Chapter Text
In the end, it's not the damage that's the problem, not with Law's shiny new devil fruit. Guided by tremulous new instincts and half remembered medical knowledge (his father's voice, whispering into his ear through memory), he can take the bullets out of Cora-san, pull arteries back together and seal them, stitch closed organs that should never be exposed to open air. But he can't work with what doesn't exist, and Cora-san has lost a lot of blood.
Law didn't count the bullets he pulled out of Cora-san. He was too busy trying to measure the sticky, warm blood melting the snow around Cora-san's body (not body he's not dying he's going to be fine he promised), wondering when it will be too much. The worst part is that he knows Cora-san's blood type, and he knows his own, and he knows that he can't give his blood to Cora-san-- couldn't even if they were compatible. That would just be damning him to die the same way Law is dying.
In the end, Law is able to use his new powers to drag Cora-san into the building where he'd hidden Law before. His devil fruit means that Cora-san's body doesn't leave a trail. The falling snow means his footsteps will be covered. Unless the marines do a thorough sweep of the island, they won't find Cora-san and Law.
They're not safe. Doflamingo will be looking for Law. The marines might search the island for the Ope-Ope No Mi. Cora-san might die of blood loss. But there is nothing else Law can do, exhausted by the overuse of an ability he barely understands and still dying of fever and the Amber Lead ravaging his body.
They are as safe as Law can make them. Law still can't hear himself when he claps his hands or tries to speak or bites back a sob. Cora-san is still alive. Law collapses against him, curling under his coat to listen to his faltering heartbeat, and passes out.
---
Rocinante wakes up.
This is something of a surprise. Blinking open his eyes is as difficult a task as any he's ever faced, but he manages it. The hot-and-cold pain of deep injuries is sharp enough to keep him conscious, now that he's awake, even if he feels more exhausted than he's ever been in his entire life.
He starts to take account of himself. He can wiggle his toes, good. He can move his legs, not without pain from the bullet wounds in his thighs, but still good. His ribs are definitely broken, not good but not much he can do about it-- hang on.
He lifts his coat. Curled up against his left side, asleep or unconscious, is Law. He looks bad, pale except for the bright spots of fever high on his cheeks-- and the white patches of Amber Lead, still spread across his skin. Still pale, technically, but a different sort of pallor. Why is he here?
Why is Rocinante here?
The two questions almost certainly have the same answer. Rocinante wants to cry, but he settles for brushing a hand against Law's hair. Little idiot. Brave, clever, strong little idiot. Rocinante loves him so much that it hurts.
Not that he can really tell, against the background of all his other uninventoried injuries. He goes back to cataloguing.
If he has a concussion, it'll have to wait, because he can't do a check on himself. He'll assume he does and act accordingly. The bullet wounds under bloodstains have somehow been stitched up, and where the fuck did Law even find the supplies for that? His elbow is probably slightly dislocated, but it's still functional. He just can't straighten it all the way. That can wait too.
The most pressing problem is how cold he feels and the way that he feels like all his limbs have been weighed down. This might be winter in the North Blue, but he knows this sort of cold underneath his skin. He's lost a lot of blood. He doesn't know if it's too much.
But they can't stay here. Rocinante doesn't know how long it's been, but there were marines on the island (damn Vergo to hell) and if they haven't found him and Law yet, it's because of pure luck. They need to get off the island and away-- to Swallow, maybe. It's close enough that even as bad as his condition is, Rocinante can get them there.
Gingerly, painfully, he picks up Law. The kid is fever-warm and yet shivering, but that might not be a bad sign. At this point, Rocinante would be more worried if he was too exhausted to even shiver. When the kid regains consciousness, he can purge the Amber Lead from his body, and then he'll finally be okay.
He will be okay.
Rocinante cancels the Calm around Law and creates a new one around both of them, so that he can still hear the sounds outside, but no one can hear them. Cradling Law against his chest, he stands, slowly. He still nearly falls over. The dizziness is another symptom of blood loss, he remembers from both the required Marine first aid courses and from Law's occasional ramblings. With the Calm in place, he can hear the blood pumping in his ears, too loud.
By the grace of the blues, their impossibly good luck holds. The marines are patrolling the area, maybe looking for any remaining Barrels pirates (hopefully not looking for Law and him), but Rocinante manages to remain unseen, unheard. He falls at least five times, catching himself with his right arm to keep Law from injury. Getting back down to their boat is a trial. Rocinante has to slide down the rope, holding Law in one arm and slowing their descent with a foot wrapped in the rope. They land in the boat and Rocinante falls again, before pushing himself up and cutting the boat free with shaking hands. Fuck the rope. They can replace it if they survive. Fuck the rope and this island and Vergo and his thrice-damned brother.
(There was a part of Rocinante that had hoped he wasn't lying, when he told Law that his brother wouldn't kill him. There was no part of him that had believed he wasn't.)
Fuck the Marines too, for good measure.
Opening the sail is a chore, but so is everything. Rocinante is gasping for breath as he scrambles to find the compass and map, and aim for the Swallow Island. He can get Law there-- he has to. His kid's safety is now his first and only priority.
He turns them away from Minion Island and towards safety.
---
Law wakes up to a migraine, a dry throat, and the press of a warm body beside his. He blinks at the cave roof above him, and then turns to see Cora-san lying beside him, pale and still. He stares at him for a moment before scrambling to check his pulse.
Weak. Thready. But still there. Law sobs out a cry of relief, and then freezes when he realizes he can hear his own voice. It makes sense, when he thinks about it. This wasn't where they'd been when he passed out. Cora-san must have woken up long enough to move them somewhere safer.
Law looks around. They're in an unremarkable cave. There are a few bundles tucked behind Cora-san that, upon further inspection, are from the boat. Did he go back to the boat and get them? But that doesn't make any sense. Are they on a different island?
How long has Law been out?
He stands and makes his way to the mouth of the cave. The landscape that spreads out before him doesn't look like Minion Island, but he can't be certain. They're inland enough that Law can't see the sea from the cave, and he doesn't want to go far enough (and leave Cora-san) to see it.
If this is Minion Island, starting a fire is dangerous. But in these temperatures, it's just as dangerous to go without one.
Law makes a decision. He needs to get the Amber Lead out of his body, now, and he needs a fire to do that.
In the end, Law has to leave the cave (and Cora-san) to gather kindling. He can't carry much, with the way that the Amber Lead has eaten away his strength, but a few trips make a pile large enough to start a small fire. It won't burn long, but it'll be hot, and that's what Law needs.
He stumbles back to Cora-san for matches. (He checks Cora-san's pulse. Still there. Still with him.) The matches are in a pocket inside of his stupid, massive coat, alongside a half-empty and singed carton of cigarettes. Law quashes the instinct to steal it and throw the cigarettes into the sea. He just takes the matches.
The fire catches quickly, eating the dry pine branches and jumping to the larger deadfall. With all the snow on the ground, none of the wood is dry, and the fire is smokey, but it doesn't go out.
Taking a deep breath, Law does his best to heat one of Cora-san's small blades in the fire. As the blade cools, he focuses. Tries to bring up the space he'd been able to create before. An operating room for miracles, for the impossible.
"Room," he says, softly, focusing. A blue sphere appears in his hand. He wills it larger, large enough to enclose him. Within the sphere, he knows where the Amber Lead is in his body. He knows he can get it out.
He takes a deep breath and begins to work.
It's exhausting. It doesn't hurt, exactly, but he can feel the Amber Lead being pulled out of him. It feels a little like having blood drawn and a little like taking out a splinter. He can see the white fading from the patches of skin as he works, leaving behind faint scars.
He burns the Amber Lead as he removes it. It's the best way to neutralize it, he knows, to keep it from getting back into the ecosystem and poisoning someone else. It's something about the chemical reaction that occurs because of the heat-- Law doesn't quite understand, but his father explained it to him, back when they still thought that there might be a chance to cure the poisoning. Fire is the best way to dispose of Amber Lead. That's why they burned Flevance.
Law scans himself, once, twice, and a third time for good measure. He looks down at his hands: scarred and pale from illness, but not poison-white. He's done it.
He's cured.
He takes a deep breath, and for the first time in years, it doesn't hurt. The ache in his limbs is-- not gone, but lessened. His hands no longer shake so badly that it's hard to hold the knife.
He's cured.
Quietly, Law starts to cry. He is the only surviving member of his family-- of his entire country, as far as he knows. He might be the only person who has ever survived Amber Lead poisoning, and he's done it himself. Himself, but not alone. He sobs, a little too loudly, before biting back the sound. No one has come to find them so far, but he can't risk making noise. But he can't stop the tears now that they've started; relief and grief both are boiling over inside him, with the fear and anger and hatred that have festered over the past three years. He cries, and its the best thing he's ever felt.
There's a noise behind him. "Law?" Cora-san's voice is weak and tired, but anxious. "Law, are you alright?"
He spins around. Cora-san is sitting up (which he definitely shouldn't be doing, with all the bullets Law pulled out of him, he's going to tear his stitches), and he's looking at Law with wide, concerned eyes.
Before he can do something really stupid, like try to get up, Law runs to him, almost tripping over his own feet. He throws himself into Cora-san's arms, trying to be careful of his injuries but desperate for the comfort of Cora-san's presence, of knowing that the only person he has left in the world is here and alive and safe.
"I did it," he manages to say through tears. "Cora-san, I did it!"
For a moment, he's quiet, trying to understand. Then Cora-san gasps, and picks up Law as though Law weighed as little as a doll (as though he doesn't have bleeding injuries in both arms). "The Amber Lead?" he says, almost breathless with excitement. His grin is wide and ridiculous and, for once, it's even real. "You cured yourself?"
Law nods, even though tears are still rushing down his cheeks, and sniffles. Cora-san pulls him into a hug, holding him like he's something precious. "I knew you could," he says, his voice a rumble in his chest against Law's ear. "I never doubted it for a moment." He holds him, and Law can feel him breathing, and for once everything feels like it might be okay.
And then Law remembers that Cora-san lied to him and he pushes away from his chest with a scowl. "You lied."
Law didn't expect this: the way that Cora-san's face crumples, with resignation and something that Law thinks he's seen on his own face in the mirror-- something that looks an awful lot like giving up. "I'm sorry, Law," he says softly. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was a Marine. I just--"
This makes the anger in Law's chest surge, irrationally. "I couldn't give a shit that you're a Marine!" Law interrupts, and Cora-san blinks at him, with those wide, confused eyes that make him look far too young. "You said that Doflamingo wouldn't kill you and you lied to me!"
Cora-san blinks again. Understanding grows, and he leans forward. Sets his jaw. "I'm not sorry for that."
His fury is now burning white-hot. "What?"
"I'm not sorry for telling you my brother wouldn't hurt me," Cora-san said, and his voice is as serious as the day he first spoke to Law. "I'm sorry that you had to hear what you did, and I'm sorry you had to put me back together afterwards. I would have spared you all of that, if I could have. But I'm not sorry that I lied to you, and I wouldn't be sorry even if I had died."
The blunt honesty in his voice makes Law sit down, heavily. He can't maintain that anger when Cora-san is looking at him with tired, sad eyes. "Why not?" he says, and it comes out childish, but, dammit, he deserves a little tantrum after everything that's happened.
With one of his small, soft smiles, Cora-san reaches out to set a hand on top of Law's head, gentle, but firm. "You're important to me, kid," he says, as though it were something easy, and not earthshattering. "I needed to make sure you were safe and away from Doffy."
"Even if you died?" The words tear themselves out of Law's throat with the last of his anger, leaving him feeling shaky and small.
"Even if I died," Cora-san confirms. Gently, so that Law could pull away at any time, he draws Law back into a hug. Law doesn't pull away. "I just needed you to be safe."
Law sniffs. "Cora-san?"
"Yeah, Law?"
"I love you too."
Cora-san is quiet for long enough that Law sits back to look up at him. His rust-brown eyes are filled with tears. He wraps his arms tighter around Law.
"Don't make a big deal of it," Law grumbles, not protesting as much as he usually would. Cora-san just laughs.
"I love you, Law!" he says, voice bright and hopeful. The joy in it is so real that it almost hurts to hear. He has known, for a while now, that Cora-san's goofy behavior and bright cheer is an act, to cover the fear of Law slowly dying, the anger at every doctor who fails to even look at him, the knowledge that, sooner or later, Doflamingo would demand they return. But there's a difference between knowing it, in the mind, and understanding it. Hearing what Cora-san sounds like when there isn't a weight around his heart, dragging him down with every step.
He sounds light. Sweet. Almost soft, for all that Law has seen this man set buildings ablaze and walk off stab wounds.
Feeling tears roll down his own cheeks, he buries his face in Cora-san's coat.
They're safe.