Disused Yeti

Acrid notes of flesh and bone still burned at the back of Viola’s nose as she silently moved through the corridors of the castle, headed towards what was once her father’s room. Some victory party—ten years of her life was gone for nothing. Her entire family was now dead, Dressrosa was in a smoldering ruin, they were surrounded by friend and foe alike in a tight blockade, and all while the bastard who made it happen lived and breathed.

At least… at least her part was still secret, her position undiscovered. She could bank on a single shot after this, one last chance to quell her rage, and it was now. Rounding the corner, she saw that Baby 5 was the one standing watch—perfect.

“There you are,” Viola smiled, putting on her mask. “I’ve been looking for you.” The younger woman perked up.

“What is it?”

“I need you to take this message to the Happou Navy.” She held out a letter. “Make sure that you watch the commander read it.”

“…but what about…?”

“I’ll take care of the duties here—we need a young woman with a certain sort of charm to approach them. Now go, quickly, or they’ll likely send another volley before this letter can broker the peace.”

“Yes! Right away!” Baby 5 took the letter and bolted, running down the corridor so she could complete her new mission. Instead of sitting in the chair, Viola went inside the bedroom, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Ah, the inner sanctum. It was lavishly decorated, with large chaise lounges big enough to comfortably fit the Warlord and his Executives, draped in luxurious fabrics and glittering in the low lamplight. Doflamingo sat on one of said couches, barely conscious as he clutched a bottle of...something or other. It was not the only thing he’d had based on the detritus scattered about, either.

“Violet, babe, I was hoping you’d come to me,” he said, voice thick from drink. She had only seen him like this a few times—he was truly plastered. “Who’s at the door?”

“Baby 5; she will take good care of the watch while we… have fun.”

“Where is Law? Where is my Heart?”

Chains clinked softly and Viola knew it was simply the man in-question responding. She glanced to the side and confirmed her suspicion—there he was, chained to the headboard of the four-poster bed, just barely visible around a drawn curtain.

“Be a good boy and finish your drink while I prepare him for you,” she said sweetly. He did, laying lengthwise on the couch as she went to the far side of the room and the occupant of the bed. Trafalgar Law’s appearance in Dressrosa was the reason Doflamingo claimed for squelching her family’s final claimants to the throne and throwing the nation into a final thrust of chaos. The Birdcage now poised around the island was their finest defense, only crossable by those deemed closest to the Mad King; Trafalgar had lost, and Doflamingo had been reaping the benefits. Viola sat down on the edge of the mattress at looked at him—his pale skin was slick with sweat and he had been reduced to just a strip of cloth that had been tied around his waist. “Ready?”

Trafalgar whispered something, his voice barely audible. She leaned in and listened to him repeat, “Where’s Baby 5?”

“I gave her a letter to deliver to Chinjao—if it works, they’ll take her in.”

“The others…?”

“Passed out or in-town.” She pressed their lips together and shuddered at how cold he already was. “How long do you have?”

“Best guess? Less than a day. If I don’t get either a medic or my ability back soon…” He wheezed as his breath pained him. “Let’s go down swinging.”

“Let’s.”

At that, Viola helped Trafalgar sit up, careful not to jostle his infected arm. A wave of nausea swept over her as her hand brushed against the seastone stud pierced into his back—the person they got to sew his arm back on and embed the security measure probably only glanced at good hygiene practices at-best, as it was all weeping horridly with sickness. Doflamingo was facing the opposite wall, giving Trafalgar room to leave a clandestine kiss on the back of Viola’s jaw before they both stood, her supporting him as they went over to the King.

“Mmm… there you are,” Doflamingo purred once he saw Trafalgar. He grabbed the younger man and pulled him onto his lap. “Kiss him for me.”

Obeying, Viola did so, turning Trafalgar’s head so that she could slip her tongue past his lips, silently promising something more if they survived the night. Their eyes met as they parted, lingering longingly.

“Doffy,” she said, losing herself in Trafalgar’s golden eyes, “how about if we start with a little bit of choking to get you in the mood?”

“You know always just what gets me up,” he mumbled. He went to hold one of her hands, only for her to put his back on Trafalgar’s thigh.

“Don’t you want his long fingers on your windpipe?” she asked. Doflamingo nodded, too drunk to piece it together, and tilted his head back.

“Give it to me,” he ordered. Trafalgar swallowed hard and leaned forward, putting his hands on Doflamingo’s neck. He massaged his larynx, alternating between pressure and simple touch; the moans he was pulling out of the older man hid the sound of Viola unsheathing the knife from her leg holster, keeping it out of sight until the last moment.

Then, Viola struck, dragging the blade across Doflamingo’s throat, slicing his carotid arteries and jugular veins as she bisected his voicebox. Trafalgar held their abuser’s chin in place, summoning up the last remaining strength he had to struggle as Doflamingo attempted to undo the assassination, only to find that his strings were not connecting flesh and sinew like it should—a seastone alloy!

Donquixote Doflamingo drowned in an ocean of his own blood.

Viola watched as the life left her abuser’s face and everything felt heavy. She won—he was dead—and all it took was ten years and her family’s lives… movement caught the corner of her vision and she looked to see Trafalgar had passed out and slumped over, falling onto the floor. Taking a handkerchief from her pocket, she turned him over and took the seastone stud out of his back, careful to touch neither the piercing nor the infection around it. He shuddered back to consciousness soon as it no longer was in contact with his skin, coughing up blood that splattered on her dress and the Alabastian rug.

“We did it,” she murmured, cradling him in her arms. He reached up and touched her face, pulling her into a weak kiss before whispering against her lips:

“Long live the Queen.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

He truly doesn’t remember much when he first wakes up. It’s mostly bits and pieces, but enough to parse together what happened in Upper Yard with the Blue Sea dwellers and Gan Fall. Enough to even be confused when he wakes up to find the former Skypiean god sitting with the chief and an Angel Islander with her arm stretched out towards him, as though readying to change his compress.

“Oh!” the Angel Islander gasped, her hand jerking back. “You’re awake!”

“We were worried,” Gan Fall said. “The Reject Dial did a number on your body…”

“That’s my business, old man,” Wyper spat. He tried to sit up, only for the Angel Islander to push his shoulders back down. “Don’t touch me.”

“You can’t get up now,” she said, her voice softer than her words required. “If you don’t, then you won’t get better.”

“I’m fine,” he insisted.

“You are not,” the chief corrected. “If she can keep you pinned like that, you’re nowhere near fine.” Wyper watched as blush crept across the Angel Islander’s cheeks. “Keep your head, Wyper. It’s over.”

Over.

“Stay there until I send for you,” the chief ordered. “These old men need more pumpkin juice. We will be back soon.” Wyper could barely see as the chief left, the former god headed with him. From what he could tell, neither man was walking steadily, which meant that neither of them were getting just pumpkin juice in those mugs.

Over.

How was it over? Why share drinks with the man they fought against for so long that Wyper couldn’t remember? It couldn’t be over… not like this...

Part of him didn’t know what to think; none of them knew anything else. All any of the warriors, the elders and knowledge-keepers, the children… war was the only thing they knew. How could it just be over? Like that? So simply? He did not believe it…

He reached his goals, and yet he felt so empty.

It was over.

“Thank you.” He glanced over and saw the Angel Islander staring at him. Her entire face was red in embarrassment; good. He felt no empathy for her shame. “You freed us.”

“I freed my people,” he scoffed. “You benefited from us. Again.”

“That is why I must thank you, and apologize,” the Angel Islander replied. “You’ve suffered so much due to us. If we had only learned to cooperate from the beginning…”

“Shut up,” he growled. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“We’ve done enough ignoring one another, don’t you think?” she snapped back. There was a ferocity in her voice that took Wyper by surprise—he didn’t take her as one with guts. She then realized what her tone must have been and shrank back again. “I think… I think we need to get on the right foot now, or else we will regret it later.”

“I don’t even know which foot is the right one if this is supposed to be done with,” he admitted sourly. “All I want to do is take my revenge for my people’s suffering by yours.”

“…and if you feel that way when you’re better, then go ahead,” the Angel Islander said, “but until then, I’m the one who is going to help take care of you. I insist.”

Wyper didn’t like it—not one bit. He didn’t like it any more than he liked working alongside the Blue Seas pirates. Even with all that, he couldn’t deny how much he ached from every muscle in his body. Not a single training session or skirmish with Eneru’s forces had prepared him for this type of pain or how deep it went. Part of him believed that Calgara himself felt it, his ancestor’s spirit finally able to rest.

Silently, the Angel Islander went back to her duties while Wyper watched. She took the now-fallen compress from the floor and wet it in a basin and placed it back on his forehead. It was cool to the touch and helped soothe at least the throbbing of his head. After she checked the bandages on his torso and arms to make sure they weren’t disturbed, she moved down towards his legs. He felt the bandages on his left leg get gently pulled away and the air hit his skin. Flexing his muscles brought a stinging sensation as varied scabs and cuts threatened to break open.

“Don’t do that; you’ll make it worse,” the Angel Islander chided, no force behind her words. She procured another cloth from the basin and used it to wipe off the fresh blood from his leg. Once that was done, she began to place a cool salve over the wounds, one that he recognized soon as he could smell it.

“Where did you get that?” he wondered. She looked at him and saw that he was staring at the ceiling, refusing to make eye contact with her.

“Raki made it for me,” she replied. “She was here until about an hour ago… they needed her help making a stew.”

That sounded about right, Wyper thought. Although Raki was as proud and strong a warrior as any of them, she had a gift for cooking. Braham too, if his fuzzy brain was remembering things correctly… but Raki was the only one of them who was ever really encouraged. With the medicine going straight to his head, he wondered why that was… hmm…

“What am I going to do?” he wondered aloud. “This has been going on for so long…”

“We’re all going to need to figure that out,” the Angel Islander said. Did she sound… sad…? “There is nothing left but the vearth.”

He furrowed his brow. “Then… who survived…?”

“Everyone,” she claimed. “I was able to warn Angel Island in time, and they were able to get the word to the Shandians. The only ones who died were the ones who g—Eneru and his priests killed directly.”

“You saved your own people first?”

“They were the ones who needed more convincing.”

That much he could not argue—trying to change an Angel Islander’s mind was like trying to change the weather. It was why he had never trusted Gan Fall’s acts of supposed peace, as they had all been burned before. The Angel Islander in front of him, however, seemed… there was an air about her that had been unlike the old god back then. What was it?

“Where did you learn to dress wounds?” he wondered. She shrugged.

“We learn it in school.” She held up a small jar that Wyper immediately recognized—it contained the salve she was using. “This medicine is a lot like something we have on Angel Island…” Blush crossed her face and she looked away again. “Had; we had medicine like this. Do your people have any records of someone sharing information between us when the vearth was first brought here?”

“No—far as I know, it is a Shandian medicine going back to before the war.” He then turned his head and saw two Burn Bazookas sitting along the wall. One was his and the other… “Where did that come from?”

“Hmm…?” The Angel Islander turned away from replacing his other leg’s bandages to see where his attention was. “Yours; the other one I found.”

“You do not look like a warrior.”

“…which is why I brought it with me when I went to convince Angel Island to evacuate. They knew I wasn’t joking when I showed up with it, though it did take a bit to realize that it was not because I went insane.”

“I see.”

Not a warrior? Yet she used a Burn Bazooka to convince her people to flee. She knew how to care for wounds and knew of a traditional medicine, seemingly holding it in at least some regard. He had never thought in his wildest dreams that he would ever be having this kind of conversation with an Angel Islander… let alone one like her… as she cared for his wounds…

Now it was Wyper’s turn to blush, glad his tanned skin hid it well. He never would have let this woman near him under normal circumstances… she never would have approached him under normal circumstances…

Maybe… it truly was over.

“What will we do now…?” he wondered. The Angel Islander took the compress and replaced it again, this one feeling colder.

“Your chief told me that all the warriors have had reasons for fighting until now,” she replied, “but maybe it might be time to think about what else you want to do? What did you never have time for because you were so busy training and practicing?”

He thought about that for a moment before replying, “I had been hoping that one day I could become a knowledge-keeper.”

“…a… historian…?”

“No, much more than that.” Wyper lifted his hand towards the sky, staring at the bandages covering his skin. “I never thought I’d live to see that day before now. Children that haven’t been born need to learn the stories of their people… need to know why we grow pumpkins and go to war…”

“…then it’s a good thing that no one here wants war anymore,” the Angel Islander said. She took the compress off his forehead and sat him up. “Do you think you can stand?” He nodded and allowed her to help him to his feet. She slung his arm over her shoulders and he accepted her help as she led him wobbling through the forest.

Eventually, Wyper heard far-off shouting and could see a distant glow. The Angel Islander brought him through the ruins of Old Shandora to where a large bonfire was taking place. Other Angel Islanders were there dancing and drinking with the others from his village. The pirates from the Blue Seas were there as well, enjoying a party so infectious that even the animals were dancing.

“We can build a new nation together, one where we both have vearth beneath our feet,” the Angel Islander said. “Eneru is gone. His priests are gone. We are free to do as we wish.” The sight of the former god and the village chief sharing spiked pumpkin juice caught the injured warrior’s attention; it was almost like a dream. “My name is Conis, by the way. What’s yours?”

“Uh… I…” He cleared his throat, having forgotten how they were standing. “I am Wyper, Heir of Calgara.”

“Wyper…” she repeated, trying out the name on her tongue. Was it still the medicinal salve, or did her saying his name truly sound that wonderful? “It’s nice to meet you. I wish the circumstances were better.”

“Better than this?”

“Something that involved a lot fewer near-death experiences.” She offered him a smile that was bright against the light of both the moon and bonfire. “I hope we can at least be friends after all this.”

Friends. Yeah. He thought that he could possibly be friends.

All Law had been doing was reading. He wasn’t trying to stick out or anything, so it made no sense for the group of kids to come over and knock the book right out of his hands and into the dirt.

“What’cha reading, nerd?” one of the bigger boys sneered. Bigger, yes, but not nearly as advanced academically. Law knew he was dreaming, because the boy’s face was covered in blood and Amber Lead lesions despite the fact they were all eight.

“Too advanced for you,” Law replied. Although it was not an answer he’d given back then (he preferred to keep his nose clean; imagine that), he expected things to go mostly the same as though it had: some taunting, then a bit of roughing him up before one of the nuns caught them. It wasn’t the worst dream he had, but it definitely was one of the more frequent. He looked at his bullies and grinned. “You’re just jealous I can read big words.”

That had evidently been the wrong thing to say, as the nearest boy punched him directly in the face. The other boys soon joined in, beating up Law for some unknown reason. He couldn’t understand it—why beat him up? There were other kids who were better targets… so why him? All he could do was read well… it didn’t make sense…

“Children!” It was one of the nuns, running towards them fast as her flowing habit would allow. The bullies all began to scatter, except one—the only one not covered in lesions—grabbing Law by the front of his bloodied shirt and getting in one last punch for good measure.

Law calmly opened his eyes as he woke, seeing the familiar environs of his cabin. He was unsure what was giving him these odd dreams, bringing him back to a time when the man he spent half his life hunting was simply a bedtime story used to scare children into behaving. Sitting up, he felt his stomach squelch—he needed food, if only because it would distract from the fact he was forgetting their names. He’d done his best to remember the names of his classmates, his teachers, his parents’ coworkers, and it was now fading with time. Names… faces… personalities… only the most prominent were starting to remain, which meant that the ones he remembered clearly were most often bullies and those who’d wrong him… alongside a very cute classmate with tight, curly hair and an actually-functioning brain stem and a kindness streak longer than he could fathom.

Some good that got her—the last he saw, half her face had been shot off.

It took Law a bit to get to the kitchen, but he almost immediately regretted it once he did. Both Penguin and Shachi were sitting there muttering to one another over the cups of sludge the latter called coffee, the remnants of sandwiches between them.

“Whoa, what the fuck’s going on with you, Cap?” Shachi asked. Penguin simply frowned, eyes obscured by the brim of his hat. “You look like you just fucked a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” he lied. Law poured himself a mug of the coffee-like substance and almost cheered when he found some leftover riceballs in the fridge—Clione needed a bump in his next off-shore allowance.

“You’re not fooling us,” Penguin mentioned. “Was it Spider Miles?”

“No.”

“Minion Island?”

“No—now stop prying.”

His friend fell silent—if it wasn’t Spider Miles and neither was it Minion Island, there was only one place left for the mysterious dreams to take place: Flevance. They tried not to ask much about his time there, though it was clear they were beginning to reconsider that stance. Law sat down next to Penguin, across from Shachi, and began to methodically eat his food.

“You fucking suck, you know that?” Shachi grumbled. “We finally got you back and we’re off to do our own shit on our own terms and all you do is keep having weird dreams that make you look like hell and you won’t even talk about it. How are we supposed to work with that?”

“Like you always have,” Law replied. “I don’t know why this is any different than before I went to Punk Hazard.”

“You lied to us about Punk Hazard being a Warlord mission and went off to die without us,” Penguin pointed out. “Save the crap for the latrine—you’ve always been dodgy about what’s wrong.”

“Never about the crew’s safety,” Law mentioned. His lieutenants stared blankly, unimpressed. “What… you want to mutiny or something?”

“Not mutiny, just…” Penguin pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. “When are we gonna get the captain that we joined under back? We thought he came back in Wano, but now… with this… I don’t know if he really did at all. You owe us that much.”

Law popped the final bit of the onigiri he was working on into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully as he pondered their ongoing mission. They’d never had an issue with a vague end-goal in mind before, but for now he was exhausted—hungry, tired, and all together moody—and wasn’t really raring for an intervention. Then again… few were the people who wanted an intervention, let alone was raring for one, but he imagined that there were some out there who were begging for one more than him.

“I just… need some time,” he claimed. “We’re going after the true history, which means we’re going after the One Piece, and I guess that’s doing shit to my brain.”

…which wasn’t entirely a lie. He’d known these men now for longer than he’d known the bullies in his dreams—he knew the answers they wanted to hear and which they’d accept.

“That better be it,” Shachi warned, “or we will mutiny and haul your ass to the nearest island with a licensed psychiatrist and dump you there until your head’s fully shrunk.”

“I think you mean psychologist—you fuckers want me medicated.”

“If that’s what it takes,” Penguin confirmed. “Listen: if you can put Jean Bart on uppers and say it’s okay, then why can’t we demand you see someone to get you on some yourself?”

“…because there would be no possible follow-up treatments due to our lifestyle,” Law stated. “I’m fine. Really. You’re worrying about nothing…”

…except, neither of them seemed convinced. It was then that the kitchen crew came in, chattering idly as they began to prepare for the oncoming lunch rush. Law used that as his excuse to take his foraged meal back with him to his room and sulk.

Would seeing someone help? Possibly. Probably. He didn’t have time for that, however. Maybe, when they all were tired of sailing and were ready to set down roots—if they all survived that long—but not now. There was work to be done, other pirates to dodge, and he wasn’t going to get very far if all he did was sit there allowing someone to slowly pick his brain. He needed to get to the end first, not so that he could be Pirate King, but so that whatever evidence was left there had the chance to be preserved by someone with actual intellect before Straw Hat came barreling in and ruining everything. He trusted the other captain’s archaeologist, but the man himself…? Not in the slightest.

Unfortunately for him, dedicated and licensed psychiatric specialists were not exactly the prime demographic to join up in a pirate crew, so for the meantime… he was just going to have to bear it. He had to; there was simply no other choice.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The island they stopped off at was an autumn island experiencing summer-like conditions, making it a bit too humid for the warmth underpinning the air. The Polar Tang needed only a few perishable supplies, but it was more that the crew needed to stretch their legs. After having spent months on-end in Wano, where there was no lack of space, they were beginning to become more antsy than a few hours working the sails would cure. The captain and navigator went off towards one part of town, the shopping committee towards another, leaving only the skeleton crew guarding the ship and the small group of Penguin, Ikkaku, Clione, Shachi, and Jean Bart to wander together.

“So you haven’t been able to figure out the captain’s moods either?” Jean Bart scowled. They were all wandering down a series of alleyways, taking the back route to the ship to relieve the ones still aboard. “Maybe we should refuse to work if he doesn’t see someone on the island before we leave.”

“Nice try, but he’s not falling for that old gag,” Shachi shrugged. “Captain’s a stubborn piece of shit, so we’re just going to have to learn to deal with it.”

“We’ve been dealing with it this entire time, you dingus,” Ikkaku scoffed. “What makes this so different from how he was before?”

“We knew he’d do a lot,” Penguin admitted, “but at the same time, I don’t think any of us expected solo suicide mission before he was in the middle of it. We could keep track of him easier in Wano, but not now…”

“Now he sticks to his room, the mess, and the navigation room,” Clione noted. “We had to chase him all over the place just to keep tabs on him, and he still was running around unsupervised.”

“Yeah,” Shachi said, “but that still involved him attempting to chase down a Germa soldier and having pissing matches with other Supernovas. He was more than supervised.”

Penguin nodded. “Now he just locks himself in his room and we just have to hope he’s not in there decomposing.”

“A rather bleak prospect,” Jean Bart admitted.

“No kidding.” Penguin sighed heavily. “We all knew he was fucked up when we joined, but how fucked up seems to change too often.”

“Boo-hoo,” an unfamiliar voice said. Everyone turned around and realized that Ikkaku was not there with them instead, she was being held by a cloaked stranger, one arm held behind her back while she struggled against the hand holding a knife to her throat. She couldn’t get enough leverage on the stranger to flip him over and break his hold, and any move otherwise risked the knife slicing into her skin.

Although Jean Bart and Clione both tensed at the sight of Ikkaku being held hostage, Penguin and Shachi both felt their blood run cold. The man who had their crewmate was covered in white splotches underneath his cloak, skin and hair marred by something they hadn’t seen since they were teenagers and the Heart Pirates were only a fantasy. He might have looked different, but he had the same fire in his eyes as their captain got when he was in the middle of a fight… the same spark that came from having lived for pure survival.

The man before them was dying of acute Amber Lead poisoning.

Fuck… their alleyway hostage situation involved someone with the same disease their captain had as a kid… that he shouldn’t have survived. Whomever this guy was didn’t seem to be taking chances based on Ikkaku being a woman; his hold seemed to be firm, despite the fact that this was Ikkaku… she could probably benchpress him if she wanted, meaning his strength had to be considerable despite whatever the poison was doing to him.

“Where is your captain?!” the stranger snapped. “I demand to see Trafalgar Law!”

“Hey, calm down buddy,” Penguin said. He held up his hands as he slowly approached—no tricks—trying to help his crewmate. “You don’t need to get violent; she’ll fuck you up if you’re not careful.”

“Where is Trafalgar Law?!”

“If you give me five seconds and our engineer back, that can be arranged.” Penguin caught Ikkaku as the stranger pushed her towards him, letting her disentangle herself from him and hide amongst the rest of the crew as she gathered herself. “Now… who am I to say is asking?”

“…an old friend.”

Shachi scoffed at that. “Captain doesn’t have old friends… at least, none as far back as us.”

“I can guarantee I go farther,” the stranger said. He pulled back the hood of his cloak and the mood in the alleyway became even chillier—now the white lesions were clearly displayed and the remaining pirates were able to mentally fill in the gaps. Penguin and Shachi didn’t react, as they knew they couldn’t play into his hand.

“Quite the trick you’re leaning on there,” Penguin said casually. “Not everyone can pull that look off.”

“What look is it?” Jean Bart wondered. Shachi frowned; of course he wouldn’t know.

“Don’t freak, but this guy has Amber Lead poisoning,” he replied. The rest of the group were stone-silent at the confirmation—even those in the overall crew who didn’t know much were at least aware that their Captain had dodged death’s door multiple times due to that. “How’d you come by that? Old building materials? Paint? Grandparents’ antiques? Expired candy…?”

“I lived.”

Those two words cut through the pirates, the admittance uncomfortable for some and grim for others. After a moment to consider it, Penguin pulled the baby transponder snail out of his coveralls and turned it on, waiting for the other end to pick up while not taking his eyes off the stranger.

“What do you want?”

“Hey Cap… got an old friend here to see you. I think you might want to come over here.”

“I’m standing next to the only friend I have that’s been around longer than you,” the snail scowled. “Who the fuck thinks they can trick me like that?”

“Gravina Lucas,” the stranger said, raising his voice loud enough for the snail to pick up. Within moments, a blue sheen cloaked the street and suddenly Law and Bepo appeared, the former’s eyes wild in confusion and ire. He went directly up to the stranger and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, holding him still so he could get a good look at him.

Oh…

…oh no…

“What’s the matter, Trafaldick?” the man scoffed. “See a ghost?”

No… what he saw was even worse.

Shit.

Fuck.

He couldn’t get himself out of there fast enough.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Law sat holed up in his cabin, not coming out for anything. Bepo was kind enough to bring him his meals and get direction from him every once in a while, but for the most part, he stayed away from everyone else, especially the newcomer they picked up.

When he had heard the name being spoken over the transponder snail, he could barely believe it. Gravina Lucas was one of the bullies he remembered in his dreams—the only one to never be covered in Amber Lead lesions—and now suddenly he was back from the dead. Of all the people he could have seen again after sixteen lonely, God-forsaken years… it was one of the assholes who picked on him that showed up out of nowhere. After so long of believing himself to be the last person from Flevance… and the one who had to prove him wrong was… was… it made him physically sick. The only thing he could do was keep to himself and hope the problem went away.

Except, it didn’t go away. In fact, Gravina Lucas, of all the people Law did not miss, was on his ship. He bullied his way on, just like when they were both young, and refused to leave until they talked. The only problem was… Law did not want to talk. In fact, he thought he’d made his peace…

A long time ago, a much younger Trafalgar Law, who was carving Amber Lead out of his organs while studying medicine, thought long and hard about the fate of his countrymen. There were good people, but there were also bad people, and there was everyone in-between. Loving grandparents, but also thieves and murders; friendly neighbors, but also bullies and grifters. Wonderful parents like his own and parents whose children trembled at the thought of returning home. He knew that—as he tortured himself bit by bit—none of them deserved death, even if some were bad. Some of them were even terrible. All they had done for their specific death sentence was be born and lived in Flevance. That in of itself was not a crime; the Flevench moral of respecting life from birth to death still knocked around in his brain despite Doflamingo’s best efforts. If they were to die, it should have been from old age or their own hubris, not lead from bullets and poison. The criminals had required reprimand and punishment, but with a trial and a chance to rehabilitate, as the nuns had explained one day; the Purge had been distinctly devoid of due process.

The Trafalgar Law that was an ex-Warlord and Emperor-class Supernova, however, was absolutely incensed that of all the people who lived, it was one of the assholes… one of the ones who made his life less-than-ideal on purpose. If it was one of the girls who avoided him because they thought he was weird, then fine; one of the boys who thought he was the asshole for not playing with them, that was also fine; the kind girl whose smile made his face feel hot and stomach knotted, he could only wish. It just absolutely boggled his mind that after all this time, he wasn’t alone, but it wasn’t even like he wasn’t alone because of someone he could talk to…

“Hey Captain,” Bepo said as he came into the cabin, holding a new tray of food. He replaced it with the old one—tea and snacks barely touched—and frowned at his friend. “How long are you going to stay in here?”

“Until he leaves.”

“…but, he said he wants to talk.”

“I don’t know what we could possibly have to talk about.”

“Maybe… what happened…?” Bepo shifted on his feet awkwardly. “You finally have someone else to talk to about then. Why won’t you?”

“We’re very different. Our common ground is minimal.”

“You can at least have a conversation with him…”

“I have never had a conversation with him before and I don’t intend on starting now.”

“Then heal him and send him on his way—you know that’s what he wants.”

“I thought he was dead, so what’s the difference?”

“…that there’s finally someone out there like you.” Bepo rested his chin on top of Law’s head, rubbing the underside of his chin in his best friend’s hair, knowing now that he truly understood garchu. “At least give him a chance.”

“The only reason my nose was never broken is because the cartilage was still forming,” Law grunted.

“Maybe he’s changed…?”

“He held Ikkaku at knife-point—he selectively targeted a woman from the group thinking she’d be the weak point and held her hostage, just for a chance to take a petty swipe at me. I doubt he’s changed that much.”

“Just talk to him,” Bepo sighed. His captain did not respond. “You know, when I got back to Zou, everyone I ever knew had changed. Some better, some worse, and some just… there. Everyone changes.”

“Not like he’d need to be changed,” Law replied.

“So… you’re turning down giving him treatment because you’re the one being petty?”

“No; I’m turning down giving him treatment because I’m too close.” His mouth felt dry and his tongue thick. “If nothing had happened and we were back in Flevance and he came to me for a procedure, I’d give him to someone else… someone who he hadn’t beaten up in the schoolyard. Personal feelings impact care quality.”

“Meaning: you’re being petty.”

Law shoved Bepo off with what was probably a little too much force, though the Mink didn’t comment on it. “You’d understand if you were there.”

“Captain… I was eight when Penguin and Shachi were bullying me… so… I think I do… more than you realize.”

That made Law feel even more like ass than he already did. He turned around and looked at Bepo, who knew that he was the perfect combination of adorable and pathetic to pull it off.

“Captain, I…” He picked at his paws awkwardly. “Sorry, but you’re like my big brother, you know that, and I don’t want you to keep hurting like this if you’ve got an out sitting there in the galley.”

“I don’t want to talk to him, heal him, do anything with him except drop him off at the next port,” Law said, exhaling heavily. “I just want to go back to him not existing.”

Bepo made a small noise, sounding entirely unconvinced. “We did an eval on him—he’s got a month, at best.”

“…and…?”

“Just thought you’d want to know.”

At that, Bepo left, bringing the old tray of tea and snacks with him. Law reached for the Germa 66 mug filled with herbal tea, blowing over the top of it before carefully sipping at it. A plate of biscuits sat there as well, one of which he nibbled at as he turned back towards the medical journal he’d been reading. The words were now blurs on the page—he couldn’t concentrate worth a damn thanks to Bepo’s guilt-tripping, because now all he could think about was the ship’s freeloader.

He didn’t want to; all he wanted was to stop thinking, yet his brain would not allow him even that comfort. His tea shook and biscuits crumbled—what was he in the grand scheme of things? Not a doctor or surgeon—not really—but a random pirate doomed to sail the seas until the Navy or some younger act or even the ocean herself ruined him. Then why did he feel this way? Why did it upset him so much?

Couldn’t the asshole have left well enough alone?

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

He slept fitfully that night, dreaming of Flevance.

Lami playing happily with her dolls in his room, her skin covered in intense burns.

His parents helping him with his homework, bodies torn by bullets.

The nuns at school, covered in blood as they cheerfully taught the lesson with dead eyes.

Inka, the girl he had a crush on—by Nika, when was the last time he had a genuine crush on someone—cheerfully lending him a pencil with only half a face…

…and Lucas, whole, untouched, clean, dumping his books and pushing him down into the dirt.

Whole.

Untouched.

Clean.

Not a speck of anything on him.

It made Law’s blood boil.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Why is he still here?” Law scowled as he entered the galley the following day. Lucas was huddled in the corner, sourly poking at a plate of curry rice.

“He won’t leave until he talks to you and we won’t make him,” Shachi shrugged, as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

“Then I order you, as your captain, to ditch his ass.”

“He’s dying; we can’t,” Jean Bart added.

“So you disembarked from port with him still onboard?”

“There wasn’t much else we could do,” Clione said.

“Alright, then who let him on my ship?” No one answered, but Jean Bart’s eyes instantly flicked towards Bepo, who was offering Lucas some tea—of course. “We drop his ass off at the next port.”

“We don’t know when that will be, Captain,” Penguin reminded him. Law did his best to not grind his teeth in irritation. “He’s not a threat—when he got the jump on Ikkaku, he was having a good few minutes or running on adrenaline or something. Since then he’s been in nothing but constant pain, has hit-or-miss coordination, and less of an appetite than you. The dude’s half-blind and can barely hold chopsticks—he’s harmless.”

“He’s not authorized to be on my ship.”

“Well he’s here now, and we should best make the most of it.”

“I should throw you in the brig for that.”

“We don’t have one and you know it.” Ugh—he was right. Annoyingly. “At least pretend that you have the higher ground.”

It was tempting… but so was using his limited ability to command his Devil Fruit under the waves and swap Lucas and all conspirators with something more useful… like halibut. Yes, halibut flopping around the ship would be better than this.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

He was dreaming again, putting a new chapter in the alternate life his brain had conjured for himself during dark, lonely nights where he yearned for a better lot. Another successful day at the hospital was under his belt—successful surgeries and quiet recognition from his parents and their colleagues—and he was headed back home, taking in the wonders of summertime in Flevance. He could taste grilling sausage in the air as food cart vendors hocked their wares; heard packs of children running around without a thought to their studies; smelled the water in the canals as it moved lazily along. The steps leading up to the door of his townhouse felt like nothing as he ascended them with a hop in his stride.

„Is that you, hon?” a voice called out as Law stepped into the small foyer, the tones of his mother language welcoming him. He finished kicking off his boots and glanced down the corridor, seeing someone that made his chest tighten in delight. She was a handful of centimeters shorter than him, with curly, dark hair and curves in her figure and eyes that gleamed in delight. The woman met him halfway and they shared a quick kiss—fleeting, but by no means devoid of passion. „You’re home early.”

„So are you,” he noted. „Inka, I thought you had patients today.”

„I did, but Fenne was acting up for the daycare and it was my turn to be called.”

„They should really call me more.” Law held her face in his tattoo-free hands, thumbs caressing her cheeks. Her eyes were a warm, earthy brown, just as he remembered. „You’re not the only one who can stop what they’re doing to pick her up.”

„True, but a GP and a surgeon would stop two very different things with two very different response times,” she reminded him. His hands shifted so his fingers found the hairline at the base of her skull, gently stroking underneath the curls he had little chance of carding through. „At least she’s finally down for a nap.”

„Is she now?” He felt a grin tug at the corner of his lips. „What ever will we do to pass the time?”

„Maybe… work on that second one we were talking about…?” Her hands rested on his chest, then moved up to his shoulders. „A little sibling for your daughter to boss around…?”

„My daughter?” he teased, grabbing at her hips. „You make it sound like she takes after me.”

„In all the best ways.” She pulled him down into a kiss, which she broke to give him a flirty grin before running up the stairs. He chased after her, catching up by skipping steps, using the wall as leverage to lift her into his arms while they kissed, carrying her past the peaceful nursery to their bedroom.

He made love to his wife.

They basked in the afterglow.

Cooked dinner together.

Fed a cranky child with her hair and his eyes strained beans and over-soft noodles, working on their ability to dodge the entire time.

The evening passed with them on the sitting room rug, playing with the brightly laughing toddler until a knock at the front door.

„That should be your sister,” she said. „She said she’d bring over her coursework for you to check over.”

„Alright.” He kissed her and went towards the door, where the knocking persisted. „Lami, you brat, I’m coming! I’m coming!” He opened the door and it wasn’t his sister.

It was the adult version of Lucas, covered in Amber Lead lesions, pulling back his fist to land a punch square on his jaw.

Law shuddered awake, snapped out of his dream with nearly enough force to make him fall off his chair. It had been a while since he’d had a dream about his childhood crush had she grown. Inka might have never made it out of Flevance, but the memory of her did, and the ghost of a very normal life where they both grew up—no Amber Lead, no Doflamingo, no death and pain and despair—had haunted him the entire time since he was scrounging around in the garbage, eating moldy bread to survive because no one would come near a sick kid. The first time he’d dreamt about it, he thought he’d died, but it was simply his brain playing tricks on him in order to soothe him to sleep. They never truly stopped, giving him a peek into an alternate, tranquil life with his family and friends and the farce that he ever had a chance with the first girl that made him acknowledge his own hormones were activating.

Was it fair to her? Likely not. Had it stopped his subconscious from imagining them growing close through secondary, courting through med school, and beginning a life together that was free of everything that made every facet of such dreams an unachievable nightmare? No… it hadn’t. He could still see her face, the one in his dream, warmly smiling as they laid embraced in their sex-soiled bed. Closing his eyes, he tried to keep hold of the image, a shiver overtaking him as her fatal bullet wound came seeping into view.

It would never be a matter of sailing to his mother waters and romantically showing up on her doorstep with flowers and an apology. He could never sweep her off her feet and beg forgiveness for being away for so long any more than he could have shared awkward glances at the start of secondary school. She was gone, just like his family and everyone else who they both knew so long ago…

…everyone, except for Gravina Lucas.

Law staggered towards his tiny bathroom and was able to splash some water on his face, making himself feel a little better before he paid down atop his still-made bed. Why Lucas? How come, after all these years, it was Lucas who staggered back into his life? He was absolutely certain that Doflamingo was mocking him from whatever pit the Navy had thrown him in. It honestly wouldn’t surprise him if the man was able to orchestrate it all himself, even from the recesses of Impel Down. He made a blood-enemy of Donquixote Doflamingo, after all, and that was a status one was meant to regret before everything ended.

Regret. He’d had a lot of that, didn’t he? Regret that he couldn’t save his sister, that he couldn’t save Cora-san, that he wasn’t ultimately the one to do the spectre that loomed over half his life in… now he was given the chance to make something right… but he couldn’t figure out for the hell of him what the fuck it actually was. Law had no regrets when it came to this particular former classmate, though at the same time… part of him always had and always would regret not going with the rest of his class back then. Cora-san would still be alive, and who knows…? He could have even found some other broken child to worry about as he took down his brother. Could he have saved Baby 5 instead…?

No. There would have been nothing making anyone or anything do anything different had he not been alive to be there. Lami would have died. Inka would have died. Cora-san would have died. Doflamingo would have taken over Dressrosa and held court over a nation of tortured toys and ignorant people. The Straw Hats would have come onto the scene and ruined everything that the ex-Celestial worked to achieve whether he had been there to orchestrate a ruined plan or not.

Then why did Law look at Lucas and get the feeling that he was there for a reason?

After laying there with his eyes closed for a while, Law sat up and concentrated on figuring out where everyone’s Haki signatures were. His crew’s Haki wasn’t necessarily all strong, but they were all unique signatures, allowing him to find and identify everyone with ease. The only one he didn’t immediately recognize was, by default, the ship’s guest, who was hanging out alone up on the top deck, giving him the perfect opportunity. It was late and dark and no one was stupid enough to spy on them after such a long time of Law insisting that Lucas be kicked off the ship, right? He hoped so, because he checked himself over in the mirror real quick and headed out before he could talk himself out of it. The night sky was cold and clear as he went onto the outer deck, finding Lucas leaning on the railing as he stared out at the horizon.

“What do you want, Trafaldick?” he scoffed without even looking. Law furrowed his brow. “Only reason I’ve survived this long is because I figured out how Haki feels; don’t act surprised.”

“Most of us on the ship can do that,” Law countered calmly, clinically. He needed to keep his wits about him if he was going to see where this was going and not get baited by nothing more than a schoolyard terror all grown. “I came here to talk.”

“Yeah…? What abouts? I thought you didn’t have anything to say to me.”

“A lot happened since we last saw each other back in class,” Law stated. Well, duh, of course. “I have some questions about the meantime.”

“Fine then,” Lucas shrugged as Law joined him against the railing. “Shoot.”

“Where were you when everything happened?” he asked plainly. Lucas shrugged.

“In Chappsala, with Mom’s family. We left suddenly because my parents were getting a divorce and it was messy. Turns out two days after we set sail the royal family left and the border shut down.”

“No one knew where you were.”

“By design; like I said… the divorce was getting messy.”

“…and you never thought to… do anything…? Find anyone…? Not in any of the years after?”

“When mentioning Flevance was essentially a death sentence?” Lucas scoffed. “No one looked at us because we didn’t have the symptoms… not at first.”

“Where is your mother?”

“Dead.” The word came out heavy, like a different sort of poison. “Hers started first and no one knew what it was until an old soldier recognized the symptoms and shot her on-sight. That was ten years ago; been alone since.”

“Yeah, and what do you think happened to everyone else?” Law deadpanned.

“I dunno… they all got so scaly it was a mercy kill? He’d been there, and he didn’t give a fuck about murdering a woman in the street, so it must’ve been bad.”

“People burned to ash in their homes, unable to leave because they were too sick and the doors were barred; our classmates, who thought they were going to an aid ship, laid mangled on the cobblestone from bullets designed to take apart mountain leopards; bodies and parts thrown into mass graves dug on the playground and in the park, Lucas, all while you sat safely in Chappsala.” His voice was becoming increasingly sharper, anger bubbling up from within and simmering just below the surface. “You might have lost your mom, but you didn’t have to hide under her corpse to avoid being killed in cold blood.”

“You were always so fucking dramatic.”

“Dramatic or not it’s the truth, you piece of shit, and I can’t fucking change that now out of all the people, it’s trash like you who actually survived long enough to find me again.”

“I take it you’d rather see someone else?”

“Oh, and here I thought I was being subtle.” Nika… he hoped the other man could read his sarcasm.

“You couldn’t do subtle if it got you better marks on an exam.”

Oh, he was frustrated, so frustrated that he slipped into their shared mother tongue. „Fucking hell! Why couldn’t my parents survive instead of you?! Or my little sister?! Or Inka?! At least we could have done something with ourselves!”

„Hey, Inka was my girlfriend!”

Finally, something in Law snapped.

„We were ten! She was polite to you because that’s just what she was!”

„She liked me!”

„…and do you even remember anything about her?! About the rest of our classmates?! Our teachers?! Our neighbors?! Or are you just being a shithead about it because you stopped maturing the day you left?!”

„I stopped maturing?! That’s some mighty high shit you’re flinging, Trafalgar. You can’t even look at me! Say it’s good that not everyone you used to know is dead?!”

„Yeah, someone who gave me black eyes and lacerations and kicks to the stomach because I could read better?! I’m supposed to be glad someone like that is my last link to my childhood?! Fuck off!”

Lucas clenched his hand into a fist and landed a punch square on Law’s jaw, making him stumble slightly to catch his balance. All either of them saw was red as they began to fistfight; no Devil Fruit, no weapons, just their own physicality as they beat each other up.

„Goody-two-shoes bastard!” Lucas spat as they swiped at each other. „Never fucking knew how lucky you were! Fucking golden boy who couldn’t do any wrong!”

„I worked hard, damn it! Even back then I studied hard!”

„…because you were allowed to study hard! Your parents didn’t fight so fucking loud you couldn’t concentrate!”

„That was what the library was for!”

„You think I was allowed to go that far by myself?!”

„Doesn’t mean you have to take it out on me!”

„I’ll take it out on whomever I damn well fucking please!” They separated, blood starting to ooze from scratches and cuts, while their fists and faces were beginning to swell. Bruising bloomed from where they made contact—neither of them were going to come out clean. „If you think you’re my fucking therapist, then how the fuck do you think I feel, with you as the only person who seems to have been able to cure Amber Lead disease?! Our teachers always treated you better!”

„Our teachers grew up with my parents and their siblings! They just knew each other! That’s normal!”

„…maybe yours, but not mine! How would you like it if you were never good enough from the first day of school?! That no one knew you because they were too busy with others?! I lived in your perfect fucking shadow, Trafaldick!”

„You can’t even use my real name!”

„You can’t even admit your crush had a crush on me and not you! That I was better!”

Law lunged at Lucas and the two continued fighting. Tears and blood blurred their vision as they kept on, not even stopping when hands pulled them apart and Law felt fuzzy paws hold him tight.

“I got it! I got it!” Who was that? Law felt something poke his arm and suddenly he felt very soft and heavy…

…shit.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

He came home to find her packing—no warning, no lead-up, just packing.

“What is going on?” he wondered, feet planting themselves in the doorway of their bedroom.

“I’m going,” Inka said. She refused to even look at him.

“Why…? What did I do…?”

“Nothing—I just…” She closed the suitcase, her hands shaking. “You need to live your life, Law. I’m taking Fenne and we’re leaving.”

“Where… where are you going…?”

“A… friend’s,” she replied. It felt as though he was hiding something… as though where she was headed, it was more than a friend waiting for her, but a warm bed and a tender embrace. “They’re expecting us.”

Finally, he was able to move towards her. He gently touched her shoulder and she turned further away. “You can’t go.”

“This… it’s not real, Law,” she replied.

“None of it…? From the beginning…?”

She turned towards him and he could see the killing blow, oozing brains and other tissues down what was left of her face.

“It never was.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Law did something he had not done since he was a young teenager: woke up vomiting. He was barely able to roll over in time, most of what he expelled being caught by an expedient set of hands bringing over a nearby wastebin. Once the entire sum content of his stomach was out of his system, he wiped his mouth on the back of a shaky hand—what the fuck was that…?

“You’re up.” He looked and saw it was Shachi holding the wastebin, while Penguin was the one who talked as he held up a clipboard. “We were beginning to worry about you.”

“How long was I out?” Law wondered.

“A few hours,” Penguin shrugged. “Exactly the amount of time the sedative is supposed to work.”

“…and why the fuck did you give me a sedative?” Law tried to sit up, only for Penguin to—very easily, mind—push him back down. “The fuck, Peng?”

“You and Lucas were about to murder each other,” Shachi offered. “You gotta get your strength back, Cap.”

“…and where is Lucas?”

“Right here.” Penguin stepped aside to show that Lucas was sleeping in the other infirmary bed, looking just about how Law felt: like hell. “You two roughed each other up pretty badly before Hakugan saw you on the scope.”

“It was under control.”

“I don’t know what the fuck you were fighting about—and in Flevench of all things—but it was worse than I’ve ever seen you,” Penguin said.

“Yeah,” Shachi added, “it was even worse than the time we had to break out of Rubeck with you in seastone.”

Somehow, Law’s stomach squelched at the memory. “Can I at least recover in my own quarters?”

“Not this time,” Penguin said. Damn it. “As two of the few people who have a hope of telling your ass what to do, you gotta stay where we can see you.”

“You’ve been worrying us, Captain,” Shachi said. “You’ve been worrying Bepo… you can’t do that.”

Guilt washed over him—he hated worrying Bepo. It reminded him too much of when they were kids, the little Mink being beaten up by a pair of bullies. Now it was the bullies who were admonishing him, of all things…

…bullies could change; Penguin and Shachi were both proof of that fact. Shit… they were going to hold that over him, weren’t they? He let himself sink down onto the bed, giving his friends a sour glare.

“That’s a good captain,” Penguin said. “Now just get some sleep—you need some more than you realize.”

“…which is all the time,” Shachi nodded. The pair agreed between one another and also offered the wonderful extra bonus of seastone and restraints if Law didn’t lay down and get some (supervised) rest.

This nonsense of having crew members who could tell him what to do was precisely that: nonsense.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

He was not dreaming this time, Law instead floating aimlessly in unconsciousness. It had been difficult to get to sleep with the chill and the noise of the infirmary, but now that he was, he was at the very least content. There was no nightmares about Flevance, no wishful-thinking about what could have been, and no anything otherwise. It was peaceful, it was calming…

…all except for a constant, annoying beeping.

Law woke up with a groan, the overhead lights blinding him on accident. He noticed that the infirmary was full of people panicking, which made him snap awake and sit straight up.

“What’s going on?!”

“The sedative should have worn off, so we were trying to wake Lucas up to get some vitals, and…!” Shachi moved over to show that their guest was now convulsing on the other bed.

Snapping into doctor mode, Law quickly took the IV out of his arm and scrambled out of bed, orders be damned. He grabbed a scalpel as he opened a Room—a Scan on Lucas indicated that his entire body was beginning to shut down.

If he didn’t do something, the man laying on the bed in front of him would die.

Gravina Lucas was about to die and if he didn’t do anything, it would be Law’s fault.

A life in his hands, no matter how infuriating.

Annoying as shit, yet deserved Amber Lead poisoning as much as anyone.

He could double the chances of Flevance enduring if the asshole in front of him lived…

…but only if he made it so.

Fuck.

“Give him half the normal dose of tranquilizer and strap him to the table,” Law ordered. He put down the scalpel long enough to roll up his sleeves and scrub himself up. Once another Room was in place, he began to divide up his patient, isolating his kidney, heart, and lungs, as well as several points within his veins and arteries. “Get him on oxygen, now, and I’m going to need a sterile tray separate from everything else.”

“What are you doing, Captain?!” Clione asked, trying to not sound panicked.

“What no one did for me,” he replied. Lucas eventually calmed and his heart rate normalized—time to get to work.

Slowly, methodically, Law began to pluck the Amber Lead from Lucas’s body. He made his movements precise and meaningful as he scooped and scraped out the poison. It took much longer than he had originally intended, eventually breaking out in a sweat as his Devil Fruit was taxed. He kept going, pushing himself further and further, until a Scan revealed there was nothing left.

Lucas was cured.

He was no longer dying.

Someone else from Flevance would live.

A nasty bully, but someone else nonetheless.

The Room dropped and Law stumbled, fainting for a moment as Bepo caught him. He shook the fatigue from himself as he tried to stand on his own; for once, Penguin and Shachi had nothing sarcastic to say.

“What do you want us to do with this, Captain?” Penguin asked, gesturing to the tray full of bloodied Amber Lead. The pair looked uneasy around the substance—he couldn’t blame them.

“Give me a minute and I’m going to seal it up in something,” Law decided.

“So… we can chuck it to the bottom of the ocean…?” Shachi wondered.

“No. There are volcanic islands in the Grand Line—I want to toss it in one of those, so it can’t accidentally hurt anyone again. It would leech out if we chucked it into the ocean.” Law could see his friends’ body language relax. “Get me an empty sharps container and I can transfer it all in so it’s safe for transport.”

They did and, after a few minutes, Law was able to use his ability to Shamble the Amber Lead into the container, which was then sealed, labeled, and stuffed away on the floor of a cabinet “because this shit’s heavy”, according to Penguin. The four pirates looked at one another, then at the sleeping Lucas, and let out a collective breath in relief.

It was done.

A heavy weight seemed to lift off Law’s shoulders and he felt light-headed. He saved someone else from Amber Lead poisoning… and someone from his hometown at that. Staring at Lucas, who was now sleeping peacefully, he exhaled and knew that at least, as he closed his eyes and collapsed in exhaustion, his friends would be there to catch him.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

It all felt so empty.

Dropping off his daughter at daycare. His job as a surgeon. Coming home to a silent house because Inka took the toddler to whatever place they were staying at. Poking at a plate of leftovers. Going to bed alone. The unsigned papers on the nightstand.

It was only a dream.

Empty.

Dream.

Nothing could change that.

It was only a dream.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Nearly a week passed with Lucas still unconscious as his body attempted to recover from Law’s procedure. Different Heart Pirates kept watch over him while he slept, making sure he was stable within the confines of his recovery to make sure their captain did not wear himself back out after bouncing back from the stressful, taxing surgery. Luckily for him—or unluckily, depending on one’s view of things—the surgeon in question was there when he did wake up in a panic, nearly ripping out his IV as he tried to get out of bed. Law held him down by his shoulders, looking him directly in the eyes as Clione and Uni began to panic.

„Calm down!” he ordered in Flevench. „You’re not cleared to move yet!”

„I feel like shit! What did you do to me!”

„I saved your life!”

„We just beat the shit out of each other! Why the fuck should I believe you?!”

“Because I’m a doctor, you jackass!” Law snapped, unconsciously switching to the more common tongue everyone shared. Lucas stopped resisting and stared slackjawed at him, allowing Law the ability to relax, switching back to Flevench. „You’re the only one who understands what I’m saying right now.”

„…no one else…?”

„Not fluently.” Law exhaled heavily and glanced over at his crewmates, who were both watching them cautiously. “Leave us for a sec, please?” They both paused for a moment before listening, leaving only the old schoolmates in the infirmary. „I was hoping that maybe you’d not be such a dick if I scraped it out of you.”

„How…?”

„My Devil Fruit allows me to alter anything inside a specific area, bodies included. You’re going to be sore for a long time while your body adjusts and recovers, but you should be free of Amber Lead.”

“Free…?” Lucas looked at the back of his hand, seeing that the splotch that had been white against his skin was now reddish. „You mean… I can be normal again…?”

„You and I are the only ones who have not only survived but also completely recovered from acute Amber Lead poisoning,” Law stated. “We can live normal lives, whatever that looks like. You will still have nerve damage for a bit, and probably chronic pain, but that will go away with physical therapy. Other than that and needing to get your strength back up, you should be in the clear.”

„Really…? It’s all out of me…? Honest…?”

„Honest. Your symptoms during recovery might differ from mine, but the end result should be the same. Never tested the theory, but as long as sterility isn’t a side-effect, we won’t even pass on the poison to our children. That was how everyone came down with it at once, despite the fact people our age should have had minimal exposure time.”

„…children…?” Lucas seemed to be hit by the word, as though it was the first time he considered it for a long time. „…you mean… we don’t have to be the last two people saying these words…?”

„I prefer it that way, yeah, but you have to have that conversation with someone not me.”

„Well, yeah… just… why…?”

„I can’t have your life—or anyone else’s—be on my hands like that, even if I am a pirate,” Law frowned. „Besides, I’ve known some bullies who’ve changed, and it’s not a stretch to think that common lead poisoning and Amber Lead poisoning has overlap in neurological side-effects. Now don’t make me regret this.”

„You won’t,” Lucas swore. He looked back down at his hands again, absolutely shocked at the revelation. „If I’m cured, then why does it still hurt so bad?”

„Your body was so clogged with Amber Lead you almost had more of it in you than blood,” Law explained. „It’s trying to fill in those gaps—that’ll take a few months. At least.”

„That’s… I didn’t even think I had a few months.”

„Been there; weird feeling.”

„No shit.”

Lucas went quiet for a long time, turning things over in his head as the pair silently shared space. He then let out a long exhale.

„So… does this mean we’re good?”

„No. It means you have another chance to not be an asshole. Don’t fuck this up, or I will have just guaranteed my descendants will inherit a blood feud.”

„You say that as though a woman would get near that ugly mug of yours,” Lucas laughed. There was no bite to his words, despite the fact they would have when he was last conscious. „Thanks.”

„Yeah.”

Silence settled over them awkwardly—now what? Over a minute passed between them before Law scratched at his scalp idly.

“I guess I’ll have to get the idiots on the other side of the door to start your rehab,” he said. “We’ll drop you off in a port soon with some ointment for the topical irritation, but the exercises you’re going to have to keep up on yourself.”

„Whatever the doctor says,” Lucas replied, allowing himself a smile. It was a start, anyhow.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

At the next port, Lucas was able to walk off the Polar Tang of his own volition, heading down the gangway onto the solid wood of the pier. His movements were slow, but they held a sense of wonder at the world he did not carry before. He glanced back, seeing his old classmate standing by the railing, and waved.

“If you’re ever back around Chappsala, feel free to drop in,” he said, smiling wanly. “You won’t regret this, Trafalgar.”

“Get out of my face, Gravina,” Law replied dully. Lucas nodded and walked into the town, disappearing into the crowd on the wharf. Law watched him the entire time; he let out a breath once Lucas was out of sight, relieved.

“You liked having someone else on the ship who was from Flevance, didn’t you?” He looked and saw that his crew had been watching him from the door to the lower decks, only the three he’d known the longest actually outside the Tang. “Why didn’t you let him stay?”

“He’s still a piece of shit,” Law shrugged. “Now I can wash my hands of it.”

“Captain’s such a softie,” Bepo beamed. Law scowled at that claim—he was not! The Mink still ran up to him in order to trap him in a big bear hug, lifting him up until only his tiptoes still touched the deck. “We really have the best captain ever!”

“You say that, but we have to get going,” Law said. His crew all glanced towards the island—but… shore leave! “We’re not gonna make it to the One Piece if we keep lagging around at different islands and let the others get ahead of us! Get back inside and ready to dive!”

“AYE-AYE, SIR!” the crew replied in unison, most of them saluting as well. Law took one last look at the wharf and felt a burden lift off his shoulders.

Chappsala… he was going to have to remember that.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

He dreamt of buying flowers—daisy pomps, sweet-smelling roses, fluffy marigold, alstroemeria, and many-layered ranunculus, all in yellows and pinks—and bringing the bouquet with him as he went to a quiet little practice tucked into an out-of-the-way street. No one was in the waiting room and the nurse behind the desk let him through with a wink, stepping into Inka’s office with the ease of someone who’d been there hundreds of times. She caught the door opening out the corner of her eye and looked up, surprised.

„Oh! Law!” She looked like she was about to cry at the very sight of him. He presented her the flowers, her taking them with almost a sort of reverence. „Thank you—they’re gorgeous.”

„I’m sorry,” he said. Law bent down and kissed her, cradling her face gently in his hands as he lingered wantonly. „You deserve to rest.”

„What do you mean…?”

„I mean…” He pulled his face back, taking in hers as tears welled in his eyes. Smoothing out the small hairs that did not get pulled back into the bun at the back of her head, he felt his heart yearn unlike it had in a long, long time. What harm would it do to continue…?

„Law…?”

„Rest peacefully, Inka. I’m… I’m letting you go.”

They kissed one last time, pressing their lips together desperately until Law no longer felt her in his arms. She was now laying there—they were in the Purge—broken and lifeless on the cobblestone. Law sniffled and wiped his nose on his forearm, another sort of broken child against the unforgiving backdrop of death.

Suddenly, a hand tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around and saw Lucas, whole and untouched, framed by flame and smoke and corpses, and took a step back as he anticipated the worst.

„Let’s get out of here, Trafalgar,” he said. Law watched as the other boy held out his hand. „Let’s be free.”

He took his hand.

They ran.

They lived.

Neither of them would be alone.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A/N: Let’s just say that I tried working through some personal, though theoretical, stuff with this fic and I don’t think I got there, ahaha, but can’t say I didn’t make an attempt.

If you asked Bell-mère how it was to be a Marine, she would have told you that it was downright simple. Ever since she wandered into a recruitment office in the East, far away from her hometown of Cocoyasi, she kept on impressing the brass and getting sent to higher and higher-ranked units to make a mockery of their recruits. Before she realized it, she was shipped off to the Grand Line, crossing over the Calm Belt into Marineford. She was only able to marvel at the windless battleship for only so long, however, before she was brought to Headquarters and made to go through rigorous training to see if she could be considered for something… higher.

“You come highly regarded, Cocoyasi,” Rear Admiral Bluegrass said. The recruit standing across from her was a fraction of her age with an even smaller percentage of her experience, but everything was pointing in the right direction. “I’ve never even heard of your hometown; must be something special.”

“Nothing special at all,” Bell-mère shrugged, trying to seem indifferent. Her superior officer wasn’t buying it.

“Then explain to me how you’ve seemingly gone through homebases like door tissue around a needy cat,” Bluegrass noted. Bell-mère tried to not react to that, but the blush that bloomed on her face and neck betrayed her. “Cocoyasi is still nothing?”

“It always has been and always will be nothing, ma’am. I got this way because they stifled me and I couldn’t stand it.”

“Hmm.” The older woman nodded before closing the file and holding it out across the desk. “I want you to go report to Rear Admiral Tsuru. We are both getting promotions soon and she could use a soldier like you in the field.”

“Why not stay with you? I was assigned to your unit.”

“Yeah, but I’m getting a transfer, plus my expertise involves more Devil Fruit-based tactics. If the brass thinks I’m going to force you to eat one of those things, they’ve got another think coming.” She wriggled the file and Bell-mère took it. “She should be on the north training ground right now with her team. Check it out and see how you like it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Bell-mère took the file, saluted, and left the office, trying not to look disappointed. Bluegrass had been the fifth vice-or-rear admiral that she had been shunted off towards that day alone—it seemed that her reputation as a troublemaker was preceding her in a bad way for once. Too much more and she knew what she was destined for: G5. Urgh… the thought made her stomach churn. She would have rather gone back to Cocoyasi than join up with those weirdos, so hopefully this Tsuru woman was the officer to be under.

After double-checking her bearings, Bell-mère found herself in the presence of an entire platoon of the prettiest ladies she had ever seen. Wasn’t anyone going to tell her that Tsuru had the only slice of Heaven in the entire military? No? Instead she had to get kicked there, where all the ladies were sweating through the hot sun and their katas, making her mind go naughty places…

“Can I help you?” Bell-mère jumped as she heard the voice behind her drone in boredom. It was an older woman with gray in her hair, with an officer’s coat that made a few things click into place.

“Are you Rear Admiral Tsuru?”

“Depends on who’s asking.”

“Rear Admiral Bluegrass wanted me to give this to you, ma’am,” Bell-mère said, holding out her file. Tsuru took it, leaving the recruit to salute her.

“Hmm…” Tsuru shut the folder and gestured with it towards the main building. “Mess hall’s in there; they’re always looking for extra help.”

“I don’t want to work in the mess hall!” Bell-mère snapped angrily. She grabbed her file out of the rear admiral’s hand. “I can be out here! Doing better shit with my time than managing a hairnet while I slop food onto a tray!”

“The answer is still no.”

“Why not?! You barely looked at the file!”

“…and who is holding it?”

Oh. Bell-mère looked at the file folder in her hand and grimaced—damn it. This was how she was shunted off the Marineford to begin with…

“I have an entire company to manage, not to mention the extra responsibilities I’ll have coming up,” Tsuru said. “I don’t need a hothead like you running around.”

“I can do better, ma’am.”

“These are my elite officers—they all know Observation and Armament Haki. They have fought tooth and nail to get here, some of it not pretty. Do you really think a punk like you has what it takes to take on their elite status?”

“I…”

“Earn a coat first, then we’ll talk—you’d need one in the North; it’s where you’d normally be stationed if you stuck with me anyhow.” Bell-mère shivered at that. The North?! That icebox?! Bluegrass was pranking her… “Mmmhmm… it’s what I thought. Go back to the East, kid.”

“Then maybe I will,” Bell-mère scowled. “I’ll get my coat, and then I’ll get to be you, but in the East, with an entire company of babes working under me. Won’t even take ten years.”

“Good luck,” Tsuru said before turning her back to Bell-mère. She barked something in a Northern tongue, which made her officers stop their training and huddle up.

Stupid Bluegrass, stupid Tsuru, stupid North Blue, but most of all, stupid Bell-mère, the recruit internally grumbled. She screwed up again; that could have been a sweet setup, even if it was in the North. Maybe she was bound for G-5 after all… she sulked as she walked off the training ground. There didn’t seem to be a place for her… at least, not yet. She needed to find one, quickly, because if there was anything she knew that the brass hated, it was a loose end like her wandering around.

“Oh, hey, I know you!” Bell-mère snapped to attention, noticing a guy jogging up towards her. Eh… seemed alright, though he wasn’t her type… “You’re the crackerjack out of the East Blue, aren’t you?”

“I might,” she preened. Who was this guy? “Depends on who’s asking.”

“We’re getting a group of us Easterners together to form a task force,” the other soldier said. “Plan on taking care of things back home.”

“In case you didn’t realize: there’s a reason why I’m here and not stationed somewhere closer to home.”

“Most of us are… but…” The other soldier appeared almost sheepish. “Aren’t you sick of them not taking you seriously?”

Bell-mère’s temper flared. “How did you…?!”

“See?! It’s not just you!” He motioned behind him, where a group of other soldiers were standing. “If we band together, then they’ll never be able to look down on the East again!” She glanced at the group and recognized a few of them—the runt from basic training, one of the gadget freaks, the ball-shaped man who often got rolled around the training yards—and sighed. “Will you at least consider it?”

“You guys are one of the worst task forces I’ve ever seen,” she replied, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it. “What makes you think you won’t just drag me down?”

“…because we’ve all been wandering around carrying our own files before,” the guy said. Bell-mère gripped the file a bit tighter and took a deep inhale of her cigarette before letting it all out.

The thing about Tuesday-Thursday classes was at least neither of those days were Monday, Usopp thought thankfully as he trudged into his commercial photography class. Yeah, it was still nine in the morning, but it was fucking Tuesday, and he’d take trudging into class clutching the largest, strongest coffee he could manage then in lieu of doing literally anything before noon on a Monday.

“Oh, there you are Sopp-bro!” Usopp blinked heavily and saw Carrot cheerily waving at him from across the room where they both normally sat. “How are you doing this morning?!”

“Same as ever,” he groaned as he sat down. He thought he’d gotten used to chipper highschoolers in college classes that were technically way too advanced for their age with Chopper, but after having met Bepo’s cousin Carrot… well… he wouldn’t trade her cheer for anything but it still tested him. “Do you have the week’s lesson?”

“Yeah, but it’s gonna be a weird one,” she frowned. She took one of the handouts on her desk and passed it to him. “What’s a Seers store?”

He tilted his head, still a bit too tired to fully process why the little voice in the back of his brain was panicking. “It’s a… well, it was a department store. A fancier one that didn’t sell groceries but almost everything else. You know, kinda like in the Christmas movies.”

“Oh yeah! With a whole floor for toys and a cafe and those things that go chok-chunk?”

Things that go chok-chunk…? Ah, a credit card imprinter. Shit, he was too young to know that, technically-speaking.

“Yup. It was a big thing for a long time. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it considering how important the catalogue was in history class times.” He then went to his copy of the assignment handout and almost spit out his coffee.

Oh fuck no.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

No one at 1000 Sunny Rd was really prepared for Usopp to come home from classes in such a panic. Actually, when they thought about it, it was rather normal for him to come home from class all wound up in a panic, but Tuesday-Thursdays were usually pretty chill, which made today all the more interesting.

“This is bad, you guys!” he shouted the moment he came in through the front door. He barrelled his way into the open-concept living room/kitchen area, where most everyone was already gathered. The only one of the main crew who wasn’t there was Chopper since he had his own classes, and Law was there but only really as a seat for Nami as he napped upright on the couch with his arms around her waist and head resting against her shoulder.

“What’s bad?” Franky wondered. He paused the video game, which caused Luffy and Zoro to both scowl. “It’s super-unlike you to be this panicked mid-week.”

“It’s my stupid photography class,” he whined. “I’ve got to do formal studio portraits!”

“…like school ID pictures?” Zoro grunted.

“No, like Seers portraits and shit,” Usopp sniped. “I gotta do a family portrait and my instructor wants me to do my family.”

“Oooh!” Luffy gasped, sliding off the couch. “Are you gonna take our pictures?!”

“She wants me to take a portrait of me and…” Usopp shuddered, “my dad.”

“…but your dad’s on a shipping freighter in the middle of a fucking giant-ass lake,” Sanji commented from the kitchen. He put a mug of coffee on the island and Usopp took it, hoping the caffeine would help paradoxically calm him. “Did you explain to the lady that your dad works on a fucking freighter and can’t just pop on over?”

“Even if he could… I don’t know…” Usopp looked at his friends and finally noticed Law. “It’s four in the afternoon—why’s the old man napping?”

“Old Man has graveyard shift in the ER this week,” Nami replied. Usopp stared deadpan at her while Law let out a small snore. “Hey, don’t be jealous because I technically never have to work as long as he’s around.”

“Yohoho… I remember when I worked at a Seers and Roebuccaneer, making money by playing music in the appliances and tools because they were too cheap to replace the radio system in the entire building,” Brook mused. He then looked at Usopp curiously. “How many of your esteemed classmates remember Seers?”

“They don’t even remember H-Mart—how many do you think.” Usopp took a long drink of his coffee—yeah, that was the good shit.

“Oh, that’s s bummer,” Franky nodded in commiseration. “Kokoro still thinks it exists and refers to it as Hocker’s.”

“Professor Clover always called it Hocker’s before he passed,” Robin mused idly. She didn’t even look up from her book. “I didn’t realize they were the same store until I was six.”

“Yeah, and how is this going to help the fact that I probably won’t see my dad again in-person for another eight months and in nine days I’ve got a project due with him in it?” Usopp scowled.

“Muniscius comfiance,” Luffy said with all the confidence of an eight-year-old armed with their first dictionary. Everyone stared at him until Zoro grunted in irritation.

“You heard Luff—we’re gonna malicious compliance the bitch,” he translated. “Do you just have to do one of you and your old man?”

“I have to do at least two and one of them has to be that.”

“Alright; get the asshole up on a video call, take a picture of you and your phone, and then we’ll give her, like, fifteen others that’s just us dicking around. That’ll teach her to not give you accommodation.”

“Do you realize how much fucking extra work that’s gonna be, grass-head?” Sanji chided. “He’s trying to get out of work, not make more of it.”

“No, no, he has a point,” Jinbe replied. “We’re all supposed to be here on Saturday and we can have some fun with it. Seers portraits hold a certain nostalgia factor, after all, and if you ever need the skills in the future then this would be the time to practice them with such a large group of people.”

“Yeah!” Luffy beamed. “Plus, since we’re helping, you can say you managed us like you’re the head camera guy! That’s extra credit, right?”

“I don’t know if I even can get extra credit in this class…”

“Oh, I’m sure you can!” Luffy’s eyes then went wide. “That’s right! Carrot’s in your class! She can come over too! And her cousin and the rest of Torao’s friends! It can be a big party!”

“Luffy, I—!”

“Portrait party!” Luffy cheered, signaling Usopp’s doom. “Ooooh, Sanji?! Can you…?!”

“I’m on it, Boss,” the blond smirked. “I’ll have a menu by the end of the night.”

“Guys, it’s just a project—I was planning on submitting a complaint to the department…”

“Nah,” Luffy scoffed, waving it off. “A party’s always better, don’t’cha think?”

No… he really didn’t.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“I can’t believe they did this to me,” Usopp groaned. He was laying on his bed at 1000 Sunny Rd, his phone cradled in his hands as he grimaced at the screen. On the other side of the video call was Kaya, who was similarly situated in her dorm room across the state. “They know this is going to be a rough assignment to begin with.”

“It’s not their fault,” she reminded him. “They just want to help.”

“Yeah, and now it’s going to involve nacho dip and Sanji’s special tzaziki sauce.” He propped up his phone with the help of a pillow and a plush chameleon so that he could almost pretend they were in the same bed. “It’s a shame you’ve got a tournament this weekend or I’d say you should come over and keep me sane.”

“We’re only hosting the high school tournament, nothing else,” she reminded him. “I might be able to take off if Merry will let me.”

“Merry will, but I don’t know if your supervisor agrees.”

“It’s Quizbowl, not the end of the world.”

“You’d be surprised.” Usopp tried not to frown as he thought of Kaya’s family-friend-turned-undergrad-advisor, a sour man who seemed to love every opportunity to cockblock them at every turn. As though there was any cock being had to block! One look at him should have screamed that her innocence was safer with him than with others (coughNamicough), so what really was the problem?!

Okay, he knew the problems—plural—but he wasn’t about to unpack all that at the moment.

“What if you took your portrait with me?” she wondered. Her phone dropped to look at the ceiling as she shuffled around for a way to prop up the device on her end, missing her boyfriend’s deep blush. “I mean, if it wasn’t for the fact that I’m going to school out here…”

“Don’t say that!” Usopp panicked. “We’re not that kind of together!”

“I know,” she smiled, “but it’s just… you are my boyfriend, and lots of couples don’t move it past that even if they are always together.”

“You do have a point…” He felt the blush further darken his complexion as he considered submitting one of his family portraits as just him and his girlfriend. Sure, they were talking about long-term-levels of seriousness, but a portrait of the two of them…? In a style common in family photos? He wasn’t entirely sure his heart (or his ever-suffering libido) would survive. “Maybe when you’re back this way for the summer we can do something like that and see if we can replicate the look with the ring lights.”

“That’d be fun,” she smiled. Kaya settled in under her blankets while hugging a stuffed sheep. “You have to tell me how everyone’s doing. Is Luffy still getting into trouble?”

“We don’t get into trouble with Captain Usopp around,” he bragged. Which… it was at least partly true. They weren’t getting into trouble. Not a lot, anyhow. For the moment. She giggled softly and allowed him to continue, the young man weaving exaggerations into his stories as they continued to talk each other to sleep.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Saturday at 1000 Sunny Rd was shaping up to be an interesting one.

First off, Carrot had stayed the night over so that she could be there bright and early, making it so that there was another kid Chopper’s age that he could conspire with when it came to goading Luffy into antics. It was only eight in the morning and they were already at it, with them jumping around the house in their pajamas. Then, on top of that, the Polar Tang had shown up at some point overnight, complete with Law’s trio of weird friends/coworkers/flunkies/platonic boyfriends/hype squad who were already making use of the pool while Law himself was nowhere to be found. Usopp had barely gotten the question out of his mouth when he heard Nami’s orgasm scream, at which he shuddered.

She was such a fucking traitor, getting action so conspicuously while he was left to dry. What ever happened to bestie solidarity?

“It’s been a rough week at work,” Bepo offered. He was sitting on the edge of the in-ground pool, kicking his feet in the water as he sipped a drink he’d procured from Sanji. “It was like an itch right under his skin since, I dunno, Wednesday.”

“That’s all well and fine but he needs to remember to shut the window,” Usopp sighed. He tried to block out the indecent and ridiculous noises coming from the offending couple and felt the need to be sick. “You guys have any suggestions about how to get back at them?”

“Eh, we can prank ‘em, but pranking Nami is like signing your own death warrant,” Penguin commented from the safety of a pool floatie.

“Oh, come on, I’ve pranked her a thousand times and I’m still alive!” Usopp scoffed. Law’s friends all stared at him, deadpan. “Okay, okay, okay… so maybe more like a handful of times… and I’m lucky to be alive be this point. Then how about Law?”

“Pranking him is hella difficult,” Shachi scoffed. “Dude’s almost always on his toes.”

“Had to be,” Penguin added. “Not gonna get into it, but he didn’t exactly have the most fun childhood.”

“I think you’d be more pressed to find someone here who did have a decent time as a kid,” Usopp replied, rolling his eyes. “Got anything I can work with?”

“Given how long he’s gone without despite a need, I’d say he’s got tw—” Bepo was interrupted by what sounded suspiciously like a strangled sob. “—one more round in him before he gets six and a half solid hours of sleep. Eight is if we’re lucky.”

“Do I even want to know how you know this?”

“Scientific method,” all three pool-goers said in unison. Usopp smacked his forehead and took a deep breath…

…wait a moment…

“Wait, you know I’m going to be roping people into my commercial photography assignment later, right?” Usopp posed. The others simply stared at him. “The assignment calls for imitating the style of a Seers portrait and I was thinking…”

“Oh, fuck, we’re in,” Shachi grinned. He scrambled to get out of the pool and towards his towel, drying off unevenly. “I’ve got just the thing!”

“This is news to me,” Penguin stated. “What the fuck do you have that’s got you like that?”

“All the work shit that’s still in the trunk!”

“Work shit…?” Usopp did not like the sound of that. “What sort of medical torture devices you got in there?”

“Not torture devices,” Shachi insisted. “More like there was this thing at work last week where we wore goofy outfits and took turns playing around in Pedes.” Another verbal confirmation of Nami getting fucked out of her mind cut him off and he grimaced.

“Well, most of us did,” Penguin said, taking over. “Grumpass didn’t, but that’s also, like, the only department he normally steers clear of; most do if they can help it.” He then looked from Usopp to Shachi and back, noting

All of Usopp’s synapses began to fire at once and he began to grin just as manically as Shachi (or Luffy during a particularly tasty meal). A costume cache? Oh, he was fucking in.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Admittedly, Usopp was having a lot of fun with his assignment when he stopped to think about it. He and Carrot were able to set up their impromptu portrait studio in the office area, having pooled their equipment checkout resources and were able to snag enough studio lights and varying accessories to actually function like they were supposed to instead of trying to cobble together some bastardized system using cheap ring lights and Franky’s cell phone (which had genuinely gotten him an A, but never again). They even got some neat gels and a couple softboxes, which they were sure some of the film majors were going to murder them over. Was it worth it? Always.

“So… we’re basically doing a photo booth, but with a Seers portrait vibe,” Nami said as she went through the box of clothes. Usopp did not understand how she was awake and functioning while her manfriend was still dead to the world in her bed, but he figured it was best to not think about it.

“All in the name of malicious compliance,” he replied. “I’ve already got the one with my mom’s wake portrait and the selfie of my dad up on my phone, so…”

“Please tell me it’s the slutty one that Shanks sent you as a joke.”

“His dating profile pic? It’s not like you’re dealing with a fucking amateur, Nami.” He folded his arms across his chest and pouted as he attempted to stand his ground. “Otherwise everyone else is a-go.”

“Is that why the goobers are running around crazier than usual?”

“Define ‘goobers’ in this situation.”

“The ones who kicked me out of my bedroom to ‘get Law ready for his closeup’?”

“Okay, for one, a portrait is not necessarily a closeup, but for two…” Usopp was about to continue when he saw Bepo shuffle into the room, the bear looking nervous as he clutched a vintage coin book in his paws. “Ready?”

“We’ve got ten minutes to get this going before he wakes up,” Penguin said from behind Bepo. The bear moved aside and showed Penguin in nice slacks and a polo shirt—was the penguin on his hat holding a cocktail—helping Shachi, who had found a pair of denim overalls with a duckling on the front to put with his normal sweater—where did he get the propeller for his hat—the pair pulling along a half-asleep Law, perfectly dressed for the occasion.

Usopp swallowed hard; he was going to die.

Quickly, he got the shots he needed of Law, Penguin, and Shachi before allowing the latter to cart the former off before the perfectly weary and pliable sleepiness wore off, Nami snapping a couple pics on her phone as extra insurance before vanishing herself. Bepo then went and got Carrot, the cousins posing for a few different shots before Luffy could not longer be contained and burst his way into the makeshift studio, demanding to be included in the proceedings.

Eventually, it was getting towards the end of the afternoon and both students were beginning to feel the strain of using their newfound skills continually for the entire day. Not only was it remembering f-stops and checking light meters and making sure they didn’t accidentally hit the settings reset button, but also wrangling… oh, the wrangling that they had to do. It honestly was insane. Not only did they have to attempt to control Luffy, but the entire rest of the house as well as they came in and out of the office area, dressed in both costumes and whatever their nicest (or tackiest) clothes on-hand were. It felt as though everyone else at 1000 Sunny Rd was deliberately making it rough for them when it came to actually getting things done.

“You people are going to be the death of me,” Usopp groaned as he melted onto one of the barstools by the kitchen island. A mug of coffee was placed in front of him, and a can of pop in front of Carrot as she joined them, the younger one decidedly more lively.

“I think it’s a lot of fun,” she replied. “We only have a few more to go; using the costumes were a great idea.”

“Speaking of which, I’ve noticed there’s a distinct lack of those weirdos,” he noted. Usopp glanced around—nothing. Sanji scoffed from the other side of the kitchen as he peeled potatoes.

“Nami-swan sent them on an errand, so they took the Tang and bolted ages ago,” he said.

“It’s bad enough she sends the rest of us to do her dirty work, but that’s ridiculous,” Usopp frowned.

“They know better than to invoke Nami-swan’s lovely wrath,” Sanji swooned.

“Is ‘lovely’ the correct word for it, though?” Carrot wondered.

“The simp’s a lost cause,” Usopp deadpanned. Sanji did not hear them, as he was too busy fantasizing to be of much use conversation-wise. “You’d think he would have stopped once Nami started fucking another man, yet here we are.”

“I didn’t know simping could be… uh… platonic…?”

A beat.

“Carrot, nothing about Sanji and women is platonic.”

The younger teen shrugged and grabbed a plate so she could pile on a bunch of the tiny treats that Sanji was still cooking for everyone, making sure to get enough for both her and Usopp, who they both already knew would be denied extras until later. They brought their drinks and the plate back to the office area and began to eat in relative peace and safety, keeping to themselves until they heard the crunch of driveway pebbles under car tires, signaling that whatever errand Nami had Penguin and Shachi on, they had returned from it.

“Good,” Usopp grunted through a mini spanikopita. “Now maybe I can get a real shot of those morons before Law leaves for work.”

“Possibly…? Let’s go see if they need any help!”

“You can; I’ll just stay here and prep for the next group.”

Carrot pouted for a moment before leaving the office area, letting Usopp fiddle with the light stands. He was able to rearrange the setup for a smaller group when he heard a soft knock at the door.

“Master Photographer Usopp is almost ready!” he replied. The door creaked open and he frowned. “Hey, I said I was almost—!”

The words died in his throat as he was shocked to see Kaya standing there, looking at the studio setup as though it was the most technical-looking thing she’d ever seen. She turned back to him just in time to see as he wrapped her in a hug.

“Oh! Usopp!”

“How did you get here?!” he wondered. She pressed a kiss to his lips and giggled.

“Mr. Penguin and Mr. Shachi came to get me,” she admitted. “It was a little weird, and I had to convince my sorority it wasn’t a kidnapping…”

“No… no… I don’t want to know,” Usopp decided. He looked at Kaya and all the stress that had been built up that day seemed to melt away. His mom had always told him that love could break the hold that hardships had on people and make much easier to bear, and it was times like this where he truly believed that. “I’m just glad they didn’t send Sanji as one of the conspirators this time.”

“He meant well.”

“That’s giving him a few too many benefits of the doubt.” It was then that he saw Carrot come in, carrying what looked to be Kaya’s backpack. “Isn’t that right? Letting Sanji loose on a sorority is just asking for trouble.”

“Is that why he went to culinary school and not a regular four-year university like us?” the teen wondered.

“One reason of many.” Usopp froze as Kaya took her backpack and brought out two framed photos—her parents. “Uh… Kaya…?”

“We’re not going to be able to see if the ring lights work as a substitute if we don’t have the real thing to compare it with,” she reasoned.

Okay, so maybe the chaos was worth it after all.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

That night was one of the best party nights Usopp had experienced in a while. It wasn’t the good food (Sanji outdid himself, again) or the friend-based antics (which were always a good time), but it was the fact that he went to bed that night with Kaya, the pair snuggled up together in his bed for the first time in months to combat the night chill with their shared body heat.

Okay, so what if they were fully clothed? And that there was a bedsheet separating them? And there were no bedroom activities other than sleeping going on? They all couldn’t be Nami; be realistic.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Law was honestly nursing one of the worst headaches he’d ever suffered through. It wasn’t quite a migraine—he was not nearly nauseous or light-sensitive enough for that—but it was still making him regret having gone on midnights last-minute the week prior despite the fact he was currently on days. He clutched his coffee cup a little closer—there was something to be said about the hot bean juice that made the world marginally tolerable.

After checking in on a patient he was due to operate on the following day, Law decided to make his way to the nurses’ station to follow up with Bepo. It was there that he saw that his best friend was sitting there with his cousin, the teen happily chatting away as she showed him a bunch of photos from a large manila envelope.

“Is this a personal or business visit?” Law asked as he approached the desk. Carrot caught sight of him and her grin only widened.

“Oh, there you are, Law-bro!” she said merrily. “I was just showing off the prints of the project Sopp-bro and I did last weekend! Do you want to take a look?”

“Sure.” Law sat his coffee down and began to casually flip through the photos. Seas, they looked like the kind of portraits that Cora-san had of him and his parents and brother from back when he was a kid. Everyone was in their silliest… with exceptions, of course. He looked up from the shot of him and Nami, the two of them dressed in high-waisted jeans and frumpy sweaters, to see that Carrot and Bepo were both looking at him expectantly. “Did you get the grades back?”

“Not only did we pass, but we also got extra credit!” Carrot grinned. “Sopp-bro’s also turned in a formal complaint to the department head that’s probably going to escalate.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear.” Law then narrowed his eyes at a package that was sitting on Bepo’s desk, wrapped in brown paper and looking very suspicious. “What’s that?”

“Oh, that’s for Peng-bro and Sach-bro,” Carrot explained. “They paid special for that one.”

“Did they now?” Law didn’t like how the cousins exchanged a wary glance—when they were up to no good, it was genuinely no good. “Now why would they pay special for a school project you and Nose-ya did?”

“A frame and use of the special printer.” Law looked over his shoulder to see Shachi pushing his mobile station to its dock and plugging it in. “Kiddos went and made up a nice family portrait of us.”

“I think you mixed up ‘nice’ with ‘tacky’ again,” Law deadpanned. Shachi waited until Penguin caught up before taking the package from Carrot. “Besides, you sound like Strawhat-ya by saying ‘family’ like that.”

“We’re four of the weirdest brothers and you know it,” Penguin huffed. He looked over Shachi’s shoulder as the other man unwrapped the photo frame, both men’s faces lighting up at the contents. “Oh, Carrot, if you weren’t way too young for me I’d kiss you.”

“It’s all Sopp-bro,” the teen blushed. “It actually was used as one of the examples in class! The professor was very impressed with the composition and technique!”

“Let me see,” Law said. He took the frame from Shachi’s hand and went pale while his friends all started to giggle.

There, in his hand, was a portrait of him with the techs, an enlarged and faded-in insert image of the charge nurse in the upper right-hand corner.

“…did you shits deepfake me…?”

“No, that was all you,” Carrot supplied. “The professor really enjoyed your expression! Said it was exactly the kind of variation the portrait batch needed!”

“When the fuck did you take this?!” Law grimaced, absolutely aghast.

“You were still half-asleep and in the post-nut haze, so we took advantage of it while we could,” Penguin said. Law instead grit his teeth.

“So you took that as permission to put me in a frumpy dress, bonnet, and plastic pearls?”

“Don’t forget the coin collection,” Shachi reminded him. “I bet that was a nice touch.”

“We were the only two students that had portraits with props, so it really was!” Carrot seemed absolutely oblivious to the ire that was building in the surgeon. “He did a really good job on the compositing as well, which made it so Bep-bro’s fur wasn’t too clipped!”

“…and you people thought this was a good idea, how?!”

“It’s just a bit of fun,” Shachi said, taking back the photo frame. “Besides, it’s our family portrait, like I said. Plus it helped some of the Sunny gang.”

“You guys are dead,” Law hissed, the last word through grit teeth. Shachi and Penguin both turned on their heels and bolted, with the surgeon not too far behind after depositing the portrait back in Carrot’s hands. She and Bepo looked at one another for a moment before bursting into giggles, because they knew something Law didn’t:

Hiding underneath the goofy portrait was three others; one was everyone who was there at 1000 Sunny Rd. that day, another of the four friends in less-goofy getups, and one of just Law and Nami—one of the most normal photos taken the entire day. Not only did they have them sitting there layered in the frame, but copies had been set aside for Cora-san and Bell-mère as well.

There was no question that Law’s life was more eventful now that he was socially entangled with the Straw Hats. Unfortunately, he had enjoyed how his life was before: he had literally three close friends, a little over a dozen close acquaintances, and his dog. Everything was contained, he could trust everyone, and he would go home to his apartment to find the fuzzy ball with nothing in its brain other than lint ready to be adorable. There had been literally nothing missing from his life—nothing that he felt he wanted out of the world from what it could give anyhow—and things were likely better that way.

Except now, when he came home, there were often unauthorized people there, let in only Nika-knew-how. Why the Straw Hat Gang (which was, unfortunately, not the weirdest collection of people he knew with such a descriptor) thought they had full use of his apartment, he did not know, but it was getting fucking ridiculous as he would come home to multiple people with fewer braincells than his dog wandering about the place. Tonight was no different as he came in to find Onigiri bouncing around merrily on the carpet while Zoro was sleeping on his couch, Nami was watching his TV, and Sanji was using his kitchen to feed Luffy and Usopp.

“Give me five good reasons why I shouldn’t call the police,” Law droned, his voice clearly bored. “One for each of you, come on.”

“Don’t be so stingy, Traffy,” Nami said. “We’re not breaking anything.”

“Yeah,” Usopp added, mouth full of food. “Also, Onigiri’s fine, we don’t even have anyone looking for us, and Franky’s not trying to improve your alarm clock.”

“Oh, and ACAB,” Luffy nodded. Law pinched the bridge of his nose—he did not need this after eighteen hours in the trauma center. “You know we’re right.”

“I’m not in the mood; get out,” he demanded. “Some of us have jobs to recover from, you know.”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘cause you’re ‘an adult’ and ‘a functioning member of society’,” Usopp groaned. He and Luffy went to grab Zoro, dragging the half-awake moss-head out of the apartment with Nami not far behind. Sanji went to leave as well, only for Law to grab him by the upper arm.

“Not you—you’re helping me clean up after you take whatever you left in the oven out.”

“Want me gone, want me here; make up your fucking mind,” Sanji scoffed. “Oh, Nami-swan! I’ll be around later! Have to make sure Traffy’s kitchen isn’t mildly sloppy.”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Nami said as she closed the apartment door. Onigiri whimpered as he put his paws up on the door, wanting the other people to come back. Four seconds of that and he was frolicking around the apartment again, seemingly forgotten the others.

“What do you have in the oven?” Law wondered. Sanji shrugged and went back into the kitchen, with Law sitting down at the island bar.

“I didn’t have a lot to work with, and Nami wasn’t hungry, so I had slipped into a store on the way here and picked up stuff to make a casserole,” Sanji replied. He chuckled as Law raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had a casserole.”

“Not in a long time,” Law admitted. He watched as Sanji took the casserole out of the oven; the glass dish showed the noodles and sauce, as well as some unidentified vegetables and meat. The top was coated in golden-brown breadcrumbs and it smelled nostalgic. “Doesn’t look like your normal dishes.”

“Bunch of heavy carbs; fills Luffy up fairly well,” the blond shrugged. He pulled out a serving spoon and a pair of plates, scooping out two servings and passing one to Law. “A lot can be said about what some consider ‘peasant food’, you know?”

“No shit.” Law took the fork that Sanji offered and muttered thanks under his breath before shoving a forkful of the casserole in his mouth. Was it the best food for him to eat? Probably not by a longshot, but a warm, comforting feeling crept through him as he ate, allowing his shoulders to relax and the throbbing in his head to fade. A few bites and he stopped, staring at Sanji with a sense of realization. “You made this for me, didn’t you?”

“I knew you were late from work, so I figured it might be the first meal you’ve had all day. Correct?”

“I… uh… yeah… thanks.”

“Don’t mention it; my job is literally to make sure people are fed. I’d be a pretty shitty cook if I did otherwise.”

Law grunted through his casserole and nodded. Part of him went back to watching his parents make the dish, his foster adult, and eventually his friends and him figuring out the recipe for themselves. Canned condensed soup was involved, a move that he had thought was certain would horrify the Straw Hat chef, but it seemed to not bother him at all. He took his own plate and sat next to Law, using a fork and knife to gather the noodly concoction and eat.

“What…?”

“Nothing.”

“No, it’s something, asshole. Why the fuck are you staring?”

“You have table manners—the rest of them don’t.”

“Nami-swan and Robin-chan can make finger-foods look delicate, but you’re right about the rest of them,” Sanji scowled. He ate another bite of casserole and a shudder overtook him. “None of them can eat with any sort of decorum.”

“Decorum? That’s a strong word.”

“It’s the word I’ve got.” He let Law eat some more before continuing. “You know… that’s part of why I love cooking for the ladies so much—they know how to hold themselves… sort of like you.”

“You saying I eat like a girl?”

“I’m saying you’re fucking polite; the idiots are appreciative, yeah, but they’re never polite. Can’t you take a compliment?”

“You used my kitchen without my permission, not to mention committed breaking and entering.”

“We have a key. It’s not breaking and entering when you have a key.”

“You all are exhausting.” Law rested his face in his hand, cheekbone nestled into the palm, as he leaned with his elbow on the countertop. “You, uh, usually make riceballs when you’re over here—why the change of pace?”

“Like I said: it would fill Luffy, and I’d still be able to save you a portion since it reheats and keeps well.” Now done with his own food, Sanji went back to the dish and began to portion out the rest in some resealable containers—where did those come from? “I’ll feel better knowing these are around; you’re too damn skinny.”

“I’m fine.”

“I can see your ribs through your scrubs, and Shachi told me none of them can get you to eat worth a damn. Fuck off.”

“You’re not my mother. Why should you care?”

“Idiot.” Sanji finished putting the leftovers away and put water in the pan to soak before sulking over towards the balcony. Law could see him from his chair, tapping his foot and fidgeting as he tried not to pace in lieu of a cigarette—ah, he fucked it up, didn’t he? Yeah, he was getting pretty sick of the Straw Hats just dropping into his life unannounced and usually with trouble trailing behind them, but at the same time… the man did have dinner waiting for him when he got home from work…

Figuring it was only fair, Law finished his food, partially loaded up the dishwasher, and went digging around in his room. Once he found the crushed, open packet of cigarettes, he brought them out onto the balcony and held them out towards Sanji, who stared.

“Didn’t know you smoked.”

“Not often, but enough.” He waited until Sanji took one before grabbing one of his own, putting it between his lips as Sanji flicked on a lighter. Law leaned down and lit the end of his cigarette with the same flame Sanji was using to light his with, their faces close enough for him to see the blush on the blond’s cheeks with the light from the flame and the distant streetlamp.

“Th-thanks,” Sanji mumbled, closing the lighter.

“Thank you for dinner.” Law inhaled deeply, allowing the smoke to fill his lungs before letting it all out his nose. Sanji was almost slackjawed watching him—not many people had seen him smoke before, let alone any of the Straw Hats. “Now look who’s staring.”

“A-Again… I didn’t think you smoked.”

“You put me in a nostalgic mood with that meal,” he replied. When his smoking conspirator said nothing, he continued, “This was the brand the idiot who fostered me smoked; sometimes it takes me years to finish a pack.”

“This is the brand I smoke.”

“Lucky.”

Another silence.

“I… didn’t know you were also in the system.”

“That much actually surprises me, with how much our collective idiots talk.” Sanji scoffed at that—yeah, they both had some prime idiots in their lives, didn’t they? “Eight years—the last five was a series of group homes until Penguin became a legal adult and took Shachi, Bepo and me out, which was hard. The first three…” He took the cigarette from his lips and watched the smoke curl off the end. “Let’s just say it was a different kind of hard.”

“Aged out after ten in the back of the geezer’s restaurant and just never left,” Sanji admitted. He then thought for a moment. “Must’ve been a hell of a guy if he gets a doctor to smoke.”

“Surgeon, and…” Law wanted to agree, but it was… complicated. “He tried. I can’t fault him for trying.”

“No, I guess not.” Putting his hands in his pockets, Sanji leaned on the balcony rail and shrugged in an attempt to seem aloof. It made Law think back to his tweenaged years, tramping about as he and Cora tried to run from their demons. Nights curled up in a tent or the back of the station wagon; days going from hospital to hospital in an attempt to cure what the third rate hacks refused; growing close despite the arm’s length distance; the pain of living every day, though pulling it together because that was all either of them could do for one another. Through the smoke and the colored streetlights, the other man resembled Cora more than he wanted to admit, though at the same time…

No, Law couldn’t. He shouldn’t. Cora was not only the man who saved him all those years ago, but he went around introducing the two of them as father and son. Very few truly believed it, mind, but he still did it to avoid questions. It didn’t change the burning way which he missed him some days… one of the many ways Doffy missed him, he was certain…

…except Cora was dead, Sanji was alive, and Law wanted to thank him properly for making him dinner. He wondered if the man in front of him ever slipped out of his careful, measured Eastern accent into something that sounded like home and what it would take to make that happen. What did he feel like underneath those carefully-curated shirts and slacks and suits? How did he sound when he was the one being cared for through careful ministrations? Would his mouth turn even filthier in the face of affection? Was he really as limber as everyone joked? Did he taste just like the cigarettes and cheap wine of his hazy memories or was there more to it than that? He watched him stub out the cigarette on the building brick and toss the tarred filter in the heavy flowerpot Law used as an ashtray—the younger man sure could suck them down…

Law swallowed hard; oh shit.

“Please tell me how to thank you for dinner,” he requested, voice threatening to crack. Sanji looked at him with one curled eyebrow raised.

“I cook for my friends all the time. It’s fine.”

“No, I want to be polite and thank you…” He inhaled deeply on the cigarette and caged Sanji in against the balcony rail, leaning down to press their lips together so that he could exhale in the other man’s mouth. A wisp of smoke fluttered between them as Law pulled away, watching as Sanji flushed a deep pink as he finally let go of his breath and smoke came pouring from his mouth and nostrils, enveloping him in a dizzying, hazy halo. “…properly.”

It was a moment before Sanji’s brain began to function again, it having shorted out the moment Law kissed him. He watched as it was the older man’s turn to extinguish his cigarette, amber eyes flashing in the dim city night with something uncertain… something he wasn’t even sure Law himself understood. Hesitating, he calculated the risks involved with continuing, all of his math pointing towards one singular answer: the night was already full of surprises, and he wasn’t going to learn what they were by leaving now.

“I keep my men to a high standard,” Sanji bluffed. “Do you think you’re ready to meet and exceed them?”

“I know who is in your friend circle—that bar is on the sidewalk underneath us.”

“Not that low, but low enough for you if you play your cards right.” A slight breeze carried off the rest of the smoke and now the blond was Just Sanji again, though it was a Sanji who knew that possibilities were presenting themselves and he didn’t hate it. Sanji left the railing and went back to the door, pausing to look back at Law with a smirk. “Let’s get that kitchen cleaned up and then we’ll talk.”

Law nodded silently, following Sanji inside his own apartment as his anticipation began to build. He shucked off his scrubs and let them drop to the floor; Onigiri went to sniff the pile, yelped, and stumbled away. Now in just his sleeveless undershirt and a pair of oversized basketball shorts, Law moved around the kitchen with Sanji almost effortlessly, wiping counters and placing varied spices and utensils back where they belonged. A glance here, a light touch there, and the electricity between them only built. Once the dishwasher was set for a delayed start and Onigiri’s kibble and water refilled, the pair looked at one another knowing that they had put it off long enough. They stood close enough to smell the remaining smoke still clinging to their skin and clothes, not nearly as strong but still the same scent that was pulling them together.

When it was clear Sanji was not going to budge, Law made the first move, ducking down to kiss the shorter man, the action almost timid. He tilted the blond’s chin up gently, making sure their faces met despite the eleven centimeters between them. Cigarettes, yes, but none of the cheap wine and instant noodles he remembered(?), he imagined(?); instead he could taste the casserole and something else as their tongues scraped together, frankly surprised anything other than the ashy smoker’s aftertaste was present, let alone detectable. As he broke the kiss, his nose brushed against the other man’s hair; unlike his mouth, the hair smelled exactly the same, with the sweet, cloying scent that the specific cigarette brand left behind.

“Are you going to continue to be a creep, Traffy, or are you going to invite me to some place more manageable?” Sanji quipped. He watched as the almost-drunk expression on Law’s face darkened before he swallowed and tried to wet his tongue.

“Tonight, please,” he hoarsely half-whispered, “use my real name. Call me Law. You can’t call me anything else… not tonight.”

Something clicked in Sanji’s brain and he nodded once. “Do you have something that you want to call me?” He watched as Law seemed to consider the notion, turning it over in his head before letting out one quiet word, voice dry and hushed.

“Cora.”

“I’m not a woman.”

“I didn’t say you were.”

Sanji considered this, then nodded. “I don’t know what the fuck this is about, Law, but don’t make me regret it.”

Taking that as all he needed, Law grabbed Sanji by the wrist and dragged him through his apartment to his bedroom, nearly throwing the other man onto the bed. He was almost immediately on top of him, putting hungry kisses on his neck as he pawed at the shirt and tie. The blond shoved him off in order to loosen his tie, a ruffled expression on his face.

“This is Doskoi—hold on,” he scolded. Sanji took off his tie and rolled it carefully, putting it in his jacket pocket, which then ended up draped on a nearby chair. His belt was treated in the same way, getting tucked into another pocket. “Not all of us go around in clothes that can be tossed on the floor, you know.”

“Work clothes,” Law defended. He sat on the bed awkwardly, the temptation to palm himself through his shorts very real. Sanji looked at him in the vanity mirror, catching the almost predatory look in the older man’s eyes.

“So… Cora.” He began to unbutton his shirt. “Who was he?”

“That… it’s not important.”

“Did he love you back?”

“I…” He swallowed, guilt blooming in his gut. “I don’t know.”

Of course, Law had not forgotten the last time he’d seen Cora. That abandoned warehouse, getting shoved in the crate; the very last thing he saw before the lid closed was Cora’s beaten face. He said he loved him, sure, but it was the first time those words had been said with any form of sincerity in years—he wanted more, craved more, and yet that night Doflamingo coldly took out all his rage and hostility on his brother. Law always wanted to ask why and how, tempted to go back to the corpse and see if it was really lifeless or just barely hanging on.

Surely he would have been caught had he did, right? If not by Doflamingo’s gang, then by the cop who drove them away. Cora-san had been a cop himself, well, right up until they went off-grid. That was how his younger self knew the man whisking him away from certain death in an organized crime ring could be trusted. No cops, no alternate crime bosses; just the two of them. Cora simply took him for himself and ran.

He never looked back and yet that was all Law could do.

“Anything that’s off the table?” Sanji asked, now in just his underwear. Damn, he was skinny. Law shrugged.

“Like…?”

“What are you not into?” Sanji’s lips pursed at the silence that met him. “Okay… what are you into?”

“I… erm…” Law just shrugged, still awkward. Sanji simply came over and tugged his shirt over his head, exposing his chest and back tattoos. He sat and traced one of the shoulder ones with a finger, attempting to parse out how to begin.

“Do you need to be called a good boy?”

He bit his lower lip—it was a start.

“How about a bad boy?”

It was subtle, but he bit down harder.

“Okay… then how about this: you gotta be on top, or bottom?”

“Can I… top…?” Law felt incredibly shy as he was beginning to regret this. Sanji just leaned into him further, their bodies pressing together.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said. Law nodded in response.

“I know.”

“Listen, Law…”

“You, erm, don’t have to talk or do a lot if you don’t want to; just… don’t worry about me.” He glanced over at Sanji, who seemed as though he was trying to piece him together mentally first. “What… what do you like?”

“Depends, just as long as who I’m with isn’t too lost in their own head,” the blond said. He leaned in and kissed Law, all ash and that delicious dinner. “I’ll invoke one of my idiots if I need you to pause, okay?”

Law nodded at that before gently placing his hand on Sanji’s neck and jaw, guiding him into another kiss. He pulled them both down onto the bed, positioning himself so that he was pressing the younger man against the mattress. They broke the kiss with an inhale, after which Law began to move toward the back of his jaw. The smell of smoke and food was intoxicating—mmm… this was good.

“You’re doing great, Law,” Sanji crooned. Law’s lips had been over his throat and the vibrations made him whine. That was when the blond decided to kick it up a notch to test the waters and let his natural accent come out. “You feel good; come on, make Cora feel good.”

Something clicked in Law’s mind as the smooth Northern tones of Sanji’s voice washed over him. It was not the same as Cora’s—not by a long shot—but they affected him all the same. He moved down to Sanji’s collarbone and bit, pulling a hiss from the blond.

“Naughty,” he chided. “Show me, Law; show me what you meant to back then. Be a good boy and show Cora a good time.”

Law grunted and rutted against Sanji’s leg, getting friction against his still-clothed erection. He continued kissing and grinding, hands finding their way over the other man’s slender body. A hand against the blond’s package revealed he was hard as well. He thought for a moment about riding him, feeling that cock swell inside him, but reconsidered as he reached for the nightstand drawer and pulled out an old-yet-still-wrapped condom and a near-empty bottle of lube. Fuck, it had been a while since he did anything other than tug himself off and he was going to make every moment of it worth the wait.

Seeing that things were in order, Sanji wriggled out of his underwear and allowed Law to manhandle him, opening his legs and letting a slick-covered finger slide its way in. They kissed as another finger worked its way in, then a third, Sanji moaning into Law’s mouth with each new test and flex of the surgeon’s long digits. He grabbed at Law’s hair as his own cock was flushed and throbbing by the time the hand left him, precome dribbled down his stomach. Law wiped his hand on a nearby cloth and then flipped Sanji over, putting him on his hands and knees atop the mattress.

“Hey, what the fuck are you…?” He went to protest, only for Law to steal his breath with another kiss that held his attention for a bit too long.

“Don’t you worry,” Law murmured against his lips. “Let Law take care of you now. Don’t worry and just concentrate on me.”

Law slid off the bed and shoved his shorts and underwear down in one movement, letting the garments rest at his ankles as he slid the condom on and once again let his fingers trace the muscles on the powerful legs before him. They were meatier than Cora’s had been—not to mention shorter, since the man had been tall—but Law had grown since then, hadn’t he? All he knew was that he had a blond in his bed, a Northern accent in his ears, and cigarettes on his tongue and in the air. He lined himself up with Sanji’s entrance and pushed in, shivering as the other man cussed underneath him.

Ah, fuck! His ass was so warm and tight, enveloping Law as he thrust experimentally. Tight, yet pliable… willing… hungry. With his feet planted firmly on the floor, he explored the younger man’s body with great interest, listening to the noises he pulled from him. A shiver and he knew he found his prostate, holding a thigh with one hand and Sanji’s lower back with another as he snapped their hips together.

“Law!” Sanji cried out, the sound going straight to the other man’s dick. “That’s it, Law! Yes!” He thrust harder and harder, hoping to make it long enough to not embarrass himself. His muscles began to shake and he knew he was doomed. The world was starting to blur as he came closer to orgasm, spurred there even faster by the encouraging noises and sounds coming from under him. He couldn’t even think as words escaped his lips, mind in a complete orgasmic blackout.

“I love you too, Cora!”

At that he came, gasping as he bent over double, his chest pressing against Cora’s back as he thrust through his after-shocks. Cora said something sweet as he nearly collapsed on him, only barely able to pull out before collapsing on the mattress. Was that the sound of Onigiri skittering away from his door? Law felt Cora’s cock and found it was still hard, allowing himself to be eased down to the floor so he could kneel at the other man’s feet while he sucked him off. Gentle hands played with his hair and he felt so light… so content… what was even happening? Soft Northern oaths reached his ears as the cock in his mouth shivered and a spurt of hot hit the back of his throat. He swallowed around it, drinking up every last drop he could.

Cora said something and all Law could do was pass out.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A few hours later and Law woke up with a splitting headache and sore thighs, stark-naked between his bedsheets. He only just barely registered the other person in his bed, the fact that it was Sanji taking a few minutes to soak in. Yeah… he was naked… Sanji was naked… it smelled like sex… oh, and his condom was gone. Great.

“Oh, fuck…” he groaned, then winced at the sound of his voice. Oh… he swallowed dick, didn’t he? “What time is it?”

“Eleven,” Sanji replied, idly scrolling on his phone as he sat up against the headboard. Wait… why did he sound Eastern…? “Surprised it’s not eleven in the morning with how soundly you slept. I had to drag your ass into bed… and you’re not exactly light.”

“Sorry,” Law mumbled. He looked at Sanji and felt his face grow hot. “I… uh… don’t remember…”

“I didn’t roofie you, if that’s what you mean.”

“No… just… was it up to standard…?” The blond sighed—not a good sign.

“You’re fucked up, you know that?” Sanji locked his phone and tossed it on the other nightstand before sliding down into a lying position. “You might want to consider therapy.”

“I don’t have time for therapy,” Law admitted. The feel of Sanji’s fingertips against his skin, tracing his chest tattoo, felt so good it was almost ticklish. “Sorry if I’m…” He swallowed. “…fucked up.”

“Who isn’t?” Sanji shrugged. “You give a good sleepy blowjob at least.”

Fucking hell… Law wanted to hide under the covers and not come out until Sanji was out of his apartment building and in the next neighborhood. He just seduced a Straw Hat, of all people, and had shitty sex… his standards were tanking so hard it was a good thing his actual friends were all on a night shift. Sanji, however, simply propped himself up on his elbow and glanced down at Law as though this was the most normal thing in the world.

“You don’t have the time for therapy, I can’t afford therapy, and yet we’re right here, able to fuck it out until we’re good at something, don’t you think?”

“Don’t pity me.”

“…except I’m not, asshole; you’re realize that if you were fucking lucid.” He reached down Law’s body and cupped his junk, causing the other man to suck in a sharp breath through his nose; not quite over-sensitive, but not ready-to-party either. “Maybe while we’re waiting I can fix us up a snack?”

“I haven’t been to the store…”

“Then it’s a good thing I did before coming here.” Law thought about that for a moment before it hit him.

“You were planning on this, weren’t you?”

“Maybe… maybe not?” He leaned down and kissed Law on the mouth, their lips open and pliant against one another. “Guess you’ll have to find out, hm?”

Dragon stood next to Vegapunk, watching as the New Giant Pirates took care of the books from the library. He scowled as the other man’s brain went miles a minute; there was much more than an acquaintanceship with Clover that had brought him here, and he was not going to let the scientist know. Then again, would he even understand such a bond between people? That scientific mind probably couldn’t care less…

Suddenly, Dragon caught movement out the corner of his eye. There wasn’t supposed to be anything alive on Ohara except them and the giants—he palmed his gun and shifted, readying to fire. If the only thing protecting the smartest brain in the world, even if it was an opportunistic one, was him then at least he would go down swinging.

Whatever it was in the rubble moved and Dragon did as well, drawing his gun and getting between Vegapunk and the stranger. He almost fired, the only thing that kept him from doing so being a sobering realization wash over him that… oh seas… he recognized her…

“Olvia…?”

She collapsed in the dirt, which brought both men to rush to her side. She had extensive burns and her clothes were ragged—somehow, she had clung to life against the odds.

“I’ll get the medkit from my ship,” Vegapunk said before running off. Dragon put his cape on the ground and laid Olvia atop it, bunching up one end to keep her head elevated. She tried to say something and he stopped her.

“Shh… it’ll be okay,” he promised. “I’ll get you out of here and we can go somewhere safe.”

“…but Robin…” she whispered. “Where’s Robin…? Did Saul get her out…?”

“Robin…?” Dragon’s heart skipped a beat. “Robin was here?!”

“We need to find her—she’s a scholar now. She’s in danger.”

“Clover, you bastard,” he cursed. “He promised she wouldn’t…!”

“She’s our daughter; do you think she’d lack curiosity?” Olvia saw Vegapunk returning with the medkit as she began to float out of consciousness. “Find her… please…”

“You’ll make it,” Dragon replied, his voice cracking. “You have to make it…!”

“Who is she?” Vegapunk wondered as he came within earshot. He knelt down in the dirt on the other side of Olvia and opened the medkit, bringing out some funny-looking things Dragon knew was the direct result of the scientist’s recent research. “Is she one of the scholars?”

Dragon hesitated for a moment before saying, “She’s one of Clover’s proteges—if she dies, then the legacy he built is gone.”

“Then let’s get her out of danger before moving her back to the ship. He injected her with something that made her groan. “How do you know her?”

What a loaded question; Dragon trusted Vegapunk little and his employers less with such information. He couldn’t tell him that she was the father of his child—that news of her supposed death had nearly broken him—that he was going to ramp up his activities thanks to the Olvia-shaped hole there had been in his heart when he landed that morning. It was now just Ohara that was going to fuel him… Ohara and the pain he felt thinking she was not there.

“Worked with her as a favor to Old Man Clover.” It wasn’t entirely a lie, but it left out plenty of information. Vegapunk made a noise in the affirmative as he found another device in his kit and began to run it over Olvia’s vital organs, checking how severe the damage was. Dragon didn’t care if he didn’t believe him—all he wanted was for her to live. “So what do you think?”

“I think,” Vegapunk said, “that I can work with this.”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Years passed and the Revolutionary Army operated exactly how it aimed—building up funds as it struck fear in the hearts and consciousnesses of the ruling classes worldwide. Everyone knew of the three generals, mobilizing the ragtag group of angry dissidents into an organized machine. They found territory, they amassed military might, they greased the wheels of rebellion, all while there was talk of a secret fourth person—a man behind the men, if one would—someone that no one else had seen and even fewer dared to talk about. Who was calling the shots in Baltigo? What purpose did the three generals have if they weren’t the ones in charge? Why were they being pulled by some mysterious force, hidden from the world in clandestine whispers and unconfirmed theories?

Meanwhile, they never, ever stopped searching.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“We’ve been looking for you for a long time,” Dragon said grimly. Robin nodded, considering her answer as they walked through the corridors of the headquarters in Baltigo.

“Can you blame me? I was a child on the run. It taught me to trust no one.”

“No, I don’t blame you; only myself for taking so long to get to you,” he replied. “I have been searching for you since this group was founded. It has been my priority to get you back.”

“‘Back’…?” She raised an eyebrow. “That implies we’ve met.”

“We did, a long time ago,” he admitted. They stopped walking outside a specific door, his expression becoming one of embarrassment. Hmm… the Supreme Leader of the Revolutionary Army? Embarrassed? “There is someone here I think you should meet.”

“…and who might that be?”

He hesitated. “My wife.”

Opening the door, Dragon ushered Robin into an office much like many of the others that lined the corridor in the cold, uninviting building. A woman with short-cropped silver hair and extensive burns covering her face and body sat at a desk, using a cane to stand soon as she saw her company. She hobbled over to Robin, meeting her halfway across the room, her eyes watery and in a state of shock.

“Robin…?” she whispered, touching the newcomer’s face. The younger woman looked into her eyes and began to tear up.

“Mom…?” All the older woman needed to do was smile and Robin latched onto her in a hug, not wanting to let go. They both cried, with Dragon standing there awkwardly until Olvia reached for his hand, pulling him into the hug.