Despite a warm, afternoon sun beating down on Metro West, his apartment was cold and dark. The dim lighting of his empty living room echoed the achy feeling in his stomach and his head was hurting after a night of light sleep and heavy stress. When he landed on his balcony, his limbs had been strangely numb, as though his body didn't want to be there. Stepping inside hadn't ameliorated the feeling, instead only driving home what he had to do that day.
For a moment, his attention was drawn to a sour smell on the air. His nose scrunched up as it permeated his senses, turning his stomach even worse than it already had been and hitting the middle of his forehead right where the pain was centered in his head. He was so taken aback by it, it took him a moment to figure out its source: his kitchen.
Pan left before straightening up and since it was the weekend, his cleaning service hadn't been by. She'd started to tidy the area after making them some of her grandmother's baozi the night before, but just as she'd begun, he'd pulled her aside, distracting her with the promise of taking a big step together before literally throwing her into bed. Despite the smell, his lips turned up at the memory, before melting down into a frown. This was not the day to get lost in sentimentality; it would only make it harder.
He started in the kitchen, finishing the tasks Pan had started. The smell was partially coming from the bits of vegetables still on the cutting board, which were easily scooped into a trash bag, but the larger part was from the mixing bowl she'd used to mix the meat-based filling. It smelled rancid, making him curse his sensitive nose as he fought the temptation to vomit. Once he finished taking care of the source of the smell, he moved on to washing every surface with a damp cloth, wiping off the thin layer of flour that had settled there from her underestimation of his stand mixer's speed settings. The work in his kitchen was quiet and lonely, but he managed to make a quick effort of it. It was not often that housework went so quickly, but maybe it was the fact that he was using it as a method of procrastination that made time move faster.
He looked out at his living room and the hallway that led to his bedroom. Dirty socks were scattered around in random places, some of them sitting on his furniture, which drove him a little crazy at times. Her sweater had been discarded over the back of his accent chair, and her footprints still remained smudged across the edge of his coffee table. He moved around the room bit by bit, picking up the random pieces of clothing so he could collect them into the dirty clothes bin.
After the living room had been cleaned, he moved down the hall, pausing when he reached his bedroom. The green top of her favorite gi was crumpled on the floor right inside the door. He sat down on the ground, pulling it into his lap and sniffing the fabric. Her scent was not what some would consider "feminine". It was woody and spicy. No hint of flowers or fruits, or any of the other smells he associated with most women he knew, but he expected nothing else from someone who spent all of their free time working up a sweat. Maybe it wouldn't be for everyone, but for him, the scent reminded him of exhausting nights chasing round after round of pleasure, hard and satisfying exercise, and her smiling face after a long day of work with the kids in her dojo.
Now that the smell of bad meat and stale vegetables had been aired out, he realized how thoroughly Pan's scent had permeated his apartment. She was everywhere in that space. But then again, as he looked back into his closet where two large boxes of photos were buried in the corners, he realized hers wasn't the only shadow looming there. He closed his eyes, lying his head against the wall, and allowing himself a breath before continuing his task. This was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do.
. . .
He'd showered and changed into the casual clothes he normally wore, figuring they were slightly nicer than the sweats he'd been sleeping in on his office couch. He wasn't sure why, but he was suddenly self-conscious, running a hand through his hair to give it the extra "fluff" he was always looking for in the front.
He'd been practicing what he was going to say a little, but was mostly there to hear what she wanted to tell him. He hadn't made any sort of decision yet, except to let her talk first so he would know what she was looking for out of this conversation. Maybe she would actually surprise him, instead of offering the hollow platitudes that she'd used in the past whenever she'd come walking back into his life. Maybe she would be as transparent as he'd always wished she would be. Maybe that would finally be enough to make him feel as important to her as she was to him.
Part of him hoped she wouldn't, so that he could tear apart the remaining threads of his feelings for her and finally step away for good so he could see where his path with Pan would take them. Even as the thought flittered through his mind, the words of his mother rang in his ears, and the memory of Bulma's various angry and saddened expressions during their conversation hadn't faded with sleep. As much as he'd disagreed and argued with certain points, there were others he couldn't ignore – no matter how enamored he'd become of Pan's smile.
He'd landed softly behind her on the upper deck of the yellow dome. He didn't want to startle her, and he didn't think she'd seen him flying over from his office building. The moment his feet touched the ground, she turned and stepped abruptly towards him as though she'd almost run in to his arms out of habit, but the torn expression on his face stopped her like a brick wall. She smiled despite the awkward moment of their reunion. Her almond-shaped eyes looked up at him, sparkling with evident affection. He swallowed hard, feeling the familiar pangs that had driven him back to her so many times in the past growing within his chest.
She wasted no time, immediately explaining what she'd been doing while she was gone, including why she felt she had to do it, the parts she had played in the past that had originally aided some nefarious characters in poorly executed plans that only served to worsen their own state of being and hurt innocent people. A part of him might've found it funny, if he wasn't currently being tortured by the memories of their lives together, and how often she'd allowed it to get in their way. If it hadn't caused him so much pain, he probably would've laughed it off, choosing to forget it the moment she said it. However, she'd left, ripping his heart of his chest and taking it with her. There were many moments when he didn't think he'd ever find anyone he cared about as much he'd grown up caring about her, but he'd proved himself wrong this time.
She told him everything, just as he'd hoped she would. Every detail, regardless of how much it spoke against her character, or how embarrassing she found it, came spilling from her lips freely. Whatever barrier she'd built up between them throughout the years was gone. She was as transparent as glass; he could see everything inside of her. A few months ago, this would've made him the happiest person on the planet, but the moment was soured by everything that had happened since.
She finished her story, folded her hands, and told him that she accepted whatever he had to say. He wanted to remind her that he was seeing someone that he liked very much, and that she was too late to simply roll back in his life, but even though he'd rehearsed that speech over and over in his mind - those weren't the words that came out.
"I wanted to marry you," he said through a rough and a constricted voice. "But you ran again – for this? All of this was – a lifetime ago. And – it's so… it's nothing. I don't understand."
"I should've said 'yes'," she said, water filling her eyes in a rare moment considering the attitude and confidence she normally exuded. "I should've told you that I wanted to – but - I didn't want to start a new life with you until I knew beyond a doubt that my old one was dead and buried."
"I could've helped," he argued.
She nodded, but her words contradicted the motion. "I wouldn't have wanted you to. I wanted to do it alone. I didn't want you to meet that part of me. I didn't want any reason to associate you with that period of time. You're supposed to be something separate – and better."
He didn't say a word. He didn't know what would be right. But when he remained silent, she figured she had her answer. Her eyes filled with water again, her gaze falling to the ground as she opened her mouth to say something, although nothing came out. She covered her mouth with her hand to hide her downturned lips, turning to walk away before he could see her. He couldn't bring himself to let her leave, and gently grabbed her shoulder, turning her and pulling her into an embrace.
He could feel her chest rising and falling in rough, uneven breaths against him as he rested his cheek against the top of her head. In all of the times she'd left and come back, she'd never been this vulnerable with him before, as though this was the only time she hadn't known with absolute certainty he would take her back.
He didn't know what to do. The disappointment he'd had in himself for folding to her whims so many times in the past was returning as he felt his resolve begin to melt, but he couldn't stop it from happening. She felt so familiar in his arms, like wrapping up in a favorite old blanket on a cold day. She seemed safe, known, and now that she'd illuminated what it was that she'd gone through and felt she had to fix about her past, he felt he knew everything there was to know about her. No more surprises were in store that could interrupt them again. Her transparency combined with the rare vulnerability she'd shown was evidence supporting her claim this wouldn't happen again.
She calmed down, although she stayed in his embrace, her face buried against a wet spot on his shirt. His arms were still around her, unmoving as though he didn't want to ever let her go again. Her breath evened out and she sighed contentedly, unaware of his twisted features. The sudden realization of the direction fate was taking him set in. He was right and had been all along. If he was going to build a future with Pan, coming to the Capsule Corp dome was a mistake. Now that he'd seen her face-to-face, it was too late.
. . .
He stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom. He hadn't called Pan yet. He knew she was busy and that he was about to pull the ground out from underneath her. He told himself he just didn't want to interrupt her day, but the truth was, no matter how long he procrastinated, he hadn't thought of anything to say that would make this task any easier for either of them. This was going to come straight out of the blue.
The black sheets on his bed caught his eye. They were half flung off of the bed itself, half puddled on the ground to the side, having been moved out of the way when he'd woken up the day before. White flour covered the pillow cases and the fitted sheet. Remnants of her cooking efforts had rubbed off of her hair and the skin of her arms and legs during their lovemaking, leaving formless, ghostly silhouettes along the dark surface. Less than two days before, her laughter and light had filled the now empty and dark room.
Pan may never believe him, but she wasn't the only person who would be left shaken by this unexpected development. The worst part was knowing beyond a doubt how much she would hate him by the time the day was out. He'd been wrong when he thought his friendships with Goten and Gohan were the largest wagers in this gamble. No, it was her. If he was honest with himself, he would've admitted that this might very well be the last time he'd ever see her. Pan had many character strengths, but he wouldn't blame her for holding a grudge for a very long time.
He finished gathering her things, taking a moment to strip his bed and toss his sheets down for laundry before encapsulating everything together as neatly and as carefully as he could. He knew she wouldn't want to be back to retrieve them, so this was his attempt to spare them both a little bit of added pain.
Once he was ready, he took his phone out of his pocket, slowly scrolling through his contacts until he found her name. He was not going to do this over a phone call. No matter how unbearable this inevitable conversation seemed, he was going to do it in person. Her voice sounded so happy when she answered the phone, it almost caused him physical pain.
"We need to talk."
. . .
Pan flew slowly over fields of rolling grass. Even though autumn had been creeping in, the afternoon had gotten warm and the early evening was still holding on to that heat as the sun shone brightly near the horizon. She was in no hurry to break a sweat; in fact, she was procrastinating on even getting there, worried about Trunks' sudden invitation to the buttes between Satan City and Metro West.
We need to talk, he'd said. No good conversation ever started with that. The voice that had been whispering in the back of her mind that something was wrong was now screaming. She should've listened to it the moment it first popped up, but she'd let duty overcome instinct, which was not a common mistake for her. She should've met Trunks that previous night. Arán and the other instructors could've handled clean-up at the ceremony and it would've been fine. But hindsight usually was twenty-twenty; there was no taking it back now.
She kept telling herself that nothing could've happened since Friday. She hadn't seen him, but she knew they were both working hard. What could've gone wrong? In just two months, they hadn't had time to grow tired of each other, and every time they started to lose patience, the tension was broken in the bedroom. Maybe things would start changing soon as they became more used to being together and it was no longer new and exciting, but surely, he wouldn't be ready to end it after having just spoken about taking a major step. That was what she kept telling herself anyway, as she tried and failed repeatedly to ignore the contradictory voice of her gut.
He was keeping his ki slightly raised so she could sense his location. When she spotted him, he was sitting on the flat top of a mountain, staring out at the plain below him and the setting sun. He had his knees pulled up, his arms resting on the tops of his legs, and he didn't move to stand when he noticed her hovering in the sky nearby. His skin glowed golden in the light of the evening, taking away the normally pale look he held due to the amount of time he spent living in his office, but she could see dark circles that were not present on their last morning together. His blue eyes had an even more crystalline look in the light, but even from her distance, she could see the trouble within them.
She took a deep breath, setting her feet down on the grass several meters away, giving them both distance so he wouldn't notice the concern on her face. He looked up at her as she landed, but his expression didn't change, nor did he volunteer an immediate greeting. She swallowed hard.
"Sorry for the short notice," he finally said. "I know you were busy."
It was such a relatively formal thing to say to her, so different from how he'd said "hello" in the last ten weeks, that she couldn't help but find it cold. Her heart was beating fast inside her chest as she fought the tightness that was already rising within.
"Why here?" she asked, trying desperately to sound like she wasn't already feeling the emotions that were flooding her body. "Why not your apartment?"
"I – I didn't want you to fly the whole way just to hear what I had to say…" he said uneasily, trailing off as he fought for his next words.
She crossed her arms defensively, feeling too tense to sit down on the ground with him. Instead, she turned away, pretending to be more interested in the view, although it was more to keep from having to stare at his downhearted expression.
"Did you change your mind about telling Goten?" she asked. Although that still would've been a disappointment, it was the least crushing possibility for why he was acting the way he was. "Because I'm not in a rush…"
"Pan," he interrupted her, though his rough voice was barely a whisper. "I – can't…." He trailed off again.
A large, painful lump appeared in the middle of her throat that would not go down, but she refused to release it and allow tears to form in her eyes. She already knew what he was going to say, but she wasn't going to let him get away without having to actually say it.
"Can't what?" she asked, turning to defiantly meet his eyes, her tone laced with a stubborn anger that sounded very much like the girl he'd known a decade ago.
He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to look into her dark depths as he said what he did next. "I'm sorry – but this wasn't such a good idea, and I think we should end it now, before it hurts other people."
Hurts other…? Who..? She thought, although she didn't ask the question of him. Mist was gathering in her eyes that she hastily fought against. Thankfully, a breeze stirred up and she turned into it, letting it dry some of the moisture away before it fell. Her pride was warring with her pain in a losing battle, but for now, she wasn't going to give in to it.
"What happened?" she asked sternly, seeing through the pitiful excuse he'd provided for what it was. Of course, this wasn't coming out of nowhere. Didn't he think enough of her to realize she was smarter than that?
He winced at her tone, knowing that presenting it without buildup and with such abruptness probably wasn't the correct way, but having been at a loss for alternatives all day, he wasn't sure what else to say. He couldn't just tell her the naked truth – that despite ten weeks of assurance that he was done with second chances, he'd folded yet again. He couldn't just admit that his mom had been the one who'd talked him into visiting Capsule Corp, or that doing so had instantly changed his mind about everything. That sounded weak, both for implying such an important and intimate decision was under the influence of his mother, and because it created the hurtful impression that Pan had abruptly lost some sort of competition she didn't know she was in. He lacked the integrity at that moment to acknowledge the reality of all of that.
"We both knew this was a risk," he said. "That it might not work out, and if it didn't…"
"I knew it might not work," she said impatiently, wishing he would just come out with the truth, "but I thought that would include some kind of sign it wasn't working – like a single, fucking argument, or anything. I also thought I might get a say in ending things. I didn't think you'd be calling me to the middle of nowhere to…" She stopped the moment her voice cracked, clearing her throat to work through the lump again.
He closed his eyes as his he lowered his head. She wasn't wrong – not a single word of it was wrong. But he didn't know how to be honest without making this much worse.
"So, what happened?!" she asked again, passing straight through the edge of anger as her energy bloomed abruptly. He still didn't reply. "Coward," she growled, and after a weekend of telling herself something was off and a long flight of her somehow knowing what was coming, her patience with his stubborn silence snapped. Her arms fell at her sides, her hands making fists so tight, they shook.
Her aura exploded, sending golden sparks in all directions, and he welcomed it. His eyes met hers again and he finally stood, hoping it would be as much as an invitation as she needed to take this out on him physically. He wanted violence, he yearned for her to kick his ass and to attack him until he was a mess imbedded in the ground. He could measure that reaction, respond to it. Even more, he was sure that it would make them both feel better.
Her glowing, green eyes met his. "This all started just because I wanted to be in your life," she cried out, her ki flaring in time with her words and whipping her short hair around the frame of her face.
"I know," he answered, watching her sadly and wishing she would just attack him. He already knew he was a bastard for doing things this way; she didn't need to waste her energy reminding him.
"After the gravity room, I came to you to fix it. I just wanted to be your friend, but you…"
"I know."
She took a deep breath, "Look me in the eye and tell me it wasn't good enough for you!"
His eyes remained on hers for a moment, but the words wouldn't come. It would've been an easy answer to give, but it would be the biggest lie he'd said yet. And after nearly ten weeks of intense heat and constant hunger for one another, she never would've believed it.
"I can't," he answered honestly.
"Then why?!" she yelled. Golden light consumed the top of the small mountain, sending cracks through the foundation of it and causing chunks of rock to fall to the earth below. For a moment, she matched the brightness of the setting sun; he had to turn his head to shield his eyes.
As soon as the explosive reaction happened, it died completely. Pieces finally clicked into place and caused an ice-cold realization that hit her in the stomach like a brick. Her golden aura dropped, her hair returning to its raven shade almost instantly. The anger on her face melted into a blank expression, but the tears that she'd been fighting so hard to hold back were no longer resisted, falling in solid drops down her suddenly stoic face.
"She came back, didn't she?"
Her question was quiet compared to the chaos that had been swirling around moments before, but he didn't miss it. There was no way for him to answer except with the truth, and if she didn't hear it now, she would figure it out soon enough anyway.
"Yes," he answered, closing his eyes as though it stung to say.
Pan's memory flashed back to their conversation about her. He hadn't spoken of her much, but when he did, he'd seemed so sure of telling her he was with someone else – that she was too late to come back again. That was obviously empty anger or his attempt to make her happy. Pan wasn't sure he'd meant a word of it now.
Did you even bother to think of me at all? Or did you just fall right back into her arms the moment you saw her? Pan wondered.
Her gut said to stay and argue, to fight, to force him to admit that he was giving up on something legitimate, but ultimately, she knew it wasn't going to get her anywhere. She was a competitive person, but there was very little hope in holding her own in this contest. She was up against a childhood crush turned first love, and then decades of experience. Even if they'd been on-and-off for a period of time, he'd never lost his feelings for her. That was more than evident now.
"I'm going to leave…" Pan started.
The statement sounded strange to both of their ears, but that was only because she couldn't force through the rest of what she'd intended to say. It took just a few seconds for him to understand what had been left out, eliminating the need. They had gambled with everything and lost; now it was time to pay their debt to the house. Despite the closeness of their families, which was now no longer at risk from being jeopardized by this experiment, their relationship had been permanently altered.
He nodded, accepting the finality of her broken statement. "I'm sorry," he said.
Her face hardened again in anger, as though she doubted the sincerity of those two words, but it couldn't have been more truthful. He realized what he'd done and he knew there was very little fault that could be shared anyone else. Even though she had every right to be as livid with him as she was, she would never know how much this had hurt him too.
She took off, forming a large crater in the top of the butte as power exploded underneath her. He had burned every bridge with her at once, and as she disappeared into the horizon, he was left to wonder what he'd just let slip through his fingers.
Pain was all he could feel anymore, but it was exactly what he needed. His mind was along a single track, focused only on surviving against his opponent. It wasn't about winning; that was impossible, but if he could last just a little longer, maybe this singular focus would last beyond this training session, and then all of the peripheral issues, the things that only distracted him from what mattered, would fade into the background.
His vision was going gray around the edges. The lights of the gravity room were starting to disappear in a haze, but he swore his eyes were still wide open. A strange shape appeared above him, which he barely recognized. Physically, he was overdue for a rest; mentally, he wanted to keep going.
"No more, Boy," the gruff voice sounded above him.
"Just give me a minute, Poppa," Trunks said, his speech blurring lightly.
Vegeta's scowl deepened as he looked into his son's eyes. He hadn't called him that in a while, and judging by his dilated pupils, he was not doing well. "You have a concussion," he said. "We're done. I don't need our women coming after me for over-doing it again."
Vegeta turned off the gravity feed and immediately, Trunks felt his chest lighten. His breath was quick and heavy, and there were stars in his eyes now. Maybe his father was right. He sat up with a groan, pushing himself up from the floor with his arm.
"Go slowly," Vegeta warned, throwing a towel and a gravity-resistant water bottle at him.
It must be worse than he thought if he was showing that much concern. Vegeta didn't usually start giving a shit until he was knocked out or coughing up blood. He wiped his face with the towel, noting the heavy red streaks and drops when he pulled it away. It was worse than he thought.
Vegeta sat down on the floor across from him, leaning against the central support in the room. He was sweating too. Trunks could see sheets of it dripping down his arms and off his chin. He could've powered up, Trunks thought. His father was immeasurably ahead of him in power, but instead of changing forms, he'd kept himself level with Trunks so there was a small sense of equity between them. He wanted ask why, but he was almost afraid to.
Trunks' vision started coming back and he relaxed under the normal gravity. It had been months since he'd broken it off with Pan. They had been apart for longer than they'd been together. Still, the memories of that gravity room would hit him at full-force at times, and he'd fight desperately to drive them back. The spot where he'd pushed her against the wall was right behind him, the recollection of how her hot breath had stirred his golden hair as she moaned and encouraged his exploration was so strong, he could still imagine the sensations on his fingertips. He'd pushed her to the floor just in front of where Vegeta sat, only to have her roll him over so she could slip his body into her, knowing he didn't possess the courage at that moment to do it himself.
"What the fuck is the matter with you?" Vegeta asked sharply, frowning even more than normal at his son.
Trunks willed the ghostly images on the floor in front of him away, becoming aware that he'd been staring at that spot with a peculiar look on his face for what was probably an unnaturally long time. He brushed his wet hair out of his face, chortling dryly before responding, "I have no idea."
Che, the strange sounding scoff came from Vegeta's mouth as he drank from his canteen. "You don't need to find that out inside this room," he said, his voice dripping with scorn. "Go elsewhere and stop getting in the way of my training."
"I thought you'd be happy I'm training again," he said with a frustrated sigh.
"This isn't training," Vegeta said, "it's only sloppy and careless self-punishment."
It was a surprisingly accurate observation. He'd hoped to be a little more subtle about it, but he guessed it was only a matter of time before his father picked up on that fact. Trunks was a hypocrite and knew it; a short conversation on the top of a mountain wasn't enough and it was less than Pan deserved. He had left her unexpectedly, almost exactly like he'd been left before. The only difference was that his "Dear John" was in person – and that didn't really make it much better. He'd wanted her to lash out at him violently, to beat his ass into the ground for it; that would've made them both feel better, and he knew it would've given her the opportunity to express a lot in a short amount of time. Instead, she just flew away.
About a week after he said goodbye to her, he went to his father asking for a spar. Pan had been stimulating the Saiyan half of him for weeks, and now he wasn't able to ignore the inclinations of that side of his heritage as easily as he had before. He needed to clear his thoughts, to focus on his future with the one he'd chosen, to keep the memories of Pan that had been seared into his head from clouding his vision every time he closed his eyes. Obsessing on the past was unfair to everyone involved, and he needed to get over it as soon as possible. Sparring, focusing on the physical movement required for it, and strategizing around techniques was so much more effective than staring at a computer screen and it kept his Saiyan blood sated. Even Bulma knew that, offering to help him keep up with some of his work as a CEO so that he'd have more time to process the changes in his life in a way that fit his alien mind and soul the best.
In the beginning, he was honestly trying to keep up with Vegeta, studying his critiques and responses to his different strategies carefully. He was starting to remember certain skills and moves he hadn't used since he was a child and had gotten stronger quickly as a result, but it wasn't enough. Although the effort and mental portion of these spars helped him align his thoughts and distract him from everything else in the world temporarily, it was the moments of pain that caused him the most catharsis. After a few legitimate training sessions, he'd started getting sloppy, giving in to the desire for that paradoxical comfort. He deserved it, and in his mind, it provided a modicum of karmic balance.
Today had been even worse. Autumn had set in hard, reminding him that his birthday was coming up soon. The women in his life had been conspiring behind his back regarding a huge party and it was a stroke of luck that he'd heard about it before it was too late. Even though Bulma had been in the know about him and Pan, it took everything he had to convince her not to invite the Sons. This wasn't the year. He then had to think of something else to tell her co-conspirator so she didn't get suspicious about why he was now avoiding a family he'd always been close with. He'd managed to cancel their plans, but barely by the skin of his teeth, and now all of the anxiety that he'd been working through seemed fresh.
Bulma had inadvertently picked at the wound, and now it was bleeding again. Whether he'd been conscious of it in the beginning or not, he'd been letting Vegeta land additional hits since their night began, partially hoping he could just wake up a week later feeling better.
"You're right," Trunks said. "I'm punishing myself. I've made some shit choices and - I'm not sure how to fix it."
The great thing about having Vegeta as a father is that he wouldn't care nearly enough to dig in to why he'd said that or to ask for context. True to his character, he simply got up and walked over to him, offering his hand to help Trunks get to his feet. That was more than he'd give just about anyone else and Trunks took it for what it was worth.
Vegeta set the auto-repair system and disengaged the safeties on the door, opening the gravity room hatch. Trunks stepped through, but before he could go anywhere, he felt a hand on his shoulder, holding him back.
He felt a mental ping. Although the sensation was familiar, he'd rarely experienced it and hadn't for a long time.
What makes you think I know anything about fixing bad decisions? Although Trunks could hear his father's voice clearly, his lips remained unmoving. The only thing to do is to live with them, and do better going forward.
Trunks opened his mouth to ask several questions, including why that particular message had been sent telepathically, but before he could get anything out, a horrendously loud squeal from his mother interrupted him.
"What did you do to him?!" Bulma shouted, running up and examining the deep cuts across his nose and lip, as well as the fresh bruise brewing around his eye. "He has a TV interview this week! Idiot! It's not like we have senzu beans anymore either!"
"Just throw him in one of the tanks," Vegeta argued.
"That'll take all night!" she snapped back.
Trunks was suddenly dragged by his wrist into the kitchen. His mother sat him down at a chair and began entering a number of commands on her phone to get one of the regeneration tanks they still kept on hand filled up and primed. He almost objected, but when he realized the blood was still dripping freely from his chin, he decided it was probably for the best.
When his mother left the room, he noticed the presence at the end of the table. She wasn't as panicked as Bulma was, but she did look concerned and sympathetic about the wounds on his face. "It's fine," he said, trying to smile, although the swelling flesh got in his way. "It's not as bad as it looks."
She stood up and walked over to him tenderly touching the one inch of his face that wasn't discolored. "After all these years, I'm still trying to get used to the way you do things," she said.
"We're a little different than most families, I know."
She chuckled, "to say the least."
She leaned down, placing a feather-light kiss on the side of his lips without a cut. The pain was starting to make itself known now that his mind was clearing and he winced despite her ginger efforts.
"Sorry," she said.
He took her hand, holding it like a hug so that she would know it was okay, and she sat with him until the regeneration tank was ready.
Vegeta's short word of wisdom repeated in his mind as he sat there, holding the hand of his childhood love. "…live with them and do better going forward." It wasn't bad advice, and there was definitely a way in which Trunks could do better with the choices he'd made for himself.
Pan sat at her family's dining room table, reading a book she'd pulled from her father's bookcase. There was no real reason for her to be there. Everyone was sitting around doing their own thing. Gohan was watching the news, Videl was updating a day planner, and Goku was doing his homework in front of the TV. Still, it felt good to be around people she loved and trusted; it was much better than her empty apartment.
Videl looked up at her, meeting her eyes for a moment and smiled softly. Pan smiled back. She'd been doing better lately, but it had started out quite roughly. Videl had been able to deduce what had happened very quickly the first time she'd seen her after the butte. To Pan's relief, her mother had only offered a hug; no "I told you so's" were muttered. She didn't even try and commiserate with her like some mothers might have. She just showed a moment of sympathy, told her she was there if she wanted to talk, and then let Pan move on how she wanted to. Not talking about it and wallowing in it, was exactly how she wanted to do just that.
That day had happened three months ago at this point, and since then, she'd been home a lot, seeking refuge in her family, and absorbing her little brother's seemingly endless joy through osmosis the best she could. Although she normally liked to spar and train for therapy, she was finding these quiet moments to be even better. It reminded her of normality – of what life had been like last spring, when her worst problem involved school and a different man who hadn't been worth a moment of her time, before she'd lost what felt like a chunk from her heart. It was going to take a while to get over someone like Trunks Briefs, but she was slowly succeeding with the help of her family.
"Do you want anything to eat?" Videl asked Pan.
Pan yawned, folding the dustcover of the book into the page she was reading so it would serve as a bookmark. "No thanks," she said. "I'm not really hungry."
Gohan coughed from the other room, overhearing her answer. He'd probably never heard those words from her mouth before.
"Are you sure? I can make your grandma's bao…"
"No," Pan answered a little too quickly, grimacing for just a moment before she could catch herself. "Sorry - it just doesn't sound good right now." Aside from a general lack of appetite, there was another reason she didn't want to be reminded of the innocent buns for a while. She was hoping to get past that emotional association soon so she could enjoy them again.
"Are you feeling okay?" Videl asked, walking over to her so she could put her hand on her forehead.
Pan laughed lightly at the overreaction, gently peeling her mother off of her. "I'm fine – just tired. My energy's been all over the place this week."
Videl sat next to her, a concerned look on her face, even though she didn't say anything. Pan knew what she was thinking, but despite taking Trunks' rejection a little hard, she wasn't feeling like it was depression, or anything else her mother had to worry about.
"Really, I'm okay," she said sincerely. "It's probably just PMS or something." Videl nodded finally, granting her the benefit of the doubt.
"Do you have the blueprints for the South City dojo renovations?" Videl asked. "I meant to ask if you'd seen them."
"Oh – right!" Pan started, happy to be on another subject. She reached into her bag, rummaging through its contents for a moment before pulling out a case with her capsules. There were only a few, but they were disorganized and most of them weren't secured into their clips. They went spilling everywhere across the table the moment she opened it. Among them was the memory stick she'd been looking for, which she'd stashed with her capsules because of its similar size.
"I'm always impressed at how easily you can make a mess out of so little," Videl complained, helping her pick up some of the rolling cylinders before they dropped to the floor.
One could always tell generally what was in a capsule by the style of label, the colors, and the model numbers. Capsule Corp wanted it easy to identify between capsules at a glance to avoid incidents like large, heavy items being unencapsulated in small spaces, which would undoubtedly result in someone getting crushed. Most of Pan's were just organization boxes used for files, gym clothes, and other little things. There was also the car Bulma had given her, which she had yet to even try to drive or sell – and then a weirdly blank capsule that looked fresh from the factory. It had no paint or labels on it, and Videl could even see some of the mechanics that went into the tiny device through its transparent plastic casing.
"What's this?"
Pan's soft smile fell and she took it from Videl quickly, putting it haphazardly back into the case with the others. "Just old stuff," she mumbled.
In truth, it was more than likely her things she'd left behind at Trunks' apartment. He'd shipped it to her a few days after the fact with a note apologizing for forgetting to give it to her when they'd spoken. The note hadn't said anything else. It wasn't like she was expecting it to, but it wouldn't have hurt him to write something. She hadn't opened the capsule yet; although there were a few of her favorite items likely hiding within, she hadn't had the fortitude for it yet.
"Anyway," Pan started, "the expansion plans look good, but they need to consider increasing the size of their testing arena if they're going to take on that many students. The statue to Grandpa was a little flamboyant, but – he'd love it."
Videl smiled and took the memory card from her. "Did you see the garden space they want to add?"
"Yes!" she said excitedly. Videl smiled, happy to see her former energy returning for a moment. "We should add something like that to every location – give the teachers a place to take their students for meditation during good weather every once and a while. I know we have that little outside space in the Satan City gym, but it's not nearly as nice."
"Good idea," Videl said. "You know – you could propose changes like these and make sure they get carried out all the time if you took over my role."
Pan rolled her eyes. They'd been over this before. "But then I wouldn't have time to teach," she argued. "And besides, everyone loves having Videl Satan overseeing the dojos. Son Pan is a nobody to most people."
Videl shrugged and lifted an eyebrow. "Well, that's not true – and even if it was, it's just a sign we need to start branding your name a little bit – make sure everyone remembers you're the granddaughter he was always crazy about. Besides, I'd still come to the award ceremonies and the tournaments."
"Why are you so desperate to get me to take your place?" Pan asked.
"Because I never imagined doing this job and - it's not really for me at this point in my life. I'd rather go volunteer with the police department again," she said. "And because it would've made your grandfather happy to know you'd be watching over it."
Pan sighed, not appreciating the guilt card played at the end of her statement. She crossed her arms and looked at her mother dubiously, unwilling to concede her the win. "I have a hard time believing you'd rather be elbow-deep in city bureaucracy again – but I'll think about it."
Before Videl could argue further, their front door opened. Goten walked through with his normally chipper smile, holding two relatively large, flat boxes in his arms. "Hey!" he greeted, "this was on your doorstep, so - I'm taking you haven't heard the news yet?"
He brought over both boxes; one of them was addressed to him and his fiancée and had already been opened, the other was addressed to "Son Gohan, Videl, and Goku" and was still sealed. The mystery of the box was already lightly spoiled by the giant "CC" logo on the top and the return address. Videl looked at Pan nervously, but although her smile had fallen a little, she seemed to be holding steady and wasn't running for the door. That was a good sign.
Gohan stood up to see what the noise was about, Goku following quickly behind him. "Oh – is this Trunks' birthday stuff? I figured Bulma would go a little bigger this year than normal."
Goten laughed, "Uh – no. This is even crazier. I'm going to let you have the full experience though, so open it up!"
Gohan tore the label on the larger shipping box, which revealed a smaller box in a hard case. A big, red button was in the center, next to words that said "push me". Goku asked if he could do it, and Gohan obliged his request, letting the young boy tentatively reach out and press it.
As soon as it activated, a speaker on the side sounded a short, triumphant fanfare as purple and black glitter exploded onto the table around them. The hard case opened to reveal a set of designer chocolates surrounding a large invitation, which prominently featured a three-dimensional graphic of a tuxedo next to a floating wedding veil and flowers. It was hard not to know exactly what it was with even the briefest look.
Videl looked back at her daughter again, wishing she could turn back time and keep her from learning this information in such a public and gauche manner, but it was too late. Pan shifted in her seat uncomfortably, her brow knit together so tightly, it looked as though it hurt.
"That's only four months from now," Gohan remarked with surprise, reading the invitation while simultaneously trying to keep Goku from eating every chocolate in the box. "I thought he wasn't a fan of short engagements."
"Well, you know, they have a long history, so I guess this doesn't count?" Goten said with more of a questioning tone. He scratched his head, raising a confused eyebrow. It was obvious he was thrown off by this development as well. "He's going to end up getting married before me now, I guess." He looked happy for this friend, but simultaneously somewhat bothered by the idea as well.
That was enough. Pan didn't need to hear anymore. She grabbed her bag to slip away, and was in the process of climbing the stairs to make a covert exit through her bedroom window when Goten called out to her. "Hey, don't worry Pan. You're just a little old to lump in with your folks anymore. I'm sure yours is waiting for you at your apartment."
It better not be! Videl silently seethed, cursing the day that Trunks first saw her daughter as "fair play" in whatever game he was playing.
Pan nodded at Goten and forced her lips to curve upward, knowing it looked to her uncle as though she was just mad wasn't on the invite. In truth, she wasn't sure how to feel about the omission yet, but at least, if anything, it was an understandable decision. She ran the rest of the way up to her old room and Videl quickly followed after her, ignoring Gohan's questioning look. She'd come up with an excuse for him later.
"Pan?" she said quietly, opening her door without knocking on it first.
Pan had heard her following and decided to wait for her mother despite her desire to run far and fast from the situation. She would just be trying to help – and she'd been good at that so far. Still, this wasn't a conversation she wanted to have with anyone. It was humiliating. To make matters worse, despite her best efforts to appear as indifferent as she could about this new development, her eyes were already betraying her with evident and undeniable moisture.
As her mother walked in, Pan sighed dejectedly and sat on the side of her bed facing her old bedroom window and the night sky. Videl slowly approached and sat down next to her. The glassiness in her daughter's eyes broke her heart, and there wasn't much she could do that would really help.
"I'm sure that didn't actually come from Trunks. It screamed 'Bulma' and she doesn't realize…"
"No," Pan started, "Trunks wouldn't have been so loud."
Videl put a hand on her arm, rubbing her shoulder lightly as she searched for what to say. "I know it's a little while from now, but if you don't want us to go…"
"Don't be ridiculous," she said sharply, wiping her nose. "It's not like I didn't know this was coming."
Videl hugged her from the side, "I know – but it would've been nice if he would've let the body at least grow cold first. And if that invitation wasn't so damn tacky..."
Pan smiled softly at her mother, wiping away tears as fast as they could fall as though Videl wouldn't see them if she was quick enough about it. "I was finally starting to get over it, too."
No, you weren't, Videl argued silently, knowing Pan better than that.
"I know," she whispered in contradiction to her thought with a sad sigh. She didn't know what to do for her. If it were up to her, she'd march right downstairs and tell both Gohan and Goten the full truth, all of it, and let Trunks pay whatever consequences followed. But Pan was trying to be bigger than that, prioritizing the relationships between Trunks and the Sons over her own feelings. She was content to hold up her end of their unspoken bargain despite owing him nothing.
I hope he knows what you're going through for his sake, Videl thought.
"Mom?" Pan said, laughing lightly although the tears continued to fall from her eyes. "You're really pissed off right now, aren't you?" she asked.
Her mother's aura was weak compared to the Saiyan members of her family, but it was still stronger than most humans. She could feel it burning softly next to her, which was something she wasn't sure she'd ever experienced to this degree before.
"I am," she answered honestly. "He's lucky he's stronger than me."
Pan smiled, appreciating the threat of violence from her mother and how much she really did take after her.
"Pan, if you want to go back to your apartment to get away, I'll come up with an excuse for the boys. I could come with you if you didn't want to be alone."
"Thanks Momma," she said. "But I think I just want to go blow something up."
Videl nodded in understanding. It was a predictable response from her daughter. "Take your phone," she said. "I'll think of something to tell your dad. And take a coat. It's supposed to be a cold night." She left her alone in the room, knowing she'd likely jump out the window instead of having to face her family with a red, tear-streaked face and answer uncomfortable questions.
Pan took her shoulder bag off, reaching in for her capsule case. She pulled out the unique capsule her mother had been eyeing before. If he had been thorough, one of her favorite gis was inside, likely smelling extra stale, but it's not like she was going to be around anyone anyway. She took a short breath before she threw it to the ground. Sorting through the things she'd kept at his apartment – felt so final. But any finality posed by the possessions inside were trumped by the wedding invitation on her parents' table, so those emotions were now pointless. Anger welled within her at the thought, but she pushed it down.
Save it for the training fields, she told herself, quickly changing so she could stop pretending to be as strong as she was in front of her mother and start expressing her real feelings on the matter.
. . .
Just outside of Satan City, the midnight sky was lit up with a golden light. While it was happening well away from human or animal life, it was bright enough for some local roosters to get confused, waking their rural owners in the middle of the night to an alert of a false sunrise. The innocent folks living in the countryside past the edge of the city woke up to the view of light on the horizon and the earth shaking, but there was no alarm raised. This was a repeated occurrence for them in this area, and nothing had ever come of it before, so they went back to bed, ignoring the distant rumbles of explosions.
Fire lit up the sky in dozens of streaks, setting a blaze to the field below and making a crater the size of a city block. Her hands moved faster than even she could see, volleying ball after ball of her energy down to the ground below. Once she had exhausted that warm-up technique, she took a moment to catch her breath as she looked down at Earth's new scar proudly, but it was only the beginning. There was a lot of pain she needed to convert to ki, and this random field that she seemed to choose often would be Ground Zero to receiving the brunt of it. She had done what she could to scare the animals away before she started, which was good, because nothing would be living in that spot for a while.
She wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, disturbed by the fact that she was already sweating. Her fatigue really had caught up with her that day, but it wasn't enough to quell her anger.
Pan exploded in golden light, powering up to her highest degree. She didn't care if he sensed it and knew why she was reacting. At her level, the one she'd work so hard to attain, every ki-sensing warrior on the planet could feel her anyway. The pride welling in her chest at that thought was the only thing that helped burn away everything else from her mind.
. . .
"You – didn't know about this until tonight either?" Gohan asked his brother, seeing his lightly disappointed and confused expression and putting the pieces together himself.
Goten's never-ceasing smile actually managed to falter a little. "No – not until I saw the box on my doorstep."
"That doesn't seem like him," Gohan added. Trunks and Goten had been best friends their entire lives. His brother wasn't used to being left out of big news.
Goten agreed. "He's been acting a little – off for a while. He was seeing that mystery girl he would never tell me anything about either. I guess he's just – going through something he didn't want to share with me."
Videl sat at the table, crossing her arms tightly as her anger continued to burn towards the main subject of the conversation. Pan's feelings were obvious to her, but the look in her brother-in-law's eyes was unmistakable as well. Trunks had kept his tryst with Pan quiet, but the deception had already taken its toll from more than just her daughter. Goten would be quick to forgive, he always was, but she knew he was hurt by the arm's length his best friend had been safely keeping him at for the last few months.
Gohan looked up at his wife questioningly, sensing the same edge to her energy Pan had picked up on earlier. She met his eyes, knowing the exact meaning of the concerned expression without having to ask him. She took a deep breath and took a sip of her tea, relaxing her shoulders after a considerable amount of effort. It didn't seem to alleviate her husband's worry.
"Maybe this means things will start going back to normal – now that he has some stability in his life again," she said. It was more of a wish to the universe than an actual statement. That night would be a rough night for Pan, but she'd get through it. Then, maybe him jumping off the market so suddenly would encourage her to think about moving on too.
Goten's lips curved upward again. At least there was one person in her family she could provide some comfort to. "Yeah, and I think…"
He stopped in the middle of his sentence and all three Saiyan's heads suddenly snapped up in the same direction. He exchanged a surprised look with Gohan. Pan was not upstairs like they'd assumed she was. She was actually quite a distance away, and her energy's bloom was distinctive and powerful in the midst of the otherwise quiet night.
Goten chuckled quietly, assuming in his naiveté that the sudden explosion was just Pan being Pan. Gohan wasn't as flippant. His brow furrowed deeply and he shared yet another concerned look with Videl.
"Is she okay?" he asked quietly.
Videl hadn't been able to sense the power herself, but given the sudden silence of the three people in the house who could, she was able to piece together the context. She sipped some more tea out of her mug, offering no more than an innocent shrug of feigned ignorance.
. . .
Trunks had decided to move back into his childhood home. His new fiancée' liked it better there anyway, and his apartment held memories he didn't want to be surrounded by or reminded of on a daily basis. He had been spending some rare free time knocking out walls to convert his old room into a suite of sorts, when Bra came rushing in, raving about the package she'd gotten in the mail from him that day – one he didn't even know he'd sent. He marched right into the kitchen where his mother sat with her evening book, followed by his sister, who was a little too interested in hearing their conversation.
In a rare occurrence, the four Briefs happened to sit down at the same time at their old kitchen table, Trunks to have a serious chat with his mother, Bra to eavesdrop and give them grief about how bright and large the invites were, and Vegeta who had just wanted some food before going to bed and found himself irritatingly surrounded by his loud family as they rambled on about nonsense.
"Did you have to make them so ostentatious?" he asked. "This isn't me and it isn't her, either. And we weren't ready for the news to get out yet."
Bulma waved him off casually. "I only sent those to close friends and family – a dozen, at most. It's a big deal! It deserves a big announcement."
"Can we please have a say in what goes out, when, and to whom before you send more?" he asked dryly, trying his best to keep his volume normal. "This is – kind of our day, right?"
"Don't worry," she replied dismissively. "You can send out whatever you want to the rest of your guest list."
"There isn't evena guest list yet. We barely just set the date." Bra laughed in the background, but Trunks didn't really appreciate how funny she found the matter. "Did you…?"
Before he could get the question out of his mouth, the hairs on the back of his neck stood up in response to an incredibly strong source of energy coming from the east in the distance. It caught the attention of Vegeta and Bra as well, though it took them just a moment to process who it was and that there was no imminent danger.
"Whoa," Bra said with a chortle, honestly impressed with the power radiating from the other woman despite being so far away. "Pan's gotten even stronger."
Vegeta's eyes met hers, and though not a verbal word was exchanged, Trunks didn't miss the fact that they were talking between themselves. It wasn't something that happened often, but he hated it every time. Not only were the conversations always kept secret, but it made him envious of the connection he couldn't share. Before Trunks could ask them to enlighten the rest of the room, Bra's mouth dropped open slightly and she gave her brother a strange look. Trunks' stomach formed a knot, his instinct telling him he'd be better off not knowing what they'd just said to each other.
His focused turned back to his mother, who had been nearly oblivious to everything that had just happened. "You sent one to the Sons," he said in accusation, knowing that was likely why it felt as though Pan was tearing up half the countryside at the moment.
She sighed and tapped her nails on the table, looking him in the eye while she formulated how to answer. "All but one of them. I thought you'd be better off making that decision."
He ran his hands through his hair, groaning in frustration. Not that he had the balls to do it anyway, but in one, fell swoop, his mother had pretty much eliminated his chance of trying to make something of amends with Pan prior to the news coming out, and robbed him of the opportunity to tell Goten privately. Plus, all of the damage he'd hoped to avoid with a large birthday party was going to end up being done anyway.
He wanted to ask her why she would jump the gun like she had, but he already knew the answer. She'd never needed to be legally married to Vegeta, but the party… If there was one thing Bulma Briefs loved, it was a party where all the attention was focused on her and she'd never gotten that outside of some very expensive birthday celebrations. Despite the fact that the engagement was still very fresh, she was already living vicariously through the event. He could feel control over the whole thing slipping from his hands already, and wondered how much of his own wedding would really be his.
"Mom…" he started loudly before Vegeta shot him a warning look. He took a breath, calming himself down before continuing. "Can you please stop butting in? I promise I'll let you know when you're needed."
Bulma smiled gently at him and nodded a little too easily. Trunks had the impression she hadn't quite received the message, but they both silently agreed to drop the issue for the time being.
. . .
Water dripped from her chin as she fought hard to catch her breath, her chest was moving violently up and down as she gasped for air. It had only been a few hours at that point, and was barely past midnight. She shouldn't be so tired, but her body begged her to slip out of her form and rest. It wasn't fair. She needed her energy tonight.
Just a few more hours, come on! she screamed at her failing body. The last time I did this, I was out here for at least a day and a half. What the hell is wrong with me?
She set her feet firmly on the ground, centering her balance and ignoring the blurriness in her vision as she carefully released a small but powerful ki ball from her hand. Since speed was a strength for her in this form, she found she could usually send one at herself, if she was quick enough, lobbing it back and forth like a game of one-player tennis. It was surprisingly effective training since the angle at which it was hit changed the trajectory of where it was going to go next. It was unpredictable enough to provide a challenge and a test for her speed and senses.
She fazed in and out of vision, keeping up with the energy blast for a time, but after a third or fourth deflection, her balance gave way and she stumbled, taking the blast to the left shoulder. The black liner underneath her gi singed and smoked and she could feel a burn on her arm. Cursing herself, she took a moment to let the pain fade away, kneeling on the ground as more sweat puddled beneath her.
Frustration burned her more than the ki blast. Frustration with him, with the fact that he hadn't even tried to smooth things over, apologize for how quickly he'd done this, or even tried to speak to her in over three months; frustration with herself for feeling so fresh about it despite the amount of time that had passed; frustration with her uncle, for walking in that night so damn happy for him; and her mother - for letting herself be fooled into thinking Pan was strong enough to handle this. She wasn't strong enough. She hurt. It hurt. After three months, it still hurt so fucking bad...
Why was it so easy for him to give up?! Why wasn't I good enough?!
The insecurity was the worst. It wasn't her; the granddaughter of Son Goku was supposed to be better than that. By most definitions, he was a god, and his granddaughter: a wounded child crying over a boy. The realization of it fueled the rage inside of her even more, driving her ki even higher. She focused that energy again, letting it build up in her core before sending it through her uninjured right arm. A guttural yell erupted from her as she sent a beam of light forward, ripping through the air so fast, it created its own vapor cone.
A moment later, the energy died from her palm. She smirked proudly, enjoying the scene of the mountain in front of her with a new, red-hot, neatly-drilled hole straight through the middle of it. Before she could truly appreciate her landscaping work, the world suddenly turned 90 degrees. Something didn't seem quite right about that, but her sluggish brain couldn't immediately process what had gone wrong.
"Am I on the ground?" she had just enough time to wonder aloud, before everything went pitch black.
Cold – ice cold. Why was it so cold? She grumbled, reaching for a blanket that wasn't there to warm up with. She was shivering violently. Who left a window open?
She forced her eyes open, finding that small task to be harder than it should've been. The sun was brightly rising above the horizon, but the light from it and the chilled air she was feeling wasn't coming from an open window. She was outside. Her vision and her memory cleared at the same time, bringing her important recollections about why she was lying on grass in the middle of an open field.
She shuddered hard, sitting up slowly before her body could protest. Her head was pounding and her left arm was burned. But most of all, she was still incredibly tired. Her gi was wet from the dew that had deposited thickly on the grass around her. She was just glad it hadn't rained or gotten cold enough to freeze overnight, but the moisture was still enough to suck out every ounce of heat from her skin.
Get warm, her tired mind warned her in a moment of clarity. You're cold enough to get hypothermic.
Normally, she'd just raise her ki to dry off and warm up. It usually worked well, even in arctic conditions. But as soon as she felt the energy building inside of her, it petered out again, dying like a car that was out of fuel. Standing was a difficult enough task on its own. Her knees wobbled and her legs and core muscles screamed at her to return to the grass, but she was able to gather just enough strength to stay upright.
She already knew the answer to her next question, but she needed to try anyway. Sure enough, the moment she tried to levitate, her feet barely left the ground before she fell again. She was stuck.
A cold, autumn breeze blew in just as her sense of danger was rising. Despite Videl's instructions, she had brought her phone, but it was low on battery even before she left the night before. It was likely dead by now, so she couldn't call for help and she needed warmth quickly.
She had just enough determination in her to track down her bag. It was a thousand meters away, sitting against a tree. She was just glad she hadn't collapsed too far from it. She was disheartened to remember that her extra clothes were still at her parents' house on her old bed, so that option was out. However, there was something in there that would work, if she'd remembered to stash her capsule case in her bag before leaving.
She would've shouted for joy if she'd had the energy. The case was in her bag. Within the case, there was a capsule she'd been ignoring due to never having use for it before. She smiled gratefully, thanking Bulma for her thoughtless and overly expensive gift as she clicked the capsule button and threw it on the ground in front of her. With a poof, the smoke cleared, revealing a top-of-the-line version of one of Capsule Corps' latest luxury vehicle models.
Pan focused, scraping up the energy from the bottom of her barrel in order to jump in the hover car. She had to hand it to Capsule, as pointless as she found vehicles in general, this one came with heated seats. She started the engine and the electronics system, turned on the heater full-blast, and flipped the seats onto the "high temp" option. Within seconds, her backside and legs were beginning to tingle and sting from the sensation of heat on her nearly frozen limbs. A moment after that, the air coming from the vents changed from cold to warm. She shivered again, feeling her body temperature finally rising as the dry heat began soaking in through her damp clothes.
Unfortunately, the onboard communications system wasn't set up yet, and it required a working phone or computer with an Internet connection to get registered with the service. The car had plenty of charging ports, but no wires, and her phone was too old to take a charge wirelessly.
"Still stuck," she said to herself, trying to ignore the quiet worry building up in the back of her mind about why her body was failing her in the first place.
Unconsciousness beckoned her the more she warmed up. She wanted to curl up on the seat and sleep, but she knew if she let herself doze off, it wouldn't get her anywhere. Caving to her body's wishes, she allowed her eyes to remained closed, ordering herself to stay awake and think her way out of the problem. She could sleep when she was home.
. . .
She had been thinking about something – something wonderful and terrible at the same time. But as soon as she realized her abstract swirl of thoughts were a dream, they left her, forgotten the moment she stirred back into consciousness. All of a sudden, a sharp spark at the back of her mind made her eyes shoot open. She looked around, regaining her bearings as the blurriness in her vision cleared. The sun was noticeably higher in the sky now, her previously wet clothes were now suspiciously dry, and the car, as pleasantly warm as it had been just a moment ago, was now almost unbearably hot.
"Shit," she swore, realizing she'd fallen asleep after all. The fuel tank was only down a sliver thanks to the car's fuel efficiency, but there was still the issue of being able to drive the thing in the first place. "I've flown a spaceship. How hard can this be?"
She began to look around for a manual, pulling open various drawers, thankful her ability to think straight seemed to have improved a little. But what was that spark she felt? The little jolt that had snapped her out of her accidental nap? It felt like ki, but it was so subtle and had almost disappeared from her senses completely now that she was awake enough to study it.
Maybe someone's nearby, she thought excitedly, wondering if they were still close enough to signal or flag down, so she wouldn't have to worry about figuring out how to operate a vehicle on the fly.
She closed her eyes, focusing hard, trying to determine who it was she'd sensed and how far away they were. It took her quite a while to feel anything – so long, she'd nearly given up. Just as she was about to open her eyes and resume her search for a manual, she felt it again. It really was a small spark, stronger than some humans, but weaker than anyone she knew. Was someone quashing their energy level in an attempt to avoid detection? No, this wasn't that. This was someone she didn't know, someone new to her, but also someone who carried the unique energy signature usually only found in Saiyans.
She opened her eyes, although her mind remained focused on the spark. It was barely legible to her; if she hadn't noticed it during that brief moment between being awake and asleep, she might not have noticed it at all. Now that she had experienced it and locked onto it, it was almost too difficult to ignore. It was ubiquitous, stationary, and – familiar, somehow.
Color drained from her face as her eyes widened as a bolt of shock travelled down her spine. The reality of the situation had hit her with ice cold clarity. It felt as though it was everywhere because it was inside of her. It felt Saiyan because - it was. It was familiar because it contained a combination of blood from her and…
"Oh shit – Trunks," she whispered in a panic.
She put a shaky hand against her belly. She noticed she'd been strangely bloated lately, and used that to justify the fact that her appetite had been on and off, which would make her low energy make sense too. The thought hadn't crossed her mind that there was another reason why her pants weren't fitting well and why she was so damn tired all the time. The Capsule shot was supposed to be nearly impervious, so there was absolutely no reason for her to be concerned about that possibility - or so she thought.
She was still at a loss as to why her body had given up on her last night, but if her suspicions were correct, then it would explain it, to a degree. After all, she expended an incredible amount of energy every time she went Super Saiyan – and she remembered her mother complaining about how tired she constantly was before and her brother were born. Back when she was…
She bit her lip and took a deep breath, trying not to hyperventilate. She needed confirmation before she truly panicked about the idea. She set her mind to the situation at hand, and after a lot of struggling and a few near crashes, managed to get the car off the ground, heading as best she could towards the one source of help she knew would be level-headed enough to trust about something so huge – and terrifying.