#corabell

It was a gorgeous day as Rosinante sailed into Cocoyasi, knowing he was going to cause a stir. Honestly, there was no way he wasn’t going to cause a stir, oh with being well over two meters tall and sailing in alone. He knew from experience that the East Blue wasn’t used to people like him… people who were more suited to the Grand Line than anything else, and that was fine. It wasn’t them that he was there to see.

“Are you the new fella they sent over from Gekko?” a man asked cautiously as Rosinante was mooring his boat to the dock. “You’re tall—I can see why they’d like to send you on errands.”

“I’m sorry—you must have me mistaken with someone else,” Rosinante said. He did his best to hold his Celestial accent at bay, instead allowing his odd blend of Northern and Southern take over. “I’m here to visit someone; wouldn’t be able to guess where Gekko is.”

“Oh…” The man looked almost disappointed. “Well, who are you looking for? I’d think they’d be here if they were expecting you.”

“She’s not—just an old coworker I want to drop in on while I’m in the neighborhood.” The man didn’t need to know Rosinante’s business, frankly, and he wasn’t about to get clued in. “Do you know where a woman named Bell-mère lives?” The man snorted in laughter, which made Rosinante take pause.

“I don’t know why you’d want to see that hellraiser, but I think you’ll find that she’s down the road, past the orchard, to the left.” He pointed towards one end of town, where the road disappeared behind houses and trees. “Good luck… but if you know her, then you know what you’re up against, don’t you?”

“Yeah, ha, I guess I do.” Rosinante thanked the man and took his pack out of the boat, trying to act normal as he wandered through Cocoyasi. He definitely stuck out, and badly at that, and it was everything in his power to not run so as to escape the curious onlookers quicker. He went down the road as instructed, past a tidy collection of tangerine trees, smiling when he saw a clearing open up and a house sitting in it. One look at the mailbox and he knew he was precisely where he wanted.

Bell-mère.

After a quick peek down the rows of trees, Rosinante went up to the door and knocked. As he did, a toddler began to wail and another child screamed, making the man cringe.

“It better be fucking good!”

Rosinante inhaled sharply—Bell-mère. He waited until she stomped over to the door and threw it open, the cigarette nearly dropping from her mouth as she realized it was him, waving sheepishly at her.

“Hey Belle.”

“You woke the fucking kid from her nap,” she snarled, snapping back to her sense. “It took me an hour to get her down!”

“Ah, fuck! Sorry!” He went to enter the house and smacked his forehead on the lintel. “Fuck!”

“Don’t just stand there and cuss, you piece of shit—get in here!”

Bell-mère pulled him into the house and shut the door behind him; she looked like she hadn’t slept properly in days, which was more than could be said about the toddler screaming her head off as she laid face-down in the middle of the sitting room. A slightly older child was on the couch, her head buried underneath a cushion as she tried to block out the screams.

“Hey there Nami,” Rosinante crooned. He reached for the toddler and picked her up before her mother could protest. Holding her against his chest, he patted her back and bounced her gently, getting the child to quiet almost instantly. “Yeah… that’s better… what a good girl…”

“I fucking hate you,” Bell-mère deadpanned.

“Ha—no you don’t.” He then watched as the preschooler removed herself from the couch and stomped up to the adults, with Rosinante bending down to be closer in height to her. “You must be Nojiko.”

“Yeah,” the girl frowned. “Who are you?”

“My name is Rosi and I used to work with your mom.” He began to sweat as the girl regarded him with the utmost seriousness, as though she was looking into his very soul. “I’m here to visit with her for a little bit before I go off on a long trip. We met before, when you were really, really little and your mom first got you.”

“Oh,” was all the girl said before wandering off towards a couple of toys that were laying haphazardly in the corner. Rosinante sighed in relief and tried to stand upright again, panicking as he lost his balance and began to fall over. He almost tossed Nami into Bell-mère’s arms, the child giggling as she was passed from one adult to the other as Rosinante cracked his hipbone on the floor.

It was going to be a long day.

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

Later on that night, after the girls were fed and washed and put to bed, the two adults sat quietly on the porch and enjoyed the cool breeze filtering in from the orchard as they smoked. They were sharing a bottle of wine Rosinante had brought between them, not even bothering with glasses.

“This is good shit,” Bell-mère noted after taking a swig. “You people have expensive tastes.”

“I wasn’t allowed wine when I was a kid,” he replied softly, stubbing out his cigarette nub in the ashtray behind them. Oh, yeah, when he was a Dragon.

“I meant you high-ranking officer-types, but sure.” She passed him the bottle and he took a drink himself. “So… what are you now? Commodore? A baby Admiral on the mission meant to swap out his Rear for a Vice?”

“Commander,” he stated. “You still outrank me.”

“Huh—you don’t say.”

Silence.

“Rosi… why are you here…?” She didn’t look at him, instead keeping her eyes locked onto a tree a few rows into the orchard as she put out her own cigarette. “This isn’t about me moving back, is it?”

“That depends on how receptive you are to the idea,” he shrugged. He offered the bottle and she didn’t take it. “Listen… I know better than to try to make you do something you don’t want. We’re terrible soldiers.”

“Hasn’t stopped you before.”

“…and this time, I don’t know when I’ll see you next. Kind of tempers things, you know?” He chuckled lowly as she snatched the bottle from his hand. She drained the rest of the wine and threw the empty container into the orchard, it bouncing off the soft grass and rolling to a stop.

“So…” she growled, “it’s Operation Fallen Dragon, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Daddy’s ready to have you killed just like that?”

“You know that’s not the plan.”

“This is your brother we are talking about…” she reminded him. “He’s been surrounded by psychos of a different color this entire time—do you really think he’s just going to be fine with you showing up out of nowhere?”

“One thing Doffy craves is connections—he’ll take the bait,” he explained. “I… all I wanted to do is take care of this mission so I can finally sleep easy at night.”

“Yeah…?”

“Yeah.” He leaned in and kissed the back of her jaw, letting his lips linger for a moment. “I don’t want to spend years in the North with regrets weighing me down; no good for spywork.”

“Then tell me what this is about.” She eased him back and he saw there was a fire in her eyes aided by the wine. Neither of them were drunk by any stretch of the imagination, yet her expression was a familiar one, most often seen after stolen nights right before and after graduation. He licked his lips to wet them—fuck, his nerves were beginning to take their toll.

“The first is another offer to get you back to Marineford, which I know you’re not likely to pick up,” he began. She snorted at that—of course not. “Second is because I wanted to see the girls in hopes they’ll remember me; it might not be ten years before I’m out…”

“…and third…?”

“…to make it up with the girls’ mother, since last time we parted, it wasn’t exactly pleasant.” He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, kissing her fingers lightly. “You know what the mission means to me.”

“You also know the manipulation that’s going on here,” she replied. “Sengoku raised you to die. The fucking top brass are hoping you kill each other so that they don’t have to in order to tie off the loose ends.”

“Doffy won’t kill me, and I just have to get in there for long enough to get Tsuru his location…”

“…and you seriously think that’s going to take a decade?”

“It’ll take as long as it does, Belle.” He watched as she took her hand back and refused to look at him. “My father will not rest until this is put to an end.”

“Fuck Sengoku—you used to be the only one who understood.”

“I’m not talking about Sengoku.” She looked at him and saw he was on the verge of crying, his eyes glassy from tears in the moonlight. “Patro’s greatest regret was Doffy turning into an animal before his eyes. I knew that’s what it was. It was in his face as Doffy pulled the trigger. As long as he is free to roam, there is no place that is safe from Doffy’s reach, and as his brother it is my responsibility to make sure he gets locked up for the end of his days at the very least.”

“…Patro…” Bell-mère swirled the Celestial word around her tongue, testing it. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you call him that before.”

“I usually don’t these days,” Rosinante replied, trying to brush it off. “Patro and Patrina loved Doffy and me like nothing else in the world. They also loved Humanity, and Humanity and Doffy don’t mix that well.”

A pause settled over them, allowing the statement time to settle. Of course his fucked-up brother didn’t mix well with society as a whole… but then again… did they really either…?

“You know…” she said quietly, “you don’t have to leave.” He tilted his head curiously. “They don’t know you’re here, right? Then stay here. Pretend to be an accident at-sea. Be my trophy wife or the girls’ babysitter or whatever it is…”

“Belle, you could barely afford to have me stay for dinner,” he reminded her.

“…and…? We’ll make it work… just…” He shook his head at that.

“I’d be going back on my oath.”

“Rosi… fuck the Marines. They don’t give a damn about us, or your brother, or my daughters, or this island… so why should you do the same for them?”

“My oath to my patro… not to Sengoku.” He reached up and shakily cradled her face in his hand. “I’m terrified of what could happen if I don’t do this. Just please… Belle… let me be brave… even if it is in my own way…”

“You’re a fucking moron.”

“Yeah… tell me something I don’t know.”

Insects buzzed and chirped in the orchard as the pair sat on the porch, letting the moment sit. Bell-mère took Rosinante’s hands and gently pulled him down, having him bend in order to rest his forehead on her shoulder. His breathing became deep and measured as she ran her fingers through his hair, playing idly with it.

“I don’t get it,” she admitted. “He hasn’t been your problem in years.”

“You’re wrong,” he replied, voice wavering slightly as he kept his head down. “Doffy has always been my problem… my responsibility… not just as his brother, but as someone born in Mary Geoise…” He took a deep breath and exhaled. “No one hates this more than me, and that’s a fact.”

“Is it now?” Her voice was far from accusatory, and instead was honestly the most gentle she’d been the entire evening. It was gentler than she had even been with her younger daughter as she cried at being put to bed. “You sound like you take responsibility for all of them.”

“Someone has to; even if it’s just one of them in the end, it’s more than before.”

“You were a kid. What responsibility do you have?”

“More than Patro ever anticipated.”

Bell-mère sighed and gingerly removed Rosinante from her shoulder before standing. She stretched her arms up over her head and cricked her neck. A heavy sigh—she was beginning to grow annoyed.

“I should throw you out, you know,” she said. A pause. “I should throw you out. Right now. On your ass. But…”

“…but…?”

“…but I am not about to look this gift horse in the mouth.” He blinked at that, confused. “Rosi, I haven’t gotten any action since the last time I saw you. Get in my bed so I can ride your face or we are going to have issues, do you understand?”

“Ma’am, yes, ma’am.” Thankful for the change in tone, Rosinante gave a lopsided grin as he stood and saluted Bell-mère, a bit confused. “I thought we were having a moment…”

“Are you questioning your superior officer?”

“No, but…”

“Feelings later; right now I’m drier than Alabasta and changing that fact is near-impossible in this dump.” She then nodded to gesture towards the door. “If we hurry, we might be able to make it before Nojiko gets up for her drink of water.”

“Belle… erm… I don’t know how to tell you… but… erm…” Rosinante blushed furiously as he was being pulled into the house. “I ate a Devil Fruit since I last saw you.”

“Devil Fruits effect your ability to swim, not fuck.”

“True, but… erm…” They were at the bottom of the stairs, where it looked as though he was going to pass out. “It’s called the Calm-Calm Fruit, and…”

“…sounds classified…”

“Nojiko won’t hear us,” he breathed. He touched her hand and she tried to shrug it off, only to realize that she was speaking, though she couldn’t hear a thing. “I could tear the house down and make it so there’s not even the faintest sound.” She considered that, then nodded.

The let’s get in some practice for you, she mouthed. Make me scream.

Who was he to disobey a direct order?

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

Morning came and Rosinante felt good as he was snugged into Bell-mère’s side. Yeah, his shins were hanging off the end of the mattress, but it was worth it. They were together, naked, and both incredibly relaxed in her bed as they laid cut off and silent to the rest of the world. He felt her shift and he rubbed his chin and cheek against her shoulder.

“Ow, fuck, you feel like a fucking bristle brush,” she grunted. He simply chuckled against her skin. “Little shit.”

“I wonder how it would feel if I had a pre-breakfast snack,” he chuckled. That got him a hard shove, sending him to the floor. He did not land gracefully, somehow also hitting his head on the side table in the process. “Ow! Belle!”

“You had it coming,” she smirked. “Now come on—the girls are going to be up soon if they’re not already. I’d like for the both of us to be clothed.”

“I’d like that too,” he grimaced. Rosinante found his pack and fished out some fresh clothes. He got to his pants and placed his hand on the door, breaking the silencer on it. Sounds of a typical morning filtered in—birds from outside, the girls moving around in the house, a ship’s horn in the far-off harbor.

“You know… the offer still stands,” she said, reaching to clasp her bra in the back. “This can be most mornings.”

“Maybe once it’s all over,” he frowned. “I don’t know… if you’ll have me by then.”

“Lucky for you I’m into idiots.” She finished pulling on a shirt before smacking his rear on her way out the door. “Now let’s get breakfast on.”

“Domestic shit won’t work on me,” he claimed. “You saw last night I don’t know the first thing about kids.”

“I know you don’t know how to say no to them, which is different,” she reasoned, giving him a sly wink. “Come on; let’s go. I make some mean tangerine pancakes.”

To hell with the children; it was difficult to say no to Bell-mère.

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

She tried her hardest, she really did. Having another adult around would be wonderful for keeping track of the girls, even if it would make things a little tighter, and Rosinante was honestly the only candidate. Instead, after a couple stolen nights, Bell-mère woke up to an empty, cold bed and no sign that he had ever been there.

Leaning against the wall, Rosinante sipped at his drink and watched the rest of the partygoers as they seemed to have a genuinely nice time. It was not his first Cadet Graduation Ball he had attended (he still had not forgiven Sengoku for dressing him in that child’s sized captain’s getup when he was ten) and he was certain it would not be his last. Conversation and laughter filtered in through the music as officers went and tried to stake their claims at successors and proteges, the new meat being led about more like dazed debutantes than military officers.

“One more coot comes up to me and they’re getting hit where it hurts most.” Rosinante didn’t need to look to know that Bell-mère had joined him. Formal settings were things she eschewed on the best of days and he knew that it wasn’t getting any better. “I’ve been asked about my future ambitions more time than I can fucking count.”

“I’m sure Tsuru will save you if you ask nicely.”

“…except I don’t want her to get the wrong idea and think I’m joining up with her Discount Kuja Brigade,” Bell-mère scoffed. Rosinante glanced over at her and saw that she had way too much hard liquor in that glass for it to have been anything but overpoured from the start. “You’ve known most of these windbags since you were a kid; how’d you do it?”

“Poorly.” He stared out over the crowd and sighed heavily. “At least I know it’ll be worth it in the end.”

“…because you’ll get your brother.”

“…and you’ll protect your Home Blue.” It was nice, knowing each other’s goals without asking. So much time had passed since that conversation that it all seemed like second nature. “We’ll have to make sure we find one another after we’ve achieved our goals.”

“Meaning you’ll come be my trophy wife in the East, because that shit will never be done.”

“Not that I’m arguing against the scenario, but the East Blue…? Really…? Sengoku’s reports from there are all dry and uneventful to the point they’re a pain to read.”

“Took his work home?”

“More like made me read it to get used to paperwork formatting before I was an official recruit.” He took another sip of his drink, only to nearly choke on it as Bell-mère grabbed his arm. “Hey…!”

“Hide me! Akainu’s coming!” They deposited their drinks as she pulled him onto the dance floor and they kid amongst the couples and groups of friends. “He’s been pressuring me into joining his division and I need that like a hole in the head.”

“Can’t you just tell him that your mind’s made up?”

“Ha, you try.” The two of them held one another as they went and slowly danced, glad for the cover. “It’s like you’re immune or something.”

“It’s just another dumb advantage I have,” he shrugged. They kept dancing and he found that he couldn’t take his eyes off her. “Uh… Belle…?”

“What…?”

As she looked up at him, he gave her the most brilliant smile possible, making her heart feel as though it was melting. She could barely hear the music that surrounded them, but she could feel it. He could feel it… what a fucking asshole. Bell-mère let out a faint laugh before leaning her head forward and pressing her forehead to his chest.

“You’ll have to give me coordinates to wherever you land,” he said quietly. “I think I can manage an excuse or several to make my way to you.”

Trying out for Honor Guard had honestly been Sengoku’s idea. It would work on his hand-eye coordination or something like that. Rosinante wasn’t entirely sure, but signed up anyhow and pretended he hadn’t been bullied into it. He had been given a prop rifle wrapped in white fabric and told to go practice—something that he was increasingly nervous about trying.

“You’re going to doom yourself if you keep worrying like this,” Bell-mère said idly. She was sitting under the shade of the nearby tree, completely unbothered by the potential horror that was her fellow cadet awkwardly passing the prop rifle from one hand to the other. Any gun was a danger in his hands.

“I’m fifteen!” he whined. “I should be able to do this!”

“You do realize that most fifteen-year-olds have never held a gun in their lives?”

“Yeah, but…” Rosinante shrugged and accidentally dropped the prop gun into the dirt. “You don’t get it.”

“You’re trying to please Sengoku—what’s there to get?” She chewed on the end of her cigarette and scowled at her friend. He was really getting on her nerves and she was trying to study.

“It’s complicated,” he mumbled. Rosinante picked up the prop rifle and could feel the look Bell-mère was going him. “What…?”

“Your grip’s all off, you goober,” she scoffed. She took the prop gun from his hand and stepped back, giving herself plenty of room to twirl and toss the rifle, ending the display with a throw up into the air that allowed for way more flips than Rosinante was able to count. Bell-mère caught the prop rifle deftly, as though it hadn’t even left her hands. “See? Like that.”

“You have the hand-eye coordination of a professional thief.”

“Morgan had me at a couple drills before I got bored,” she admitted. “That was before Sengoku decided you could be a soldier with those two left feet of yours.”

“I’ll grow out of it,” he mumbled. “I just gotta practice.”

“Tsuru will probably make a proper officer of her granddaughter before we can whip you into shape,” she joked. Bell-mère dropped her cigarette and ground it out with her heel before placing her hands on his, her touch light. “Here, it’s like this.” She readjusted his grip slightly and stepped back. Once she nodded, he went and flipped the prop rifle in the air, it landing back in his hands with ease. “See? Not bad, eh?”

“Maybe I can do this…” He stared at the prop in his hands, heart swelling with emotion as he smiled to himself. “…he won’t regret this…”

“If you really do outgrow this clumsiness, then keep it up as an act,” she suggested. “Use it to your advantage.”