Finding Inspiration

By: LLy

Disclaimer: I do not own Dragonball, Dragonball Z, Dragonball GT. The song is called 'I hope, I think, I know' by the talented Oasis.

A/N: I am so sorry for the LONG delay! To make up for it, I wrote my longest chapter yet-7 pages!!! That's a record for me. Once again, this is my apology for taking so long. So please, please review and let me know that it wasn't a waste! Feedback greatly helps! *Thanks to any who takes the time to read this story and especially those that review to let me know their opinion! I really do cherish every review!*

To any inhabitants of Main St. Café that may have spared the dark haired beauty and her older and elegant companion a glance, they would have claim that they saw two very good friends chatting about daily occurrences on an average day in a café shop.  They would not see the flitting emotions replace the serene façade, did not hear the hushed tones with the underlying raw feelings, and most definitely could not know the distressingly serious topic they were discussing. After all, it was spring, the sky was blue, the earth still intact and birds were singing; what can two normal, supposedly carefree people have much to worry about? Bulma Briefs, top chairman of Capsule Corps and wife to the Saiyan Prince Vegita, and Pan Son, ¼ Saiyan art student and only daughter of Gohan and Videl Son, continued by undisturbed by the rest of the world.

*6 years seems like a lifetime ago….*

"He's changed so much! Sometimes I look at him and forget that he's my own son!"

"I talk to him, I get nothing….Vegeta threatens him, he gives no response. Absolutely nothing gets through that shell… I just don't know what to do anymore…"

"What about Br-ra?

"….she's just as worse as him. She won't accept letters or answer any calls. Every time I try to visit, she is behind ten oak doors with the excuse that she's busy. Why did my angel become like this? What could have possibly happened before she left?"

*I'm sorry, Bulma. We did this to her.*

"Oh, I'm so sorry Panny. I'm laying all this on you and you probably only know this now…"

*No, I didn't. Please forgive me…I have to keep quiet.*

"Trunks, was it my fault? Was it just one huge mistake to hand the responsibility of Capsule Corps to him? So young and already he have so many demands and duties to bear…Is that what made him so cold hearted and cynical? Did he see too much of the world's ugliness and couldn't find  beauty anymore?"

"Bulma…"

"He's dying, Pan. I see it in his eyes. He does not have hope and a man without hope is a vessel without a reason to go on. He's going to give up and just let go….."

Carefree people cry too.

"Pan, please help me. Bra may be too far away but Trunks is still reachable…I don't want to lose him…"

*I don't want to lose him either.*

Outside, the sun settled.

The walk home was astoundingly swift. In no time, Pan had walked from the café where the 'disconcerting' episode happened  ('more like heart numbing,' Pan thought frustrated), through the university claimed streets, arriving at her house soon after. Feeling light-headed and vacant, it was safe to say it was an apparently hard task to even open doors.

Apparently someone else was already in, as the door quickly opened and a figure pounced on her. It was (but who else) party girl Keiko but she must have realized something was wrong when Pan had not responded different from the other million times she did that- she had just walked in, closed the door, and stood still like a statue. After what seemed like hours, she finally spoke. Her voice was choked, which was very unlike Pan's normally spunky manner.

"Did you see him?"

Keiko, most definitely unused to somber mood and hates it with a passion, remained in her jovial character and tried to pass off the act.

"You mean that hot stud? Gosh, you really hit the jackpot this time Pan. Well, when I arrived he had just finished putting on shoes and was about to leave the house. He said to thank you and just left. Hehe, hope you see more of him soon." Keiko replied jokingly, arching her eyebrow in a suggestive way.

What she did not expect was for Pan to start the waterworks. Keiko instantly became alarmed. In all her years of knowing Pan, she had never once seen her cry. (She, on the other hand, cries at anything from boyfriends to sold-out jelly doughnuts at Yum-Yum.) Pan was the strongest person Keiko knows. Tears did not exist to her. Not even the time when she lost that scholarship unfairly did she give up and cried. If it was because of something that purple-haired guy did…Keiko clenched her fist angrily…but first thing first. Comfort friend in time of need.

Keiko moved them to the couch and laid Pan down, with her head on her lap. She made soothing noises while she patted her back in comforting motions. While Keiko did all this, Pan sobbed the sorrow, the unfairness, and the hurt of 6 years and beyond. Eventually the tears wouldn't come anymore and Keiko was finally able to ask what was wrong. In a burst of breath, the ex-crying girl told her comfort person everything, save for the part of the unearthly heritage and the ugly secret she had been holding in for years now.

In the end, it was Keiko that ended up speechless. Almost. "Th-that was Trunks B-Briefs…pre-president of the Briefs empire?"

Pan nodded.

"I had no idea that it's like that behind closed doors… what a jiffy!"

It was ridiculous. Her, a ¼ saiyan, greatgranddaughter of the big and renowned ox-king, granddaughter of the great Hercule Satan and valiant Goku and Chichi Son, daughter of brillant scholar Gohan and one of the best police cop in history Videl Son, crying. It was just plain ridiculous. Still, she admits it did feel good to let it out. But in the end, it was still ridiculous and the word 'jiffy' was too much. She gave into giggles and before long her friend joined in also. It felt real and nice.

"You know what? You are going to take a long nap and just sleep everything off until class tomorrow." Keiko moved to the kitchen to fix them a cup of coffee.

Rubbing two reddened eyes, Pan gave a startled gasp. "I can't."

She propped herself up on an elbow. "What time is it? I promised Bulma I'll go to her exec. party tonight and try to talk to Trunks there."

Keiko entered the room balancing a tray with steaming mugs and glanced at her watch. "It's 7:25. When does it begin?"

Pan immediately stood up and began pacing. "*8:00 on the dot. Bulma is sending someone to pick me up at 7:50 so I have to be ready before that. I have no appropriate clothing, none of my shoes match, and I look like hell. And on top of that, I'm trying to rekindle a friendship with someone that might have pushed me out of his life years ago!" The poor girl was one step away from hyperventilating.

Her concerned friend stepped in her path and quickly put a stop to her pacing. "Stop, you're giving me a headache. Okay, here's what we do." She waited for Pan to nod, which she did although reluctantly.

"You," Keiko pointed to the bathroom. "Take a quick but thorough 10 minute shower. " Then pointing to herself, " Meanwhile, I will pick out a casual but appropriate outfit for the occasion. And I'll even find the right shoe somehow. Understand?"

"Yes, captain." She saluted and ran to the bathroom, narrowly missing Keiko's furious swipe.

After 8 minutes and 30 seconds, Pan stepped out the shower and Keiko nabbed her into the room to begin the makeover.

'Behold the small goddess in the dress. My little Panny is all grown up." Keiko thought sentimentally, sniffing like a mother would do when witnessing her daughter going off to her first dance.

Not only did she look like a different person, Pan felt like a different person. She did not know whether it was a good thing or not.

To her relief, at least her appearance was now suitable for one of Bulma's big grand party. She could not believe that Keiko had managed to find such a graceful dress in her closet. It was black and very tasteful, made of black acrylic and silk fabric with a layer of gauzy material over it. One thin strap ran over the left shoulder and the border continued diagonally right, cutting off just under the right armpit. The top edge of the dress was lined with silk ruffles, slyly showing off the decorative design as well as accentuating the chest area. The dress then carry on down, gathering at the waist, which much to Pan's embarrassment, showed off the thin figure she'd rather much hide. From that, it dropped straight down ending before the knees with a slight flair and another show of ruffles. Because that it was a well-known fact that Pan had never mastered the art of wearing shoes with heels, it would be a lot safer to not attempt it. They decided on black platforms instead. She would rather wear tennis shoes, but Keiko pulled her back from it, saying it was a big no-no.

The dress and shoes were not the only part of the transformation. Pan's shiny black hair was tied messily into a round bun on top of her head and clipped back with a dark blue butterfly clip. Loose strands free from the bun had gathered around her face, giving greater emphasis to its heart-shape. Makeup had done a great job hiding the red-eyes and even (dare she say it) enhanced what little looks she had. A blue diamond choker around her pale neck had somehow finished the appearance fittingly.

Nervously Pan asked her observing friend about it. Keiko dragged a long deciding nod and finally looked up to give her the two thumbs up. Whether it was from relief or just a bout of silliness, the two then began a series of squeals, which lasted until a polite knock on the door.

They quieted down and broke into sheepish laughter. Keiko moved to open the door and it opened to reveal a very amused chauffeur.

Giving a slight bow, he introduced himself. "My name is Antoine and I'll be your driver for the evening. Well, assuming you know how Ms. Bulma is, I say we better get moving so not to be late."

Pan bowed back and allowed a smile to grace her face. She greeted her best friend goodnight and was about to close the door when a thin black jacket went flying into her hands.

Keiko gave an admonishing shake with a finger. "Try not to get sick, will ya? I'm going to grind everything out of you whether you have the cold or not. "

The party was in full swing by the time she arrived. That was all right with her. She still needed time to rehearse her 'unplanned' meeting with Trunks and the telling conversation that would hopefully ensue. It was odd and thinking about it left her shamed, but Pan realized that she was uncomfortable with meeting Trunks. Why, she had no idea. After all, this was mischievous boxer-boy. Despite what Bulma said, he couldn't have change that much…..could he?

Well, when in doubt, clear all thoughts. And that was what Pan did, as she mingled with high executives from all over the world and their equally elevated families.

The party atmosphere was…suffocating. Now she understood why the door greeter had collected the jackets at the entrance. 'This is just Bulma's average soirees to keep the business folk all happy and entertained,' grinning wryly as she ironically thought of what Trunks had told her years ago.

Mentally, she recounted all the 'boos' of the evening. Ah, there's food, a saiyan's favorite subject. The problem with the evening's food was its petite, miniature size. It makes finger snacks look like a full-course meal. And the problem didn't end there. Pan also had found the selection difficult to bear. While she admits that her taste is simple, (she'd rather go to a Pizza Hut than a elegant, pricey restaurant) that did not mean she hate trying new or more stylish dish. However, she stops at the point where she'd have to relish raw oyster covered in mayonnaise or carrot dipped in vinegar.

 Then there are the guests. Yes, years of having Gohan as a father taught her adequate proper manners and restraint; practice had finally paid off. Right now, Pan was pleased that the guests find her witty and some would even go as far to call her charming, but that was a hell of a job she was doing. Not surprisingly, she had little interest in what they were saying and was even appalled by what some of them had spoke. She stealthily groaned into her glass of water. What a long evening ahead.

Oh yes, she mustn't forget the entertainment. Entertainment at Bulma's business get-togethers equals either a) talking with the other guests or b) dancing with the guests. Oh, there was secret answer c) hiding in the restrooms to avoid everything altogether, but Pan couldn't do that. What was she here for in the first place?

"Speaking of which, where is he? I have been trying to reach him the whole evening but he keeps disappearing." The dressed up Pan huffed by a wall. It was painfully true. Pan saw him at different locations throughout Capsule but before she could get there, either he had moved or someone had distracted her away. It did not seem he had even noticed that Pan was there.

"Mou, how depressing…."

No, the night was still young! She would find him, sit him down, and begin talking about 'it'…………

Classical ballroom music had filled the room and warning alarms in her head interrupted her determined tirade.

Bulma appeared at the second floor with a microphone at hand. "Okay, ladies and gents, you know you have been waiting to try on your dancing shoes all evening…" Laughter rang across the room. Bulma smiled and continued. "Well, it's time for some motion so everyone find a partner and get dancing!" The people clapped and immediately began partnering up for the upcoming dance.

A hand tapping on her shoulder forced Pan to turn around and came face to face (well, more like face to shoulder) with a blonde haired green eyed American. He was quite handsome and exuded an air of charisma; Pan wouldn't be surprised if he had 20 offers for the dance already.

So it was not her fault that she was little shock at what happened next. In a courteous and genial manner, he had asked her to dance. Her. Her sub par dancing feet. With him.  On the dance floor. With everyone watching. Especially in front of them. The glaring and gossiping women.

Not that it's without advantages. Here was a polite, amiable, handsome, and very eligible man, refusing all others to ask for a dance solely with her. It would be flattering to anyone. No, it was the vision of stepping toes and awkward lapses of conversations that scared her. (A memory of Trunks teaching her how to dance followed intrusively after the vision. Fondly she also remembered that by the time they finish, their feet was sore and their faces were red from laughter from their earlier mutual teasing.) And the glaring women and watchful men weren't helping any either.  She felt sick at the thought and was about to refuse gently when none other than the lavender haired CEO appeared on the dance floor with a dainty woman in a Victorian styled dress beside him.

'Ohoho…time for the show to begin.' Pan had the urge to rub her hands together with glee, but extinguish it when she realized that the American had all his focus on her. More importantly, if dancing side by side still wouldn't get boxer-boy's attention, she reasoned that nothing would. It's a win-lose-win situation.

'Win outnumbers the loss, Panny-girl. Take your duty like the macho chick you are.' She reminded one last time while formulating her answer.

Grinning modestly, she accepted with a gracious hand and he softly escorted her to the dance floor. The waltz had already begun, vivacious couples filling most of the vast and glossy floor. The two eased past the empty space and found themselves a spot more or less in the center. Furtively looking around for Trunks, she noticed her partner's questioningly look and immediately stopped her search. With a shy grin, she slipped a hand on his shoulder and the other in his free hand. Returning a timid smile, he began the dance and Pan gratefully followed his lead. They started a light flow of conversation, during which she found that his name was John, he was the youngest of three girl siblings, and that he lives with a very adorable baby golden retriever. She was surprised that he knew about her when she introduced herself.

Their fun banter continued until they stepped back and her gaze unexpectedly turned to meet the crystal eyed Trunks. Music and time faded and she opened her mouth to say something, anything as long as they communicated, but reality reasserted itself and she was swept away with John. And just like that, he was gone.

It was no longer apprehension that plagued; instead it has escalated to a heartrending and rejected cloud that smothered and suffocated. That one moment and that one gaze…she had never been so hurt over a dismissal before. There was no doubt he recognized her, she saw it in his face; but the fact remains that he simply did not cared or thought much of it. The indifference, the apathy…perhaps disgust at how he could have possibly once been friends with her?

The live orchestra music (they were playing Chopin's Nocturne, she believed) was drowned out as a thunderous song belted from the loud speakers above. Confusion was written on the guests' face and the moving people stopped in their place entirely.

*They're trying hard to put me in my place

And that is why I gotta keep running

The future's mine and it's no disgrace

Cos in the end the past means nothing

You tell me I'm free then you tie me down

And from my chains I think it's a pity

What did it cost you to where my crown

You don't like it so why don't you admit it!

Pan had a fair idea who the perpetrator was. Searching through the crowds of heads, she spotted the handsomely dressed CEO and studied his half shadowed profile. Sure enough, he was sporting a give-away smirk.

Due to Bulma's quick action, the speakers were soon cut off, purposely severing the out of placed noise whilst the orchestra picked up where they were last interrupted. Guests resumed their place on their dance floor before the interruption, but Trunks pompously left the floor, his partner trailing after him. Pan watched him leave with a poignant expression and turned to John only to be disrupted seconds later by a loud commotion taking place in the center of the room.

The woman in the Victorian styled dress looked in tears, frantically rubbing a berry colored stain on her dress. Trunks was standing off to the side with a bored expression on his face and the incriminating champagne glass in his hand. People around them were murmuring but none showed any indication of helping the weepy girl. Annoyed, Pan moved past them and her object of irritation Trunks until she was in front of the embarrassed girl. Taking a napkin and drenching it in sparkling soda, reached out and help her wipe the stain off the pretty dress. It effectively cleaned most of it and when she was done the girl gave her a grateful look.

"He's a bit…clumsy, so don't mind him," Pan lamely whispered, lying to soothe her distraught feelings. It must have worked because she beamed and accepted the fact that Trunks did not do it purposely because he thought she was bothersome like he acted she was.

And just when that train wreck was avoided, another brewed not far away.

Once again, involving him. And equally handsome and wonderful John…..

She hit her head at the nearest wall. What now?

Trunks had stalked off and exited through the glass door that lead to the spacious outside yard. She followed, throwing an apologetic glance at an old dancing partner, who was currently making claims that he was fine to a very upset and remorseful Bulma. He caught her eye and encouraged her to go through with the confrontation. She mouthed thanks to the understanding man in the chair and stepped out to face what she couldn't for six years…..

Blast of cool wind hit her and she discovered why the party was held indoors. Damn this dress! It may be beautiful but it offered little warmth.

Pan chuckled desolately as she realized that the yard had looked exactly the same as it was the last time she was here. The luminous porch lights were still attached to wooden poles on each side. Green shrubs lined the area where the concrete surface ended. A humongous pool lied in the center, the water glowing brilliantly from the light of the moon.

Next to the calm water was the cool, expressionless Trunks. Standing with his pale star-illuminated face, his thin but muscular physique, and the silent wind ruffling his silky hair, he was the personification of a god. Fortunately she was grateful that she snapped out of her stupor before he caught her staring.

He turned sharply to face the composed Pan, cynically smirking at her.

            Outrage at what he did to the poor girl head over heels in love with him and the innocent John remained foremost in mind to Pan. It was only fueled by his smirk and his irritating silence. Hands on her hips, she could only glare glaciers across.

"What is the matter with you?!"

He only laughed in response.

She flinched and closed the distance between them. Fate could not have planned what happened next any better…..

With a quick push, he fell into the pool.

TBC

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