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Rocks shuts the cabin door behind him with a soft click, blocking out the sound of the crew partying after their most recent victory. It is going to be a long night. He can sense the familiar presence skulking in his office.
"You can come out now, my little caiman."
Crocodile slowly steps out from his hiding place, scowling disapprovingly at his father for discovering him. "Papa, you know it's Crocodile," he huffs, puffing his cheeks out. Of course, his father would find him using his innate haki. Even now, Crocodile can feel the energy as slight crackles in the room that dance in the air when Rocks walks past him and to the large imposing desk.
“Yes and you know you are not meant to be in here, let alone up and about this late. Why are you not in your cabin?” Rocks gazes over at his son, his big eyes shining in the lamplight betraying the slightest hint of tears. Nightmares again.
"Come over here then, my hatchling, if you are going to sneak in, then you may as well learn the seas better." Rocks sighs as he drops down in his captain's chair, unrolling two of the larger maps they had been able to pilfer.
Crocodile hesitates for only a moment before walking over to his Dad and trying his best to go on his tiptoes to see the now unfurled maps.
Rocks warmly chuckles.“Come up little one, unlike you, I don't bite.” Rocks pats his lap, encouraging his son to approach as he adjusts the lamp only slightly with his other hand to make the maps easier to read.
Crocodile huffs again but approaches his father anyway. “It was once! I told Shirohige not to lift me!”
“Haha, you did my little ‘Dile, you did. But I told you not to stand too close to the gunwale railing and had he not moved you, you would be seaking flakes. Now, enough, come here and help your papa with the maps.” Rocks carefully lifts his son, setting him side saddle on his lap and ensuring he is tilted towards the table for a better view.
The map is expansive, but from what Crocodile can see, very little of it is new information for his father and crew.
“I can't see anything new. This was pointless,” Crocodile says.
Rocks laughs warmly at his son's quick judgement. He will be a smart man when he grows up but for now, his mind still needs sharpening. “Look again, my son.”
Crocodile scowls at his father but returns his gaze at the map, his hand resting on his chin deep in thought, trying to analyse the older map again. Still nothing new.
“Papa, I don't-”
A cocky smile breaks across Rock's face, he turns the lamp closer to the map, hitting it at an odd angle. He points a painted fingernail to a section on the map, the light bouncing across the precious gems on his ringed hand.
“Look, my little reptile,” he instructs him.
The section of the map that Crocodile believed was empty, that his captain now pointed at, revealed a small island.
“That wasn't there before!” he exclaimed.
“No, but that's why sometimes it is important to see things in a different light and to challenge what we see with our eyes. Some pirates even hide sea king nesting spots on maps using different inks. Expect to be cheated, that way you will be prepared for anything,” Rocks explained.
“But why hide it?” Crocodile asks, looking up at his father.
Rocks scoffs. “Pirates will hide what they can when and where they can. Certainly in maps, as this one had. Some will even hide a private key for the markings on the map so only their crews will know the truth the map tells.”
Crocodile and Rocks discuss the new course to go and take a look at the hidden island; what supplies they should be able to obtain and the quickest route while avoiding various checkpoints. Rocks encourages him to think outside of the box but still to think of his safety and strengths. After some time, the night now as dark as it could be, Crocodile starts to yawn. His fathers deep voice begins to be relaxing background noise joining the lapping waves, making him exhausted.
“Papa?”
“Hmm, yes, my little Croc?”
“Can we visit mom someday?”
Rocks jaw tenses as his eyes drift to the island he has not returned to for six long years. “Your mother’s sick, Crocodile, I make her sick. We can't go see her. We have talked about this.”
“...Sorry papa.” Crocodile closes his eyes again, not able to resist the pull of sleep despite his fears of more nightmares with giant snake shaped mountains and his father’s blood-curdling roar.
Rocks looked down at the boy now reclined against his arm, head resting against his chest and eyes closed as if it was the safest place in the seas. Rocks knew that day what Whitebeard had meant when he said he wanted a family. Seeing the small crying bundle, how could he leave the little girl on the island just to become yet another caged monarch? He stole his child from them, he took his son and the princess, Gloriosa, as he promised his beloved he would, with blood and rage. It would likely be stricken from the records, the desperate erasure that the world and its people seem to be doing of him and his legacy.
Rocks stands up, cradling his son as he walks over to the corner of his cabin where a small hammock hangs with blankets and pillows filling the fabric. No point in trying to get the boy settled back into his room.
Tucking him in securely, the boy is breathing steadily, the normally pinched brow calm and his face relaxed. Not a scowl in sight.
Rocks smiles, he looks like a child again, innocent and carefree. The sooner he gains the empty throne the sooner Crocodile would be safe.
“Goodnight, my greatest treasure.” Rocks blows out the lamp, knowing their next destination will get them closer to his goal. God Valley.
