#ch. 1

Neo Arcadia stood silent and intimidating in the raging sea below, its glowing tower and high walls protecting the last remaining humans and reploids on the decimated planet. The silver moon shone its dim light on the city, casting the stark, white and gold buildings in an eerie light.

Standing at one of the windows, overlooking his bone-white city, Mega Man X watched over the crashing waves with a silent eye. He had never truly felt at home here, hiding out in the waves with only trains and lonely highways being their connection to the land.

The ocean was somber, as if it was in mourning for its fallen comrade in the form of the Earth's soil.

So many lives had been lost, landscapes devastated, entire continents wiped from the map. X had seen it all, had lived through every disaster, and had been utterly powerless to stop it.

Omega, and the Mother Elf, cursed with the power of destruction, had descended onto the peoples of earth like a shadow of death, the accursed reploid wearing Zero’s face personally seeing to some of X’s greatest nightmares. They still didn’t know where the monster had come from, and why the newly named Dark Elf had been with him. X hadn’t had time to contemplate the idea either.

90% of the Reploid race, the very beings that X had helped create centuries ago, had been wiped from the planet. If they were an organic race, that would mean extinction, with not enough individuals being able to keep the species going.

60% of the humans had been lost, and they were avoiding extinction by a mere thread. X honestly wasn’t sure if the humans were quite out of the woods yet, only time would tell he supposed.

X shied away from those thoughts, they never helped on nights like these, where the stuffiness of Neo Arcadia forced him to his window, longing for his home and his friends.

With a huff, X pulled at his hair, adjusting the ponytail he was forced to wear at all times. He had never had hair long enough to pull it up like this when he was younger, he honestly hadn’t even thought it was possible for his hair to grow, seeing as how that was typically a trait of beings of flesh and blood. His father always left him with surprises however, and as the Elf Wars went from weeks to months to years, and the time for silly things like personal care went away, his hair had grown with the time.

Now, his raven black hair drifted past his shoulders when he let it down, and if he didn’t tuck his bangs into his helmet properly, they drifted over his nose, almost into his eyes.

X found he liked it down much better than when it was up. The ponytail pulled at his head and felt uncomfortable in his helmet, as inconceivable as that was. The armor already caused him great distress, like many things that the inner council of his own city forced him to do and wear. His armor was to be worn at all times, and his helmet could only come off when no one was around. 

“To keep up appearances, Master X! The people need to see their savior as perfect at all times!”

The android shuddered, remembering that particular conversation.

Halfway through the wars, following a particularly nasty conflict with Omega, X’s armor had been utterly destroyed, the shining blues and silvers being shredded and turned black with wear. New armor had been created for him, a push from what little governments had survived the fallout, giving X a more...ethereal feel. 

His blues that he had lived his entire life with were gone, a silly thing to mourn, but stripped away among the rest of everything X held dear. It was replaced with whites and golds, a false promise that X could save everyone, like some kind of angel or savior for the world.

It made X sick, this falsehood and promises of salvation. As if X was anything but a failure. His armor had been designed to adhere to his body as closely as possible, and had been polished to a shining white, like some beacon of hope in the plains of desolation.

Zero would have said it suited me…

X shook his head at that thought, the idea of his partner’s soft affirmations being the thing to finally tip him over into despair.

He supposed he wasn’t getting any sleep tonight.

“Greetings, Master X.”

There came another headache. Mega Man X cursed under his breath, turning away from his sulking window to face the largest stretch of a “human” that he had ever had the displeasure of meeting.

Dr. Weil approached him, one of the key members of Neo Arcadia’s parliament, and the oldest living human left on the planet. 

Living is not how I would describe him…

X schooled his thoughts into place, letting the tiny spark of pettiness well up and subsequently die inside of him.

“Good evening, Doctor. Is there anything I can help you with tonight?”

X spoke evenly, vaguely aware of the headache pulsing under his tight pony. He would do anything to be able to rip it out and let his hair flow over his shoulders. But, Weil would surely report his “Master’s” disobedience to the Council, and a lecture would surely follow. So much for being the leader here.

“Ah, I just wished to run some paperwork by you, there have been more and more reports of rogue mechaniloid and pantheons along our foraging routes. I know it is informal for someone as esteemed as yourself to take charge of patrols, but it may be necessary. The energy crises grow ever more dire, and the seal on the Dark Elf won’t hold forever.” Weil’s twisted grin remained on his face throughout his report, the paperwork in his hands holding more stress and dread than the man perhaps knew.

Or maybe he knew just enough, being the one who always seemed to be the bearer of bad news, and finding joy in his role.

X knew Weil enjoyed testing the android to see how far he could push X’s limit of stress management. Why he did, he would never know, seeing as how X’s survival and health were directly tied to the Dark Elf’s seal.

X had always kept the man as far from him as he could, but there was only so much he could do.

“I see...and this couldn’t wait until the morning? I’m aware of the good doctor’s rapport for diligent work, but I ask that the evenings be saved for myself.” 

X chided as professionally as he could. God how he hated this.

“My apologies, I was aware of your...nightly activities, but I felt that this should be brought to you immediately, seeing as how your duties have been shifted tomorrow so you can take lead patrol.” 

Weil dipped his odd, encapsulated head, his eerie grin piercing through what little remained of X’s comfort.

“I’m sorry, did you say my duties have been rearranged? Without any consultation with me? Forgive me Doctor, but you are aware of how dangerous it is for me to leave the city.” 

X grit his teeth to keep from yelling. His adopted way of speech driving him insane, he wanted to scream and shout about how absolutely ludicrous the idea was. 

Weil only shrugged, dipping his head again.

“Forgive me, Master X, but the decision is final. We feel it would be best if you protect the salvage teams tomorrow from any..stray threats.” 

With that, the doctor bid X farewell, and left.

The android remained standing at his window, his uncomfortable armor pinching his “skin” and his back aching from remaining ramrod straight.

This didn’t feel right, everything in X’s being was screaming at him that this was wrong. The further he was from the Dark Elf, the more strain on the seal there was. For safekeeping, he had remained solely in the inner sanctums of Neo Arcadia, putting as little strain on the seal as possible.

But now, every day, the Council seemed to be pushing their luck, forcing X farther and farther away from Yggdrasil, with Weil always being the one to give the final push.

This seemed too far. Much too far, this was a risk that they shouldn’t take.

What X would do to have Zero here...to have anyone here...

Mega Man X inhaled sharply at the thought, his disastrous thoughts finally doing him in. He would do the patrol, if only to shut the Council up. Maybe then, he could get some rest.

He retrieved his helmet from the sill of his brooding window, placing it on his head and waiting for it to properly come online. The helmet was the thing least modified about his body, even with the addition of little wings on it, the one thing that had remained a constant, the azure metal comforting in a way he hadn’t had in a long, long time.

If he was to leave Neo Arcadia, and possibly get himself into a fight, then he needed to be fast, and accurate. This meant a trip to the shooting range.

With one final glance, he turned from the ocean, heading inwards into the sanctum to prepare for his first trip out of the city walls in years.

-----------------------------

“I delivered the message. He has been informed of his schedule change, and is leading the first patrol out of Neo Arcadia. Be prepared, we have one shot at this.”

“Approximately how long until he reaches the agreed upon point?”

“It shouldn’t take him more than half a day, if the convoy keeps its speed.”

“Understood...and Doctor?”

“What is it?”

“Are you sure this is the right thing to do? Master X has been as diligent as he can be to help humans...are we sure this is what’s best?”

“X has been humanity’s protector for a very long time. Using the Dark Elf, we could finally give him the utopia he has strived his whole life for. We just need to break the seal.”

“Ah...understood sir, thank you. We will move forward with the plan.”

The line disconnected as the doctor smiled, his plans falling seamlessly into place.

Soon, Omega will return, and the Dark Elf with him. I can finally achieve what I have been striving for since the start of the Elf Wars.

The man who shot you lies dead as well, riddled with holes you put in him just a few yards up the road. The bastard. What are the chances a bounty hunter would recognize you this far North? What are the chances you’d run into one sitting on a stolen horse at the dark end of dusk on an otherwise empty road? Your teeth grit into a grimace. You’ve never been lucky, and the glint of moonshine on metal as the storm formed above you only further exemplified that fact.

Your legs are all but numb now. The left is badly sprained - probably broken, if you’re honest with yourself. Hands slick with blood and rainwater as they are, it’s hard to keep pressure on your shoulder. More blood oozes out with every heartbeat.

You hadn’t realized that dying would be this boring.

Or take this long.

Or be this lonesome.

So far as you can tell there’s no one else around for miles. The storm isn’t letting up, and the wind that drives rain sideways into your face is a painful and unwanted reminder of how alive you remain.

If only you’d been knocked unconscious in the fall.

If only he’d had better aim, a more sinister voice whispers in the back of your mind.

Then, distantly, the wet suction of hoofbeats in mud. You must be delirious, because something treacherously close to hope bubbles up your throat and comes out in a strangled cry. It’s barely audible over the storm.

“There’s somethin’ in the road,” a scratchy voice shouts to be heard.

“No there ain’t.” Someone else, a little older.

“Is too,” the first voice insists. “Look there.”

Look here.

Another flash of lightning illuminates the landscape. Your eyes meet two strangers’ wide and helpless. They stare back just as shocked, just as wary. Like a wild animal caught in a trap you are willing to gnaw off a limb if it means freedom.

“Please,” is the only thing that comes out of your mouth. Please spare me, please kill me, please save me? You’re not sure which. Please.

One of them jumps down from their horse and rushes to your side. “Help me lift this damn horse, Arthur!”

The other one - Arthur - hops down with a curse, hat low on his brow. It takes three tries to lift the mare enough for you to squeeze out. Your breath comes out in body-wracking sobs. You’d been stuck for over an hour.

“Can you stand?” one asks.

You try to move your leg and bite back bile. “No.”

More muttered cursing.

“Arthur,” your rough-voiced savior warns.

The next lightning strike is much closer. You watch Arthur’s hard mouth draw into a line in the flash. “Fine. Your horse will take the extra weight.”

Dead weight, your mind helpfully supplies.

And so your fate is decided.

Arthur throws you up into the saddle behind his bony compatriot, and to his credit he isn’t unkind about it. Not that it matters; Your leg and shoulder scream out in pain with every movement. Your only mercy is that the ride isn’t long.

The rain starts to lighten over the narrow deerpaths and overgrown game trails you follow in almost complete darkness to what looks like an abandoned homestead at first blush. Nature has done its best to reclaim this place. Weeds run rampant, tall and unchecked, and there’s a hole in the cabin’s roof that doesn’t look new. They hitch the horses out back and lift you carefully, carefully to the ground. The impact still leaves you hissing in pain.

“Sorry.”

“S’fine,” you wheeze.

Propped up by the boy you rode with, you gimp your way inside. His lean body has a wiry strength you wouldn’t expect as he maneuvers you into a rickety chair at the dining table.

“John,” Arthur barks, “get a fire going. I need tweezers and a hot iron if we’re doin’ this right. That bullet’s still in there.”

John leaps into action, leaving you woozy and clutching your shoulder.

“Here.” You’re offered a bottle of whisky. Arthur watches with a careful expression as you cry out pouring some in the bullet hole, then swallow down half the bottle with a grimace to try and numb the pain.

“You done this before?” he asks.

“Why else would bounty hunters be shootin’ at me in the middle of the goddamn night?”

He snorts softly. “Fair enough.”

You almost laugh at the absurdity of your situation, but John brings a strap of leather for you to bite down on and without another word Arthur digs the tweezers in the flesh of your shoulder to root out the bullet.

You scream.

“There she is,” Arthur murmurs as metal finds metal.

It’s a wonder you don’t black out. You wish you would. But then it’s out and the singe of scalding metal on flesh and the smell of burning skin overwhelms your senses in a white-hot flash of pain.

Your skin is clammy with sweat and the remnants of rain as you sit there gasping for breath. Setting your leg isn’t pleasant, but far easier. The two boys watch you carefully. If you didn’t know better you’d say they were almost impressed.

“You’re pretty fuckin’ tough, you know that?” John says. Now that you’re looking at him he seems just about your age. Up close and under lantern light you can see faint scarring around his neck. His dark hair lies long and limp, untamed. The line of his mouth and the glint in his eyes is a little mean. You like it.

Arthur, meanwhile, regards you silently. He can’t be but a few years older, early twenties at most. His sandy blonde hair is dark from the rain and his larger frame fills the chair opposite you not with menace but… promise. The promise that if you threaten either one of them after this you won’t walk away. You like that, too.

Gentlefolk were never your kind.

“That bounty hunter,” Arthur says slowly, deliberately, “what was he after you for?”

You meet his discerning gaze. You’re not above lying but these boys just saved your life.

A life for a truth.

“You ever heard of the Ghost Rider of New Austin up in these parts?”

“You’re the Ghost Rider?” John interrupts.

You look at them both, wary but open. “I been runnin’ North ever since they got a good poster of me down there. That horse that crushed my legs I stole off of some rich bastard outside of town. Just plain dumb luck to run into that bounty hunter so late, and that he recognized me.”

“Did plain dumb luck put those bullets in him, too?”

Your gaze hardens. “No.”

“You ever heard of the Van der Linde boys?” It’s your turn to be surprised. “We been runnin’ with him a long time now.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” Arthur says, “when John and I turn in the score from the homestead we just robbed, you’re comin’ with us.”

You open your mouth to argue but he shuts you down just as quick. “How long are you gonna last on that leg, with that shoulder, and no horse?”

“C’mon, Ghost,” John says. “We’re down a rider and we just saved your life. You get all healed up, ride with us, and we’ll call it square.”

Kindness is never free, you should know that better than anyone.

“…Deal.”

There’s only one bedroom unspoilt by the rot eating away at the rest of the place, so the boys cozy in as best they can on the spongy, waterlogged floorboards while you try not to aggravate your injuries on bedsheets riddled with moth holes and a cot that’s seen better days.

            “You’re making me late,” his voice is like acid. Before the captain has a chance to react, Crocodile conjures a sandstorm and drains the pirates of all moisture. He gathers them up into a sack as quickly as possible, feeling each second tick by. People are still cheering around him, but they only aid in his annoyance.

            “Thank you, sir!” a man says, stepping in Crocodile’s path.

            “Out of my way!” Crocodile shoves past, not wanting to waste another second. The man he shoved is caught by another man.

            “Don’t worry, he’s always like this when it gets around this time.” The other man says. The vein in Crocodile’s temple throbs again. Had it been any other day, he would have turned around and drained that man of his moisture too.

            Once at the outskirts of town, he spots Banchi waiting for him. He tosses the sack of pirates to a billion, who is standing patiently by the already open carriage door.

            “Step on it, Banchi.” Crocodile snaps before ducking into the carriage. The second the door is closed, Banchi lurches forward nearly knocking Crocodile back in his seat. He runs an impatient hand over his head, smoothing his hair. “I despise being late.”

            “I know, Sir.” Robin says from her seat. She gives a calm smile with her hands folded neatly in her lap. “Mr. 1, Miss Doublefinger, Mr. 2, Mr. 3, and Miss Goldenweek are already preparing the ship for departure as we speak.”

            “Good.” Crocodile lets out a sigh, struggling to find a comfortable place for his hand. He wants to smoke a cigar, but he’s been trying to cut back. At least while in close quarters with children. Crocodile glances at Robin who happily stares out of Banchi’s window. Sometimes he forgets that Robin is only 14. He rests his head back against the carriage and closes his eyes. After the life she’s lived, it’s no wonder that she’s been forced to grow up faster then most.

            When Banchi finally reaches the harbor, Crocodile is stepping out of the carriage before it can come to a complete stop. His ship is docked only a few feet in front of him. It’s large but not oversized. He’s had to cut back on that too. It’s rare that he finds need to actually leave the island and the few times he does, he can’t always rely on a large crew. He feels he can only trust the highest ranking agents in Baroque Works when he leaves the Alabasta shores. He stalks towards his ship; hearing Robin do a little jog to try and keep up. His agents are moving quickly on the deck, each preparing for their Boss’ arrival.

            “Mr. 1,” Crocodile says when he’s reached the deck. Daz stands to the side, ready for orders. “Is the ship ready?”

            “Yes, Sir.” He nods while silently following Crocodile further onboard.

            “Good, then set sail.” Crocodile barks. Daz nods and turns to relay the order. Bon Clay spots him and gives a ballerina twirl out of excitement.

            “Oh, Boss! I do look forward to these trips! Though, I suppose the reason for them is rather sad… but either way! I will personally make sure that this goes off without a hitch!” he states with the same level of enthusiasm that he always has.

            Mr. 3 rolls his eyes and says, “That’s great, now do you think you can actually help get the ship prepared to do that?”

            Mr. 2 and Mr. 3 go off in a rant. Crocodile has grown used to their squabbles and has learned to just let them tire themselves out. He steps past the two and continues walking. Miss Doublefinger notices and manages to set them straight and once everyone is finally focused; the ship sets sail.

            Crocodile sits in a chair, staring at the endless horizon, tapping his foot relentlessly while shifting positions every couple seconds. Robin sits in a chair next to him, peacefully reading one of her books. Every now and then she’ll glance at him and give a soft laugh before returning to her story.

            “Boss,” Miss Goldenweek appears at his side. “You seem tense. Would you like me to help?”

            Crocodile gives a sigh, “No.”

            “Then would you like some tea? It calms the nerves.” Miss Goldenweek holds up a cup of tea. He stares at the dark liquid for a moment before giving in. He grumbles something about not being tense but sips the drink all the same. The rich flavor spreads warmth down his throat and chest and as much as he hates to admit it, it does help.

            “Thank you, Miss Goldenweek.” He takes another sip. She smiles and moves over to Robin.

            “Miss All Sunday, would you like some tea?” she asks.

            Robin gives a smile with the shake of her head, “No thank you, but if you have coffee, I’d love a cup.”

            Miss Goldenweek gives another smile and goes off to get Robin her cup of coffee. Crocodile finally gives in and reaches into his coat and pulls out a cigar. He slips it between his lips and lights it.

            “Everything’s going to be okay,” Robin says once Crocodile has exhaled a long stream of smoke. “We’ll be a little later then usual but nothing of great grandeur.”

            Crocodile gives a dissatisfied grunt but says nothing. Time seems to crawl by for Crocodile, and by the time the Goa Kingdom comes into view, he’s already smoked four cigars. The second the ship is docked, Crocodile is hopping over the railing, not waiting for Daz to get the boardwalk ready. He makes a beeline for their usual meeting spot. The sleepy town of Windmill Village is as calm and peaceful as always. Someone is selling fruit in a cart on the side of the road as people smile and wave to each other as they pass by. Crocodile keeps moving, a few people notice him, but most locals are either used to seeing his face or fail to recognize him altogether. He thinks it’s because they can never think of a logical reason that the Warlord Crocodile would come to their village. He spots two figures standing in the usual alley. One is Garp who stands with his back towards the street while nervously rubbing the back of his neck. The other man is without a doubt Dragon. Crocodile arches a brow but doesn’t slow his speed. He hadn’t been expecting Dragon to be here. When Dragon’s eyes lifts over his father’s shoulder and meets Crocodile’s, he quickly looks away, hissing something under his breath before they both turn and give big smiles. Big unnatural smiles.

            “What’s going on?” Crocodile eyes them suspiciously once he’s finally reached the rendezvous point.

Garp clears his throat nervously, “I don’t know what you mean.”

“I wasn’t expecting to see you.” Crocodile turns his gaze on Dragon who has yet to drop his wide cartoonish smile.

“Oh, yeah, I was nearby and decided to drop by and see you before you left.” He rubs the back of his neck now mimicking his father’s nervous fidget. Crocodile frowns and looks around. A pit forms in his stomach when he’s unable to find what he’s looking for. He opens his mouth to confront Dragon and Garp before pausing when he hears little feet running through the street.

“Heeeey!” a little boy bobs and weaves through people as he excitedly races towards Crocodile. “Papa!”

“Luffy!” Crocodile lets out a relieved breath. With Garp and Dragon acting so suspicious he had thought something bad happened to Luffy. He kneels down to his son’s level. “How was your visit with grandpa?”

Luffy comes to a skidding stop when he reaches him. He places a hand on top of a straw hat that Crocodile has never seen before and drops his smile, “It sucked!”

Garp flinches and lifts a fist like he might hit him but stops when he sees Crocodile’s death glare. Crocodile softens his expression and looks back to his son, “Oh, and why’s that?”

“Grandpa tied me to a bunch of balloons and let them fly me away!” Luffy puffs his cheeks out in disapproval at his grandpa.

“Oh, did he?” Crocodile turns his death glare back on Garp.

Dragon pinches the bridge of his nose. “Dad, I told you, you can’t do that stuff to Luffy.”

“It’s just to make him stronger! It worked on you.” Garp crosses his arms with a defensive frown.

“I don’t think Dragon’s a good example of a properly parented child.” Crocodile rolls his eyes.

“Yeah… hey.” Dragon frowns at Crocodile, but after sharing a look they both decide to drop it. Crocodile taps the top of Luffy’s new hat.

“Where did you get this? Did Makino give it to you?” he watches Luffy’s face turn into a big grin. Garp and Dragon tense.

“No, I got this from Shanks!”

Crocodile blinks, letting the words register fully before carefully asking, “Shanks? As in…”

“Yeah, Red Haired Shanks! The pirate captain.” Luffy grins wider while grabbing the edges of his straw hat, practically beaming pride. Crocodile swallows, noticing the color drain from Garp’s and Dragon’s face.

“Oh? And why did he give you a hat?” Crocodile is trying to hold in his anger. The gears in his head turn, trying to figure out why Shanks would care about his son. Does he know who Luffy really is? Did he come here specifically for Luffy? And then, a much darker thought. Did Crocodile’s father say something to him? This couldn’t just be a coincidence. Luffy looks down at the ground for a moment before meeting Crocodile’s eyes.

“Because I told him I was gonna be the King of the Pirates. One day I’m gonna get a pirate crew even better then his!” Luffy’s eyes are more serious than they’ve ever been. Crocodile stares at his son and his fearless determination. Eventually Crocodile lets out a tense breath and pats his son’s head.

“Then you do that. Become the next Pirate King. Be great.” He watches Luffy’s smile reappear, melting away the anger he had just seconds ago. Luffy wraps his arms around Crocodile’s neck, letting his papa lift him up into his arms. Crocodile rests his temple against Luffy’s, feeling the comfort and peace he’s been missing for nearly a month now. Steps approach from behind as Robin appears at his side.

“Robin my girl!” Garp says enthusiastically. Robin smiles while brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Good to see you both.” she says shyly.

Luffy shifts in Crocodile’s arms to get a better look at Robin. “Robin! You came!”

Robin grins at him. “Hey Luffy. Glad to see you still have all ten fingers. Nice hat.”

She taps his forehead. Crocodile gives another glare towards Garp who adverts his eyes.  

“Well,” Dragon says after Garp elbows him. “I guess we should all be off. Not safe for all of us to be on this island at one time.”

“Smart. Good thinking.” Garp gives a thumbs up of approval. Crocodile arches another brow. They’re still hiding something but either way, Dragon’s right. It’s hard enough keeping their child a secret while trying to give him the resemblance of a normal life. They only ever get together once a year during the holidays and every year Dragon and Crocodile hold their breath, waiting for the next newspaper to come out revealing Luffy’s true bloodline. Crocodile pats Luffy’s back as he wiggles in his arms. The child never can sit still for long. He lets Luffy down but holds his hand, so he won’t run off. Robin takes his other hand, already knowing how prone he is to disappear without a moment’s notice.

“Very well,” Crocodile says at last. He looks to Garp. “Thank you for looking after Luffy.”

“What are grandads for?” Garp grins before kneeling down to Luffy. “Gonna say goodbye to grandpa?”

Garp holds his arms out for a hug as Luffy stares at him with a plain face before lifting a hand and saying, “Bye.”

Garp tenses again. “Damn it brat! Don’t be so casual about it!”

Luffy sticks his tongue out at him. Dragon sighs and steps closer. He kneels down, lifts Luffy’s hat, and kisses his forehead. “See you later kid.”

Luffy stares at his dad, now with a sadder frown, “You aren’t coming with us?”

“Afraid not, buddy. I just wanted to see you off before going back to work.” He stands, rubbing Luffy’s head, causing his new hat to mess with his hair. Luffy reaches out and hugs Dragon’s legs.

“Bye dad.” When he lets go, he takes Crocodile’s and Robin’s hand again, ready to go. Crocodile looks to Dragon who gives a warm smile. He reaches out and squeezes Crocodile’s arm and let’s go. They never show any affection to each other while in public. Another rule of theirs to try and keep Luffy’s identity safe. Crocodile’s heart aches, wanting more then just a squeeze on the arm but shoves that feeling down. Garp and Dragon says their goodbye to Robin, who can only give a shy nod. He lets out a breath and looks down at their son.

“Ready?” he asks. Luffy squeeze’s Crocodile’s hand with a smile.

“Ready!”

They start down the street towards their ship. Crocodile feels a million times lighter now that Luffy is with him. Whenever he’s gone, he spends every night wondering what he could be going through, good or bad. He looks down at his boy, who happily walks between him and Robin, swinging their arms with every step. Crocodile returns his eyes to stare ahead.

“Oh!” Luffy says suddenly. “I forgot my bag!”

“That’s alright. Robin, can you…” he’s cut short as he casually turns his head to speak to Robin but stops when he notices her face pale. She’s staring back towards the alley at Garp and Dragon. Crocodile slowly looks down. Luffy’s hand is still in his, but Luffy is no longer standing at his side. His heart pounds against his chest as he follows Luffy’s arm that stretches all the way back to the alley.

“I got it!” Luffy says, holding his bag up with the arm he wiggled free from Robin.

“Damn it Luffy! We were so close!” Garp yells, his face as pale as Robin’s. Dragon pinches his nose, knowing what was coming. Crocodile lets Luffy’s hand go out of shock and watches that hand shoot back towards his son.

“Luffy!” Crocodile shouts, horror written across his face. “What happened to you?”

“Oh, yeah! I forgot to tell you,” His son grins while hooking a finger in his mouth and stretching his cheek an abnormally long way. “I’m a rubber man now!”

Crocodile zeros in on Dragon and Garp as they realize its too late to run. He uses his sand to propel him back to the alley where he lands a powerful blow to each of their heads.

“Damn it, Dragon! What did you do to our son?” he stands over them as they rub the welp on their heads.

“I didn’t do it! He was already like this when I got here.” Dragon and his father sit on the ground, crossing their legs. Crocodile clenches his jaw.

“And you didn’t call to tell me?” he’s seething with anger.

Dragon gives a weak smile, “I was going to call and tell you… after you already picked Luffy up and were safely out of striking range.”

Crocodile hits them both again.

“Damn it Crocodile!” Garp yells but shuts his mouth when he gets another look at his face.

Crocodile turns to Garp, “So, what happened then?”

“It was that damned pirate Shanks.” Garp says finally. “I left Luffy with Makino while I was on a call with Sengoku. Apparently, he was there too and… well, that’s how Luffy got his hands on the gum gum fruit.”

He looks over at Luffy who stands with Robin, excitedly showing her his stretchy arms. Crocodile rubs his temple, suddenly drained by the conversation. Dragon slowly gets to his feet and reaches his hand out to rest on Crocodile’s shoulder.

“It’s not that bad,” his already low voice is soft and warm. Crocodile has a sudden urge to rest his head on Dragon’s shoulder and bury his face in his neck. He doesn’t, of course. They’re still in public and he’s still mad at him. Dragon goes on, “We both have devil fruit powers. We knew that someday he’d probably eat one too.”

“Not at seven, Dragon.” Crocodile shakes his head, his eyes staring at their shoes. Crocodile’s are polished and shine from the sun. Dragon’s are scuffed and matted from constant use. Dragon gives a chuckle.

“I don’t know. Knowing our kid, I figured something like this would happen.” He grins, making the urge to lean on him even stronger. Crocodile finally sighs and nods.

“Fine. It’s not like we can do anything about it anyway.” He gives in, though he’s still not happy about it. This time he reaches out, touching Dragon’s arm, feeling his warmth. When he drops his hand, he has to turn away, otherwise he might break their rule of no public affection. Luffy notices him and runs to his side. “Let’s go home.”

Luffy waves goodbye to his father and grandpa while Robin and Crocodile hold his hand, tighter than before. He doesn’t know what this means for Luffy’s future. All he does know is that he’s about to have a lot more sleepless nights.