He cringed at the silence. She'd probably left, he'd probably spoken to nothing but air. He'd just barred his heart to his desk and-
"You'd never know how much pride means to me with my family...but it does."
Trunks started, turning around, seeing Pan leaning back against the wall where he had stood earlier, her arms crossed over her chest, ankles crossed, head down and eyes closed, a stance very Vegeta-esc. She'd pulled the band from her hair, pulled the black elastic hair tie over her hand and onto her wrist. Her hair spilled around her face such as he'd never known hair to spill.
"But it does," she repeated quietly, her eyes opening and shimmering with...with something. Trunks couldn't tell if they were tears-he knew they were tears, but whether they were hers or his own was a different matter entirely. She stood there quietly, proudly...tiredly?
"Pan?" he mumbled, blinking rapidly and standing up, walking around the desk to lean back against it and look at her.
"It does," she replied, her voice strong, but still not quite right. "Being the only female fighter in a ring of friends and family-all tied together by fighting, all fighting being done by the guys-is hard. It's nerve-wracking. You have to try twice as hard for others to accept you, and twice as hard as that for their respect...even if they don't necessarily like you."
She lifted a hand, ran it through her hair, holding a fistful of midnight locks to the side of her face and in front of her, where she studied it, her fingers relaxed, the hair twined through them.
"That's why I was always a tomboy growing up. I figured it was easier for you and the others to respect and accept me if I was less of a girl-if I dreaded Bra's shopping trips, if I didn't have Marron's timidness, if I didn't express myself as blatantly as Bulma or my grandmother. And that's why Grandpa Goku's disappearance hit me so hard...he was the only one besides Daddy and Uncle Goten that understood. The only one who understood that under it all, I was just a scared little girl."
Trunks sat there, quiet and unmoving, shocked at this truth that she was suddenly barring to him and him alone without provocation.
Without anything-that he could see-to trigger it.
A truth that he had never even guessed at.
"I know my mother was the same as I was-rough and tumble, always looking for a fight, overly and distressingly strong and assertive. But...not like this. Grandpa Satan was like that, she looked up to him. She wasn't expected to fight; it wasn't in her blood."
"Pan-"
"Grandpa understood better then anyone I've ever known. He understood that I was just a scared little girl who just wanted her father to make the world better, who didn't want to see her family and loved ones die. A little girl who wanted to sit down and laugh at school with friends, watch for boys and dream of growing up sooner then is my time, not training and scaring others with my strength. A little girl who wanted to someday feel she had to go on a diet because she ate too much-not a girl who could never be full, and who would lose 10 pounds nightly if she didn't eat enough."
She dropped the hair, letting it fall across her cheek and drape itself over her shoulder, her arms crossed over her chest. She turned and looked out the window.
"He understood that under it all, I was just a scared and terrified little girl who wanted to be able to go through at least one day in her life without having to worry about Dende's predictions of a growing evil coming true. That I wanted to live without knowing that any minute another terror could threaten Earth and that my father and family and friends would be running off to save it...possibly and quite often running to their deaths. He knew and understood that on the outside I wanted to go with all of you, that I wanted to join the bloodshed and do something honorable, do something for this planet that has been so good for all of us."
Her voice got quieter, her eyes drifted to the plush carpet.
"But that on the inside, I was screaming and crying from the pain, that I was in terrible fear for all of us. That I didn't want to be there. That I wanted the hurting to stop even if it meant death. That the only reason I fought, was because it was in my blood."
Trunks swallowed, terrified of this side of her, a side of her he had never even known existed. It was as if there were two Pan's-the Pan that he had baby-sat, that he had watched grow up and had grown up with; and the Pan that was standing in his office, no shields, no mazes, no tricks, no walls, no pride.
"I guess you could say that I am truly my father's little girl," she laughed sadly. "Those reasons are the same reasons he quit fighting...but at the same time, the only reasons he fought."
Trunks cocked his head, catching Pan's attention. She looked back at him, forced a smile.
"Training and sparring are one thing...pointless bloodshed and the killing of innocents are another."
He nodded and she looked back to the window, her eyes clear and at the same time tormented, as if a terrible storm were raging inside of her.
"That's one of the reasons I went to California," she sighed a moment later, "to go someplace where I didn't have to fight to be accepted...to decide if being someone who I wasn't-not entirely-was worth it. I wasn't happy...not happy at all...you saw me my senior year, I was a nervous wreck, though I hid it well from my father and from everyone but you and Bra...you two were the only ones to see me break down..."
Trunks nodded even though she had her back to him. He didn't speak however, just leaned back against his desk and watched as she released her demons.
"I-well, yeah...I went to decide which mattered more-my happiness, or the pride that I had built up around me my entire life-since I was six at least. From the first moment I set foot in California, I decided that it wasn't worth it. And that at the same time it was. So I compromised. I'd fight, but I'd be me. I'd flirt, I'd dress nicely, I'd throw away my tomboy routine but still keep it. I'd had it for so long that it's become part of me...the part I hate, and that at the same time, the part of me I love so much I can't live without it."
She closed her eyes and dropped her head back down.
"And yet, because I've changed, because I've allowed myself to dissimulate, to stand with one foot in the line of fighters, and one foot in the line with their wives and daughters, directly in the middle, not just in the line with the guys facing the girls, actually straddling the border between fighter and female, I'm scorned. I'm chastised. Turned away-put down. I've done what Bra would never dare do, Marron either. They were the smart ones, they knew from the get-go that if you fought, you were a guy or a guy in spirit for the rest of your life."
"That's not true-"
"Vegeta used to respect me, but obviously not anymore. Bulma doesn't know what to do with me, but she wants me to bear her grandchildren. Bra is dizzy with happiness that I'll willingly go shopping now, but still scared as to how drastic my four year transformation was. My father is falling over himself with wonder, my uncle-I haven't even seen Uncle Goten since he and my parents picked me up. Yamcha sees me as freshmeat, nevermind the fact that he finally settled down and that I can very easily kick his ass. Even Krillin doesn't get it-for some reason, he won't let me near Marron. Tien with his 3 eyes can't look at me with any of them. Puar turns her back to me, Chaotzu will look at me, but find an excuse to leave if I catch him. Piccolo doesn't know what to do with me any better then Bulma...he used to at least sound like I was more then 'Gohan's kid' to him...now he doesn't even talk to me. You tell me that it's not true."
Trunks lowered his eyes. "But not with-"
"You flat out used me."
He winced, tears building in his eyes. He took off his glasses and set them on the table...glasses that he hated, that he hid behind.
"You know I didn't-"
"I know you didn't mean to, and I don't blame you. I don't hate you. There's no point in hating any of you. It's not your fault, anyone's, that I chose happiness over acceptance and respect."
"Pan-"
She lifted her head and opened her eyes; blank, black, soulless eyes screaming for release stared back at him and he froze. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"I'm going back to California with summer's end...it'll be easier for me...I have a guy friend out there who I'm close to...who understands enough to accept me...I-"
"Pan, you're not going to go back to-"
She shuddered, her dark and depthless eyes unable to comprehend even the thoughts in her own head. Black tears welled in them, tears black with pain and anguish, not with mascara or anything that she had hidden herself behind.
Tears black with what she had hidden inside.
"I though you of all people would understand! You hide behind a mask just like I always have-you aren't the bastard you've always been! You of all people should have known I'm not as ignorant and innocent as my own father! And yet you didn't understand!"
Trunks gaped at her, mouth partly open, body tense.
"Did you!?" she screamed. Without waiting for a response she clenched her eyes tightly and turned to flee through his office doors, but he jumped from the sturdy oak of his desk, pushing himself forward and grabbing her arm, the arm farthest from him, pulling her tightly to his chest, crushing her against him, stroking her hair and murmuring into her ear.
She fought weakly, trying to shove herself away from him, but then gave up as she understood the words he spoke.
"I'm sorry Panny-you have no idea. I never knew, that smile of yours always destroyed any inkling I had of something being wrong...Please, just...just stay, don't go running out of here like I let you the other night...just stay..."
Her silent struggling grew quiet, and she stayed there, huddled against his chest, black tears streaming quietly down her cheeks, and she listened.
Trunks pulled back, wiping the tears away as they slowed.
"We've been friends a long time, and I'm sorry for not noticing. I know I probably screwed that friendship up more then is repairable a few nights ago. I've apologized for that...now let me apologize for being too caught up in my own demons to notice yours."
She looked up at him as he raised her chin with two fingers, as he wiped tears away with his thumb.
"Let's...let's forget about Friday night," he whispered, his black-blue eyes staring down into her own. "Let's just...just be friends-for these next five days at least."
She drew away from him, shaking her head inaudibly, the thought of being cooped up with him for hours upon hours-alone-too much to bear.
"Pan, just-I know it will be awkward," he pleaded, knowing better then to move towards her, putting his hands in his pockets and glancing at her. He sighed, dropped his head, then raised it to gaze out the window. "It'll be awkward to no end. But it might let us see what we're missing now-what we threw away...or maybe what we never let each other-aside from almost anyone else, see."
"What do you mean?" she whispered hoarsely, black lines down her cheeks, her eyes pooling but not spilling over, her pride back up around her like an iron fortress.
"I mean...I mean let's put the shields away. Let's let each other see who we really are-no pride, no walls. You be the scared little girl you always wanted to be, I'll be who I would rather not be but am. But only here...it'll only be between you, me, and the wall."
She didn't look convinced.
"Trunks..."
"There'll be no personal attacks, no personal affronts. No chastising, nor ridicule. Just us. Just who we've both hidden from the world. For five days only, inside this office. After we clock out on Friday, it'll be over. You can duck back behind your mask, and I mine. And you can go back to California if you want, I won't stop you. We can hate each other then...hate each other for what I'd like to pretend didn't happen. Five days is all I ask."
She blinked her black eyes, didn't answer.
He turned his head to look at her.
"Alright?"
She didn't respond, just dropped her eyes to the ground and leaned back against the wall. He turned and walked to her, lifting her chin with two fingers.
"Alright?...Panny?"
Her black eyes, once blue, gazed into his, and, defeatedly, reluctantly, but
not so tiredly, and not sad, almost agreeingly, she nodded her head without
a second thought.