Chapter Text
Underneath a clouded sky, a breath escaped his lips. Familiar marine scents brushed his face and despite spending years on the sea, Shanks couldn’t help the shivers running through his body.
It was over. It was finally supposed to be over – at least for him. He fought his last battles, dragging along his loyal crew through all kinds of wonders and hardships, crossing the world back and forth. Just as he entrusted Luffy with his straw hat years ago he was ready to let the new generation carry on. The One Piece wasn't a big deal anyway – not anymore, not for him. Shanks had accomplished his mission, and now he could step down from whatever shitload awaited the pirate world.
Leaning on the railing of the Red Force, the red haired pirate gazed at the horizon. Or was he technically a retired pirate now ? Maybe it wasn’t something he was quite ready to call himself ; old habits and titles tend to be hard to kill – just like him, in a way. Yet even if his old (yet quite recent) life seemed to be clinging on to him, another part was thrilled of leaving it all behind. And in the middle of it, there was the unfamiliar and baffling feeling of not really knowing what to do next. There had always been a goal, a place to be, people to meet, a battle to fight to serve a higher purpose.
It had been kind of those wooden dolls that hide a smaller version inside. A mission always served a goal, which served an even higher goal, and on and on. Shanks snorted softly at the thought. But as the years went the stupid dolls never seemed to end. There always was another fucking doll inside of the previous one.
A faint smell of tobacco and smoke mixed with the sea’s scent. Benn Beckman stood next to his captain, a cigarette newly lit between his lips. The red-haired pirates’ second in command was as composed as ever – but for those who knew him for that long, they’d notice Beckman was actually relaxed for once. He gripped his matches with less intensity, eyes checking every corner of the ship only two times a minute instead of five. Even the constant headache – price of being the right-hand man of Shanks and being somehow the designated responsible adult of the crew – felt like dimming a little bit hour after hour since their captain announced that they were done with their battles.
Still, even if Shanks said their adventure was over Benn Beckman knew better. Unlike the vast majority of the crew, who blindly trusted Shanks and followed him only with a vague idea of a bigger picture, Benn knew what Shanks’ ultimate goal was eventually. He knew what was the last doll in his captain's bigger picture.
“Where to now, captain ?” he asked casually.
The neutral tone of his question made Shanks smile faintly. Ever the sly fox, Beckman wasn’t one to divulge how much he knew – even to someone already in the confidence. Frankly, Shanks was grateful for his right-hand-man polite discretion. For once he was happy that Beckman knew of the bigger picture - his bigger picture – to have someone helping him on the last part of this journey.
His one good arm drifted into the interior of his shirt, and after fiddling with the small, almost invisible inner pocket that had been sewn ages ago, Shanks pulled out a worn piece of paper. His thumb brushed over the surface once, twice, for a bunch of long seconds. Almost to check if it felt just the same as the day it was torn from its original sheet.
Then Shanks handed the vivre card to his right hand man. It was a wordless exchange ; still, when Beckman took it from the raid-haired hand, he could feel in his captain’s gaze that it was one of the most precious things he had. When Shanks half-reluctantly let go of the paper, Beckman let a light chuckle escape his lips and patted the Emperor’s shoulder before heading to the helm.
It was long due Shanks finally returned.
-
Shanks was a man of secrets – or at the very least a man of concealed truths. He didn’t exactly hide things, he just...conveniently didn’t disclose everything about him. Few people still alive knew that he had been Roger’s cabin boy, even fewer knew about his heritage and time in Mary Geoise. And above all of that, definitely not many people knew that Shanks was married. And for years, at that.
Perhaps more people had known, at the time being. Even if the ceremony had been small, with the least people possible, he did remember the party following after, at the local bar and people congratulating the newlyweds. And oh, he did remember that day. The years certainly had taken a toll on him, but never tainted this memory ; it was rooted deep into his brain, anchored to the very depths of his soul. Nothing could erase this memory, and every single one of the precious times he had spent with his beloved wife. With you.
Yet those very same memories were precisely what was slowly haunting him as his ship approached the island. As much as he treasured them, those memories were now holding something else – guilt.
“We should be docking in an hour or so.”
Shanks nodded faintly at Beckman’s words. The lump that had been building in his throat wouldn’t allow him to say much, after all. Benn Beckman studied his captain closely. The more the Red Force was approaching the peaceful coast lines, the more he could actually see how Shanks had changed. He looked less like an Emperor, mighty and powerful, and more like a man. Just a plain, simple man. Thus, Benn noted that for once Shanks also seemed to show actual human traits. How tired he looked, how he pinched his lips every once and then formed the anxiety slowly crawling up. And above all, the look of regret that shone in his long time friend’s eyes. Last time the red-haired pirates second in command had seen that look on the captain was… certainly a long time ago. Way too long ago ; both him and the captain knew that much.
“How long has it been ?” chidded Benn Beckman, crushing the last bits of his cigarette on the railing.
A long, heavy sigh escaped Shanks’ lips. The mere thought of what he was about to say made his heart squeeze and his throat tighten even more.
“Twenty years.”
His response had been but a whisper. So, Beckman's only reaction was a nod, before reporting his gaze on the approaching coast too.
This was going to be a tough day for his captain, no matter how he had been longing for it.
As per Beckman’s words, the Red Force did dock an hour later in the island’s harbor. It was a calm place – one or two small villages, practically neighbours, a harbor and the local market, receiving habitual smaller trade ships ; a few fields and a windmill ; the orchard a little bit higher, where the last houses stood before the top of the hill, that was used for sightseeing and celebrations. That very place where Shanks married you.
He left the ship without a word.
The crew was busy celebrating their arrival and their newly found rest from pirate life anyway. Beckman knew very well where he was heading, and that he was probably not going to get back to the Red Force soon.
Shanks’ steps were slow but assured. He knew exactly where he was heading, for he had made the trip from the harbor to the house quite a few times. His body wanted to run and to slow it down at the same ; he couldn’t wait to reach the house, he had longed for it. But knowing that the last time he had made the trip was twenty whole years ago made his guts churn and twist with guilt.
Guilt.
That was it, really. The thing that refrained him from running to the top of the street, leaping inside your home and finally, finally taking you in his arms after so long. But this scenario would be if everything had stayed as it once been, and if you still had him.
And honestly ? He wasn’t so sure that you would. It had indeed been twenty years.
He was so deep in his thoughts that Shanks barely registered to arrive in front of your door. The handle was staring right back at him, almost daring him to twist it. A long, long minute passed with him unable to move. Then, he finally gripped his trembling fingers around the handle, and twisted it open.
The house was quiet. Calm. The late light of the day filtered by the windows, lighting the cosy interior in a soft hue. A quick glance around the rooms made Shanks’ stomach drop a little. The more he looked around, and the more he noted how everything changed since his last visit. Was that piece of furniture always there ? When did you change the curtains ? Fear started to grow within him as the small evidence of change started to pile up. How much exactly, had changed ?
A faint sound of running water snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. Out of instinct, his legs carried him toward it – to the kitchen where you probably were.
The moment he caught a glimpse of the room, Shanks stopped dead in his tracks. The late afternoon light shining through the window blinded him for a second — but nothing compared to how the vision of you took the breath from his lungs.
You were there. Casually rising dishes. Putting them away with practised ease. You were actually there. Shanks practically couldn’t believe it ; he spent so many years on the sea, trying to get back to you. Because he did try to come back to you — that was everything was about, in the end right? No matter how other missions, or adventures came in the way, how his way seemed to get astray from this island…the only thing Shanks had ever wanted was to come back to you.
Finally seeing you, a few feet away felt all but surreal. Yet, the next thing The red haired did came to him as easy as breathing.
The whisper of your name rasped through Shanks’ lips felt like a long-lost prayer.
Time froze ; and so did you.
The sound of that voice, you knew it all too well. You had dreamt of hearing it again, and not only via a den-den-mushi for a couple of seconds once in a decade. The rich tone and distinctive accent had inhabited your dreams for the past two decades.
You turned around slowly — so slow that Shanks thought that you weren’t moving for a moment. When you finally faced him…the pirate felt tears well in his eyes. It was a dream, it has to be. You were as beautiful as the day he had last seen you. A few strands of graying hair may be adorning your hair now, and maybe the circles under your eyes had been less visible before. But it was you. His beautiful, beautiful wife. Whose eyes, now staring at him wide, shiny with tears and trembling, had always been his last thoughts every night for the past twenty years.
An interminable moment passed. Both of you just stood there — like bewitched by the other’s presence, and frozen in place by your visions. It was like your brain was both shutting down and running by a thousand miles a minute altogether.
Your stillness and mutism started to worry Shanks. Were you alright? Should he have announced himself? Gods, had he come back too late? He knew he had no right to expect a reaction from you. Hell, he should be on his knees thanking you for even looking at him after he left for so long. But the selfish part of him was begging for more ; a word, a move, a screamed insult, anything. Anything to prove that you were real and not another bittersweet dream conjured by his brain. The lump in Shanks’ throat only grew with anxiety as seconds passed, long and agonising.
Then finally, after what felt like an entire lifetime, you blinked. Once, twice. Trembling lips moved on their own. And a sound that would break Shanks’ heart for the next decade escaped them.
“Shanks…?”