Work Text:
Just this once, the darkness around feels suffocating, rather than soothing. It’s no longer this comfortable, soft blanket that would normally protect them from the gaze of the enemy. Instead, it brings all the doubts, fears and sorrows back to the surface. Undeniably merciless, interrupted only by the two, finally calm, breathing patterns and the hiss of the candle’s knot going out.
Zoro’s eyes remain closed because what’s the point in keeping them open when there’s no light to make the world around less black? Either way, he’s aware of the placement and the atmosphere in this small hotel room they rented out as a last resort for the night. The sound of the bed creaking reaches his ears—his Captain shifting restlessly in the mattress, cuddling the little Doctor of the crew as both continue to lay in the cold embrace of an uneasy sleep. At least, no tears are involved anymore.
A soft sigh escaping their Navigator’s lips informs the Swordsman that she’s still right where he last saw her—sitting on the edge of the very same bed, hunched over and silent. Thinking, wondering whether there was anything they could’ve done differently to change the course of the day that’s currently coming to an end.
Then, there’s also the Cook, down on the floor, leaning back on the wall, not that far away from Zoro. To know his spot, the greenhead has to focus the least, for some unknown reason. It’s been a while now since he noticed his own hyper-awareness that he’s developed and that activates whenever the blonde is nearby.
Another sigh, a heavier one this time. Then, surprisingly, a voice cuts through the heavy air hanging over their heads like a hangman waiting for the right moment to execute them.
“Anyone else feels like it’s been a year since we got to this island?” Nami mutters tiredly, her tone audibly resigned.
It’s a testament to their exhaustion when both Sanji and Zoro nod, willingly admitting to what could be defined as a weakness, without an ounce of hesitation. Neither says anything though, both sensing the redhead isn’t yet finished with what she wants to share.
“Thought so,” she mumbles quietly, sounding anything but stable. Her words wobble, despite how much she’s trying to keep up the façade of keeping it together. “I just can’t help but think we could’ve stopped him somehow…”
The Swordsman perks up at that, his eyelids finally rising to take a proper look at the girl. He realises that’s one of the points they’ve all been dwelling on, and yet he won’t let it brew for much longer.
“There’s nothing,” he states firmly, slumping back even more. He just hopes he doesn’t look as defeated as he feels. Despite the emotions running high within their breaking crew, he voices only the rational part of his thinking process. “It was Usopp’s decision to leave. And it was Luffy’s responsibility to let him do that in an honourable manner.”
The whispered ‘men and their damn honour’ comment catches his attention but he doesn’t respond, acting as if he missed it.
A creak coming from the bed, again. Zoro senses that their Captain is back in the realm of consciousness. There’s no doubt in his mind that the Cook notices as well.
“Doesn’t help that Robin disappeared on us as well,” Nami adds and this time she sounds close to breaking down in tears. “Where the hell did she go? Why now, when we need everyone together?”
The Swordsman huffs under his breath, considering whether he should bite his tongue or not. The truth is, as much as he enjoys bickering with both Nami and Sanji, now is not the time for arguments. It’s just as their Navigator mentioned—they need solidarity like never before. And they need to remain strong for Luffy, just as he’s trying to be for them.
And yet, Cook being Cook, he notices, no matter how neutral Zoro’s expression is at the moment. “What??” He spats out, already taking on the defensive. It doesn’t take a genius to be able to tell that he’s also struggling and simply reacting with the self-defence mechanism that he feels most comfortable with; suppression of emotions.
Bestowing him with a slightly bemused glare, the Swordsman exhales slowly.
“I don’t trust her,” he admits, shrugging in a seemingly uncaring manner.
“You what??” Sanji nearly exclaims but catches himself early enough to dampen his tone as he sees Nami shaking her head, in the corner of his eye. “The fuck do you mean?” he growls quietly, clearly upset by the comment.
Normally, the other man would probably try to escalate. To pull the latter’s leg; to piss him off as much as only possible just to feel the satisfaction from his flustered state. Right now, however, he’s too aware of their common vulnerability and his own weariness. The sharp glare their Navigator shoots him doesn’t help either. In case of an argument, this would be two-on-one.
“‘M just sayin’,” he says airily. “There’s a ton we don’t know about her.”
Sanji is already opening his mouth, most likely readying himself to counter-attack and defend the honour of his beloved Robin-chan, but Nami stops him before even a word leaves his throat.
“Alright, enough,” she whispers sharply and it becomes evident to them that she’s losing the rest of her energy and patience. She’s sick of today, sick of the conversation she started, and sick of her nakama fighting each other as if there were no more Marines left to beat the shit out of.
“I see what you’re saying,” the Navigator tells Zoro. “But you’ve gotta remember she’s still a part of this crew,” she hesitates a bit before whispering the next part, barely audibly. “And deep down, Usopp still is, too.”
Nobody argues with that statement, the room falling back into its previous silent state. And it remains so until eventually, they all fall into a dreamless slumber. Tired of dwelling on the things that already happened. Reading themselves to face the morning…