Archive of Our Own

Trafalgar Law lays on a shoreline, the sun burning into his retinas and sending shooting pains into his hazy mind. He can barely move, not that he has any reason to. Each breath he takes wheezes and catches in his stinging dry throat. His chest heaves as he chokes and coughs up blood tinted sea water. Pain ignites in his ribs, his eyes snapping open, the blinding light setting his head on fire. When his vision starts to come back, the deep ache behind his eyes remains. His eyes settle on the form beside him. His chest aches as he registers Bepo’s bloodied fur. Screams echo in his waterlogged ears, his recollection of how he ended up here foggy.

He needs to get up. He needs to help Bepo and the rest of his crew. However, his muscles refuse to move, defeat and the sea water sapping his strength. More importantly, where is the rest of his crew? He can’t remember.

His breathing hitches as a small wave rolls over him, barely reaching his torso. His body stings with wounds that he’s not willing to look at.

“Bepo. Are you alive?” His voice comes out raspy and weak, the words barely intelligible.

His heartbeat starts to accelerate, thudding in his ears. His chest grows tighter and each breath becomes harder to take. With all his strength he manages to roll over towards Bepo, sand embedding itself in his wounds. He drags himself along the shoreline, closer to Bepo, reaching out towards him. He hesitates, his trembling hand hovering just above Bepo’s wet fur.

His tattooed fingers slowly move through Bepo’s white fur stained with dark red patches, some still damp and others crusted into the fur. Law presses too fingers into Bepo’s neck, praying to find a pulse.

The sun beats down on the two of them, waves gently lapping just out of reach, a ship is anchored in the distance. Law lets out a breath of relief and collapses against the sand. Bepo’s alive. That’s something.

In the distance, a ship is anchored not too far from the dock welcoming occasional travellers to this sparsely populated island. Leaning against the ship’s railing, Lindbergh looks up at Karasu, thinking about the new plan. It doesn’t make much sense to divide their attention from their main goal of liberation to capture some pirate. They don’t know where he is and should assume that he won’t be cooperative. However, his Devil Fruit abilities might be able to bring Kuma back. If they manage to capture both Kuma, The Surgeon of Death and somehow make that pirate cooperate it might work. However, there are too many uncertainties right now.

“His crew was last sighted heading towards Winner Island. It’s not too far from here.” Karasu states, looking through some notes he took. He stands on the deck of their anchored ship with Lindbergh, the sky patchy with clouds. It’s a rare occurrence to enjoy such warm sunny weather but due to some mishaps with navigation, they are choosing to restock on this island during daylight.

“The longer we wait the further they’ll be.” Lindbergh sighs and crosses his arms, his eyes scanning the shoreline from behind tinted goggles. Lindbergh squints at two amorphous blobs on the shore, the water around them tinted red.

“Leave them be. We should scout the island before restocking.” Karasu motions for Lindbergh to stay on the ship. He waves his hand, summoning a crow. It soars in the sky, the sun glinting in its eyes and heads towards the island.

Law squints up at the sky, a light breeze sending a chill down his spine. The light of the sun is temporarily disrupted by something that flies overhead. He grits his teeth as his body starts tingling, the pain from his battered body no longer lingering in the background but now pushing its way into focus. He wishes he could move out of the water to use his devil fruit and check himself and Bepo for injuries. However, each breath sends shooting pains through his chest, his ribs most likely broken and splintering into his lungs. His vision blurs at the edges.

He tries to hold his breath and save himself from the pain but it doesn’t last long. He forces himself to take small measured shallow breaths, his vision still swimming. Flashes of the Polar Tang ripped to shreds under the water project over his vision. His bloodied crew mates burning into his retinas. Where are they? Are they dead? Did Blackbeard capture them? He isn’t sure which option is worse.

Maybe he deserves this. A slow painful death as the sea saps away his strength and mixes with his blood, staring up at the unforgiving sun with shattered bones. He wiggles his fingers, finding it much harder to replicate the motion with his toes. Exhaustion weighs heavy, crushing him. If only he had been smarter, faster or just avoided the fight with Blackbeard from the start. They weren’t ready. What the fuck had he been thinking?

The thing soaring up above returns and glides down next to him. He cautiously turns his head, a searing hot pain flaring up in his shoulder, spreading through his nervous system. His vision flashes white for half a second and he grits his teeth, his breaths stuttering in his throat. As his vision returns, he recognises the flying object to be a crow. It looms close as if it’s watching him and Bepo, staring at the words tattooed across his bloody fingers. It’s almost ironic.

“It’s him.” Karasu confirms, looking through the eyes of the crow with his Devil Fruit.

“What? Impossible!” Lindbergh exclaims, clearly exasperated.

Karasu dissolves into a murder of crows before Lindbergh’s eyes. He has seen it many times before but it always feels unnerving to watch up close. The crows move together, dragging a shadow below them. He watches them swarm around the bodies on the shore.

Law struggles to stay conscious, deciding to rest his eyes. Darkness looms over him and he cracks an eye open, hundreds of crows swarming around him and Bepo, covering any light spilling in from the sun. Swallowed by darkness, he accepts his fate. He feels weightless as if he’s being carried, the fluttering of wings encompassing his thoughts of guilt and grief and regret. They weigh him down but the talons of crows sink into his battered flesh, pulling him off the sand, his bruised body and cracked bones protesting. He hears a sickening pop as his arm is dragged upwards, the pain blinding him as a pained sound rips from his throat.

He tries to thrash around but the talons dig deeper and he can barely keep his head up, let alone his eyes open. His vision fades but the searing pain in his shoulder and chest persists. It’s nauseating.

Eventually he feels something solid and warm below him, the talons sharply releasing. He groans and tries to move, tries to open his eyes. He manages to crack open one of them, two figures looming over him, one much shorter than the other. He fights to keep his eyes open as they move him, but they roll back as searing hot pain flashes through his dislocated shoulder.

…

Law wakes up in a dim cell, barely able to keep his head up. He shifts, the sea prism cuffs chaining him to the wall clinking. Blood is crusted against his forehead and in his hair, his hat somewhere on Winner Island. Hooded figures swallowed by shadows stand before him. Bepo is nowhere to be seen, fuelling the sinking feeling in his gut.

One of the figures step forward and press a cup to his lips. He doesn’t ask what it is. He gulps it down, thankful that it’s just water. His entire body aches, each breath still sending stabbing pains through his chest.

“Trafalgar Law.” One of the voices boom making the ache in his head more pronounced, “We need your specialties. Do you agree to help us?”

“Depends what you need them for.” He rasps.

The figure moves swiftly, their foot colliding with his cracked ribs, winding him. He lets out a choked sound and it gets stuck in his throat as he coughs up blood onto the damp tiles below him. Blood and saliva stringily cling to his lip as it dangles just above the stone tiles. He wheezes trying to catch his breath but they give him no time. A fist connects with his jaw and his ears ring louder as he spits out more blood. The motion yanks him to the side, his shoulder flaring up in more pain as his vision flickers and nausea washes over him. He blinks rapidly, trying to force himself to remain conscious as it flickers and dwindles.

“We require your skills to save one of our friends.”

“Why would I do that?” His voice is barely there, coming out much less stable and threatening than he’d like. His head feels like it’s being split open.

A sloshing sound reverberates off the walls as one of the other hooded figures step closer and before his brain can process what they’re holding, freezing cold sea water is dumped over his head, his knees buckling and smacking against the hard floor. His eyes droop and his head lulls forwards as he tries to hold himself up. His chains rattle as his body refuses to keep itself up and he leans over his knees. From the way they have him chained up, the motion pulls on his shoulder once more, a pained grunt escaping him from behind gritted teeth as he shivers uncontrollably.

“We can offer you something in return for your help.”

Law’s mind is barely keeping up all he can think about is how he probably deserves this. He was too weak to save his crew. Too rash to not dive head first in a battle against an Emperor of the Sea. The weak don’t get to choose how they die – it echoes in his mind.

“My crew. I need to find them.” The words leave his mouth before he can stop them. Now they know his goal. It’s a ploy. It’s a trap. It must be. They’re looking for a weakness and he has just given it to them. He scolds himself internally.

“Your crew? Interesting.” Another voice chimes in, “So you have no value for your own life?”

Law remains silent.

“So you would have no problem with performing the Perennial Youth Operation if it came down to it in exchange for your crew of course, right?”

Law’s eyes widen and he lifts his head up, his vision swimming. The figures before him blur and merge together. He fights to keep himself from moving, knowing that it’ll only result in more pain.

A foot collides with the side of his torso, the motion flinging him to the side. He hears a sickening crack, his vision going white from the immense pain. A pained scream tears from his throat, scraping against his vocal cords. He grits his teeth, trying to regulate his breathing as it shudders and stutters in his throat. An immense heat concentrates in his head, his vision flickering as more water is dumped over his head and he’s glad nothing is in his stomach or else it would be all over the floor.

“You need to answer when spoken to, boy. This is important.”

He gasps for air, panic no longer simmering but boiling in his gut. Were they doing the same to Bepo? Where is he? Who are these mysterious captors? Pirates? Marines?

Something deep inside of him stirs at being referred to as ‘boy’. The demeaning words of Vergo echoing in his mind. The Doflamingo Pirates? Are they his captors? Every fibre in his body tenses, pain radiating through his battered body and broken bones. His chest tightens and a lump forms in his throat.

It must be them. No one else would be this cruel. However, another part of him can’t believe that to be the case. The part that tells him to remain calm and not give into the paranoia. Doflamingo likes to be known. He wouldn’t hide his identity behind cloaks. Not when it came to Law.

“You better start talking because the mink you came with doesn’t have much time.”

“Bepo?” Law’s head snaps up again and his chest tightens further, his breaths growing more ragged. His thoughts start to spiral. He can’t control it. Panic starting to take over.

“We’ll leave you to decide on your answer. In the meantime, we’ll deal with your friend.”

The cloaked figures leave the room as Law’s mind tries and fails to process what is happening, his vision flicking between the present of this damp prison cell and those of the Doflamingo Pirates that he would be punished in as a kid.

***

Law is thrown across the room, hitting the wall solidly and before he knows it he’s on his hands and knees on the floor, trying to catch his breath. He scrambles to his feet, his head swimming from getting up too fast. Doflamingo lingers in the doorway. Waiting. Law doesn’t even know what he has done wrong this time. Maybe that’s the point.

Doflamingo’s figure is distorted by the dim room. He sways as he walks, his words slurred, a half empty wine bottle in his hand. He slurs something about kids being ungrateful and stepping out of line. However, Law knows he followed all the rules and all the instructions. Biting his tongue when he knew he was right. It never mattered.

Law looks up, knowing to school his expression. If he cries now then he’ll be given something to cry about. However, this time feels different. He isn’t even angry. He’s just confused and scared, fear consuming his very being the closer Doflamingo gets.

His body trembles and he can’t stop it. It’s wrong. This is wrong. Everything is wrong.

The bottle smashes against the wall above his head as he ducks, running between Doflamingo’s legs and towards the light of the hallway. Maybe if he can hide for long enough, Doflamingo will cool off.

***

The door shuts and Iva takes their hood off, refusing to look at the others. They look down at their blood splattered shoes and sigh. It’s all for Kuma. It’s worth it. Right? However, there’s an unsettling feeling in their gut. They know this is wrong but the end goal is too important.

The others remain silent too. Muffled yelling from downstairs in the cell barely audible. Karasu scratches the back of his neck and walks off. Belo Betty puts on her red tinted sunglasses and moves towards the window, looking out at the view.

“We’re doing the right thing.” She says but defeat and uncertainty seeps through her confident tone.

Sabo and Koala round the corner and stop, looking over the expressions of their comrades with confusion. They had just returned from a mission collecting information on trafficking of weapons across a small group of islands in the South. However, since Dragon is still off doing who knows what, they have some time to kill before the next big meeting.

It’s a difficult time for everyone, Sabo knows this. The absence of Kuma has been a heavy weight for a long time. However, he isn’t sure why it seems to weigh heavier today.

“Dragon should be back later this week. Can one of you catch me up on his plans from last week so I’m not behind?” Sabo asks.

The group remains silent. Iva takes a deep breath and offers the man a smile, “I think it’s best that we wait until he’s back.”

This confuses Sabo. Usually communication is pretty open, especially now that he’s the chief of staff. However, from the sorry expressions on everyone’s faces, maybe it’s for the best that he doesn’t know what’s happening.

“I’ll be training if anyone needs me.” He sighs and leaves, taking his trusty metal pipe with him to the outside training area.

…

Law fades in and out of consciousness. He is losing track of time. Has it been minutes? Hours? Days? He isn’t sure. All he knows is that he’s in pain and that he can’t stop thinking about Bepo and the rest of his crew.

Are they ok?

What are they doing to Bepo?

Maybe he deserves this. Maybe this is some divine punishment. No. Devine would mean that there’s some higher power who wiped out Flevance and killed Cora-san and slaughtered his crew. He can’t shift the blame for most of those things to anyone but himself.

Guilt weighs heavier than the pain and the sea prism. His eyes start to burn and a lump forms in his dry throat. His stomach grumbles and pain throbs in his head and shoulder and ribs. Each breath sending shooting pains through his organs. He knows that he must have been here for a while because he’s hungry. However, the thought of food doesn’t even seem appealing. He doesn’t think he deserves it either.

Another shiver runs through his body, his chains clinking against each other. Sea water drips from his damp hair, speckling the hard floor. His legs burn from trying to keep himself somewhat upright, trying to avoid further pain from his probably mangled shoulder joint. He trembles, a chill penetrating through his flesh and sinking into his bones. Sweat beads on his forehead and his face is much paler than it should be. He can’t stop the tremors, each one sending prickling pains through his broken body.

He still doesn’t understand their objective. They haven’t explained it to him. How can he agree with such vague conditions? He barely remembers the premise they proposed when he was concussed and barely lucid.

Someone walks in and he almost instinctively holds his breath, trying to hide in the darkness.

“We meet again.”

He cringes at the voice knowing what is to come.

“Have you given our deal any further thought?”

“I’m not even sure what the deal is anymore.” Law answers truthfully, his voice wavering.

The hooded figure approaches and rests a hand on his shoulder, pressing into it. He can feel the bone pressing into his nerves, pain sparking through the misplaced joint. A high pitch ringing sounds in his ears over the words from his captor.

“Whatever it is… I told you- I told you I’d do it if you stop hurting Bepo.” Law stammers through gritted teeth, hoping that his words come out somewhat intelligible. In reality, they slur together and run into each other. His voice is broken and lost, the words barely coherent.

A cup is pressed to his lips and once again, just like the past few days, he gulps down the water. This time he is also given some food. Some foul tasting cold chunky soup. It has definitely gone bad and is probably doing more harm than good. Without thinking, he murmurs a thank you.

He looks up at the figure with glazed over half lidded eyes, “I just need to save my crew first, then I promise I will help you. Whatever you need.”

Another person enters the cell, a female voice that he recognises from yesterday. Much more impatient and unforgiving. Something smacks into the side of his head and his vision spins. A solid metal object. The sound of something attached to the other end makes him believe that it’s a flag pole.

His vision blurs and the figures merge and dance with black dots over his vision. A blunt object collides with his stomach and he gags, the rotten amalgamation of soupy substance he just ate spilling out his lips and onto the cell floor.

“Not good enough. We can’t risk you dying before you can help us.”

He gasps for air, saliva dripping from his lips mixed with blood. His mouth tasting metallic. He coughs and splutters, more partially digested mush and stomach acid coming up. It smells awful and his throat and lungs burn.

“Bepo… is he ok?” he rasps between ragged breaths, no longer able to keep his head up, his gaze set on the small puddle of vomit on the floor.

He doesn’t get the pleasure of a response.

…

Sabo pulls out a seat at the large round table, everyone else sitting in their spot – barring one or two members. Koala sits beside him, putting some maps down on the table. There are charts of the islands they visited and the ports where illegal gun transactions were made, dotted lines tracking ship movements and names of the crews and individuals making purchases.

“Here are the main three spots we observed.” Koala states, pointing out three areas on separate but nearby islands. She continues, “The buyers seem to range from random individuals to underground crime syndicates to branches of the marines to small pirate groups.”

The rest of the revolutionaries listen as she speaks, her presence commanding the attention of all. Sabo chimes in about the number of guns sold at each port, trying not to complain about the countless hours of tallying he had to do. Others chime in on theories connecting the incidents in surrounding islands and towns.

“Honestly, the findings are inconclusive and we’d need to go undercover for longer to figure out who is at the root of all this.” Sabo sighs.

Dragon nods and collects their paper trail of findings, hopefully to look over in private if he has time. He clears his throat and looks at each individual at the table.

“There’s another matter we need to discuss.” Dragon’s voice remains calm and detached, “There is a plan in motion for saving Kuma.”

Sabo’s eyes widen. He knows that they have all been working hard on different plans to get Kuma back but something about the look in Dragon’s eyes makes him think that this is something big, something that will actually work. Hope and excitement tingle in his chest.

“There is a pirate named Trafalgar Law who possesses the Ope Ope no Mi. This could come in handy with deprogramming Kuma and reverting him back to his original state.”

Sabo nods along. He recognises that name. Trafalgar Law. Faint memories of Dressrosa cross his mind. Trafalgar must have been the one in the spotty hat who Luffy was in alliance with. He doesn’t know the man too well but he seems somewhat reasonable. This might actually be a possibility. A civil discussion or reward would be more than enough to win the guy over. Right?

“We have located him. However, he hasn’t been very cooperative from what I have heard.” Dragon relays the information with a deadpan expression.

That doesn’t sound too out of the ordinary for Sabo but he knows that if Luffy is friends with someone like Trafalgar then he must be a good guy. Luffy always has an accurate gut feeling for good people.

“We’ve tried reasoning with him but he keeps mentioning his crew.” Iva chimes in, “He seems to have lost some battle on Winner Island against Blackbeard and won’t consider doing anything before retrieving them.”

Again, that seems reasonable to Sabo. He misses Kuma and his heart aches for the man but Trafalgar seems to be going through something somewhat similar. Both parties are missing a part of their whole. Surely an agreement to aid both parties can be agreed upon. Before Sabo can propose an idea, Dragon speaks up.

“It’s too risky for him to go off and fight Blackbeard. He might not come out of it alive and then our plan to return Kuma to his natural state cannot go ahead.”

“What if we help him get his crew back and then he helps us in return?” Sabo proposes. He looks around at the faces of his fellow revolutionaries and is surprised to see the looks of shame and guilt plastered across their faces. It sets off a sinking feeling of anticipation in his stomach. Something is off. Something is wrong. Very wrong.

“I don’t know how willing he is to help us now.” Iva admits with a sigh of defeat.

“I’m happy to talk to him. I’ve met him before and he seems to be a friend of Luffy’s.” Sabo pushes, standing up from his seat. It slides backwards, scratching against the wooden floors below. No one moves. No one says anything.

“I’m sure this can all be settled in a civil manner.” Sabo smiles, “I’m pretty good at talking to people.”

A dreadful silence lingers heavily in the air. Guilt festering in the hearts of the revolutionaries. Dragon does not faulter.

“Trafalgar Law is being kept in one of our cells and-”

“What?” Sabo blurts out, his eyes widening and a sick feeling bubbling in his stomach. He remains standing his hands resting on the table.

“It’s for Kuma. This might be our only shot at-”

“What are you doing to him?” Sabo asks, his mind racing. He can’t move. He doesn’t even know if he wants the answer and no one offers to give him one. Not a straight forward one. Not yet.

“I know what you’re thinking, Sabo, but we’re desperate here.” Iva says hesitantly, not even able to look him in the eyes.

Sabo is appalled. Anger starts to simmer within him and he stands up straighter. He can’t even think straight.

“Is this what we stand for as the Revolutionary Army?” His voice comes out low, his tone scathing. “Imprisoning and torturing people who might benefit us?”

“You have no idea what the Revolutionary Army stands for, Sabo. Despite being involved with us for most of your life WE had to build this group from the ground up. You know nothing in comparison.” Dragon replies, his tone unwavering and stern.

Sabo grips the edge of the table with gloved hands, his head sinking low. He clenches his teeth stopping himself from cursing out Dragon right there and then.

“How would Kuma react? What would he do if this is what you did to save him?”

The room stays silent. Iva finally settles their gaze on Sabo, watching every muscle tense in his body, his breathing growing shaky. They can’t help but agree with him. It’s awful what they are doing to the poor pirate. However, they have to keep convincing themselves that it’ll be worth it otherwise how can they justify their actions?

Dragon sighs, his expression hiding his internal debate.

“Kuma wouldn’t agree to this, and neither do I.” Sabo speaks through gritted teeth and leaves the room, “You should all be ashamed.” He leaves the room, Koala following after him. She can’t find her words. Everything about this is so horrendous. The entire reason she supports the Revolutionary Army is due to their motto. Their will for liberation.

Have they become the enemy?

…

The silence is almost worse than the torture. Law can barely keep his eyes open any longer but he knows if he sleeps his body will go limp and he’ll be woken up by immense pain radiating through his shoulder. He’s starting to see flashes of figures in the darkness and hear whispers between his heart thudding in his ears. His head feels like its splitting open and his chest burns.

His breathing is becoming more shallow, constricted by his fractured ribs, the bones feeling like their splintering into his lungs. The taste of blood and vomit lingers in his mouth. His vision is swimming, blurring around the edges. A lump forms in his throat, a longing blooming in his chest for his crew, for predictability, for safety.

Someone looms just out of his sight, shrouded in the dim lighting of the cell, flickering in the torchlight. A lean figure with blond hair, face paint under one eye. His eyes widen, his heart accelerating faster. It can’t be real but he needs to believe it. Believe in something.

“I’m going to get you out of here.” A voice echoes around the cell and off the stone walls, different to the one he expects.

He can’t help it anymore. Tears brim his eyes and he looks down. He doesn’t deserve this. If he’s free what will he even do? He can’t save his crew. He doesn’t know where they are. He doesn’t even know if Bepo is ok. He has failed on all accounts. It weighs down on him as they get closer.

Their hands are abnormally warm and gentle as they fiddle with his shackles. He knows that sleep deprivation can cause hallucinations but this felt too real. Was he actually being set free? Or is something worse to come?

“Easy… easy… you’re in pretty rough shape but we’re going to get you some help.”

The voice is calm and gentle, igniting something unfamiliar and foreign within Law.

His shackles continue to clank against each other as the mysterious figure tries to unchain him because he can’t stop trembling. He’s so cold. Not just from the sea water but something that burrows deeper under his flesh. His teeth chatter almost audibly and he tries to grit them together to stop looking so pathetic. However, even that simple action sends pain through his battered face.

The chains come loose but the sea prism cuffs remain on his wrists. He falls forwards, an arm catching him as he collapses against a warm body. All Law can think about is the warmth that radiates from them. His eyes slowly droop shut only to snap open as another person enters the room, his body tensing up.

“We’re here to help.”

She says cautiously, her eyes scanning over his out of place shoulder. Her fingers are cold, pressing against his tattooed arm. It takes him a moment to recognise what she’s about to do and he shuts his eyes tightly. There’s an immense pressure in his shoulder and a snapping sound, pain stealing his breath as his shoulder is pushed back into place. His breath catches in his throat and shudders as he exhales, a few tears falling silently from his glazed over eyes. He hopes that whatever they do to him, he deserves it. It’s not like he has any energy to fight anyways.

Concern tugs at the corners of Sabo’s mouth, an awful feeling brewing in his gut as he tries to hold Law somewhat upright. He’s freezing cold and badly injured. Even in the dim light of this grimy cell he can tell that Trafalgar is barely holding on. He’s not sure he wants to see the extent of the damage. A mix of anger, disgust and guilt ignite within him as he tries to keep them from boiling over. Right now, all he can do is atone for the wrongs of his peers.

The weight against him increases as Trafalgar slumps further into him, murmuring about warmth and a name that Sabo doesn’t know. With Koala’s help, he manages to hoist Trafalgar up the stairs and through the halls towards the medbay. The sun shedding light on the extent of his infected injuries and sickly pallor and the dark circles under his eyes.

…

Law opens his eyes to a brighter room, the light spilling in through the window increasing the pressure behind his eyes. A man sits in a chair beside his bed, reading over the news. His blond hair catching the rays of sunlight. He can vaguely recognise the man but isn’t sure why or from where.

“You’re on some antibiotics and some heavy pain killers.” The man says, his tone soft but some misdirected anger seeping through. “I am so sorry about what happened. This isn’t what the revolutionary army stands for.”

Law doesn’t really process his words. There’s a strange lingering feeling of disappointment hanging over him. His eyes trail over the room. There are empty medical beds, equipment, clean floors and open windows. It almost feels foreign after being in that cell for what felt like months. In the bed next to him-

Law’s eyes widen and he pushes himself up, ignoring the searing pain that blinds his vision. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, ignoring the stammered protests from the blond man as he finds his footing. He stumbles, each step shaky and unsure, the tube connected to the canula in his arm tugging slightly. He reaches out, his hand nestling in Bepo’s white fur and rests his head on his chest. He closes his eyes, a weight lifting from his shoulders as he listens to the predictable rhythm of his heart.

“You really shouldn’t be standing.” Sabo says, standing beside him, his hands hovering close by in case Law falls over.

Law gives a flat hum in response but lingers a little longer before getting back into his own bed. He looks down at himself seeing that he’s in clean clothes and covered in bandages. His mind is hazy and slow but he knows he should be in a lot more pain. He knows that the wounds he gained are probably infected which explains the antibiotics mentioned earlier. He feels weird, the relief from seeing Bepo fading into a gnawing hollow feeling. He feels wrong.

Law exhales a shuddered breath and puts his head in his bandaged hands a shiver running through his aching body.

“He’s pretty badly injured but he should recover after some rest.” Sabo resumes his position in the seat beside the bed.

“Was he tortured?” Law mumbles into his palms, his words running into each other.

“No.”

Once again there’s a flicker of relief but it’s more like the memory of what a positive feeling is rather than actually feeling it. Everything feels so far away. Everything is muted and distant.

One of Law’s hands move up into his hair, the other lowering slowly to his side to prevent aggravating his temperamental shoulder. His fingers get tangled in his matted dark hair and the crusted blood. He winces and removes his hands. He feels dirty but he can’t bring himself to ask for anything.

“Do you want anything? Food? Water?” Sabo’s voice brings Law out of his head a bit and his eyes trail over to him. That’s where he knows him from… Dressrosa. He’s Luffy’s other brother, right? God how does he keep finding himself in situations like this?

Law doesn’t think he can stomach food right now and he’s pretty sure that they’re hydrating him through the drip. Maybe he should try. Not because he wants to but because if his body can’t handle it then maybe it’s what he deserves. He carefully manages to maneuverer himself upright, his chest burning.

Sabo smiles, happy to see that Law doesn’t seem completely lost. However, he’s concerned by the absent look in his eyes and hopes its just due to the medication he’s on.

Sabo returns shortly after leaving with some soup and crackers. Soup is the last thing that Law wants to see right now. The tray is placed on his lap and he stares through it. Hesitantly, he lifts up one of the crackers, taking some tentative bites. They’re pretty dry so he dips it in the soup, trying to see if that helps. It does but he can’t get ahead of himself.

As he eats, his mind wonders nowhere specific. When he zones back in, most of the soup is gone and he feels warmer. He isn’t sure how much time has passed but Sabo is still there, watching him carefully. Maybe the soup was poisoned. He doesn’t really care at this point.

Sabo takes the tray and disappears. Law stays upright, staring through the wall ahead of him. He knows he shouldn’t have eaten that much after only having barely one meal a day for who knows how long. The more he thinks about it, the more he feels his stomach sour. His mind wanders further. He doesn’t even realise that he’s in his head as he sees the Polar Tang sink. Through the ocean, fractals of light illuminate his crew, swimming to the surface. All he can do is watch. Red flows through the blue and bubbles escape his mouth as his cries for them to run are muffled by the ocean.

Pain shoots through his shoulder as he leans against his hands, looking over the edge of the bed. He’s panting and there’s an awful taste in his mouth. His vision is blurred by tears as he stares at the soup and some partially digested crackers that have splattered on the medbay floor. There’s a hand on his good shoulder, preventing him from falling off the edge of the bed. He flinches as another hand moves towards him, only for gentle fingers to move his sweaty matted hair out of his eyes. His stomach constricts again, pain shooting through his body. His vision blurs further, pain firing through his shoulder as they hitch forwards. However, nothing comes up, his stomach is empty. A pathetic sound slips past his lips and his breaths continue to hitch, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Here.” Sabo says from beside him, helping him sit upright against a pillow, handing him some water, “Take small sips, ok?”

Law nods, wishing that the man would turn away and spare him some dignity as he tries to stop himself from breaking down. He takes the cup of water in a trembling hand but doesn’t drink it yet. He holds his breath, his chest aching and shoulders shaking. He lifts the glass to his lips and takes a few sips, feeling Sabo’s eyes on him as he cleans up the mess on the floor.

“I’m not sure if you can shower because of your dressings.” Sabo says as he mops, glancing over at Law, “But I can see if we can wash your hair. It might help.”

“It’s fine.” Law tries to sound gruff but his voice still comes out shaky and weak. It’s pathetic.

“No. It’s not fine.” Sabo sighs. He is tempted to go on a rant, cuss out Dragon and the rest of the Revolutionary Army, but he bites his tongue. He wants Law to be angry or something. He wants Law to yell at him. Anything other than this.

“Dragon is still unhappy about all this.” A woman with purple hair enters the room, her hands on her hips. Law flinches at the sound of her voice his eyes snapping towards her. He knows that voice. His heart starts to thud harder in his chest and he can’t find his words.

“I don’t care.” Sabo replies, his tone short. “I’m chief of staff and this is my call.”

Sabo looks over at Law, seeing him shift away ever so slightly, his eyes locked on Belo Betty. She remains unaffected in the doorway, her signature flag nowhere to be seen. The last he saw it, it was stained with blood.

The dots start to connect.

Law isn’t sure what’s happening to him but he can’t stop shaking. It’s becoming harder to take measured breaths, his chest aching. Every step she takes he flinches, expecting something to be thrown at him. He can hear the swooshing of a flag but can’t see it. He feels like he’s about to be sick again.

“We’ll talk later. You should go.” Sabo states, his eyes narrowing on her. Belo Betty shrugs, her guilt effectively concealed behind her upright posture and stone cold expression. She turns around and leaves, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Sabo turns back to Law, watching his eyes dart around the room as his bandaged hand clutches at his chest. He’s trembling again but his breathing is uneven and short. That probably isn’t good. Sabo thinks about calling for a nurse and gets up.

“No.” Law chokes out, his hand leaving his chest to reach outwards. The man in the chair flickers between Sabo and another he hasn’t seen in 13 years. His heart keeps thudding in his ears like machineguns raining over Flevance. His breath catches in his throat and he muffles the sound with his palm. His eyes start watering and the world around him swings as the Polar Tang sways in the wake of Blackbeard’s large ship.

Sabo freezes up for a moment before cautiously sitting back down. He sits there silently, unsure of what to do. Then slowly, he shifts his seat closer to the bed. He reaches out carefully, burn scars poking out from the cuff of his glove.

Law shifts away. Sabo is a stranger. He could still be dangerous. He could hurt Bepo. He could-

Sabo retracts his hand and nods in understanding. He just sits there, watching Law desperately try to collect himself. However, it doesn’t seem to be working. He can’t lie, it’s pretty awkward just sitting there. He barely knows Law and all he feels is guilt and anger around the actions of his colleagues – the people who are basically his family.

“How can I help?” Sabo asks hesitantly, unsure if Law will even respond.

“I don’t know.” Law manages to choke out between hitched breaths, “I’m not sure what’s happening right now.” He needs to stop talking so much. Why is he talking so much? Tears start to spill from his eyes, running down his cheeks. He curls into himself, trying to hide away and muffle his cries. This is pathetic. He’s so weak right now. He’ll be punished for displaying this weakness. Just like before. Just like back then. It always comes back to this.

“Take your time.” Sabo says, trying to shrug off the awkward tension bundling in his joints, “We’ve got time. We’ve got a lot of time.”

“No we don’t.” Law shakes his head frantically, “You don’t understand- I need to find them. There’s no time. We don’t have any time”. As his words devolve into rambles and pleas he can’t stop himself from sobbing. His chest hurts so badly and he can’t chalk it all up to his damaged ribs. His shoulders continue to shake and his body keeps trembling. His choked sobs are only broken by sharp breaths. The loss of control making him panic further.

Sabo sits helplessly, wishing that he had the right words but none come to mind. He can’t take this anymore. The barely muffled broken sobs coming from Law make his heart ache. This is his fault. He should’ve pressed further when he came back. He knew something was wrong. Why didn’t he say anything? His eyes wonder from the broken sight before him searching the room for a solution.

A restlessness builds in Law’s aching joints, coiling up like springs. His chest feels like it’s constricting, his ribs trapping his heart and lungs. It’s unbearable. He needs this to stop. He needs to move but he can’t. He tries to force himself to get out of the bed but his body refuses to cooperate. Fighting against himself, he manages to turn towards Sabo and swing his feet over the edge of the bed, the soles of his feet pressing into the cold sterile floor. His knees feel weak as he pushes himself to stand and Sabo gets up too, hovering close by.

Sabo extends his hands, aware that Law probably shouldn’t be standing. He doesn’t want him to hurt himself further but he doesn’t intervene. To his surprise, cold fingers clasp around his forearm. He can feel the tremors running through Law’s body and it tugs at something in his heart. Grief, loss and fear are strongly tied to this room. Sabo knows that more than anyone else.

Law takes a shaky step, his grip on Sabo’s arm unwavering. His legs feel like they’re about to give out but a stabilising arm wraps around his torso. For some reason, he leans into it. That warmth from earlier returns, radiating from Sabo’s body.

Sabo freezes up for half a second when more weight is leaned against him and sobs are muffled into his shoulder. His eyes widen and dart around the room. He’s not entirely sure what to do. Then, against his better judgement, he carefully adjusts himself to wrap his arms around Trafalgar.

Law shuts his eyes tighter, feeling the warmth around him. It’s alien and foreign and reminds him of something he can't quite put his finger on. In his delirious and medicated state he allows himself to pretend that he’s back on the Polar Tang. That it’s his crew there, comforting him instead of Sabo. That he’s about to be scolded by Penguin for being too reckless and Shachi will offer them both a beer in celebration and when he tries to leave to go to bed, everyone will whine and complain about him being a buzzkill and he’ll stay up for a few more hours.

Sabo loosens his hold as he feels the trembling subside and when Trafalgar takes a step back his eyes are still red from crying. Exhaustion is written all over his face. Sabo is surprised that he’s still standing.

“Do you want me to help you get cleaned up?” Sabo asks softly.

Law can’t bring himself to agree. He doesn’t want to admit to needing the help. He barely has the energy to speak. However, he finds himself nodding before he can stop himself and Sabo is already guiding him to the bathroom. Each step sends numbed pains up his legs that threaten to give way but Sabo waits patiently. It’s frustrating… or maybe it’s something else but Law doesn’t have the words for it.

Sabo sets a towel down on the tiles and helps Trafalgar sit down, leaning back against the bathtub. He puts another towel around Trafalgar’s shoulders, not wanting his bandages to get wet. He walks over to the cabinet below the sink and retrieves a jug that he fills with warm water.

“Just tilt your head back for me, alright?” Sabo offers Law a smile as he complies. Sabo crouches beside him and pours the water over his hair, making sure it doesn’t trickle into his eyes. The warm water runs over Trafalgar’s scalp and into the bathtub, stained with dirt and dried blood. Sabo takes off his gloves, setting them aside to detangle Law’s hair the best he can.

“Is this ok?” Sabo checks in, glancing over at Trafalgar’s dazed expression. A soft affirming hum leaves Law’s lips and he closes his eyes, focusing on the gentle fingers in his hair. A fond memory from his childhood mixing with the present. A campfire flickering nearby. Water warmed by the fire in a pot poured over his hair as he covers his eyes, leaning over a stream of water.

Sabo doesn’t understand the mumbled words from Law, nor recognise the name he calls him. He decides not to question it and continues to remove the gunk and grime from his hair.

When he’s done, Law is barely lucid. It’s concerning but expected. Sabo takes the towel from around Law’s shoulders and pats his hair dry. He manages to carefully bring him to his feet and wraps an arm around him to guide him back to the medical bed.

Law lays down with damp hair, fighting to keep his eyes open. However, as soon as the blanket is draped over him, he gives in and lets them droop shut. Sabo sits back down beside the bed, his eyes settling on the window. A crow sitting on the ledge. They’re being monitored – as expected – and Sabo can’t help but hope that Karasu feels bad about what he did. He isn’t sure how they’ll move past this. A knock at the door pulls his gaze from the window. Koala is standing there with a few papers in her hands.

“We have leads.” She states, entering the room, “About Trafalgar’s crew. They’re most likely still alive.”

Sabo’s eyes widen, a glimmer of hope igniting within him.

“We have reason to believe that Blackbeard will use them for leverage.” Koala speaks quieter this time, realising that both Bepo and Trafalgar are asleep, “We can help them, Sabo, but Dragon will only agree if they help us in return.”

Sabo sits with the information for a few moments, mulling it over. In theory, it seems like a good plan but a nagging sense of unease looms in the back of his mind. Can he fully trust Dragon after everything that happened?

“This is the best plan of action and it aligns better with our goal as Revolutionaries.” Koala adds. What she doesn’t talk about is the screaming match she had with Dragon and the rest of the Revolutionaries when Sabo wasn’t there. How Belo Betty left the room because she couldn’t handle the weight of what they had done and came to check on Law. None of that matters right now. All they can do is move forwards.