Chapter Text
There was an issue regarding Roger that the bandits had ran into pretty quickly after the man and his family had started living with them. At first it wasn't a big deal since the pirate king had spent a lot of time outside. Apparently the man was an outdoors kind of guy, who would have thought. But as time went on, the bandits started noticing cracks at the top of most of the doorways in the house, some even having a small dent in the wood. However, it wasn't until parts of the doorframes were starting to have indentations in the shape of someone's head that they made the connection of what was going on.
Basically, Roger, with his quite impressive height of 9’1, was too tall for the doorways in the house and had developed a habit of forgetting to duck for most of them. Which would also explain the red marks on his forehead most of the time.
It did however make it easy for him to reach things at the top shelf that the average sized people in the house couldn't. There were only a few bandits in the family who reached over 6 feet, Dadan being one of them, and no one who got even close to Roger's towering height. It was adorable to see Roger lift Rouge up by the hips whenever she tried to reach something from the top shelf in the kitchen, holding her up as if she weighted nothing at all.
It also made it easy when it came to carry large pieces of material, like logs and crates. They had never had such a stock of wood in as long as the bandits had lived up on the mountain. Roger carried the amount of close to five men with ease, even going so far as to drag heavy logs with his bare hands all on his own while the bandits had to chop them up or be about four men on one log to be able to carry them back to the cabin.
He was also an impressive hunter. Not in the sense that he was good at hunting, but that he was excellent bait. For some odd reason the bandits couldn’t quite explain, the larger animals in the forest would almost be drawn towards Roger. Larger animals equaled more food, which very much appreciated considering both Rouge and Roger’s quite large appetites.
But eventually it became clear to the bandits that they would have to rebuild the cabin if their doorways were going to survive Roger living with them. The cabin was already high in the roof to accommodate for Dadan’s tall stature, thankfully, but to be on the safe side they sat down to sketch out a new floor plan for the cabin that would take Roger's height into consideration. They realized they would have to raise the entire roof and even add an extra room for the small family if they wanted to minimize the risk of overcrowding. They were already a lot of people, after all.
Fortunately, spring was ending and summer was incoming. That meant that a few knocked down walls wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience and after Roger’s enthusiasm about building the crib, he would probably like to help with the rebuilding of the cabin as well.
They used Roger to measure how much they needed to add to the roof and decided to make it so that the roof stood just above three meters above the ground, tall enough that there would be plenty of room left above the pirates head.
They also made a list of the materials they would need and how much it would cost to acquire said materials. Wood they could get for free in the forest, especially since most of the tree’s would be fully grown by this time of year. Metals they could always scavenge in the Grey Terminal or bargain for in town. Dogra knew a few people who were willing to spare some extra cash for them.
Folliard helped Dogra and some of the other builders to sketch out a floorplan for their new cabin. At some point during their meeting someone had piped up and said that they should expand on the bathhouse as well, since it was one of the few places where Dadan barely fit through the front door. Someone else said they should get a bigger barrel, that the one they had was too small and didn’t work well for the more hefty members of the family.
Slowly the list increased to an impressive length of repairs or changes that needed to be made that they had pushed on or just hadn’t thought about before.
By the time they were done it was dark and the sun was starting to go down.
Ace, despite being so young, had an incredible appetite for a baby his age. More often than not Rouge could be seen somewhere around the house breastfeeding.
It hadn't taken long before everyone in the house could discern between his ‘I'm hungry’ crying and his general ‘ I’m a baby and I cry’ crying. There was also the ‘ I filled my diaper’ crying, but that could be smelled too. And most of the time it was the first that could be heard.
Rouge had just finished feeding him and was currently walking around with a dish cloth over her shoulder and patting his back gently. It didn't take long for Ace to let out a small burp and a small amount of spit to drip down his chin.
One bandit scrunched up his face. “Kid sure pukes a lot, don't he?” he said, more of a statement than a question.
“All babies does that,” Rouge said. “It's normal.”
As if on cue, Ace let out a small cry and spat up again. The spit flew a nearly two feet in length, leaving the bandits to stare between Ace and the vomit on the floor. Their silent staring was soon interrupted by the boustrous laughter that exploded through the main room.
They all turned to see Roger almost curled in on himself laughing, a wrinkled and messed up newspaper in his hand.
Rouge frowned, whipping Ace’s mouth from the spit. “What is it?”
He waved the newspaper around. “They think I drowned,” he laughed hysterically.
“Folliard, could you please hold him for me for a quick second,” Rouge asked.
“Of course!” he said, accepting Ace as Rouge held the babe out towards him. Then he turned to Roger with a frown. “Is that funny?”
“You know how to hold him?” Rouge asked as she placed the dish cloth over his shoulder.
Folliard nodded and held Ace, trying his best to copy how Rouge had held him. He swayed from side to side in an attempt to distract the babe as Rouge disappeared into the kitchen, most likely in search of paper towels to clean up the mess Ace had made on the floor.
The silence lasted for about five seconds as Ace surveyed his surroundings, seeing that his mother had suddenly disappeared. His eyes grew wide as if he was slowly panicking, before his small hands burrowed themself into Folliards shirt, gripping onto the man’s shoulders as well.
“He’s strong for a baby,” Folliard said with a smile that quickly vanished when Ace started crying. His loud vails filling the house and drowning out the rest of the noise.
Roger was quick to jump up and hurry over. Folliard quickly handed the crying baby over, hoping that Roger would help to ease the crying. It did, for about the two seconds that Ace realized that he’d switched hands and looked up at his father who smiled down at him.
“Hi, Ace, it’s daddy,” Roger said with a smile.
Instead of the reaction they’d hoped for, Ace scrunched up his face and started screaming again. It was not the person he wanted to see, he wanted his mother.
Rouge came from the kitchen, a roll of paper towels in one hand and very tired eyes.
“Sorry,” Folliard apologized as Rouge took the baby who still screamed, despite finally seeing his mother again.
“It’s not your fault, he’s been real clingy,” Rouge sighed and started rocking back and forth.
Folliard took the roll of paper towels and offered to clean up the spit.
When Ace finally calmed down, finally accepting that his mother wasn’t going to hand him away again, Rouge turned back to Roger and asked, “Why would they assume you’ve drowned?”
Roger grinned, chuckling. “I don’t know, but it’s what they said in the paper.”
“That’s another thing, when did you start reading the paper?” Rouge asked, clearly confused.
“Since I’m not there to see the action for myself anymore,” he pouted, scratching his cheek with his finger. “I miss it.”
Rouge smiled softly and beckoned him to lean down. When he did she kissed him. “I really do appreciate what you’re doing for Ace. But one day, when he’s older, maybe you can show him the sea.”
“Of course! No son of mine won’t experience the adventures of the sea!” Roger grinned, tickling Ace’s stomach.
At the same time, in the Grand Line, Fleet Admiral Kong was pacing his office in frustration. On his desk lay a newspaper where the front page article seemed to proudly mock him. The big bold letters screaming out the words, ”Pirate King lost at sea? Incompetent marines unable to find body!“ in a clear mockery that Kong hadn’t seen in the papers before. Usually they would spin whatever story to make the marine’s seem noble.
Though, he supposed that the world had a reason to be on edge at the moment. They hadn’t exactly showed their best in the last few months.
He couldn't figure out where everything had gone wrong. The news of Roger being spotted in South Blue had flooded in for days after the rumor of his supposed death had first started circulating - a rumor that they hadn’t been able to track down the source of. Then when they had received a blurry picture taken by an amateur reporter of a man with a striking resemblance to Roger on Baterilla, he had been sure that they had him caught. The fool hadn’t even shaved his mustache.
There had only been one problem. The world was closely watching them, waiting for a mistake to be made. They had to make the operation covert. If Roger found out that they had him in their sights, he might just run.
Of course, that just meant that the information had leaked and Roger had disappeared. He didn't even want to think about the fire that had broken out on Baterilla either. A fire that the locals had blamed on the Marines and which the papers had devoured like wild animals.
He groaned, massaging his forehead. This was not reflecting well on their part, he thought. They needed some concrete evidence that Roger had died or spin the story in their direction. Something that only the bigger newspapers run by the government were willing to do at the moment.
Worse of all was the reports he'd received of the sudden influx of pirates that had come after the recent articles that had dominated the papers the last couple of months. With the Pirate King reportedly dead, the port towns leading up to the Grand Line had showed an increase in criminal activity. More and more ships had left the peaceful blues and gone into the Grand Line, motivated solely by the fact that Roger was gone.
It was ridiculous to think that Roger’s name alone had been enough to stop so many to keep away from the rowdy Grand Line, much less the New World which was a mess of battles between Emperors and infamous pirate captains. One name that popped up a lot lately being Shiki, who seemed to be throwing quite an impressive tantrum which seemed to have pissed of Big Mom.
This was a complete and utter fuck up.
He did not need this. He had hoped to be able to leave the position of Fleet Admiral with the knowledge that the ocean’s were at peace. Being the Fleet Admiral who served when the Pirate King was captured and executed hadn’t been a bad reputation to leave behind either and would have looked great on his record.
He groaned. He was getting too old for this shit.
Sengoku was never going to understand Garp and to be fair, he often wondered why he considered the vice-admiral a friend. More often than not the man went on his nerves, disobeyed clear orders and still remained admired in the papers as a hero. For as long as Sengoku had worked with Garp, the hero had never taken anything serious. The only exception being his fights with Roger. Which was why he had the desire to kick the vice-admiral all the way back to East Blue.
He had come back to his office to find Garp has sitting quite comfortable on one for the couches with a bag of crackers and a newspaper. He was currently laughing hysterically at the front page article as if it was the most hilarious story he'd read since the sea king incident a few years back. An article that had also just so happened to have involved Roger.
“Go back to East Blue,” Sengoku muttered, forehead in his hand.
After almost three months of absence, which Sengoku was sure Garp had received no repercussions for, Garp had just showed back up on Marineford. First thing he’d done? Gone to sit in Sengoku’s office, eating crackers and joking around with Kuzan who had looked as tired as ever.
“Garp?!” Sengoku had exclaimed in surprise. No one had been able to get in contact with the hero for his entire absence. “What are you doing here? Where have you been?”
“Oh, Sengoku! Welcome back,” Garp had said with a grin. “I’ve been on vacation.”
That was the only explanation that anyone had gotten from Garp. The rest had been a bunch of rambles and laughs that didn’t make sense. Someone had however said that they’d heard something about a supposed grandson in East Blue or something similar. Sengoku felt sorry for the kid, real or not, for having Garp as a grandfather and hoped the kid didn’t inherit his annoying attitude and idiotic nature.
“Lost at sea, huh?” Garp laughed, devouring one of the crackers whole. “That’s ridiculous, Roger was an amazing swimmer.”
“There’s no way he could have left South Blue without at least one marine spotting him,” Sengoku said, agreeing that the notion of Roger drowning was ridiculous. In one of the blues, even more so. Even if the news had come from the New World with eye witness accounts would Sengoku have doubted it.
Then there was the fire on Baterilla. From the reports that had been sent back to Marineford, the fire had originated from the house of an orphaned woman with no living relatives. A certain Portgas D. Rouge. She had no records to speak of and the only thing that stood out about her would be her name, a name that Sengoku had no problem with connecting to Roger's real one. Unfortunately, it was believed that she perished in the fire, although a body hadn’t been recovered.
The local police on the island had been investigating the fire but not much of the house had remained and the reports didn’t add much to the Roger case. It was suspicious however, that the fire would break out just as marines were getting ready to search the island for any presence of Roger. Especially after the reports of Roger being supposedly spotted on Baterilla.
He scratched his chin as he flipped through the still open file on his desk. Even if he wasn’t officially tasked with searching up Roger on Baterilla simply because they couldn’t spare Sengoku with the current mess in the New World, as well as the rumours of the Fleet Admiral’s retirement going around, he couldn’t not take a personal interest in it. He’d been hunting Roger around the Grand Line along with Garp since the Pirate King had been a rookie.
“He did leave the Grand Line without anyone noticing,” Garp said with a shrug of his shoulders.
Sengoku groaned and closed the file with a smack. Roger had always been a sort of mystery despite wearing his emotions on his sleeve. He was an idiot, but he wasn’t dumb. If that was even possible.
They hadn’t been able to track down any of the Roger pirates either, though there had been sightings of a lot of the more famous members of the crew at Sabaody.
Even if the reports of Roger drowning at sea was true, he had no idea how the media would take to the news. There were already plenty of small time newspapers printing stories about the marines’ incompetence in the capture of the Pirate King and his crew. It was a tricky time, where the world's opinion seemed to be split down the middle.
While the marines were running around the blues worrying about the Pirate King and the multiple rumors surrounding his disappearance, at Sabaody Archipelago just an island away, in a bar at Grove 13, sat a blonde man reading the newspaper, unsure if he should scoff or laugh at the pure ridiculousness of the article. Roger drowning? That was probably one of the most hilarious and stupid things Rayleigh had ever read, seen or heard. Which said something, since he used to sail with the biggest idiot he’d ever met.
Rayleigh took a swing of his bottle as he flipped through the paper, just skimming through the article, knowing it was just speculation and theory that the media was trying to push off as fact. He was even surprised they would print something so against the marines in the papers and wondered who they had to pay off for the article to be published.
“Do you know where Roger-chan is?” Shakky asked, placing a glass of apple juice in front of their small fishman visitor. Hatchan grabbed the glass with two of his hands and drank it.
Rayleigh shook his head. “Last I heard of him, he was going back to South Blue.”
“To be with Portgas-chan?” Shakky more stated than asked with a smile.
“Most likely,” Rayleigh chuckled.
That big goof had been so taken by that woman that it had been the butt of most of the jokes for a long time. All in good fun, of course, but it was still funny to see Roger blabber about how amazing of a woman Rouge was and how he was sad she wouldn’t come with them. Rayleigh had lost count of how often they had left the New World just because Roger had decided it had been way too long since he’d seen Rouge or because he wanted to surprise her.
With all the rumors circling around the South Blue at the moment, he doubted that they were still on Baterilla. It would be stupid to try and stay in the sight of the marines. If he had to hazard a guess though, he supposed the smartest thing Roger would have done was to take Rouge out of South Blue. Most likely to the East Blue, seeing as those were waters that Roger knew nearly as well as he did the New World.
It didn’t really matter where in the world Roger had gone off to. He was out there somewhere, Rayleigh knew, and he had no doubt that they would meet again at some point in the future. Didn’t stop him from worrying about his dumb captain.
“More juice, Shakky-san!” Hatchan exclaimed, waving the glass in the air.
“Coming right up,” Shakky laughed.