notice." She commanded seriously, her tone threatening.

He looked completely shocked. This only seemed to add injury to insult.

"Is that what you think I think of you," he questioned before she could get up and angrily storm out of his office. He didn't want her to get the wrong impression of his expression. He didn't think she was worthless, quite the opposite, in fact.

"What am I supposed to think that you think of me?" She snapped back. "You so much as told me so five years ago. And, since you've come back into my life, you've done nothing but prove it through actions. After that whole hotel fiasco in the Carribean, you flat out told me I was nothing. You've used me, mistreated me, and talked about me every chance you got.

"You hurt me just because you felt like it and you knew I was in love with you. Am in love with you," she added, for the sake of being completely honest. "You disgraced me in front of my coworkers, devalued me in front of family and friends, and disrespected me in private. You were with me because you couldn't resist it, but you couldn't give into it either because that would be like letting me win. And you couldn't let me win because I'm worthless to you. I mean, I get that. I mean nothing to you. But that doesn't mean that I mean nothing.

"I'm a person, Trunks, with feelings and a soul. I'm someone that has finally learned how to love herself and I'm not going to let you take advantage of me anymore. In anyway. And, if you think that I haven't changed since the last time you saw me, you are sadly mistaken. Just because you saw me at my weakest moment doesn't mean that you have the liberty to treat me any way you want to.

"I don't appreciate it and I won't tolerate it anymore. And I'll work where I want to work, for however long I want to work there. Currently, my job is here and you're not going to bully me out of it. I won't let you. You won't win with me anymore. You have no power here now, not over me."

He stood, shocked, unable to voice the reply that he so desperately wanted to give. She wasn't nothing. Inside he was screaming it, his heart was pounding the rhythm of confession but his voice went horse the moment he opened his mouth. And the dangerous look in her eyes made him snap it shut anyway. He swallowed instead, suddenly feeling very cold and misplaced.

She was everything to him and he had done that to her. There was no other that would treat him the way she did, value him the way she did, love him the way she did. And he had crushed her. Purposely broken her spirit and watched her fall apart. She was right in everything she said and he didn't deserve to defend himself. So, he said nothing.

"I just want to know why," she voiced, seeming to read his thoughts.

She wanted an explanation.

If she wanted one, he wasn't one to deny her. That didn't change the fact that he didn't deserve to defend himself. He wasn't worth her time and he wanted to tell her that, but she deserved the closure, if nothing else. That entire thought put pause to his heart.

This meant that everything was over. This meant that he was letting her go, of his own free will. His own volition. His heart shuddered at the thought of it, sending waves of shivers through his entire system.

"Why?" She repeated raspily, her voice shaking slightly.

He still paused, mouth open in midair, for another brief moment to realize the severity of it all. Once he told her this, there was no taking it back. He only had one chance to explain something that he didn't even understand completely himself. And he knew, because of what she'd just told him, that he had to be as honest as possible. Until the very end. She had told him everything, truthfully, that she felt about how he treated her. And now he would have to tell her why. Without sugar-coating it at all.

He swallowed hard and looked at her honestly, kneeling down so that they were eye level, his hands resting lightly on the arms of her chair. He wanted this to feel intimate for the simple fact that he wanted her to be aware that he was telling her the complete truth.

"First of all, I didn't fire you because I wanted one last opportunity to stick it to you. I did it because you had a contract and I knew that you couldn't quit. I thought you wanted to be as far away from me as possible so I gave you an easy way out. A convenient way out.

"I thought you would want that. I thought you would appreciate it. Clearly, I was wrong. But, I promise Pan, I never wanted to hurt you. Not ever again. As for you meaning nothing to me: that's not true. It hasn't ever been true and it never will be true. It breaks my heart, literally, just to hear you say that. To know that you think it.

"I have never thought that of you. I know what I said at the Carribean, and I know that you believe that I believed it. I know what I said to you at that good-bye party for Bra and I know that you believe that I believed that too. But, if there was ever a time to be honest with you, now's that time.

"I've always loved you, in at least one way Pan. You were my other sister when you were younger and you were my best friend when you became older. But you were in love with me and I seriously didn't know how to deal with that. A simple "I'm not interested" never worked on you. I tried to let you down gently, I always tried to tell you nicely that I wasn't the one for you, but you didn't seem to take to hearing it the nice way. At that party, Pan–though it's no excuse–you just caught me at a bad time. I mean, I wasn't in a very good mood to begin with, there was something wrong with my sister, she was leaving Japan and she hadn't even shown up for her own party. I was stressed and really not in the mood to deal with you.

"I handled it wrong. I know that now. But when you're younger, when you're a guy with too many problems, you don't think about the consequences. You just...act."

"You said some horrible things to me, Trunks." She reproved when he stopped, not letting him shove it off so simply. There was more than that. He hadn't simply 'acted,' he had snapped. He had been vindictive and nasty. He had broken her heart. "You said I was self-involved and ugly, graceless and tomboyish, lewd and indelicate. You said I wasn't even a woman," she repeated, the pain clear in her voice. "You crushed me that night."

He breathed in deep, closing his eyes as the night rushed back to him. Had he said all those terrible things to her? To this goddess sitting before him? Had he called her ugly and lewd?

"I guess 'tactless' is a bit of an understatement. Pan, you must know I didn't mean those things." He practically commanded, half-pleaded.

"Yes you did." She protested. "I saw it in your eyes, read in on your face. And the way you said it," she shivered. "Like you'd been thinking on it for years. You could have just told me when I was seventeen that I was wasting my time. You could have just said that I didn't stand a chance with you then, nicely, and avoided the whole mess."

There was regret in her eyes. "Pan," he swallowed the rest of that sentence, knowing it was unfair to say it. Knowing he shouldn't do that to her. Finally, he compensated with, "I didn't mean it. I mean, if I had, would we be here? In this situation?"

"You meant it then." She amended seriously.

"How can you believe that?"

"How can I not? You never even apologized."

"I'm trying to now." He acknowledged.

"You're doing a horrible job."

"I don't exactly know how to apologize. But, if you would let me continue, I think I can try."

"Please, by all means," she waved her hand, as if granting permission.

"When I said those things, I wasn't thinking clearly. I was angry and, being perfectly honest, I was confused. Pan, when you kissed me I..." He swallowed, thinking of her reaction when he admitted this. His stomach plummeted. "I lost myself in you," he closed his eyes so that he couldn't see her reaction.

"I lost myself. Who I was, where I was, what I was doing. And I wasn't supposed to feel that way about you. Not you. So I panicked." Finally, his eyes opened to gather the murder in her eyes. "And I'm so sorry. More than you could ever know."

"You tore apart my self-esteem, degraded my self-worth, and crushed my heart because you panicked?! And all you can say to me is you're..." She lost her sentence in her anger. He watched as she clenched her jaw and could nearly read her thoughts, as if they were plastered on her forehead. She was telling herself to calm down, in her head.

For a while, they sat with each other in heavy silence. Pan's breathing was labored and Trunks' was haggard, both of them afraid of what she would do. Then, finally, she breathed out a sigh of agitation and leaned back in the chair, so that she was farther away from him.

"Well, continue with the explanations. You haven't finished telling me why." She stated calmly. He was really worried about that.

"You aren't going to yell? You aren't going to hit me or storm out? Or cry?" He had watched his sister try to cry and fail for years. He wouldn't let this happen to Pan. She wasn't going to bury her pain like that. Not her.

"No, Trunks, I'm not going to yell. I'm not going to scream or leave or cry. I would have, if I were still that Other Pan, but I'm not. It's over, it's done with. There's no reason for me to throw a fit over a part of my life that has already been snatched from me. I can't change it, you can't change it, and no good will come over moping about it. I let that go a long time ago. I forgave you those words months upon months ago. When I gave you my heart back. Now, please, continue."

He swallowed hard again, not sure where to go from there.

"Well?" Pan asked, becoming more than a little impatient. "Why the hell did you abuse me the way you did? You took advantage of me, Trunks." She proclaimed, eyes lighting and bringing him back on topic.

"I know, and I didn't want to Pan. I honestly didn't, and I don't know why I did it. I just couldn't help myself. I couldn't..." He sucked in air, trying to put a word to it. "I tried, I truly tried, to stay away from you after I realized that I couldn't stop it. But I wasn't strong enough. And, when I called you to me, here in this office, I thought that maybe you would stop me.

"I hopedyou would stop me. I paused for you to stop me but you never did. And I couldn't control it."

"But..." she searched roughly for words, her eyes detouring his own to find the truth. He wasn't lying. "You always made it so hard for me not to come back to you. You did it on purpose, I know you did." She declared adamantly.

"You're right," he nodded his agreement, shaking his head in shame as he moved his hands from the arms of the chair to her legs. His hands caressed her thighs absently as he searched for an explanation for his actions. "Once it started I just couldn't stand the thought of you leaving me.

"It was like a hole that burned inside me every time I thought of it," his hands slipped up to her waist and then back down in a gentle touch. He didn't notice her shiver. "I couldn't bear even imagining you with someone else. It wasn't about wanting you then," he admitted. "It was about not wanting anyone else to have you.

"You were mine, even then, in the beginning."

"And later?" She asked, voice parched.

He leaned into her, resting his head on her legs as his hands came to rest on her sides comfortably. "You were always mine." He stated adamantly. "Never anyone else's."

"So, what, that justified you hurting me?" She asked softly, her voice losing its strength.

"I don't know how to explain that Pan. The best way I know how is to tell you that there were two of me, inside me. Both of them battling about you. There was the Day Me and the Night Me. Day Me cared about you as a friend and confidant and Night Me just wanted to sleep with you."

"You mean to tell me that you hurt me because you caredabout me?"

"Well, yes and no," he acknowledge honestly. "Partly, I hurt you just to hurt you. That was typically Night Me who realized he cared about you much more than he should and wanted to hurt you because of it. But there was another me. Day Me, who didn't want you to get hurt anymore. That me tried to push you away in hopes that you'd leave for good because he knew that Night Me was stronger than him and we would never leave you alone. You were ours."

"But if I walked away, it was different? So that justified you treating me like shit?"

"No, it doesn't justify anything. You asked why, I can only tell you the best way I know how." His voice was strained, painful.

"And now?" She asked, though he wasn't sure exactly what she meant.

"There's only one me now. There's no battle, there's no war. I became whole when..." he left the rest unsaid, again knowing it was unfair to say.

"I mean: would you sleep with me now? If I wanted you to?" Her voice was small, distant, as if she were walking away. He knew she wasn't because he had her in his arms but he lifted his head to see her face anyway.

Was she seriously asking him this? "I just told you. There's only one me and I don't think it's the right thing to do."

"So you wouldn't sleep with me? Even if I pressured you?"

His brow wrinkled. "Would you want me to?" He asked with complete disbelief. She couldn't mean this. She swallowed and pushed him away, smiling distantly.

"Of course not. I mean, that part of us is over." She sucked in a breath as he stood up, watching her curiously. What was she getting at here?

"And...?" He prompted, waiting for more.

"But," she corrected. "That doesn't mean that all of us is over. I mean, there's no reason that we can't be friends."

"Friends?" He asked incredulously. "We can't be friends," he was adamant.

"Why not?" She seemed completely put-out by his response. He rolled his eyes in disgust with himself; he was still hurting her.

"Because I l-" He stopped, once again about to say the thing that would be unfair to her. Would it always be this hard when he was around her? He swallowed the lump in his throat and decided that it would be best if he were just honest. He couldn't not tell her, clearly.

"I love you."

She watched the pain flit through his eyes as he told her that, the serious fear of how she would react, and finally understood his burden. He was just a boy, standing in front of a girl, telling her he loved her. Angry because he'd hurt her. Confused because she loved him back and there was nothing they could do about it.

There was an invisible wall around them that stopped either of them from moving towards the other. Stopped them from moving at all. Her breath caught in her throat as she finally understood the entire situation. In a hysterically crazy way, this was funny. They both loved each other and it was impossible for them to be together.

She couldn't be with him. She simply couldn't. But she could do one thing. "I forgive you." She stated softly, after what seemed like a century's pause. "I forgive you everything, Trunks."

Before he could respond, she stood up and walked to the door, turning back only once to finish with, "And we will be friends. You need that as much as I do. To heal."

"You can't forgive me," He called after her, forcing her to stop before she shut the door behind her. Her eyebrow quirked as she stepped back into his office hesitantly.

"And why not?" She challenged.

"Because I haven't forgiven myself. I don't know how." He admitted, clenching his jaw at her stubbornness.

"Well then," her eyes seemed to twinkle as she said this last part. "I'll just have to teach you how."

Pan smiled as she stepped into Capsule, looking around with interest. It was different entering this house now. It was a new experience for her. It had only been a couple of days since she'd told Trunks that she forgave him, since she promised to teach him how to forgive himself, and she hadn't really seen him since.

She felt eerily like he was avoiding her. And, strangely, she felt as if something was missing. She wasn't sure if it was because she hadn't seen him or if it was because of something else, but the thought unnerved her. Other than that, though, she was doing wonderfully.

Life was looking much better since she'd had her discussion with Trunks. Maybe finding out that he loved her had something to do with it. Maybe it was just finally knowing why he'd done the things he'd done. She wasn't sure which but, it was a liberating feeling.

Her evolving friendship with Bra only added icing to an already sweet cake. The girl made life something special and if Goten didn't know that then he was missing out on a lot. Pan made a mental note to have a conversation with her uncle the next time she saw him.

He was clearly insane if he didn't value Bra. That girl was wonderful and, coming from Pan, that was saying something. Bra and she had never really been on good terms. Things were different now. She would trust Bra with her right arm, and Pan used her right arm quite a lot.

She smiled to herself, brushing those thoughts aside. She was in a wonderful mood and she didn't want to spoil it with thoughts of blood and giving arms, even in a joking fashion.

The second Pan stepped into Bra's room, however, she knew immediately that something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Her good mood, she guessed, was about to fly out of the window.

Marron's hands were shaking so badly that she finally gave up trying to rest them on her knees and simply sat on them. She had been there, sitting on Bra's bedroom floor, for nearly an hour without opening her mouth. She had come in, laughed, cried, and fallen out onto the floor thirty minutes later. Then, she had simply rested limply on the floor for another fifteen to twenty minutes before finally getting up. And that was when she realized that her hands were not going to stop shaking.

Bra hadn't said anything after Marron took her position on the floor, though she was clearly worried. The younger girl's face had been puzzled when Marron first entered the room, concerned when the blonde went into hysterics, and then frightened when she simply became silently contemplative. Bra was probably as afraid as Marron and she didn't even know why she should be afraid. She had no reason to be.

Both of them had remained quiet, each wondering where to start with the other, while time ticked slowly by. That was, until they heard the creak of the door and Pan's radiantly happy voice calling out to Bra for recognition.

"It's time to train, lazy-bones, why aren't you already heading to the GR? Don't tell me you're not dress-" her sentence halted abruptly, the words mistakenly bumping into one another. The smile on her face curved downwards as she took in the state of the two women, sitting in the same room but worlds apart.

"Okay," Pan stated slowly, cautiously. There was clear confusion in her voice. "Who died and when did it happen?"

All three girls eyed each other suspiciously, but neither of them said a word to answer the question. Finally, Pan's joking "Well then, if no one died, who's pregnant?" filled the air and Marron burst into another fit of tears.

Bra and Pan looked at each other, their mouths dropping open in shock and disbelief. They weren't hearing what they thought they were hearing, were they? Both of them shook their heads at the same time, as if reading each other's minds, and went back to staring confusedly at Marron.

This wasn't serious. She had to explain.

Marron looked up at the two girls, noting the demanding heaviness that filled the atmosphere and radiated from their faces. Clearly, she wasn't getting out of this one without some long, insightful details.

Twenty minutes and plenty of crying, broken sobs, and angry outbursts later, Bra and Pan were finally up to date on what went on between Marron and Ubuu. Looking from one another, the message was clear, they didn't know which one to be sorrier for. It was true that Marron had just royally screwed up her life and taken Ubuu for the ride, but it was also true that she hadn't meant it nor had she known what she was doing when she did it.

Which lead both the girls to the same question: should Marron be forgiven? If they believed that Ubuu should forgive and forget, giving Marron another chance, then, surely, they would be hypocrites not to do the same thing. Their situations, if looked at from that point of view, were really no different. And saying that their friend deserved to be lonely and unhappy, that she deserved what she got, was pushing things a little farther than either girl was willing to go.

Pan had gained a sort-of trust for Marron, because the girl never threw her affair with Trunks around, and had learned to appreciate Marron for everything she was worth. Her good points and her flaws. Of course, actually seeing the real Marron these last couple of months and not some carbon-copy that put on shows of evil when Pan was around, simply to amuse herself, helped to carry their 'friendship' along.

They were still, obviously, on shaky ground but they trusted each other enough for Marron to tell Pan what horrible thing had just recently happened. Enough for Marron to, practically, bare her soul and pray for Pan not to be judgmental. And also enough for Pan to know that Marron was never going to degrade her about her past mistakes, so she didn't have to constantly be on her guard.

After all, it was easy to pursue a friendship with someone you've known your whole life, once you put your mind to it.

But even through the friendship, the comradery, that Pan had begun to feel towards the girl, there was a certain coldness that slithered through her as she looked at Marron now. Because it hadn't been until that moment that Pan realized what it was that was missing. Her stomach plummeted to the floor at the thought.

To be continued...

New Update Schedule: Since I'm back in school now and I'm taking five college courses in high-school (advanced placement), I won't have time to update on Wednesdays anymore. But, fear not, because the story is pretty close to an ending ... at least, I think so. Anyways, from now on, updates will be every Friday until the close of the story. Sorry about the inconvenience.

And: Dear Unknown,

Everyone is entitled to their own opinion and, if that's the way you feel then, there's nothing I can do about that. My works aren't for everyone and I'm sorry you feel that I am a liar and a freak but, if you dislike me and my writing so very much, the solution is simple: just stop reading my stories. I hope you find other fan-fiction that is more to your liking by other authors that don't offend you quite so much as me. And, as always, you were never, and never will be, forced to read my stories. Opinions are always valued when they're constructive, but if you can't say things in a nicer way than that (you know, like calling me a freak) do us all a favor and don't bother to reply. Have a wonderful day,

--WitchyPrincess