Chapter Text
Corazon had always known that he was going to die.
At first, when he was just learning to understand what death was, it was only an eventuality. People didn't live forever– that was just the way life worked. So naturally, his time would come one day, just like it did for everyone else, and he imagined it would be peaceful. Slipping away into nothingness with a smile on his face at a nice old age. But when he was eight, and he first came face to face with death, a thousand new possibilities were suddenly opened up before his eyes, each one worse than the last.
Exhaustion, hunger, violence, illness, arrows, fire… There were more terrible ways to die than he previously had the capacity to imagine. Every new nightmare that he experienced felt like it would be the thing to kill him. And yet none of it ever did. Despite all odds he somehow managed to survive, although the rest of his family wasn't so lucky. First his mother went, and then his father… and although he didn't know it at the time, in that moment he saw it. The way that he would die.
Tears streaming down his face, throat raw from screaming, he watched helplessly as his brother hoisted a gun upwards, aiming it squarely at the back of their father's head. If there was a scrap of remorse or hesitation within Doflamingo, he had killed it by the time he pulled the trigger. No amount of shared blood was enough to stop him then… The same way it wouldn't be enough to stop him eighteen years later, when it would become Corazon staring up the barrel of his gun.
And yet, out of all the ways he thought he might die, that was still the one possibility he hadn’t considered. Even as Doflamingo shot their father, Corazon didn't think he would be next. Even as Doflamingo shot an enemy captain, Corazon didn't think he’d be next. Even as Doflamingo filled a navy informant with lead, the smoke from bullet after bullet filling the air of their hideout with a suffocating fog that smelt of fire and death, Corazon lit up a cigarette and thought about a lot of things– but never “I'm next.” Never “my own brother will kill me.”
It wasn't until he saw the strings of Doffy's birdcage descend over Minion Island that the eventuality of his death became something imminent. It wasn't until that very moment that he finally knew and accepted that he was going to die… And it was easier than he'd thought it would be, because in that moment he had someone he was willing to die for.
Every bullet that Doflamingo put into Corazon he took willingly, keenly aware of the terrified boy trapped in the box behind him. If it was to save Law, he'd be shot a hundred more times and die a thousand more, as long as the kid was alright. He held onto that thought as the gun went off, as the bullets hit their mark, as he lay there bleeding in the snow, and as he took his final breath. Corazon was finally okay to die, because it meant that Law would finally get to live.
Except now here he was. Alive.
♡ ♡ ♡ ♡
A scream ripped from Corazon's throat as he shot upwards, every part of him alight. He could feel something painfully pull in his chest with the sudden motion, a bolt of blinding agony that quickly made its way through his whole being. There was something humming inside of him– the rush of adrenaline that filled every inch of his body as it realised it was still alive. His racing heart, his gasping breaths, his frantic mind, all of them barely beginning to comprehend that they were still beating, still breathing, still thinking.
Before he could wrap his head around what was happening, multiple pairs of gloved hands were suddenly on him, trying to push him back down as he struggled against them in those first few confusion-driven moments of panic.
“–He's up!”
“Somebody – the Admiral!”
“–Stitches!”
“Hold – down!”
A flurry of activity, a clamour of voices, the intensity of the lights overhead… The confusion was sharp and tangible for a moment, until finally Corazon's mind slowed down enough for the pieces to start clicking into place.
“I'm alive,” he whispered, surprised at the hoarse sound of his own voice. He finally stopped resisting the people who he could now see were doctors, worried eyes the only parts of their faces visible over their masks.
“Commander Rosinante, can you understand me?” One of them asked, eyes wide.
Corazon barely registered the question, sinking back into the pillow below him and staring up at the ceiling. His heartbeat felt unnatural; the sensation so intense and so alien he almost couldn't believe it was real. How am I alive?
He could still feel the bite of snow against his skin; taste the bitter tang of blood in his mouth. He had been so certain he was going to die, so ready to go. But he hadn't. He had watched the door close and heard the lock click, and that was supposed to be the end of it all… But now his life had been thrown wide open again.
What was he meant to do with that?
“Commander Rosinante, can you hear us?”
He could still feel himself lying there in the snow, drawing ragged breath after ragged breath as he fought to hold on– not to live, but to steal just a few more moments. To ensure Law's silence and safety.
Is he safe? Corazon wondered, worry returning to him once again, like an old friend. Did he make it out?
Corazon had thought that he could afford a bit of certainty in his final moments. Certainty that he would die, yes, but also certainty that it would mean something. To give up your very life, it was only fair that the universe would offer something in exchange, and for Corazon that was Law's escape. But as certain as his death was, here he was still breathing, and all the unfinished threads of his life were in his grasp once again.
Where was Doflamingo? Would Dressrosa be safe? Would the navy find out he'd betrayed them? And most importantly: would Law be okay?
Please, please let him have escaped.
“Commander Rosinante!”
Corazon's eyes snapped towards the voice, finally registering it. A couple of the doctors were leaning over him, trying to get his attention. One of them was holding a small light in her hand, shining it into his eye and testing something.
“What's going on?” He asked, squinting at the light, and the doctors both let out a collective sigh of relief.
“He's responsive,” the first doctor said, visibly relaxing. She turned off the light and set it on a table behind her, marking something down on a clipboard that she picked up while continuing to speak. “Welcome back, Commander… You had us worried there.”
Corazon furrowed his brow, trying to piece things together through the fog in his brain. His initial burst of panic had dissipated and left behind exhaustion; the struggle completely depleting what little strength he had left. It felt near impossible to consider where he was, or what was happening. All he could think was that he hadn't seen a doctor since the last time he'd punched one in the face, and he hadn't been called Commander Rosinante since…
This is the navy! he realised, eyes widening at the room around him.
Sure enough, the uniforms of every doctor surrounding him bore the navy's logo– a sight that, for the first time in his life, made him a bit uneasy. To save Law, he'd made an enemy out of everyone: Doflamingo, the government, and even the navy he'd sworn his allegiance to. He'd lied to Sengoku, interfered in a multi-million-berri deal, and stolen the Op-Op fruit from right under their noses. After four years of pretending, he was now actually a criminal… The only real question was if the navy knew that yet.
“Where am I?” He asked, trying once again to sit up. This time, he wasn't met with much resistance, except for his body's painful protest at the movement.
“You're onboard a navy vessel,” another doctor told him.
“Tsuru's ship?”
“Yes,” she said, as the doctor from before marked something else down. “You were brought on board after we found you on the island.” She paused. “How much do you remember, Commander?”
“I… remember being shot,” Corazon said.
“And how much do you remember before that?”
How much can I tell them? Corazon wondered. How much do they already know?
“Does the navy not know what happened?” he asked vaguely, trying to prod for more of a picture.
“We're trying to see what you remember,” the doctor with the light supplied. “You were… Well, you were legally dead for a few minutes, not to mention how long you were unconscious for even after your heart started again. There's a chance that there's been…” She was being careful about her words, clearly hesitant to tell the dead man what that meant for him.
“There's a chance you sustained brain or other permanent damage,” the other doctor put plainly. “There was a point where your heart wasn't beating, cutting off oxygen to the brain. That, alongside the bloodloss… Well, there's a lot of tests we'll have to run, to be on the safe side.”
“But, so far, it's looking optimistic!” The first doctor interjected. “So…”
“At any rate, it's better than being dead.”
“Right,” Corazon said. “Better than being dead…”
Suddenly, the door burst open, one of the sailors now standing there in the doorway with a sense of urgency in her posture and voice. “I ran and got the Admiral, like you asked! ” she said, grabbing a quick breath as she braced herself against the doorframe. “He's right be–”
“Rosinante!”
Corazon's eyes widened, immediately recognizing the voice, but not immediately believing it to be real. “Sengoku!?” he said, watching in shock as the man came into view, a contrasting mix of panic and relief etched across his familiar face.
“Rosinante,” Sengoku said, unable to hide the emotion bursting at the seams of his voice. He rushed forwards a few steps before pausing just in front of the gurney, looking around at the medical team still assembled in the now rather cramped space. “Give us the room,” he ordered, and after a few brief glances to each other, the doctors obliged, quickly making their way outside.
“Sengoku, what are you doing here?” Corazon asked, unable to articulate the myriad of thoughts running through his mind at the moment. “Aren't you supposed to be–” but his questions were silenced as Sengoku suddenly wrapped his arms around him, pulling him into a hug.
“You're alive…” he said, and Corazon slowly brought his hands up as well, firmly returning the embrace.
It had been four years since he'd last seen Sengoku, the man who saved his life and took him in as his own when he had nowhere else to go. The man he respected more than anyone else, who was like– no, who was a father to him. The man who he could never bring himself to hide anything from and the man who he had lied to in what was almost their last ever conversation. A mix of emotions quickly made their way through him: relief, apprehension, guilt… But mostly, the feeling that overpowered everything else was just how much he had missed him.
“I'm alive,” he said with a slight smile.
Sengoku finally let go, straightening up and taking a deep breath as he surveyed Corazon with a knitted brow. Following his eyes, Corazon finally looked down at himself as well, taking in the sight of bandages tightly wound around his whole torso. What little exposed skin there was around them and up his arms was covered in bruises and scrapes, dark purples, greens, and grays meeting the remnants of blistering at his outermost extremities that he guessed was frostbite. It felt like looking at the pictures of corpses he'd seen on navy reports, or the bodies Doflamingo's crew would have disposed of. Not like looking at himself.
“They called me just after they brought you on the ship,” Sengoku said quietly, hand pressed lightly against the gurney's handrail. “They said they… said they found you half buried in snow, full of bullets.” –his hand tightened around it as he spoke, knuckles white– “I sailed out as soon as they sent the message. They said they weren't sure if…”
Another wave of guilt crashed over Corazon as Sengoku's voice broke off, a horrible sort of silence filling the room in its absence. Sengoku fixed his gaze on nothing in particular for a few moments before he returned it to Corazon, the slight shine of tears in his eyes something they were both painfully aware of, but neither would acknowledge.
“I really thought you were dead, Rosinante…” he said.
“Yeah,” Corazon said, once again running his eyes across his bandages. “So did I…”
So did I.
“What happened on that island?” Sengoku asked. “Diez Barrels and his men are all dead, his hideout’s nothing but rubble, the op-op fruit is gone, Doflamingo's gone, and according to eyewitnesses, the island's inhabitants all inexplicably started killing each other inside some sort of ‘giant birdcage'."
“A… lot happened,” Corazon said with a weary sigh. “To start with, I blew my cover.”
“We assumed that was the case…” Sengoku said, nodding solemnly. “Then… It was Doflamingo who…?”
The bang of a pistol going off; a sudden flash of red. Corazon's heart pounding and pounding and then stopping. An angry yell in front of him; a silent scream behind him. The soft thud of desperate blows against the wall of a treasure chest, inaudible, but he could feel it against his back. Rhythmic, panicked, trying and failing to break the wood open.
“Yes,” Corazon answered, voice hollow. “Doflamingo shot me.”
Sengoku let out a sharp exhale, closing his hand into a fist beside him as he tried to maintain his composure. Corazon sunk back down into the pillow, a bottomless well entering the myriad of emotions running their course through him. He really wished he had a cigarette right now…
“So then was he responsible for everything?” Sengoku asked. “Diez Barrels, the cage, the op-op fruit?”
“If I had to guess… Barrels and his crew were likely killed by Doflamingo. He's responsible for the birdcage and everyone turning on each other as well.”
“Parasite strings?” Sengoku asked, and Corazon nodded. “This is bad… And he stole the fruit too?”
No, Corazon thought, closing his eyes. But if I tell him who it really was, I may as well just walk myself right down to the lowest level of Impel Down.
But… would Sengoku arrest him? Or would he understand what he'd done? Sengoku could certainly relate to going against reason and even orders to help a scared kid with nobody else… Maybe he would side with him on this, or at least agree to keep it quiet.
“Doflamingo didn't steal it,” Corazon told him after swallowing the lump in his throat. There was a pit in his stomach: a nervousness that felt strangely like he was thirteen years old again, not wanting to explain where the burn mark on the couch came from while hiding a pack of cigarettes behind his back.
“I… I don't know where it is.”
And that was true, technically. He didn't know where Law had ended up by now, wandering across the island all alone. What kind of trouble he might be in. He had to get back to him; being arrested wasn't a risk Corazon could afford to take. And it wasn't like he hadn’t already turned his back on everything anyways. However much he wanted to give in and tell Sengoku everything, however much it burned to lie to him, it was something he had to do if he was going to make it back to Law. And he was going to make it back.
Sengoku cursed. “Well that's not good… But as long as Doflamingo doesn't have it, there's still a chance to recover the Op-Op Fruit. I'll contact headquarters and have them start a search.”
Corazon nodded, the knot in his stomach tightening as he thought about where that search could lead them… right to Law.
He's out there, all alone… he thought. And he thinks I'm dead.
He couldn't imagine what he was feeling right now. Wandering through the snow or a city or onboard some ship, carrying a life he never thought he'd get to live alongside the weight of watching Corazon die right in front of him.
How long has he been all alone for? he thought, feeling a pain in his chest not unlike the bullets.
“Sengoku,” Corazon asked, “How long has it been since that night?”
“Two weeks,” Sengoku answered, and Corazon drew in a sharp breath.
Two weeks… he thought, a knot of anxiety tying itself up around his throat. Two weeks where Law was left to fend for himself with the fresh sting of grief still beaten and bleeding and thrown on top of the rest of his burdens. Two weeks of trying to stay away from a man who wouldn't hesitate to steal him and break him until he knew nothing more than a willingness to do whatever he asked. Two weeks where Law could have ended up anywhere.
Where are you, Law? Corazon wondered. Are you finally safe? Are you finally free?
He hoped more than anything that he was… But there was only one way to make sure of it. Now that fate had turned around and handed Corazon his life back, it was clear to him what he had to use it for.
“Sengoku?” Corazon asked. “Which way is this ship headed?”
“Back to Headquarters… Why?” Sengoku paused, realisation flashing across his face. “Don't tell me…”
Corazon had been sure he was going to die… But if life had made other plans, then he would too. He had to get back to Law, no matter what it took. He had already proven to himself and to fate just how far he was willing to go to save him… Now, it was time to go just a little bit further.
“Turn it around.”