A/N: This was written for a couple of reasons. One was to try and get me interested in Helter-Skelter again, something I've left dormant for a long time. Another was to try and inspire Lady Anarchy, because many of her fics inspire me. The final reason was because I liked the idea.

This fic'll be two parts long, and has mature themes, but no all out lemons. I'm too chicken to write a lemon. It was partially inspired by "Love Her Madly" by the Doors.

don't you love her ways
tell me what you say
don't you love her as she's
walking out the door

Love Her Madly
Chapter One: All Your Love
by Clara

"Mr. Briefs?"

Cider, Trunks' young secretary, peered nervously up at him. She was a cute thing, with long red hair bundled up in a sophisticated twist, a dash of freckles across a small nose, and full, kissable lips. Not to mention, a body to kill for. Then again, Trunks wouldn't have it any other way. Hey, said he to anyone who made comments about his choice of employees, if they don't do anything productive, might as well have them useful for other things.

Trunks was not very professional about his illicit relationships with his secretaries. Not when everyone did him the favor of making assumptions already. Why try to dispel them? He didn't really care. It didn't do anything bad for his reputation—just made more people pay attention to him and Capsule Corps. One thing about the media and the general populace was that they ate up stupid shit like this.

But he hadn't done anything with Cider, despite what everyone else thought. She was beautiful, yes, with those wide eyes staring at him in obvious adoration and blushing gently whenever he focused his hard stare on her. Getting her to bed was high on the list of his priorities but—

She was boring.

There was really no other way to describe it. The way she answered his comments with a fluttery 'oh' or 'yes sir, of course sir' drove him up the wall. It was as if she had no backbone to speak of. Just, 'yes, yes, whatever you want, blah-di-fucking blah'.


"There's a lady here to visit you."

Trunks sighed. Well, he had been right when mentioning that none of his secretaries did anything. He bet Cider actually allowed this woman in his office. How irresponsible was that? There were files and important documentation were scattered on his desk for anyone to steal.

"Where is she?"

"I sent her into your office."

He rolled his eyes. "Right. Next time, have her wait out here."

"I—I tried—"

But Trunks ignored her in favor of walking into his office, ready to give whoever dared to intrude on his privacy an earful. He, however, was stopped at the entrance by a pair of slender, toned legs crossed at the knee. She was sitting on his desk, right on top of all that important documentation, dressed in a casual business suit that was unbuttoned enough just to give a glimpse of cleavage and had a skirt reaching probably to her knees but right now rising up and giving him a glorious view of those fucking amazing legs, thigh down, thank you.

And her brown eyes were not warm like honey or chocolate, rather dark and inviting, but also keeping him in place with an intensity that he had been lately lacking in his life.


Full lips curved into a smile. "Good to see you haven't forgotten me, Mr. Trunks."

"What...what are you doing here?" A part of him was reeling. Never before had a woman knocked him so completely off his guard, especially not Pan Son.

"That should be obvious enough. I was waiting for you. Hot secretary you got there, by the way. Has she been added to your list of conquests, yet?"

"No!" His protest felt rather vehement, but she waved it away with that taunting smile still in place.

"Of course not."

There was an awkward silence between them, Trunks still trying to gain lost footing. He hadn't seen Pan in several years, and when he last saw her she obviously hadn't looked like that. She had grown, she had gotten her family's good genetics, and she had gotten intimidating, a trait most likely inherited from Chi Chi. No wonder Cider hadn't been able to get her to stay in the waiting area.

"You, ah, you look good." And whatever had miraculously turned her into this beauty left him stuttering like a school boy.

That delicious smile of hers turned into a more familiar grin, allowing him to relax marginally. "Thanks, Trunks. You look wonderful, yourself."

"I don't want to sound rude or anything, but why are you here?"

That grin disappeared, replaced with a thoughtful, distant look. "Well, to try and figure out why we haven't seen each other in—hell, I don't even know how long it's been since I've last seen you."

"A couple of years, at least," said Trunks, now wishing he had been there for her while she grew up. Guys must have followed her around like hounds. The thought brought him a strange tinge of jealousy but—what the hell was he thinking? This girl was confusing him. It must be her perfume.

"Want to grab some breakfast, or something?"

Trunks had just eaten, but how could he say no? Besides, the good thing about being Saiyajin was having a bottomless stomach. It allowed for several dinner meetings, at least.


But after breakfast they went for a walk. And then to a movie. After that they decided to have an early lunch. And then another walk to feed some ducks, and back into the city to do some window shopping, and then dinner. Soon enough they were at Pan's doorstep. They had caught up, talked about their families—but had yet to touch upon the subject as why they hadn't seen each other for all those years. They had been close before, Pan considering Trunks her best friend because she just didn't fit with all the other girls, and Goten and Trunks grudgingly taking the tag-a-long under their wing. It was like having a younger brother, they had joked.

Not that they had been particularly accepting, either. Trunks had thought playing tricks on Pan would be a blast, and Goten always went along with it because it didn't matter to him either way, just as long as they didn't do anything too damaging. And Pan had put up with all of it with good humor, because hey, at least she was getting attention.

But after she got accepted into high school, she drifted away from the two older men. There were people there who she made friends with, and Bra, Marron, and she had seemed to get over their differences. And gradually she seemed to cut Trunks out of her life, completely. Goten would never suffer such a fate—he was, after all, her uncle.

"Would you like to come in for a couple of drinks?" She seemed to be slightly nervous, as if her inviting him in was implicating something sexual. The very idea filled his mind with uninvited thoughts, and he pushed him roughly away.

"Yeah. Sure."

But even the way he followed her up the stairs, both walking in utter silence, made him feel as if they were going to her room to have sex. It didn't help that her waist swung when she walked, or that her tantalizing perfume invaded his senses. And when they got to her apartment, Pan's hand trembled when she unlocked the door.

"It's not much," said she as she pushed the door open. "But it's my home."

She had a fairly small place, with her kitchen connected to her family room, and a hall that led to one bedroom and one bathroom, but she kept it homely and quaint. Everything was spotlessly clean, but there was a clutter of papers that littered her coffee table and a tortoise-shell cat sitting on top of them like it owned the world.

"You have a cat," observed Trunks, smartly.

"Yeah. It gets lonely here, sometimes. Her name is Turtle." Pan bustled into the kitchen without waiting for Trunks. "I have some Alizé. It's French—may suit your tastes."

"I'll have a glass." Unsure, Trunks took a seat on her cream colored couch, surprised with Turtle jumped on his lap.

"She likes you," said Pan, and there was a grin in her voice. "Which is kind of a surprise. She normally hates everyone, including—" But she cut herself short, and Trunks could hear her pouring the alcohol in her kitchen. Curious, Trunks twisted his head around to look at her, trying not to disturb the small cat who had curled up in a tight ball on his lap.

"Including who?"

But Pan didn't answer him right away, instead took her time to pour the drinks. After a long moment, she sat beside him, handing over a glass. Interestingly enough, she had brought the bottle with her. "I didn't ask you up here to get you into my bed, you know."

Trunks choked on his drink. It was fruity and strong, and caught in his throat at her words.

"Hey, I didn't—"

"Oh, quit trying to preserve your dignity. Nothing's going to happen, anyway." Pan slumped into the couch, staring hard at the TV even though it was turned off. She raised the glass to her lips and drained nearly all of it in one gulp. Trunks stared, amazed, and coughed a bit into his fist.

"I wasn't expecting it to," lied he, and Pan scoffed at him.

"Please. I saw the way you were looking at my legs."

Trunks had the decency to blush slightly. "Well, all right then! Why am I here? Why did you come to my office, Pan, when we haven't seen each other for years? I don't believe you hunted me down just because you missed me, or else you would have came to visit long ago."

Pan refilled her glass and Trunks, feeling as if he was falling behind, quickly finished off most of his own.

"I'm getting married."

Trunks was just thankful that he hadn't been drinking when she told him that, else he probably would have choked again. "What! To whom!"

"His name is Cash. We met in one of my business classes." Her eyes were averted, as if she couldn't bear to look at Trunks. "I love him." The ferocity in her voice was as if she was trying to convince herself. And when she turned those fierce brown eyes to Trunks, it was now as if she was trying to convince him.

Trunks frowned at her, annoyed but not quite sure why. "Okay, so why did you drag me all around town to tell me that?" His voice sounded tight even to his own ears. Well, it was his own damn fault for thinking such inappropriate thoughts, anyway.

Then again, she couldn't have been swinging her hips like that unconsciously. Pan was too much in control for that.

"I don't know, all right? Gods, I'm only twenty-two and I'm getting married? I don't know, Trunks. This is a huge step for me. I needed a friend." She scowled at him. "My best friend. You know, the guy who used to write 'extra small' in big bold letters on my training bras?"

Despite the situation, Trunks grinned. Pan's lips twitched, too.

"That wasn't funny, Trunks."

"I thought it was pretty genius."

"You gave me a complex."

"Uh huh."

"I swear."

The tension between them momentarily disappeared, and they watched the blank television screen as if some great movie was on.

But the tension came back with friends when Trunks spoke again, and he regretted the words even before they finished coming out of his mouth. "I wasn't aware we were best friends anymore."

Pan killed off her second glass, then refilled both hers and his. "I like to think we are. Just busy best friends."

"I'll buy it. So what's the problem? You love him, right? You just said so." His words sounded a little bitter, so he quickly took a drink. He had no right to be annoyed.


Trunks frowned at her. "You're hesitating. It's not good to hesitate in a situation like this."

Pan dropped her eyes down to her drink and bit her lower lip. "I care about him, strongly."


"I'm comfortable, Trunks. I've settled. He can offer me a perfect life."

"A perfectly boring life, you mean."


Trunks groaned, finishing his second glass and reaching to pour a third. "You'd be miserable."

"I'd be comfortable."

"Okay then, so what's wrong?" He already knew. Being comfortable was not nearly enough for Pan.

But that thought dropped away when he saw the look she was giving him. It was one he was familiar with, one that several girls gave him through the course of his life. He groaned.

"Oh, no. Pan, no. Come on, didn't you just say nothing was going to happen?"

"Look, Trunks, I'm not asking you for anything," said Pan in a rush, waving away her previous statement as if it hadn't ever been uttered. "Well, okay, I guess I kind of am but—oh, I don't know anymore, Trunks! I'm confused! I..." She looked as if she wanted to admit some long held secret to him, but bit her tongue and kept it back.

"Pan, I'm too old for you. You're like a kid sister. You're—"

"Don't give me that, Trunks," growled she, and any other protest caught in his throat. The look she was giving him was quickly changing his mind. "I saw the way you were looking at me. I can practically feel your lust. So what's stopping you? I'm giving you the permission."

"You're engaged!" protested he. "You're my best friend's niece! You're Pan!"

"What? Does me being 'Pan' suddenly make me completely undesirable?"

"No! No. It's just..."

"Wrong?" Gently, Pan picked Turtle up and placed her on the ground, her hand coming much too close to Trunks' lap for his comfort. He jumped slightly and backed away, mind reeling from the chain of surprises and fuzzy from the surplus of alcohol.

"Yes! Well, you want to use me to make sure you're not making a mistake," accused Trunks, trying to keep the distance between himself and Pan. But it was becoming increasingly impossible as she crawled on top of him.

"If you want to put it so crudely, then yes, I do."

Trunks had absolutely nothing to say to that. He could barely talk now, anyway, since she was pressing her hips so firmly against his.

"Your body seems to think it's a good idea." In spite her sexy words, however, Trunks couldn't help but to notice that her hands were trembling again, and her eyes were wide and scared and vulnerable. That, above everything else, sent Trunks over the edge and killed off the last of his control. He wrapped his arms around her waist, their noses just centimeters apart.

"This was your decision," growled he, leaning up to kiss the corner of her mouth. "You can't blame me for anything that happens after this."

Pan's smile was nervous, but she ducked down and kissed him fiercely, lips and tongue like velvet against his own. He groaned against her mouth, hands holding her hard enough to bruise. She was rocking her hips against his, and each movement sent sharp bursts of tingly heat up his spine, driving him more and more insane. Pan was just as breathless as he, giving out these tantalizing little whimpers that caused him to pull her closer, seeming not able to get enough of her.

"Don't you have a bed?" he growled out against her ear. He nipped her earlobe, pulling a breathy sort of giggle out of her, alien to her lips but entirely appropriate for the circumstances.

"No, I sleep on the couch."

Trunks pulled back slightly to look her in the eyes. She was grinning. "It figures you can still be sarcastic in a situation like this, Pan."

A little laugh escaped her lips, and she pushed herself away from him. Trunks shivered at the sudden lack of her presence against his and quickly stood, pulling her against him. The laughter quickly disappeared as she tilted her face to his, lips parted and eyes wide. She was still shivering, and her breathing was fast.

"Gods, Pan..."

They never made it to her bed.


Sometime in the middle of the night, Pan got out of her bed, stirring Trunks. He made a sleepy sound of protest and tried to pull her back, but she gently slid away from her fingers and whispered that she had to do something, but that he could stay and sleep for as long as he wanted.

Trunks pushed himself up slightly, watching her as she pulled on her clothing and then when she left the room. Moments later he heard her front door click shut.

He couldn't bring himself to sleep any longer, and after several fruitless attempts, he followed her lead, dressing and escaping out her window.

The scent of her perfume and the feeling of her fingers against his skin still clung to his body, and no matter how fast he flew, the wind would not wash it away.

end part one