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The last thing Law remembers is falling. Consuming darkness, and cruel laughter. Vision flickering. Sensation slipping away. Cold, bitter despair accompanies a final thought.

Ah. I failed again.

He closes his eyes.

The numbness in his fingers begins to retreat, and he can feel the frigid chill of his extremities again. That's sort of a shame. He thought dying would be at least painless.

Law.

A particularly clear auditory hallucination. He'd thought he didn't remember Cora's voice anymore. It's sort of nice to hear it again now. Hell, if he's dying, maybe it's not even a hallucination. Cora will probably be mad at him for dying-- and for a lot of other things too-- but at least Law will be able to see him again.

Law hasn't followed his parents' religion in a long, long time, but he's never managed to stop hoping for some kind of decent afterlife. Hoping to see his family again, even just once.

"Law!"

Law's eyes snap open.

He knows this place. It's been years-- a decade, a decade and a half-- but he still knows it better than he knows himself. These white buildings, these trees glittering as if with frost, these streets and their flat cobblestones of gleaming death: he knows this place.

He gasps, and there's a rasp in his throat, an ache in his bones, an old weight in his chest.

A cool breeze touches his cheek. He looks down, and feels his gut twist. Even without makeup, he would recognize Cora. Even as a ghost.

There's nothing else he could be. His hand, where it cradles Law's cheek, is insubstantial, translucent. His coat, hat, and makeup are all gone, but the bloodstains on his chest and arms and legs remain, dripping black smoke instead. His eyes are the clearest thing about him, wide with worry.

"Cora," Law manages to say through disbelief and horror.

When Law says his name, some of the panic clears from Cora's expression. "Kid," he says, "What's-- do you know what's going on?"

Law shakes his head, but says, "This is Flevance."

Cora's brows furrow, and he looks around. As he does, another terrible thought occurs to Law. He tries to pull up a Room.

Nothing happens.

"I don't have my Devil Fruit," he tells Cora, as sickening dread begins to set in.

Cora, momentarily, looks utterly devastated. Of course he does; he died for that Fruit, and now Law's died and lost it and and failed, so it was all pointless because he's back at the beginning--

Then Cora blinks. He holds out a hand. The Ope-Ope sits innocently in his grasp. He can hold it, somehow.

Law and Cora look at each other, baffled.

"I have no idea how this happened," Cora tells him, "but I think you'd better take the Fruit."

The Fruit feels the same as it did back then. Slightly cool, oddly textured. Law swallows it whole without trying to chew. The rind is as bitter as orange pith, but at least that's better than the rotten, bloody, metallic flavour of the flesh.

As soon as it's in his stomach, a Room blooms around Law and Cora. It's terrifying, being able to sense all the Amber Lead in his body again. It's even worse, not being able to feel Cora at all.

There's a shout, from a few streets over. Law looks up again, and this time, he registers the orange-red glow of the night sky, against which the buildings in front of him are situated.

Flevance is burning.

"My family," Law gasps. He looks behind himself. He's in front of the hospital. It hasn't been destroyed yet.

Lami.

Cora's expression sharpens into resolve. "Get your sister," he says and, with what Law knows now, he can hear Sengoku in the calm, flat order. "I'll find your parents. We'll meet here."

Did Law ever tell Cora about that last, terrible night? Does he know that Law's parents died first, that there might be Marines with guns here, now, hunting them? Is he trying to keep Law from running into them?

Law doesn't know. But he doesn't argue. He can save Lami, his parents would want him to save Lami.

As Cora stands up from his crouch, his form flickers like smoke in the wind. Law is afraid he'll blow away, disappearing again, but he forces himself not to watch Cora as he strides into the building. He's done harder things under crueller circumstances. He can do this.

He can save his sister.

Law takes a back staircase up to where he knows Lami is hiding. He stumbles into the darkened room, and throws open the armoire.

Lami is there, blinking up at him.

Law looks at his sister for the first time in more than a decade and a half and feels just as breathless as he did after Doflamingo had finally been brought down, torn from the sky and sunken into the dirt. He crouches down, reaching out to her. Choking back tears. He can't cry, he can't cry.

"Come on," he whispers. "We have to go."

With absolute trust, Lami takes his hand. "What's going on?" she whispers back. Law wonders why everyone's asking him that. Law doesn't understand any of this. He's got no idea what's happening. He's tempted to blame it all on Strawhat, but he's got a bad feeling this might be his own fault.

"We have to be quiet," he says, instead of answering. "Something's wrong. I need you to listen very carefully, and do what I say, okay? If I tell you to hide, I need you to hide."

Lami nods, eyes wide. "Are we going to be okay?"

"You're going to be fine," Law says. "I promise."

Ha. That's a promise he's broken before.

Étienne watches Lisa pace. She's terrified, though she won't say it aloud. Things have gone from bad to worse to disastrous, and Étienne is afraid that--

He can't make himself believe it, not even in his own mind. They've heard of the massacres on the border. Most of the other patients and doctors have left, trying to flee to the countryside or to the sea. They can see buildings burning on the horizon.

But he can't believe that the World Government would condemn a whole country to death.

He and Lisa have stayed at the hospital to tend to the few left. Those still here are all too close to the end to be moved.

The children are safe upstairs, in Lami's room. He hates to leave Law to take care of his sister alone, but there are some conversations that they simply cannot have in front of the children. More and more conversations, these days.

"Why won't anyone listen?" Lisa says. Away from the children, she lets her fury openly show. "They're doctors! They know this is wrong!"

"They're afraid," Étienne says bleakly. "The Government has told them that they'll die for helping us, and they believe it."

"Die by disease," Lisa scoffs, "die by guns more like. And fire."

"And poison," Étienne adds.

As if to punctuate his words, the lightbulb in the room pops, plunging them into darkness.

Lisa jolts, looking at something behind Étienne. "Who's there?" she says.

Étienne spins around to see something coalescing in the shadows behind him. A massive, looming shadow, seemingly made of grasping wisps of smoke, bent over to fit under the low ceiling. It steps forward into the moonlight.

It's a man.

Despite his height, he's not particularly threatening. He seems awkward mostly, fitting badly into the room. He's young and blond. Lanky in a way that seems unhealthy. The exact features of his face are unclear in the dimness.

At first, Étienne thinks that the shadows must have been a trick of the eye-- his fear making monsters out of mere shadows. But then Lisa grabs his arm.

"Étienne," she hisses. And the sound of horror in her voice-- his brave, terrifying wife, who to a younger Étienne had seemed like a creature out of a fairytale-- makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. And he starts paying attention.

There are dark smudges on the man's clothes. Étienne hadn't really paid attention to them, assuming the moonlight was casting odd shadows. Now he looks. Looks at the way they're clustered around vital organs on the chest. The way the shadows drip, insubstantial and never-ceasing.

Not shadows. Those are bloodstains.

Étienne remembers being very young and convinced, for some reason, that his bedroom was haunted. He'd gone to the church to ask for help. The priest then had been Father Karras, and he'd gently reassured Étienne that a "ghost" was usually just a symptom of a restless mind. Guilt, or anxiety, or simple uncertainty about the future. Father Karras had listened to all of Étienne's worries about school and friends and girls with indulgent calm, giving him thoughtful advice all the while. Étienne, a logical youth who perhaps had simply needed to get some things off his chest, had been completely convinced, and had not worried about any ghosts after that. Father Karras had died of old age, a few years before anyone starting worrying about Amber Lead, and Étienne was quietly gratefully that he'd been granted such a peaceful death. He deserved it.

He wishes he could apologize to Father Karras now. Because this, he is very sure, is a real, actual ghost.

He fumbles for Lisa's hand. She squeezes his hand.

The ghost's eyes somehow seem very sad. He holds a finger to his lips and whispers, "Quiet. Calm."

Étienne opens his mouth to say something-- though he's not sure what-- but nothing comes out. He can't make a sound. He can still hear, though. He can hear, suddenly, heavy bootprints in the hall. He freezes, but the ghost steps forward. With a gesture, he motions for them to flatten themselves against the wall, and then he eases the door open.

With Étienne and Lisa hidden in the shadow of the door itself, the ghost shrinking to a flicker of smoke against the wall, and the light out, the room must look empty. The Marines passing by pause only for a moment, then keep going.

The ghost steps back out of the shadows. "You need to leave," he says. "Your children are waiting outside."

"Now, hang on," Lisa says sharply. "How on earth--"

"You need to go," the ghost replies. "They are going to kill you."

Étienne looks at the bloodstains on the ghost's chest. He's treated bullet wounds before. He knows what they look like. He knows how this man died.

"Oh, God," Lisa says. "The children-- are they safe?"

"Go!" the ghost says, and disappears like smoke in the wind.

Lisa, still holding Étienne's hand, runs.

Law pulls Lami along the side of the building, hiding in the shadows. He's ready to throw out a Room as soon as he has to, to maim or kill or maybe just teleport himself and Lami far from here.

But his parents. His parents might still be alive.

Smoke plumes from the ground in front of him and Lami. Law pulls her back, hiding her behind his own body just in case-- but sure enough, it's just Cora. Law wasn't really afraid. He was just being cautious.

Cora takes one look at the two of them and crouches. One arm awkwardly reaches up, as if to cover the bloodstains on his chest. Given that his arm is also bloodied, it's a bit counterproductive. He glances between them and manages to smile. It looks ridiculously awkward. He looks ridiculous.

Law wants to cry again. He viciously quashes the impulse.

"Your parents are okay," Cora says quietly. "They're on their way out." He gives Lami a slightly wider smile. To Law, who has seen Cora smile in the face of his own death, it feels like a promise of doom.

But it makes Lami smile back. "Who are you?" she asks.

"Cora," he says politely, like he isn't covered in his own blood and flickering at the edges. "Nice to meet you, kiddo."

"What about my parents?" Law interrupts. "I thought you were going to get them out."

"I was," Cora replies, mouth turning down in an unhappy grimace. "But I couldn't stay. I think--" He glances at Lami, then meets Law's eyes. "I was pulled back here."

"Here?" Law gestures around.

"To you," Cora amends.

Law makes a small, huffy noise. Cora's eyes crinkle as he tries not to smile. Law wishes Cora had been able to get his parents all the way to safety. (Or, at least be there to tell Law whether they made it or not). But he's happy to have Cora here, where he can keep an eye on him.

He gets the feeling there's something Cora isn't telling him. Nothing new there.

Is it just his imagination, or is Cora becoming more transparent? The shadows bleeding from injuries becoming more diaphanous?

They make their way to the front of the building. Law carries Lami, piggyback style, for the frantic dash across the open lawn to the gates. Cora is a swirling shadow behind them, watching. Law doesn't know what to do if Cora does see anyone.

They make it across. Law doesn't have to wonder about what-ifs. He wonders anyway.

Cora is a looming sentry over them, watching the occasional group of Marines pass by. His hand twitches to his side once, when one seems to look right at them, but there's no gun holstered there anymore.

They only have to wait a few minutes, but it feels like years. Lami is the first to see their parents, and she inhales to call out to them, but Law catches her.

"Quiet, remember?" he repeats. He can feel his heartbeat in his throat.

"Breathe, kid," Cora says from above them, low and soothing, and fuck but that doesn't help at all when Law's looking at his parents and hearing Cora and holding Lami and--

"Come on, honey," Cora repeats, and Law can feel the cool breeze that means Cora's crouching next to him. "You can handle this. Just a little farther. You're doing so well."

"Fuck, we still have to get out," Law realizes aloud.

Lami giggles. Dad, who is unfortunately in hearing distance, gasps, scandalized. But then he's right there in front of Law, checking him over with careful eyes as Mom picks up Lami. She's watching Cora with visible suspicion.

"You can get out," Cora says, with absurd confidence.

Law scowls up at him, in a way that hopefully indicates that Cora absolutely cannot say anything about the apparent time travel in front of his parents.

"Law," Mom says, "what's going on?"

"I don't know," Law says pitifully.

Cora, who is a stone cold bastard, just grins down at him.

They have to move slow and careful to get out of the city. Cora is probably the only reason they manage it. He can scout out paths, flickering in and out of existence and bringing back information. Law hopes his parents don't notice that Cora is mostly relaying that information to Law. Every time Law's parents direct a question at Cora, it takes him visibly off guard, leaving him blinking at them before he recovers.

Cora's incredibly awkward, Law realizes. What had seemed like clumsy goofiness when Law was a kid now clearly reads as shy anxiety, and a remarkable level of social uncertainty.

Law's always wondered why Cora decided to pretend he couldn't talk to Doflamingo and his crew. Now, he suspects it's because there's no way he could pull off the cool, intimidating facade if he had to say anything.

Law is trying his best to keep himself occupied-- with getting out of Flevance, with checking on Lami, with keeping his parents distracted, with thinking about how ridiculous Cora is-- because he's noticing that Cora is staying gone for shorter and shorter periods of time. He's being pulled back toward Law more often. It feels like a clock is ticking down.

Law is afraid he already knows what happens when it hits zero.

They make it out of the city. Last time, Law went for the ocean, the closest way out of Flevance, but this time, he aims for the border. He has his Devil Fruit. His plan is to make as large a Room as he can, Shambles them past the walls and guards, and then get somewhere safe enough to deal with the Amber Lead.

"Hold on," Mom says, and Law feels his heart sink.

Cora stops to watch them.

"Law, sweetheart," Dad says, "you need to tell us what's happening. I know you're scared, and confused, but just tell us what you know, okay?"

Shit.

No. Hang on. He can handle this.

"I ate a Devil Fruit," he bursts out.

His parents blink, clearly not expecting this.

"The Ope-Ope no mi," Law continues. "I don't know exactly what it can do yet, but-- it can get us out."

Unexpectedly, Mom's eyes widen. She reaches out to clutch Dad's hand. Dad looks poleaxed.

Huh. Guess they've heard of it.

"I can save you," Law says, almost pleading. "And-- and me too, but we have to go."

Law's parents share a long, inscrutable look. It's Cora, infuriatingly, who says, "Are you sure, kid?"

Law scowls up at him, but Cora just looks serious. And worried. Law is starting to think that Cora is better at hiding his emotions than Law had thought when he was younger. When Cora looks worried, Law thinks, that actually means he's really, really scared. Scared for Law? For himself?

Law can't save Cora. His Rooms don't even register him at all, like he's not even there.

"Okay," Mom says. She nods. "Let's go."

They find a place at the border that seems understaffed. There's no patrolling soldiers with dogs and guns; just a few sleepy guards who seem more interested in playing cards in a small booth by the road.

Law holds out a hand and focuses. "Room."

It's harder in this small, fragile body, stamina shot by poison and exertion, but Law learned to use his Devil Fruit while feverish and dying. This is easy by comparison.

It's like stretching a muscle that's been tight for too long. Slowly, carefully, Law reaches out, the blue glow spreads. Cora whistles lowly, and grins when Law looks over.

"Impressive," he says quietly.

It would be more impressive if Law could save Cora, too.

The guards might be clued out, but they notice when the blue glow envelopes them, too. They jump to their feet, shouting. Law tips his head to the side, sharply, and all of them collapse to the ground.

"Law--" Dad starts, sounding alarmed.

"They're just asleep," Law says. That should be far enough, right? He takes a breath. "Shambles."

In the blink of an eye, he switches them with a handful of rocks, and they're out of Flevance. Law, Lami, Mom, Dad-- even Cora, though Law couldn't bring him with the Ope-Ope.

"We should keep going," Law says, though his vision is starting to swim.

"You should take a break," Cora replies.

"I don't need one," Law snaps.

Cora gives him a flat look.

"We need to get out," Law says. "We don't have time."

"If you drop from pushing yourself too hard," Cora counters, "then your family is going to have to manage without the Ope-Ope until you recover."

That's a low blow. Law grits his teeth.

"You need to pace yourself, kiddo. We can stand to take--" Cora trails off, suddenly. His eyes go unfocused, and he looks out at the dark sky of the horizon. His edges go wispy and unreal, and Law knows what's going to happen before it does. "Oh," Cora says, and then his features blur and dissolve into smoke. The wind scatters any trace of him, until he's gone.

Law feels the absence like a piece of him has been carved out. Like a knife, buried in the gut and twisted.

It's like losing him all over again.

He can hear his family talking, shocked, saying something. The words don't register. His father's tone sounds alarmed, but Law can't look at him. He can only see the empty air, and the once-again empty void in his heart that seeing Cora again has reopened.

He takes a long, shuddering breath.

"We keep going," he says out loud.

He can't cry. He can't lose focus. They have to keep going.

Lisa is worried about her son.

He's always been a quiet, shy boy. Friendly with his classmates, but close with only a few. When he was young, he had come home from school to plaintively ask her why he didn't have any friends. She would point out that he had plenty of friends: Gregory, and Paul, and Maria. And he would explain to her that none of them liked him as much as they liked each other. Lisa wasn't convinced that this was true-- Law seemed to have picked up plenty of Lisa's own insecurities, unfortunately-- but she'd still promised him that he'd find friends that liked him best someday.

A sweet boy. A good boy.

Now when Lisa looks at her son, she feels like something in him has been flayed away, leaving a strip of anger and pain behind.

It was like a switch flipped. Lisa left Law with Lami in their room, and then when she'd come out of the hospital to find her children waiting, Law was irrevocably changed. Étienne can see it too, but he's no more able to understand it than her.

The worst part is that Law is trying to hide it. He's trying to act normally, and doing a terrible job. Lami might not have noticed, but she's the only one.

Lisa thought it was the ghost, at first. She didn't miss the way the ghost spoke to Law, familiar and easy. Law called the ghost "Cora," and the name was well-practiced on his tongue. Lisa was going to interrogate the ghost, to ask it who it was and why it acted like it knew her son, but then it had dissolved into thin air.

And Law wasn't relieved, or confused, or even shaken. He was devastated.

There was a moment, just after the ghost fell apart into shadows, when Lisa had looked at her son's face and seen a naked grief that chilled her to the core. It was like staring into an old, deep well, one where the water had gone bad years ago, and feeling something monstrous looking back. It was something that had had time to fester and rot, eating at Law's heart until it had carved out a scar to live in.

But none of that made any sense, because two days ago her son had been-- well, not a normal, happy kid. Not since Lami had gotten sick. But he'd been okay. Lisa and Étienne had been shielding the kids from as much of the horrors outside as possible. They'd been coping.

They would have known if a grief like that was eating their kid from the inside out. This is new.

For the time being, Lisa has shifted blame tentatively to the Ope-Ope no mi. She isn't sure how exactly it works, after all, other than supposedly being able to perform medical miracles. Maybe it can summon ghosts, too. Or maybe that old story about Devil Fruit holding the memories of their last users is true.

That would explain why Law seems to be able to use the Ope-Ope so effortlessly. It's kind of extraordinary. Between the two of them, Étienne is the surgeon, and Lisa the immunologist. But even Lisa can appreciate what Law can do.

Lisa and Étienne both try to convince Law to test his abilities on one of them before he removes the Amber Lead from himself. He looks at them stubbornly, opens one of his blue domes, and begins to vivisect one of his hands with a scalpel he produces out of one pocket. After the initial panic dies down, Étienne settles in to watch Law work, Lisa looking over his shoulder.

Law starts with his hands, picking deposits of white metal out of muscles and marrow with precision. The confidence with which he works makes Lisa smile, and part of the knot in her heart eases. A parent can only hope to see their child have that sort of surety someday. Whatever else the Ope-Ope has done to their son, at least it seems to have given him a real sort of power, too.

A field in the middle of nowhere is hardly a surgical suite, but Law swears up and down that his domes-- Rooms, he calls them-- are more sterile than even the cleanest hospital could ever hope to be. "More sterile than boiling water," he says at one point, with a faint, proud smirk. It's an expression that would suit one of Lisa's cocky residents, but on Law it seems more real. Like he means what he says. Like he knows he can back it up.

He moves onto Lami next. Her, he puts to sleep first, promising that this is easier than trying to work on an awake patient. As he operates, picking out Amber Lead, he starts to plan.

"We need to get as far from Flevance as possible," he says to Lisa and Étienne. "I looked at a map, and I have some ideas."

"Sweetheart," Lisa says carefully, "you've never been outside of Flevance in your life. Your father and I--"

Law looks up from Lami's lungs, open in his lap. For just a moment, that grief is visible again. Raw. Open. Vulnerable, like the organs held in glowing blue. "Mama," he says slowly, "I know this is all-- I know this doesn't make sense. But can you trust me? Just a little longer?"

Lisa thought that seeing her son beset by a consuming grief was the worst feeling in the world. She discovers immediately that it's not. The worst feeling, she finds, is feeling absolutely helpless while her ten-year-old takes charge.

She shares a glance with Étienne. He looks the way she feels.

Law has never been outside of Flevance. But Étienne and Lisa have only left for short periods of time, for medical conferences and research trips. Those were almost always organized by the university that ran the hospital. Now, they have no money, no supplies, nothing but the clothes on their backs. They can't go to anyone they know outside of Flevance. Every one of their colleagues has turned their backs.

Devil Fruits are supposed to be strange things, Lisa knows. Maybe Law's Fruit has set things up to keep them alive. Maybe it can make a plan.

Lisa's grandmother used to whisper about the luck of the Ds. She'd never said much about what their family's hidden name meant; only that it was meant to be secret. But she'd promised improbable luck for all her children, and her children's children.

"Not always good," she'd used to say, "not always bad. But strange luck for a strange people. You'll have an interesting life, girl, whether you want it or not."

Lisa had tried very hard not to live up to the promise of her name. She'd went to university, become a doctor, married a nice boy with sensible goals. But Étienne had always told her that she'd inherited some of her grandmother's strangeness, whether she liked it or not.

Seems like it's Law's turn for the family's luck. Lisa can only pray it'll be good this time.

The bandits don't seem to believe that the Trafalgars don't have any money. Law curses his luck.

It's been three days since they got out of Flevance and they've been making good progress. Good enough, at least, when they don't have any supplies or real plans. Mom and Dad had pooled all the money they'd had in their wallets when they left, and Law had added to the pool the money he'd . . . borrowed from the safe in Dr. van Houtte's office. Well, some of the money. Okay, he'd put exactly as much money in as he thought he could reasonably claim to have saved up in his room when he left, and he's saving the conversation about stealing for when it becomes unavoidable.

Given the look Mom had given him, Law has a bad feeling that she's guessed more than she's letting on.

But it was enough to get coats, and better shoes for Lami, and a bag that they've filled with food inside. Mom and Dad have been reluctant to try camping rough, finding cheap inns for them to stay the past few nights, and that's has been eating through their money faster than Law had planned. He might have to break out the extra berri by the next town.

Hopefully, they can actually get to the next town. Law hadn't seen the bandits waiting to ambush travellers around a blind corner, because his stupid Observation isn't working right in his stupid child body. They'd rounded a corner around the steep hills they've been travelling through, and a group of armed men burst out of the trees and surrounded them.

It's a good ambush point, Law has to admit. The path is built along a hill, sloping steeply up on one side and down on the other. It would be nearly impossible to run up the hill easily, especially for Lami-- or Law, in his ten-year-old body. And running downhill would mean almost certainly falling. No good options. The bandits demanding that the Trafalgars hand over everything they have, and not listening to Dad's increasingly harried insistences that they really don't have any money.

One of the bandits reaches for a forearm-length knife with a wicked curve attached to his belt. "If you don't have any money," he starts to say, "then there's no reason for us to let you go."

Lami begins to say something, but Mom picks her up to shush her, scowling at the bandits like she could turn them away with sheer rage. Law reaches for his Devil Fruit, feeling the power rise to meet him, but it proves unnecessary.

There's no noise. Just red. A spray of blood across the trail, and the bandit collapses.

Dad makes a strangled noise of horror, a choked gag, and reaches for Law. But Law pulls away, looking up the hill. There's a strangled yelp from above, and the sound of someone falling down a slope, and Law can't keep himself from grinning. He only knows one person in the world who can shoot a gun without it making a noise-- and he's certain that there's never been two people who can make that shot, down a hill and through a head, and still be so clumsy that they manage to fall down the hill afterwards.

Sure, enough, a bruised and battered blond crashes out of the trees, hits the ground hard enough to knock the breath out of him, and aims a rifle at the first bandit to recover from surprise. Cora fires two more silent shots in rapid succession, then manages to unfold himself and stand up.

"Who's next?" he says, a little breathlessly.

In the mind of a younger Law, there had been two Coras.

The one he liked to remember was the version of Cora who had-- for lack of a better word-- belonged to Law. The one who was cautious and goofy and sweet. Who'd made himself ridiculous in the hopes of seeing Law laugh. Who'd told Law he loved him.

The other was the one who made Law afraid. That one had killed and tortured on Doflamingo's orders, and thrown Law out windows, and burned down hospitals. He had a streak of chilling violence and a temper of red-hot anger. The Cora who died in a hail of bullets. That Cora was all Doflamingo's.

It was only when Law got a little older that he started to think maybe he'd divided them up wrong.

He'd thought it was Cora's temper that moved him to violence, same as Doflamingo. Same as Law himself. But then Law got stuck with a crew of his own. Just three dumbass kids at first. He'd been a dumbass kid too, but he'd also been the captain, which meant he had responsibilities. He had to take care of his shithead crew. And if someone hurt them-- when people hurt them-- Law fought back.

He realized, sometime after that, that the Cora who had threatened every doctor who ever called Law a monster-- that was still Law's Cora. The other Cora wasn't Doflamingo's, either: he belonged to the Marines.

Responsibilities: that was the dividing line between the two Coras. Not temper. Not even violence. He had two sets of responsibilities, and he had to choose between them. In the end, he picked Law.

This is Law's Cora. The Cora who would kill or die to keep him safe, in a world that was trying its best to kill Law first.

The bandits scatter into the trees in seconds, leaving the bodies of their comrades abandoned. Awkwardly, Cora brushes himself off, managing to miss an entire branch of pine needles tangled into his hair. There's a bleeding scratch on his right cheek, and he looks like he hasn't slept in days.

He's alive. Cora's alive. And if he's here, instead of with the Marines or Doflamingo, or wherever he's supposed to be . . .

Cora turns to the Trafalgars, and manages a brilliant, awkward smile.

"Uh," he manages. "Hi? Hello. Sorry. That was probably-- uh." He winces.

"You have a branch in your hair," Law tells him flatly.

Cora reaches up, grimacing, and pulls it out.

Lami, who's been wriggling in Mom's arms, finally manages to turn around enough to see Cora, and immediately lights up. "Mr. Cora!" she says gleefully.

Cora blinks, looking alarmed. "Yes," he says carefully, glancing between Mom and Dad, still silently stunned. "Uh. Hello, Miss Lami." He gives Law a desperate look, like he's afraid of Law's five-year-old sister.

This is the thing that finally pushes Law over the edge, and he bursts into the painful, gasping sobs he's been suppressing since Cora's ghost disappeared-- or whatever sort of apparition he'd been, since Cora is here, and alive, and panicking over Law's tears with all the helpless worry that he always did, even as Law's parents crouch to fuss over him and Lami wraps her arms around him in a hug, like that will make everything better.

They're alive. Somehow, they're all alive. And Law is going to keep them that way.

Until very recently, Étienne has had no experience with Devil Fruits. He's heard of them, of course. Even went to a presentation, once, on new theories about how to treat patients with paramecias. He's never personally met anyone with a Devil Fruit, but he understands that they can do strange, impossible things.

So he's pretty confident in his theory that Law has travelled back in time.

"It explains things, right?" he whispers to Lisa.

Her lips thin, and she glances over to where Law and Cora are building up a fire. She doesn't disagree.

The sudden change in Law's personality. The knowledge of how to wield his Devil Fruit. His certainty about where to go and how to get out of Flevance. And Cora-- everything about Cora. He was the final piece Étienne needed.

When the man had come tumbling out of the trees, Étienne had been braced for a new threat. What it would be, he wasn't sure, but the precise gunshot hadn't made him expect anyone safe. Étienne certainly hadn't expected the man who stood up to be, unmistakably, the ghost who'd vanished three days ago. Now not a ghost at all, but flesh and blood. Gangly and pale, rather bruised and uncoordinated, but certainly not suffering countless bullet wounds.

A young man who Law had known as a ghost. A crushing grief in his son's eyes that Étienne can't account for. The pieces had fallen into place.

Somehow, Law had travelled back in time. He'd known this man. Not for very long, Étienne thinks. The ghost hadn't looked much older than the man does now. But they were close. That's obvious from every interaction between Law and Cora. They bicker almost constantly, exchanging quiet barbs without malice. Cora had scooped Law up at one point to carry him under his arm like a sack of rice, and Law had just continued to gripe up at him.

Étienne had considered being worried about how exactly Law might know Cora, but Lisa seems unbothered. He usually follows his wife's lead when it comes to people, and she seems to think Cora is sweet. She handles him with the same indulgent smile that she gives Law and Lami when she thinks they're being cute.

On the other hand, maybe Étienne should be worried. If his wife decides to adopt the nine-foot-tall lethal sniper who may or may not have travelled back in time with their son, there's no way Étienne can stop her.

Cora, apparently, came much more prepared for camping than the rest of them. He brought a tent and . . . whatever other supplies one needs for camping (which he had to hike back up the hill he fell down to retrieve). Étienne has never been camping, and has very little idea of what it entails. He'd tried to get a fire going, but he only got as far as trying to use leaves as kindling before Cora had politely taken the tinderbox from him and suggested that Étienne help Lisa get started on cleaning a rabbit Cora had snared earlier.

Probably for the best. After undoing all of Étienne's work and replacing it with his own kindling and logs, it only takes a few pokes for Cora to get a crackling fire going.

Lisa brightens. "How'd you do that?"

Cora blinks at her in vague terror. Then, haltingly, he begins to explain the sort of kindling one is supposed to be using (not leaves, apparently.) Lisa nods along with fascination.

From where he's been stacking wood, Law rolls his eyes. "You're not one to talk about fire safety," he tells Cora.

Cora just snorts, like there's a joke there that neither Étienne nor Lisa is privy to.

Lami toddles up behind Cora, and taps on his shoulder. Cora yelps, manages to set his sleeve on fire, and has to pat it out frantically. Then he turns around with a strained smile, hiding terror, and says, "Hi! Sorry. Uh. Can I help you?"

Lisa gives Étienne a look that suggests she's suppressing a delighted squeal.

For reasons Étienne cannot fathom, Cora is utterly and completely terrified of Lami. He'll pick Law up or ruffle his hair, dislodging his hat, without the slightest bit of concern, but the moment Lami is near him, he turns into a completely different creature. He is careful with Lami in a way that seems . . . a little sad.

(A little worrying, too. If Cora and Law are from the future, and Cora knows Law, then why doesn't he know Lami, too?)

Of course, all this just means that Lami is utterly fascinated with Cora. She has decided that he is simply the most interesting person in the world now. Even more interesting than her beloved older brother. Law would probably be jealous if he didn't obviously agree.

"What's for dinner?" Lami asks. With Cora crouching, she doesn't have to look so far up to see his face.

Cora brightens. Probably glad to have an easy question. "Well, your parents are preparing a rabbit, and then we'll roast it over the fire. It'll be a little while still."

Lami nods thoughtfully, and then looks over at Lisa, who is wielding one of Cora's knives with the same elegant precision that she'd brandish a scalpel with. "Is that like a-- a dissection?" she asks.

To his credit, Cora doesn't seem thrown. "Kind of," he says. "But I don't think you're supposed to eat the things you dissect. But I didn't go to medical school, so who knows." He shifts his weight uncomfortably to the opposite knee.

"Can I help with the fire?" Lami asks.

From the expression on his face, Étienne guesses that Cora is suppressing the urge to say Absolutely not, please leave immediately. Instead, he tells her, "I think I got it covered. How about you see if your parents need help with their dissection?"

Lami doesn't have Law's interest in biology, but she scrambles over nonetheless, watching Lisa work like it'll reveal something fascinating. Lisa gives her that fond, indulgent smile. Over by the fire, Cora breathes a sigh of relief. Law snickers at him.

"What," Law says, "you're afraid of my baby sister?"

Rather than taking the high road, Cora responds. "From where I'm standing, you're both babies."

Law makes an aggrieved noise. "I'm twenty-seven, you can't--" He cuts himself off abruptly.

Lami either doesn't hear or doesn't understand, but all four adults-- four, because now Étienne has to try to see his ten-year-old boy as a twenty-seven-year-old man-- freeze. Law had clearly forgotten that his parents were in range to hear him, and is now trying incredibly hard not to look over at his them. Étienne and Lisa glance at each other, sharing an emotion that neither of them could possibly name, let alone process. And Cora--

Cora freezes, going utterly still. Étienne isn't even sure he's still breathing.

It only takes Law a moment to notice. "Cora?" he says, alarmed. "What's--"

To Étienne, Cora has seemed like a calm, collected young man. A bit awkward and anxious, but composed and even-tempered. That facade shatters as Cora presses a hand to his mouth to muffle a gut-wrenching sob, curling in on himself.

Law is in front of Cora immediately, reaching up to him. "What's wrong? Are you hurt?"

Cora shakes his head wordlessly, then reaches out to cup Law's face in his hands. The movement seems almost desperate, like he needs to make sure Law is really there. He sucks in a breath to say, "You lived?" And then adds, more quietly, almost like a plea: "I didn't fail?"

The way Étienne's heart drops must be nothing compared to the emotion he can see cross Law's face. Law's eyes widen, reaching up to grab Cora's coat. "I lived," he says. "I-- Cora, of course you didn't-- you idiot, what did you think happened?" Law's voice breaks at the end.

Even Étienne, who doesn't have any of the context of what must have happened to Cora and Law, can guess what Cora thought had happened. Law said he was twenty-seven; the ghost of Cora's death barely looked older than he is now. Someone had killed Cora. Judging by those strangled words-- I didn't fail?-- Étienne guesses that whoever they were, they'd tried to kill Law, too. Cora died saving Étienne's son.

He shares a glance with Lisa, who looks back at him with equal depth of horror and grief-- and her own brand of blistering rage. She's determined to keep Cora now; Étienne is inclined to agree.

But seeing it from Cora's perspective: he'd died trying to save Law, and then-- what? Been pulled back in time, seemingly becoming nothing but a ghost, to save Law again? Then thrown back into his younger body, setting off to find Law and his family again, all on his own? And Law had been trying (badly) to hide the time travel from his parents. So he and Cora hadn't talked about it-- so Cora hadn't known what happened to Law after he'd died.

And he'd assumed, in the absence of any other evidence, that he'd failed. That Law had died, despite Cora's sacrifice.

Étienne very badly wants the rest of the story. He wants to know who tried to hurt his son-- who did kill Cora-- and he wants to remove that threat permanently. But he doesn't want to interrupt.

Cora lets go of Law's face and retreats, away from the fire. Étienne thinks he might get up and leave, but Law growls and lunges. He's too small to easily hold Cora, but he latches on to the fabric of his coat. Cora could undoubtedly still stand up, even with Law's weight, but he stops trying to get away. He hesitates, then pulls Law into a proper hug. Careful, so careful. Like Law is fragile.

Étienne exhales, slowly. He reaches out to take Lami from Lisa, feeling the sudden need to make sure his daughter is here too.

(Cora died saving Law. Not Lami. Not Étienne or Lisa. Cora doesn't seem to know any of them at all. When he'd helped Étienne and Lisa hide from the Marines, at the hospital, he'd said, They're going to kill you. Not a guess. A certainty. He'd been telling them what had already happened. And Lami--

Étienne cannot bring himself to guess how his daughter might have died.)

Cora manages a breath, then another. He swallows hard, and lets go of Law to wipe his eyes. "Little-- little shit," he manages. "You're always surprising me."

"You let your guard down too much," Law bites back, on more comfortable footing now.

"It's because you're so short," Cora shoots back. "How am I supposed to remember to look that far down, huh?"

"Maybe if you weren't always setting yourself on fire, you wouldn't be too distracted to be aware of your surroundings."

"I am not always setting myself on fire."

Law just looks at him in disbelief. Cora manages a watery laugh, and brushes himself off.

This, apparently, is the opening Lisa has been waiting for. She sighs, melodramatically, and turns to Étienne. "Fine, dear," she tells him. "You were right."

Law looks over at them, stunned.

Étienne smooths a hand over Lami's hair. "Well, they weren't subtle," he says, ignoring the way Law sputters in disbelief.

"You knew?" Law cuts in. He spins around to point at Cora. "Did you tell them?"

"No," Lisa replies primly. "You just aren't subtle."

Cora snickers to himself, wiping his eyes with the cuff of his sleeve.

Confused, Lami looks between her parents. "What's going on?" she asks.

"I'll explain later," Étienne says, trying to figure out what sort of explanation he can give his five-year-old that won't leave her with nightmares.

He's going to have nightmares, he just knows it. His babies dying, his wife dying. Himself, dying. And that's not even to mention the slow, dawning realization that he's missed his son growing up. That his son had a whole life, gone now. A life with plenty of grief in it.

But his babies are alive now. He's here; Lisa's here. Even if they couldn't protect their son last time, they won't fail twice.

He can feel eyes on him: Cora, watching him with an inscrutable expression. Étienne gives him a nod. Not thanks enough, for what Cora's done. But there's time for that. Time, now, to keep all the children safe.

Law frowns. "Did you tell your father before you left?" he asks.

Bewildered, Rocinante looks down at him. "How the fu-- hell do you know about my father?" He'd only called Sengoku by name on their calls while he was with Law, he was sure.

"We've met," Law says, and does not explain further.

"Your father?" Law's mother says politely. She frowns, concerned, but Rocinante isn't fooled. She's fishing for information.

"Fleet Admiral Sengoku," Law says offhandedly.

Rocinante is startled, then proud-- and a little wistful. "Dad became Fleet Admiral?" Or, will become Fleet Admiral, maybe. "When did you meet?"

Law looks shifty. "He wanted to know what exactly happened to you," he says, which is not an answer. Rocinante really hopes his dad didn't try to arrest the kid to get information. "You know, since you died without ever explaining anything to him."

Oh, that's low. Rocinante glances in the direction of Law's parents reflexively. Good, his sister's asleep; she doesn't need to hear anything more about deaths and time travel. Étienne and Elisabeth-- Lisa, she told Rocinante to call her Lisa-- are watching curiously. They haven't asked a lot of questions, yet. Rocinante thinks that they're still trying to figure out what questions need to be asked.

"Look," Rocinante says, "it just wasn't safe to tell him anything. Still isn't. If anyone found out you have the Ope-Ope--"

"Why would they find that out?" Law counters sharply. "It's not like you stole it this time. So unless you've committed any other crimes recently, you should really call your father and let him know you didn't get murdered by fucking Doflamingo!"

"Technically, I went AWOL," Rocinante points out, but he's distracted by the sudden revelation.

He didn't steal the Ope-Ope. He wasn't even really in Flevance. He abandoned his mission, sure, but-- hell, he has almost three years of information on what Doffy's planning!

He can talk to his dad.

"Shit," Rocinante says, standing, tripping over his own foot, and catching himself before he falls. "I need to--"

"Yeah, yeah," Law says, waving him away. But he can't quite hide his smile.

Funny. Rocinante had expected there to be a reckoning over his lie about being a Marine, but Law hasn't said anything about it. But then, it's been fourteen years, for Law. Maybe he's accepted it. Or at least decided to tolerate it, for the time being.

Instinct tells Rocinante that he should still try to keep the Marine part of his life as far from Law as possible, but maybe the kid can handle more than he thought.

For now, Rocinante is more worried about the blistering hatred that had been in Law's voice when he said Doflamingo's name.

He wishes Law hadn't been there to hear Rocinante die. He needs to ask exactly what happened afterwards. What Law spent the next fourteen years doing. But that's a conversation for later. Preferably when Law's parents aren't around, so that Rocinante can ask him what exactly he should or shouldn't be telling them.

As he steps out of the circle of light from the campfire, listening to a soft conversation starting up between Law and his parents, he snaps his fingers to open a bubble of Silence around himself and takes his den-den out of his pocket.

The den-den only rings once before Sengoku picks up and says, "Crackers."

"Cookies."

"Rocinante, what's going on?" Sengoku asks immediately. "You missed your last check-in. Are you alright? Do you need help?"

Rocinante leans against a tree and laughs. Tears well up again, and he wipes them away. "Dad, you have no idea how glad I am to hear your voice."