Title: Isolation
Genre: Tragedy, friendship, angst.
Characters: Luffy, Straw Hat Pirates
Pairings: None
Summary: A man cannot call himself a king without his followers. A man cannot call himself free without his friends. Multiple character deaths.
Listening to: Empty Chairs at Empty Tables.
Beta: Mon Esprit Libre (check her out)
I wrote this on a whim after listening to Empty Chairs at Empty Tables. Most of the paragraphs are based off lines in the song.
He never could talk about his feelings properly. Oh, he could talk about his happiness and joy, but he never once spoke to anyone about his sorrow. He didn't know if it was just that he didn't want his friends to worry themselves about him or that he couldn't even begin to put his emotions into words.
Sometimes, when it was his turn for night watch, he would curl up into a ball and sob quietly. He felt like someone was stabbing a knife into his chest every time he thought about what he had lost.
Sometimes he sat at the kitchen table, around the time dinner would be ready, and wait for his friends. He always hoped that the blond man cooked some form of meat for him. He would wait for hours, ignoring the silence and emptiness, and chat as if some people were with him.
And sometimes, when he looked around him, he got hit with that painful reminder. His friends were gone. They all died without fulfilling their dreams. They were all lying dead right in front of him, and he couldn't do a thing to stop it.
He remembered how they all used to laugh, how they used to talk to one another. How many months had it been since he heard one of them? He yearned to hear them again. He wanted to hear them talking about trivial matters. He wanted to hear his swordsman snoring on the deck. He wanted to hear his chef's compliments. He wanted to hear his sniper's tales and his doctor's laughs. He wanted to hear his navigator scolding him for being too loud. He wanted to hear his archaeologist turning the page of her book. He wanted to hear his shipwright hammer away at a new invention and boast about it. He wanted to hear his musician playing his favourite song.
He lit candles at night and placed them on the lawn, like him and his friends used to do. The tradition stuck afterwards. The ship never caught on fire, so he would lie on the lawn and stare at the flickering flames, smiling. He felt safe around the fire. He knew that the flames would protect him. Then the fire would die out, and his smile would drop. He was hit with the painful reminder that the fire that was protecting him was dead.
He remembered his last happy memory, when they sang together one night. His musician had them all laughing and singing Binks' Sake while he played his piano merrily. He remembered him afterwards shouting how he couldn't wait for a new island and adventure that was surely waiting for them the next day.
They didn't even last the night.
Oh, they were loud. Louder than anyone else, he made sure of that.
He could hear them. He never told anyone, but he could hear them laughing and talking to him. He firmly believed it was their spirits. Everyone would talk to him, even his first ship. His current ship could not talk, but she shared his pain.
He didn't even know how they died. He went into the cabin to get a blanket, and when he walked back out he was met with eight bloody corpses. He had fallen to the floor in shock and couldn't speak.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he had repeated, clutching at his closest friend's body. It was the navigator. The corpse didn't respond. He had glanced down at his friend's face and let out a choked sob. His navigator was crying before she died. He went to each of them and apologised again and again.
Not for the first time in his life, he wished that he was the one lying in a pool of his own blood instead of his friends and family. He held the tiny doctor in his arms and rocked back and forth.
After a while he stopped apologising and simply wailed into the night. He felt a deep pang of empathy for his musician. He had experienced what the skeleton had experienced. His friends all dead around him, and not being able to do a thing to bring them back.
He forgot how long he spent crying. He must have gotten into a coma like he did when his brother died, because when he came to the sun was setting. He had glanced at the corpses again and carried them all inside.
He couldn't look at the corridor. Pictures of their smiling faces and bounties decorated the walls. Scratches and stains of their time together covered the floorboards.
Afterwards, he sat on the figurehead. Everything was silent. Even the wind dared not to make a sound. The would-be king shook and brought his knees to his chest.
He expected his archaeologist to bring him a blanket and comfort him. He wished his chef would dance to the two and present her with a drink. He hoped his swordsman would yell angrily at the blond to be quiet. He wanted to see them fight again while his archaeologist laughed along with him.
He wished the world would explain to him why he must lose his friends so often. Why he was cursed to live alone. He wanted to know why the world was so unfair. He wanted to know why his friends had to die.
He walked around the ship absent-mindedly. It had been six months since the day his friends died, and he was sure that he had died along with them. He stopped outside the girls' cabin. Not once did he ever go inside, for he respected Nami's rule. He was about to walk past again when he heard a faint murmur from inside the cabin.
Heart thumping, he slammed the door open and shouted for his friends. He wanted them all to jump out and laugh and tell him that they were alive, but the room was empty like all the others. He was about to walk away when he noticed a shell on Nami's bedside. A record dial, he reminded himself. He blinked.
It was playing. It must have been on repeat for six months.
He rushed over and picked it up, pressing it against his ear.
"Oi, Luffy."
Zoro's voice rang through his head. He cried with joy.
"Listen, we know you've had a hard time, especially these last couple of years…" came Nami's voice.
He could see Nami with a sympathetic smile on her face.
"…And we know that you would fight to the depths of hell for us…" Usopp continued.
He could see Usopp with a serious expression, but his eyes would be laughing.
"…We know you can be a bit of an idiot sometimes…." Sanji said.
He could see Sanji smirking and lighting a tobacco.
"…But you're the most important person in our lives…"
He could see Chopper dancing up and down excitedly.
"…We love you…"
He could see Robin's polite smile warming his heart.
"…And you're a super guy…"
He could see Franky in his signature pose, his bright blue pompadour pointed at the sky.
"…So, Luffy-san, as a token of gratitude…"
He could see Brook clutching his cane.
"…We want to say thank you," they all finished together.
"You're not alone," Zoro reminded him.
"We'll always be here." Usopp.
"Flesh, blood and bone…oh, but I don't have have flesh or blood! Yohooho, skull jo-" There was a loud bang.
"WILL YOU SHUT UP?" Nami yelled.
"Nami-swan is so beautiful when she's angry!"
"Shut up dart-board!"
"You shut up marimo!"
"Uh, guys, I think we should be talking to Luffy…" Usopp coughed.
"Come on guys!" Chopper shouted.
"This is great!" Franky laughed.
"Oh crap! Sanji and Zoro just fell into the ocean!" Chopper screamed.
"I hope they don't get mauled by a giant shark," Robin commented. "That would be quite troublesome to clean up."
"Stop it, Robin!" Nami shrieked.
He laughed. He couldn't contain it in any longer. He laughed and cried with happiness. He was just so happy. He heard his friends again. His friends, who he never thought he could listen to again, were talking as if it were another day. He grinned, ignoring the tears that were streaming down his face.
For the first time in six months he felt truly happy.
It's been a while since I've written something serious, and I'm not really sure with the ending. And it's probably confusing with the way it jumps around. Sorry guys :P
As always, reviews are appreciated.