Chapter Text
Liar
Bastard
Coward
Weak
Those were the words Drake’s reflection was screaming at him as he tried to stare himself down. He hated looking into mirrors, not just for self-loathing, but because he could see his father staring back at him. It had been once a point of pride, Barrel’s former colleagues always said that he would grow to be like his father, that he would be a fine Marine someday.
What a fucking joke, Dory.
The old nickname twisted like a knife in the back of his mind. Teeth gritted, he forced himself to keep from slamming his fist into the glass. This wasn’t his ship, these weren’t his things, and he had to be calm and collected. He wasn’t his father, he hadn’t… Blue eyes had shifted to reptilian yellow, and he sighed, shoulders tense for a moment. He owed Law this, the ability to open up to try as he promised he would.
The fear was there though, thoughts meddled into a torrent of self-loathing and doubt. He could feel his stomach twist in knots as he forced himself out of the bathroom into Law’s bedroom…their bedroom. For a moment, calm bloomed in his chest. The urge to bury himself into Law’s side of the bed and just exist held back the existential dread. It didn’t last long though, the calm receded to the fear again as he looked down at his hands.
They were trembling.
Drake swore as he clenched his fist. He was better than this, he didn’t need to burden others, he could carry the weight. He could…he could leave. He could just walk away from this again, like he had before with no real explanation, and this time make sure he couldn’t be found. But that would break his word, break every vow and promise he had made.
Coward
That would make him a coward, wouldn’t it? Turning and running now when things were…things were better. He had someone he loved, more fiercely than anything outside of his profession, he had someplace he could call home, something to keep safe. He just had to…had to stop letting the fear dig in. He wasn’t the 19-year-old who had left men to die on Minion Island. He could choose this time, chose to stay.
I have to try… the thought was small, a hopeful light against the guilt, as he tried to stop shaking long enough to move out into the sun proper. Boots clicked against metal floors, following paths he thought he had forgotten. He caught sight of himself in one of the portholes and frowned. His eyes hadn’t changed back, the predator in him staring back now ready for whatever was coming.
Fight
Flight
Freeze
Fawn
The four Fs that had governed his childhood repeated in his head and adrenaline thrummed through his body. The ancient creature that shared his mind felt more tangible now, eager jaws ready to close on whatever it was that was frightening both so. He pulled in a breath, counted to 10 as he held it, before exhaling slowly. The tension eased some as he finally entered the medical bay.
“You said we needed to have an adult conversation.” Drake said, fighting hard to keep his voice from cracking, “You’re right, we do, I…I don’t want to keep secrets from you anymore. I want to stop omitting things and acting like everything is fine when…when I’m the one who's not fine or okay.”
Once before, in the time before Law had laid down a figurative piece of himself in the twisting mangrove roots of the Sabaody Archipelago as a prayer to his future self’s survival in the New World, trading smug confidence for a cold heart, Drake had come to him with the words, 'We should talk.'
And talk they had.
In the end, Law had laughed until he cried, warmed and heartened by the man, but dually it chilled him just as much, reminding him of the toll to be paid for the road ahead. He had to close up and wall off as much as he could–had to send his closest away, fully aware that the man he’d held his simmering rage so tightly for could easily dismiss all their lives as forfeit, simply because he willed it.
And somehow, despite it all, Law had survived. The chapter in the book of his life of the wrath of Doflamingo closed, ending poetically with the man draped in shackles, suddenly afforded the same amount of respect granted to any of the slaves sold in his name. With the countries of Dressrosa and Wano behind Law, certainly Drake’s dour update of 'you said we needed to have an adult conversation' could do no worse than the man's first attempt two years ago.
Drake continued, “I...I know what happened on Minion Island. I was there, I was with my father’s crew at the time. We were…he was going to sell the Op-Op no mi to the Marines when Rosinante stole it from him.” He could feel his hands shaking again as he sucked in a breath, “I ran, and was collected by the Marines along with…along with Rosinante when it was safe to check the island.”
Drake felt some of the tension ease as he continued, “My father …I’m glad Doflamingo killed him. He was a mean bastard of a drunk and honestly being shot was too good for him. Not after what he did to me and my mother. I am grateful though, because he accidentally let the best thing in my life happen by finding that stupid fucking devil fruit and it keeping you alive.” He wanted to puke, the taste of bile rising in his throat. Still shaking, he found a chair to pull over and perch on, legs drawn up tight as he had when he was a child, a feat now that was now impressive for his size. Drake sighed, trying to gather his thoughts so he could continue.
“Rosinante was…is alive. He was unconscious and barely alive when they found him. When he found out I was being sent back North undercover, he…asked me to check to see if you were still alive, and if you were, to keep an eye on you.” Drake knew this would be the bombshell admission the one that now it had dropped there was no going back from, “I was never trying to spy on you directly, just…make sure you were okay. I didn’t mean for it to get like it did but I’m happy it did.”
It couldn't have done any poorly than Drake's previous attempt to free himself from his guilt…until it did.
For a moment, Law found his words strange–perhaps akin to a verbal trick of the light. Drake had an awfully strange way of addressing the corpse of a man. His clarification came too strongly, like a knife slit messily across the throat when the simple threat of the blade’s edge would have sufficed.
Rosinante was alive.
Drake was also babbling. He’d done it before too–scared of Law’s impending reaction, locking himself up in a tower of spoken word and barricading the walls with the frightened mantra of a child forced too early to bear the weight of adult cruelty. Things…all made sense now at least: the man’s crushing and endless desire to give and give and give, even when there was nothing left. Seeing Drake fold upon himself, legitimately trembling as he spoke…how long had there been nothing left? Had Law given him a reason to fear, or were all those bleeding wounds still leftovers from the man’s childhood?
Rosinante was alive.
God. What was Law supposed to do with that? Everything to that point had been specifically for that man! Doflamingo may have been a blight on the world and ripe for stamping out, but what good was righteousness, when beneath the surface, Law had been fueled solely by the desperate need for revenge?
“Diez, I–” He could feel himself slowing, reeling. At the least, he was already seated. He couldn’t stumble, knees weak.
Rosinante was alive .
If he’d only gone back once escaping that chest, if he’d only tried–then all of this, all of the pain he’d carried, all the pain he’d taken in, willingly or otherwise–what was it all worth if the sole reason for his survival and drive to keep moving was…was…if he’d never died at all?
The revelation came slowly, like water soaking between narrow, sand-filled cracks.
If he’d gone back, if he’d found Cora and fought to stay at the man’s side…would Law have even survived? Would complacency have killed him, letting him drift off peacefully despite the pain of disease, at his guardian’s side? He’d certainly not have the Polar Tang or any of those within–he’d have never saved Bepo from Penguin and Shachi–let alone befriended any of them.
It flowed faster, waters spinning as they rose, eager to reach new heights.
Luffy would have a matching headstone next to Ace and Whitebeard’s memorial–just another victim in the war against piracy…then Doflamingo would still rule Dressrosa. Wano would wither and die beneath Kaido.
And right across from him, with beautiful, bright blue eyes fearfully hidden behind irises of violent red and the shock of yellow sclera…Diez Drake would not be the insufferable love of his life. This…this stupid man would have never received orders to follow him, because Law would have never become a pirate at all.
And even if the fates would have deemed them meet on that Marine vessel bound for safety, sweeping them far, far away from Minion island, it would be nothing like what they had now certainly.
Even fragmented by years apart, even struggling with the burdens of old wounds–this was what Law wanted. He wanted his stuffy leather-clad Marine–his walking paradox, so stupidly handsome and utterly unaware of it. He wanted all of Drake’s silly trivia about science no one understood and obscure, strange dinosaurs, wanted the throaty rumble of the man at peace, wanted the shocks of red that stained his cheeks when caught off-guard and embarrassed…
Rosinante was alive, but so was Law.
Drake had a history of lying, either overtly or through admission, but that…Law could not fault him for. Drake took his role as a Marine seriously, and every one of those lies had come specifically from his place in their hierarchy, never once borne of something malicious–Law knew him well enough to understand Drake would sooner cut out his own tongue and bleed to death than intentionally cause him harm.
…that was truth, coiled down far deeper in the man than anything the Marines could force him to swear to, further entrenched than any aching mark Barrels could have left.
So it must have been true…somewhere, Cora was alive, watching as best he could given the circumstances. Was he healthy? Safe? Was he happy ?
Law…couldn’t entirely fathom Cora being proud of him, but that he was concerned enough to trace Law’s steps through Drake secondhand, one by one across the globe… It made him warm again. When Law stood, pushing himself up from his seat at his desk, he found himself remembering the last time the two of them stood here–remembered wanting so badly to wrap himself up in his lover and dare the world to separate them. He hadn’t then. He’d sent Drake away.
Today would be different.
“Tell me about him.” Law approached in small steps and knelt before his lover. He reached up, touching Drake’s cheeks, untroubled by the warning slit of Drake’s pupils, and bade him to uncurl, wanting little more than to bury his face against the other’s stomach and listen. “Tell me everything . It’s been too long.”
Too long. Those words echoed in Drake's thoughts for a heartbeat, it had been too long, too many things left unsaid came out in a spiraling torrent of bitter truth. Law’s hands on his face though, Drake could feel the warmth of them, and it drew him out. He uncurled, leaning into those hands which he adored, a soft sigh escaping from his lips as he did so.
“Everything…I’ll try as best I can.” Eyes still reptilian focused hard on Law’s face, but Drake sounded calmer, more focused now that he was being touched, “Rosinante is my superior officer within SWORD, most likely there because of his work in trying to bring down Doflamingo’s family originally. It also allows for him to disappear, he’s been shuffled around multiple bases due to leaks you likely knew about…” He didn’t have to say the name for Law to know who he was talking about. Vergo had been smart enough to cover his tracks and claw his way up through the ranks of the Marines up until Punk Hazard. While the news was limited, the report Drake had been debriefed on after Smoker and the Straw Hats had wrecked through Caesar Clown’s plans had brought a sense of relief.
“After Punk Hazard and what you and the Straw Hats did came to light, we could afford little contact. I had been placed amongst some of the higher ups of Kaido’s forces and had to be careful when and where I reported.” A mission he had taken on because something had not seemed right, and with the connection between the Government, Doflamingo and the now fallen Emperor it had proven his suspicions in more than one way.
“We have met in person a few times during my earlier years…” Drake trailed off for a moment, making a face that was hard to read for a moment, “--one of those times was before I was properly deployed to the North and he talked about you, a lot. Wished he could have done more for you, but unfortunately fate had other plans.” Other plans that now had Drake here, his face in the hands of the man Rosinante called his son–the one who Rosinante had laughed over when Drake admitted his dalliances with the pirate–Law, who both saw as the single most important thing on the gods forsaken seas. Drake put his hands around Law’s wrists, eyes finally changing back to their normal blue. He squeezed them gently, the gesture not of one asking for release but reassurance.
“I can’t say much for his physical health, he’s been deskbound for years now. He runs things from whatever base he holes up in, before the next move, but he uh…” a smile flickered across his face, shy but a little sly at the same time, as if the next bit were a secret that wasn’t supposed to be told, “He keeps every report on you that comes through. The file is quite thick at this point, I think he has your first wanted poster up as well.”
Drake had wanted to laugh when he first found out. Who after all would keep tabs on a pirate that intently unless they had a good reason? Now he understood, it was a parent who couldn’t be there watching as his child grew, to see where he was heading in life. A child whose care had almost been explicitly entrusted to him.
A hand moved from Law’s wrist, Drake reaching into his jacket to extract a small transponder snail. Pulling away to sit up straighter, he pressed the snail into Law’s hands.
“Beloved, call him if you want. That should get you through to him directly.”
It was true–knowing that Rosinante was somewhere out there made Law itch for contact–the more immediate, the better–but to have the means literally placed into his own hands without a word spoken on his behalf… It bubbled up too hot for him to even speak his feelings reliably.
“I–” He smiled, he had to. There wasn’t room for anything else but a long dormant giddiness he’d forgotten he was capable of. “Oh. Hell.” What would he even ask? What would he say?
While it may not have been entirely appropriate in the moment, caught in Drake’s gaze, holding that ridiculously tiny snail in hand, he acted with his heart–pushed himself up and kissed the man. Like their last before parting, it was abrupt and ended too quickly, but when Law straightened up to his full height, mind ablaze with possibility, his grin could have lit the whole sea floor.
“I think…” Law began slowly as the gears in his mind began shifting, turning. “I think I know what I have to do.” What else could you give a man bound by secondhand reports colored by, or even misrepresented by those reporting, draped in thick layers of confidentiality? What would bring Cora, the most embarrassing and self-incriminating pseudo-parent in the world, the thing he’d been searching for most of all?
Approaching his desk again, Law pushed aside his chair and set a hand under it, reaching for something.
“You’ve got five minutes to straighten yourself up, we’re taking this in the common room.”
Something beneath his fingers clicked loudly and a warning siren Drake had never heard before began to play. Law tucked the little snail into his pocket–the eyestalks barely reaching out to view the world as he hurried out. There were a hundred things Law needed to tell Drake–affections and frustrations in equal measure, but they’d have to wait. He had a hundredfold more to tell Cora first.