So Shaetil and I (merryanchor16) decided a while ago to write a collab together and this is what we came out with. We hope you enjoy it just as much as we enjoyed writing it. The next chapter will be up in the New Year. Reviews are very welcome.
: ) Merry and Shaetil
Zoro often wondered how a guy like him had gotten lucky enough to be with someone like Sanji. He watched as the blond sat upright with his glasses on reading a book, the bedsheets draped loosely over his legs and hips. He wasn't sure when he'd let Sanji become his everything, but he was glad he had. There was no one he'd rather laugh with, bicker with, or wake up next to each morning and fall asleep with each night. Sanji was his sun. Hot, brilliant, and a constant source of energy. When he was with Sanji he got to see all these sides of his lover and more.
Zoro tangled his fingers with the blond as he pushed into him, feeling a sharp intake of breath then a pleasured sigh next to his ear fanned over his neck. He kissed Sanji wherever he could. Worshipping his lover with each press of his lips to the blond's mouth, cheeks, the bridge and tip of his nose, his closed eyes, and his forehead. Sanji laughed underneath him, called him a sap, but the way his hands stroked gently down Zoro's scarred chest told him he was enjoying the attention. Showing his own affectionate side, as they came down from their high, Sanji pulled Zoro into a deep kiss and pressed their foreheads together.
"I love you," Zoro said breathlessly.
Sanji smiled, panting slightly, "I love you too."
Together they shared a deep connection that held them steady through the rough times as well as those precious intimate moments. They had weathered countless problems together though many of them were self inflicted. Sanji was a fierce partner and they fought often, but the love was always there.
He woke up to a punch on the arm from Sanji, "Don't you ever do that again, you bastard!"
Zoro looked at him with his one unbandaged eye. He could see the blond was worried. It was clear as day on his face, but his pride was keeping him from saying it straight out. Zoro knew he would probably do the same in Sanji's place. They really were both foolish guys.
"I can still see out of it..."
Sanji hit him again, "That doesn't fucking matter! Don't you ever do that again to me!"
He was worried for a moment that his lover might do something weak, like cry or scream, but Sanji was anything but weak. The blond suddenly kissed him on the forehead, and carded his fingers through green hair, tugging a little as punishment.
"You're a shitty bastard..." He muttered half heartedly.
Zoro shifted on the starched hospital pillow, a lopsided grin on his face, "I love you too."
Out of the two of them, he'd always been the one who sought out danger. It was his job and his passion to defeat evil. Zoro had often landed in the hospital after a case, but he'd always prided himself on being strong enough to survive a few knife wounds or a bullet. He had to protect the people he cared about. There were just so many twisted fucks roaming the streets. He had sworn that he would never let any of them touch anyone under his protection.
Zoro would have rather endured a thousand bullets than that one night when he failed to keep that promise.
When he found Sanji dead in the alleyway that night his lover was propped against the wall with his legs splayed awkwardly and he looked like a ragdoll carelessly tossed aside. His head had lolled forward, his arms were limp, and his skin was ashen. His shirt was punctured through the stomach by a bullet hole.
They'd left him there for dead. Exactly how long he'd been there alone, Zoro had no idea, but he knew that every last moment would've been agony for him. Stomach wounds were a long, painful, death. Sanji's eyes were open, their blue and unfocused gaze chilled him through to the bone and sent icy fingers of blame to claw at his heart. He'd seen many dead bodies in his line of work, but this was the first since his rookie days that he felt like he would be sick.
Sanji's phone had been found at some distance away, the screen glass fractured. His lover had died without being able to call for help. He had spent his last moments suffering, gazing at the phone just out of his reach, and probably hoping that Zoro would come at last to save him.
He crouched down and cupped the face he'd come to love so much with trembling fingers. Sanji's skin felt like ice, even through his plastic gloves. There was none of his lover's warmth to be found. Zoro brushed his latex covered thumb along a pale cheek and then, very gently, moved his hands up to close the two blue eyes.
"I love you," He whispered.
But Sanji couldn't answer him this time. The silence was like a black shroud that settled over them both. It made the light utterly vanish from the world and left Zoro's heart in the freezing darkness.
Sanji had been taken from him.
He was rifling through the folder when Tashigi came in. She leaned against the doorframe and folded her arms across her chest. Her dark hair was drawn up and back into a ponytail off her face and her glasses had slid down her nose slightly, she raised one hand to push them back up to the bridge and fixed her soft brown eyes on him directly.
She had been Zoro's partner for 10 years now, offering assistance on every case... including Sanji's. It had been a over a week now since he'd found Sanji's body and already the case was in the process of being written off as manslaughter. Just another accidental death of an innocent civilian in a crossfire with gangs. Zoro had spent every moment since the closing of the court case collecting evidence that said otherwise. Somewhere in his gut he knew that this was something much more, that this was no accident. Sanji had been murdered. He'd been murdered in cold blood.
Tashigi had helped to begin with but over the days she'd become more concerned on the state of Zoro's mental health than actually trying to help him. Now he found her annoying and irritating, just another person who assumed he wasn't dealing well. She sighed at the sight of him sat behind his desk littered with papers of all colours and photographs of crime scenes and bodies including Sanji's own though the body pictures were turned over. She squinted to read the font at the front of the folder Zoro was flicking through and sighed again, rather sadly, at the fact it was Sanji's post mortem report.
"If you're just going to stand there and sigh then you can get out," Zoro snapped, not even looking up from the page he was reading. She bristled but held her tongue as she tried to remember that this wasn't the same Zoro that she knew. This was a grief stricken, heart broken, shell of a man compared to Zoro. She could tell the green haired detective inspector was barely holding it together, clutching desperately at the seams as he fell apart, they all could tell, the whole team, but no matter what anyone said, Zoro refused to believe he had a problem. The man really wasn't dealing with his grief at all.
"Why don't you put that down and come to the Interview Rooms?" She said softly.
"No. Can't. Busy." Zoro grunted and flicked the pages over again, running a hand through his messy hair. Tashigi could see the pain deep set into his eyes as he read over the description of the death of the only man he'd ever loved. She'd loved Sanji too and his sudden death had been a shock to many but, unlike some other people, she understood more than most why Zoro was a complete wreck. He'd loved Sanji, yes, but he still loved Sanji. In her decade of knowing the man, Zoro had never opened up to anyone as much as he'd opened up to the blond.
Sanji had known every little thing about him and in turn, Zoro knew every little thing about him too. They'd had a strange love in public though, always bickering and fighting whether it be playful or serious but she had the feeling that when they were alone there was something special between them. She'd witnessed it a few times herself: the time she and Smoker had been invited over for Christmas with many other friends for a get together party and Zoro had fallen asleep on top of Sanji who was gently stroking fingers through his green hair. She'd stumbled awkwardly in on their kisses a few times, embarrassingly, and she'd seen the way Zoro looked at Sanji with such adoration that there was nothing to compare it to. And Zoro still loved him, she knew, from the way he looked at the photos of them on his phone. The adoration and the love was still there, and she doubted it would ever go away. There would be no one else for Zoro. Only Sanji would do.
She moved over to the desk and forcefully pulled the folder from Zoro's fingers. The 32 year old didn't even bother arguing with her and she looked at the page, wincing as she read 'Victim approximately took an hour to die from his injuries'. Zoro was going distant, she could see it in his eyes and she leaned across the desk, pressing her hand onto his shoulder, "Please come to the Interview Rooms, Zoro. Nami's here, maybe she's found something, yeah?" Her voice was soft, her words gentle, and she untensed in relief as two dark eyes, one lined with a scar, looked at her.
"Nami's here?" He asked.
"Yeah, she's come to drop in another anonymous tip again. She did say she'd try looking for something on your case you've got here," She replied, gesturing at the many folders, papers, photos and notebooks, "And if she hasn't then at least you've had a break to clear your head a bit, yeah?"
"Okay," Zoro slumped in his chair slightly, "Thanks, Tash."
Sitting in an interview room with it's ill looking pale blue walls, Zoro folded his arms as he looked Nami up and down. Nami Mikan was a gang member who decided she much preferred making her money by providing anonymous tips to the police of gang activity, including her own gang, but only the stuff she personally classed as really illegal. Either way, thanks to her, they'd successfully arrested many gang members and prevented crimes before they actually occurred.
Nami gave him a smile, "Hi, Zoro."
"What is it this time, Nami?" Zoro asked. He didn't mean to sound harsh but he really had to get back to those papers sitting on his desk.
She frowned at him and fingered a ringlet of her fiery orange hair which she had put loose waves into today, "Rude..." She muttered before asking, "How're you doing?"
"Oh, I'm doing great. Completely happy, I am." Zoro quipped back at her and grabbed his pen up, poising it over the notepad, "What's the tip this week?"
Her amber eyes that reminded him of a cat softened and Zoro tensed at the sympathetic look in them. He despised it when people looked at him like that. How could they sympathise with him? They hadn't just lost everything and he had. They couldn't comprehend how much he'd had snatched away from him, or imagine how much drink it took to get a half decent nights sleep. It was insulting.
She leaned forward in her seat and folded her arms on the tabletop, "A drug smuggling," She said, "Tonight. 11pm. London docks."
"Uh-huh, which gang?" He pressed, scrawling it down in his messy font.
"Arlong's and some foreign gang is the dealer, I can't remember their name. But Arlong's turning up himself tonight to make the deal."
Zoro threw her a look and Nami grinned.
"Yeah, I thought that might interest you. If you can catch him, I'd drag his ass in for some questioning about Sanji, I bet that fucker knows a thing or two about it. He's got a lot of connections- friends. He'll have heard something, even if it was just word of mouth."
Zoro allowed himself a small smile, out of all the people at the police station only Nami really believed he was onto something. She'd agreed that gangs were usually quiet about their shoot outs, hits, and bust ups, and it was very rare a civilian got involved. She also agreed with Zoro's point about the mobile phone and how Sanji had always kept it zipped up in his jacket pocket. The blond had never been a phone person and only used it for the odd text and to answer calls but, checking through his inbox and call log, only one call had occurred that day and it was Zoro from earlier that morning. Sanji's body wasn't found until 10pm that night and not a single call had been made or answered nor a text sent or received. That phone had been taken out of Sanji's pocket and thrown away from him so he couldn't call anyone for help. He'd had the phone dusted down for prints but nothing turned up. The sick bastard who did it must've been wearing gloves.
"Anyway," Nami said, throwing her hair over one shoulder, "I have to be somewhere in an hour. I hope you find your answers, Zoro. And if not? Then I'll bring you another bastard who might know something."
"Thanks, Nami."
"You're welcome," She winked, poking her tongue out, and stood up, chair scraping back along the floor, "See you later."
"Yeah, see you."
The door clicked shut and he smiled down at the paper. Maybe, just maybe, he might have a chance of finding Sanji's killer.
When Zoro got back to his office, however, he was having a little trouble getting in. He cursed when he realised the keys were in his desk draw and therefore they were locked in and he was locked out. He held the door handle in a knuckle whitening grip and jostled it roughly, "C'mon..." He growled, "Fucking open!"
"I'd curb your language while I'm around, Roronoa."
Zoro let go of the handle and turned to the gruff voice, meeting the hard glare of Detective Chief Inspector Smoker. He gestured to the door, "Yeah well some shithead locked me out. If this is Tashigi's idea of a joke then-"
"I think you'll find the 'shithead' who locked you out of there was me," Smoker huffed, the smell of cigarettes and nicotine gum lingering around him. The grey haired man wore the smell nowhere near as good as Sanji used to. Zoro wrinkled his nose at it.
"Ha ha, very funny, now let me back in."
"You know I'm not going to let you, Roronoa."
"What? Why not?"
Smoker sighed, the frown he pulled wrinkling the silver scar on his forehead, "You're not handling this at all. Look, I let you stay on without leave because you pretty much pestered me to. But this whole case thing you're making out of it isn't helping you cope, it's making you worse."
"But-"
"You're on paid sick leave, completely off duty you hear? I don't want to see you around here for a while, Roronoa. Go take all the time you need, get back on your feet. Tash will be taking over your cases." Smoker interjected firmly. Zoro opened his mouth to retort but Smoker shot him down with just a look.
"But Arlong," Zoro tried, "He-"
"Tashigi's got it covered. Now go home, Roronoa."
Zoro dropped his posture, there was no way he could argue with his superior. He sighed, "I'll take a couple of weeks-" Smoker glared, "I mean months off..." The Chief Inspector nodded approvingly and walked away, leaving Zoro standing alone in a hallway with the stench of smoke.
Zoro sucked in a deep breath, the air in his helmet stale. The road before him was a little blurry even if his visor was pristine clean. The bike's engine thrummed underneath him as he waited for the red light to turn green and join the junction onto the roundabout. His biking leathers felt too uncomfortable over his police uniform from both the heat of the engine and the hot flush he was experiencing on his skin as he held back the burning in his eyes. He'd let his mind wander to Sanji again. He couldn't afford to do that...
"I'm going to be late off the shift tonight. The place is scheduled to be a full house and we're low on staff- one waiter ran off with half of the new silver cutlery sets- and the old geezer can't just-"
"Hey, it's cool. Don't worry about it, I actually called to tell you pretty much the same thing," Zoro said, holding the mobile to his ear, "I promised Tash I'd take her shift tonight- she's not feeling so great."
"What?! Oh, poor beautiful Tashigi!" Sanji swooned down the receiver and Zoro could practically envision his lover's stupid face as though it were in front of him.
"Stupid love cook..."
"What was that, bastard?"
"Nothing," Zoro said, laughing at the playfulness in Sanji's voice. He leaned back in his chair at the desk in his office, "I might be back after you are, so don't wait up."
Sanji hummed, "Okay. I'll see you later."
"Bye shitty cook," Zoro heard Sanji's snort at the nickname before the line went dead.
They'd never really said their 'love yous' on the phone because it seemed less meaningful and significant compared to saying it to each other's faces. But if Zoro had known then that over twelve hours later Sanji would be lifeless and broken against a wall then he would have said it, over and over until his vocal chords snapped, his throat burned, and his jaw ached too much to say it again. And even then he would continue on trying to say it. But there was no way to grab time back, to turn the clock's hands and regain that week. To wash out the pain and the grieving and the sleepless nights alone in a bed made for two. Nothing could soothe the migraines, or the skin under his eyes rubbed raw by tissues and fingers. Nothing could fix a heart so utterly smashed and broken.
Sanji.
There was an all too familiar burning in his eyes again but he wrestled it back with sheer willpower, not wanting the road to become so distorted he couldn't see where he was going. He'd just have to trust his instincts like he always had on this one and continue to ignore those who said he wasn't coping well by himself. He'd use his laptop at home and work via the databases. He'd find who was responsible for killing his boyfriend, he owed that to the man he still loved. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the lights flicker to amber and kicked up off the road, pulling out into the roundabout with the flow of traffic.
It sort of happened too quick for him to register at first. He didn't recall the initial impact, but the next thing he knew the bike was gone from under him and he was soaring through the air. The second impact was brutal and the crunch of glass was clear beneath him but was snatched away again. On the third he smacked into the tarmac, the force jolting through him and a he felt more than heard a numerous amount of cracks rattle through his body. His head crashed down onto what must have been the curb surrounding the roundabout island because his helmet splintered under the sheer force and the strap around his chin snapped, the protective item being thrown from his head and left his skull vulnerable to another blindingly painful collision with the ground.
Suddenly he fell quite still and it took a moment before a wave of agony consumed him and he blacked out.
"Have we got a pulse?"
"No. Keep going."
"We've got him back, put him on oxygen and get an IV ready; I need ten milligrams of morphine. Zoro, Zoro can you hear me? Can you tell us where the pain is?"
"He's lost consciousness."
"Zoro, try and stay focused on my voice. You have to try and wake up, okay? Zoro, no..."
He felt himself not really floating, but more suspended, in air as though he was being held there. It was very dark and would've been peaceful were it not for the voices shouting both at him and around him. He wanted to sleep but something wasn't letting him and he wasn't sure what that something was. He didn't look around him, everywhere else was equally as dark, so he looked ahead.
"Head trauma, possible spinal injuries, multiple fractures, and internal bleeding. He lost consciousness at the site and hasn't come around since."
Those words and their meanings meant nothing to him. They didn't matter, only this weird darkness mattered.
"Zoro, if you can hear me, we need you to try and wake up. Can you squeeze my hand? Zoro?... No, he's unresponsive."
He could hear music, the familar guitar riffs and lyrics to AC/DC's 'Shook Me All Night Long' thrumming through the space around him and getting progressively louder until the singer's voice was slamming against his eardrums painfully hard.
"Taking more than her share, had me fighting for air, she told me to come but I was already there-"
"Roronoa, I know you're in there! Get your damn lazy ass out of bed!"
Zoro lurched awake, throwing himself upright and completely disoriented by the music coming from beside him and the sound of banging on a door. He looked wildly around, relaxing slightly when he realised he was in his old flat in his own bed. There were papers, important looking documents strewn about the bed and he pawed at them with clumsy hands, picking them up and creasing them in his grip to look at them. None of them were about Sanji.
"'Cause the walls started shaking, the earth was quakin', my mind was achin', and we were makin' it and you shook me all night long, yeah you..."
He blinked and turned his head to the dark bedside cabinet, realising distantly that that was his alarm going off. Fumbling, he snatched it up and hit the off button, dropping the device back onto the side and sighing heavily as he ran a palm down his face, fingers rubbing sleep out of the corners of his eyes. He paused as he dragged his fingertips over his eyelids; he couldn't feel the scar over his left eye. He checked on his cheek where the mark dragged down to but felt nothing, the skin was smooth and completely intact.
"Wha-?" He slurred, still drunk from sleep, and threw himself from the comfort of his bed, staggering slightly as his head ached in a sudden rush. He could hear beeping in his ears, the sound of pressurized air rushing into something, voices both high and low pitched talking. The room spun and he fell into the wall, leaning against it heavily for support before tumbling forwards into the bathroom and gripping at the cold white basin of the sink, gasping for air.
Whatever the hell that had been passed as suddenly as it had come and he panted, trying to regulate his breathing. His body had broken out in a cold sweat and his stomach knotted and lurched tumultuously as he trembled involuntarily. He patted at the tiled wall beside him and hit the switch, the light humming and flickering before finally sparking into life and he picked his head up, looking into the mirrored door of the cabinet.
The person who looked back wasn't him. Well, it was him, but it was a him from a long time ago. His hair was a little longer and spiked out at odd and awkward angles in a messy bedhead and his left eye scar was completely gone. He looked down at his smooth skin and to his bare chest. His muscles were tight and cut neatly but he wasn't as bulky as he used to be and his scar from the fight he'd lost to the gang member Dracule Mihawk still cut him through but when he ran his fingers over the whitened length of it, it still felt tender from broken nerve endings and was reddened in places. This was his body all right, but he was much younger than he remembered being. He stood upright a little more, unfurling his spine, and glanced himself down. He guaged he was in his early twenties considering his younger looks and sensitive scar.
He narrowed his eyes and pressed his hand to the glass, "What the fuck..?"
A sudden sharp bang from somewhere in the flat made him jump slightly and he turned, processing that it was coming from the front door. A familiar gruff voice barked through at him, "You're five hours late for work, Roronoa! What the fuck do you think you're playing at? You better open this door before you don't have one left!"
Zoro frowned as he slipped out of the bathroom and out of his room, walking across the living space to the fairly narrow, cheap looking front door which was trembling under the mighty fist bashing it in from the other side. The green haired detective inspector looked around as he walked through. Something was off here. It didn't feel right.
The banging ceased as he unhooked the chain lock and slid the bolt back. He turned the litte dial where the keyhole should be and pulled the door open to be knocked aside as Smoker bodily shoved his way through. The grey haired man snarled around his cigarette and pulled it out of his mouth, breathing out a gust of smoke heavily from his lungs.
"Nice to see you're finally up, I'd been standing at that door for fifteen minutes waiting for your lazy ass." He growled, taking another drag.
Zoro said nothing, taking in Smoker's definitely younger looking body. There was no scar marring his forehead and he was wearing that white washed leather jacket he'd thrown out almost a year ago when it got that old it had started falling apart. He narrowed his eyes at the man; just what the hell was going on here?
Smoker scowled, "You better stop looking at me like that, punk before I beat your pansy ass," He released another stream of smoke from parted lips as Zoro slowly shut the door, "C'mon!" He clapped his hands sharply, "Hop to it you lazy piece of crap! You're five fucking hours late and I've got a new kid starting today who's standing there wondering where her partner is so she can start working, but lo and behold her partner is here fast a-fucking-sleep!"
Zoro frowned, "The hell are you on about? I thought you said I was on sick leave?"
The other looked taken aback, "What are you babbling on about, boy? The only thing wrong with you is that you're a lazy sack of crap, so march your ass into that room and get ready before I kick you in there and for Christ's sake put on some trousers!" He bellowed, face going red, and Zoro looked down to see he was only clad in boxers and he backed down under Smoker's heated glare.
"Yeah. I'll go get ready." He muttered, heading for his room and the other folded his arms tightly looking unimpressed.
Zoro shut the door behind him and leaned heavily against it. What the hell was going on here? He tried to let the cool cheap laminated wood of the door soothe him. He was trembling again and it was beginning to become annoying. Suddenly it struck him that he shouldn't even be here. This was his old flat, what had happened to the apartment he and Sanji used to share? He'd moved in with the blond one year after them being together, he couldn't believe it had took him this long to realise he wasn't even in the right home considering it was three times smaller, the layout was completely different and not a photo frame of Sanji was to be seen.
He breathed heavily, air catching in his throat.
"What the fuck," He breathed, "What the fuck, what the fuck."
The tacky digital clock radio sputtered from on top of the small chest of drawers the far side of the room and a radio presenter began talking, the device turning on by itself. Zoro's head snapped up at the voice as it broke up with white noise and static.
"And in other news-" The radio hissed and a woman's voice came through, instantly recognisable despite its quivering tone.
"Is he going to be alright?"
Zoro swallowed and something in his stomach tensed at the usually so firm and certain voice suddenly wobbly and broken up, "Tashigi..."
A stern male voice thrummed through, "We won't be able to tell for a long while, if he wakes up. He's suffered a head injury which are difficult things to treat and without these machines he can't breathe by himself. I'm sorry but he's just clinging on for now, it'll be touch and go for a while."
He heard Tashigi's muffled sob and something in his chest twisted. He was fighting to breathe correctly now.
The radio hissed again and the presenter's cheery voice came back on, "And that's the news for today. So, Zoro Roronoa, please wake up. We are all very worried about you!"
It cut out with a spark of white noise and Zoro felt dizzy again, stomach turning over and over and knotting itself up. The door banged, the wood rattling on his back, and he jolted away from it.
"I don't hear much movement in there, Roronoa!" Smoker barked.
Zoro struggled to pull himself into some semblance of being calm and located his uniform thrown in a heap at the foot of his bed, "Yeah... Yeah, I'm coming."
It was almost surreal, stepping out onto an old street he hadn't visited in three whole years to see old neighbours. He'd never been particularly close to any of them but he was somehow happy to see familiar faces again. Smoker's car was pulled up in the car park of the complex of flat buildings and Zoro almost startled at the outdated model of the white Ford Focus which looked like it needed a thorough clean with its neon yellow and orange square decals along the side and the slightly chipped rich blue letters of the word 'Police' along the doors, and the red and blue plastic cased bar of fixed siren lights on top. He never thought he'd see the piece of scrap ever again after Smoker upgraded to a Ford ST version but here it was apparently.
Smoker looked at him suspiciously, "What?"
"I thought you'd changed the..." He trailed off uncertainly at the man's confused look and sighed, "Nothing. Nevermind."
Smoker huffed, "Damn, kid, how pissed were you last night?"
"What? I wasn't drunk last night. I was in the office doing paperwork and then you locked me out. You sent me home..." Zoro answered truthfully.
The older man snorted, "Yeah, and I don't smoke."
"I'm not lying!" Zoro snapped. He'd always hated being accused of lying, especially by his boss.
Smoker shoved him forward with a firm push in the back, "Just get in the car, brat."
The car smelled and his seat felt exactly as he remembered it. He sat quietly in the passenger seat in a daze almost at what had happened in the past hour. He tried to organise it mentally. He remembered Tashigi, Nami, Smoker locking him out of his office, getting on his bike to go home, and the blinding pain as he-
Oh God. He'd been hit by a car.
Was he dead? Was that what this was? A fabrication of a heaven of some sorts? Funny, he'd thought that heaven (if there was such a thing) was supposed to have everything you loved most in it. If that was the case, then where was Sanji? No. This couldn't be heaven.
Maybe he'd gone mad. Perhaps he'd taken that final step over the edge he'd been balancing precariously on ever since Sanji's death and was still sitting at his desk, imagining this whole thing, choosing to exist in the time when he didn't know Sanji just because it was less painful than waking up every day without him there.
"What's up kid? You look like you're going to be sick." Smoker stated gruffly and grunted when Zoro simply shook his head, leaning over to hit the button of the car's radio and turn the volume to an easy listening setting. It was hitting late morning now and it was already looking to be a miserable day in London, the rain clouds, bruised, swollen, and promising downpours lingered in the sky threateningly and Zoro narrowed his eyes at them as melodic tunes of an iconic era drifted from the speakers built into the door and the thoughtful, almost mournful voice of Axl Rose strung out notes between the two men as Smoker pulled off the side of the path and onto the road.
"The cold black cloud is comin' down... Feels like I'm knockin' on heaven's door..."
Smoker drummed his fingers in a serious manner to the beat as he maintained a focus on the road and Zoro stared up at the sky through the side window, watching as the rain clouds rolled in deeper and thicker than he'd ever seen in his life.
It had started spitting when they pulled up and got out of the car, hurrying up the concrete stairway into the police station before it had any chance of getting heavier on them. Smoker pretty much shoved him towards his office which he was glad to see because it had been the same one for the whole ten years of his career and was familiar to him. The woman standing in front of it, however, was not as familiar.
Tashigi was stood, shrunken in on herself, looking side to side with a deep set worry in her eyes. Her fingers were toying at the sleeve of her black standard uniform jumper with the silver crest and police unit stitched on, and her black hair now short in its old hairstyle of a bob was neat and tidy. He almost double took when he saw her- had she really changed so much over the years? She looked so different to the one he knew with her long hair, more mature face, and confident attitude. God, she really had looked so much like Kuina back then, hadn't she?
Zoro huffed fondly when he caught her fumbling to push her thick framed glasses back up her nose. Okay, maybe some things hadn't changed.
Smoker clapped him heavily on the shoulder, "Roronoa, this is Tashigi. She'll be your partner for the foreseeable future. You'll show her the ropes and she will attend every case you're called out to." He turned on Tashigi who looked terrified under the older man's hard gaze, "This is Zoro Roronoa. He's the best man I've got, unfortunately that doesn't show through on account of his lateness this morning."
Zoro scowled at him.
"He gets lost a lot so don't let him in a police car unless you've triple checked that he knows where he's going," Smoker continued despite Zoro's attempt to butt in, "Make sure he doesn't fall asleep at his desk, he bitches a lot when he's tired so don't take it personally if he snaps at you, just hit him, and take note of everything he does when at a crime scene or on duty with you. As much as I hate to admit it, he's good at his job."
Tashigi nodded, eyes wide as she looked from him to Zoro and swallowed.
"Good. I'll leave you two to it," Smoker looked at the way the girl had paled considerably, "Don't worry- he doesn't bite too hard." With that, he left, and Zoro heaved a heavy sigh of relief.
"Um... We've had a call out to a murder scene..."
Zoro looked across as Tashigi's quiet voice interrupted his joy at his boss being gone. He really wasn't used to this shyness anymore. It had been years since he'd known her like this and, in a way, it was like starting all over again and that made him uncomfortable. He raised an eyebrow, "A murder scene?"
"Yeah. Forensics are down there now assessing it all but you've been called in for your own opinion on it. We also have a list of statements to take. One man said he'd heard scuffling and raised voices out back an hour before the incident..."
"Where's it at?"
Tashigi shuffled on her feet and rubbed her arm absent mindedly, "Down near Covent Gardens."
"The road name?"
"I-I forgot to write it down..."
Zoro sighed again for an entirely different reason, "Well, was it named? If it's Covent Gardens it's most likely business."
"Er, um, yeah! Yeah, actually. It had a weird name. The, er, The Baratie."
He tensed, "What?"
Tashigi looked worried, afraid she'd messed up, but caught herself, "The Baratie."
"If you're going to insult my old man's place then you better get out before he kicks you out," Sanji said, dragging Zoro along behind him, the other fixated by the fancy interior of the restaurant with its lush carpets, papered walls, and fine finishings all done in a lavish scheme of blues and golds. Looking down from staring up at the high ceiling, Zoro found a whole new reason to be fixated in the sway of Sanji's hips and just how good the guy looked in his black waistcoat and dress trousers with his soft blue shirt.
"I'm not insulting it. This place is amazing but really fancy. Too fancy. Are you sure I'm supposed to be here?"
Sanji halted, Zoro bumping into his back, and turned around, "You're an idiot, so shut up," He leaned in to press his lips to the police officer's in a chaste kiss, "You're good, mosshead, okay?"
"Okay."
"That was our first date..." Zoro murmured, blinking stupidly as the name hit him like a ton of bricks.
"Huh? Oh, she was a lucky girl then? I hear that place is quite expensive," Tashigi offered, a small awkward smile on her face as she tried normal conversation.
"A guy actually..." He replied distantly as the ache in his chest returned anew and out for the sole purpose of suffering, squeezing tighter around his ribs with every beat of his heart, punching in the fact that Sanji was dead over and over.
"Oh, you're gay?" Tashigi paused then flushed, "I'm sorry! That must've sounded so rude of me I-"
In all honesty Zoro had very much tuned her out, only catching her questioning of his orientation. He blinked and pushed the tight constricting feeling on his lungs to the back of his mind, shrugging, "Bi actually. What's wrong, Tash? You've known that for years."
"Tash? And I've only just met you, how could I know that?"
Zoro took a moment to stare blankly at her puzzled look before he realised that apparently no one knew what he was talking about and he was considerably younger than he was earlier that day, "Er, just ignore me." He threw a movement of hand and splayed out fingers to the side of his head, "Hangover." He said.
Tashigi nodded, narrowing her eyes a little bit before smiling, "Tash," She said, "I like that."
He'd let Tashigi drive because listening to her fret about his sense of direction was annoying and he didn't trust himself behind the wheel right now with a head full of thoughts directed only at one thing: Sanji. The possibility he might see him again was overwhelming his mind afterall, if this was really years ago, whether he was in a coma or not, Sanji would still be working here. He recalled Sanji telling him about his days working there often, but when Zoro knew him the blond chef had his own restaurant in London and they visited the Baratie whenever they had the time.
He jigged his leg as a means of coping with the tension he'd provoked within himself, ignoring Tashigi's pointed look at it, and leaned to the side in the passenger's seat, shoulder pressed against the door and listening to the whine of the windscreen wipers as they swished at the rain sliding down the glass, "So it's just one body?" He asked, trying to focus on this apparent case rather than the wild fantasy of seeing his lover, living and breathing once again.
Tashigi nodded, eyes on the road and hands on the wheel, "Just one."
Sharply, the radio strapped to his chest on the black kevlar vest he wore hissed and he automatically thumbed the button to accept the com call.
No voice of a fellow officer came through and Zoro felt a chill set deep into the pit of his stomach at the sound of singular, monotonous beeps and the hissing of compressed air. He let go of the button in shock but the noise continued in his head, like it had burned its way into his brain to ring in his skull that suddenly felt too small.
"Zoro? Zoro?" He felt a shake to his shoulder and turned to see Tashigi frowning in concern at him. She'd stopped driving, "We're here now... Are you okay? I thought you'd started hyperventilating then."
Zoro let out a shaky breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding in and ran a palm forcefully down his cheek, "I don't belong here, Tash. Something is wrong."
"What? What's wrong?"
The words were out now and he couldn't stop them, the pent up stress and stupid, stupid, fear he'd been letting pile up since that morning could not be held back any longer, "I was hit by a car. I'm in a coma, aren't I? Tashigi this is all made up, surely? The only other explanation is that somehow, some-fucking-how, I've managed to go back in time."
Tashigi removed her hand, backed off a little in her seat, and laughed awkwardly, "Wh-what are you going on about? Are you on something?" She sounded disgusted and a little afraid.
Zoro scowled, "What? No! Tash... What year is it meant to be?"
"Are you sure you're not on something because I-"
"Tash!" Zoro snapped, "The year!"
She paused a moment, "2004."
"Ten years..." He murmured, stunned, "No wonder it's not making any sense..."
"Do you want to stay in the car because I can-" Tashigi started but he cut her off.
"No, it's fine. I'm fine," He said perhaps a little unconvincing but he was still trying to gather himself together in his head, and unbuckled his seatbelt, throwing the car door open and stepping out into the rain before she could say anything more. Tashigi followed after and rounded the car to stand next to him though a little warily but he couldn't blame her for that after his maddened outburst. Zoro barely had a moment to look at the grand front of The Baratie before he was hounded down by a member of forensics but the building was exactly as he remembered it.
The old fashioned Victorianesque front with high arching windows and rippled thick glass that sat tall and proud above two red brick flower troughs, the rich smell of fresh compost and subtle notes of forget-me-nots and pansies brought to life by the rain. A wrought iron gate, the black paint well maintained, sat nestled between the two flower beds with a cobbled path that led to the two grand front doors, painted light blue and garnished with gold plated door handles. And there, right at the top floor of the three story building on the far left with the little window, its frame varnished and painted blue, was Sanji's old room. The forensic scientist pulled down her blue face mask and signalled for them to follow her. She spoke to them as they walked away, Zoro's eyes not leaving that little window.
"Victim was in his thirties, male. We've so far found no ID, no identity of any sorts for a name but we're running DNA through the databases. He wasn't strangled, stabbed, or beaten. Not a single mark on him save for a line in the shape of a mask around his nose and mouth. So far it looks like asphyxiation by gassing. We're checking for prints but we're so far unfruitful."
Zoro nodded, reluctantly having abandoned the window now that it was too far out of view, "Any witnesses?"
She shrugged, "There was one waitress who'd heard something when she was out on a smoke break, and one of the chefs claims to have heard a bit of a fight an hour before- raised voices and all that. Chef's in the kitchen and the waitress is at the bar; didn't want them coercing if this was an inside job."
"Thanks," He said and she smiled, walking off and down the alleyway. He looked to Tashigi, "You take the waitress and I'll take the chef. Don't let any little detail slip, no matter how insignificant it might seem."
She nodded seriously and Zoro walked in with her close behind. The waitress was instantly recognisable in her black uniform bearing the name of the restaurant and she was sat in a booth by the large front windows, toying with the rim of a glass of water. Tashigi made her way over there, all open with a friendly smile and being the exact reason why everyone asked if the two were a 'good cop, bad cop' deal when Zoro was actually just pissy when people completely bullshitted their statements and Tashigi just remained calmer, and more tolerating, than him.
As he made his way to the double swing doors that led to the kitchen, Zoro took a moment to appreciate that it was another place comfortably familiar to him still. He smiled as he took it all in and pushed open the kitchen door. His smile dropped like a ton of bricks.
He'd been expecting it but it wasn't enough to prepare him for the real deal, kind of like the first time you saw a dead body.
The figure leaning with his back against the metal surface of the sink and draining boards was tall, lithe, and much, much younger than he remembered. The stench of cigarettes had permeated the air and the man tipped his head to the side to blow out a stream of smoke, "Finally, I've been on my feet all last night and I'm dying for a break. Can we wrap this up quick, officer?"
The man tilted his head up and one blue eye looked at him confidently, unwavering. His hair was parted the same way, over his right eye, but it was a little shorter than he remembered, but that ridiculous curly eyebrow was still there, completely identical to the one he had hidden away. He wasn't wearing his glasses to work like he used to. Zoro's hand clutched at the door he was still holding tightly as he took in how real this man was and how close he was and the familiar smells that hung around him that promised care, love, and warmth in a stark contrast to that snarky mouth which he used to cover up his softer side.
"Sanji?"
The blond looked at him, rather surprised at the use of his first name, "Yeah?"
"It's me." He blurted, feeling suddenly taken over by a jolt in his blood because oh God, Sanji was here. He was alive, he was breathing, he was well. There were no glassy blue eyes staring emptily at him, or a hole torn through his stomach. He was okay, he was perfect, he was here. He wasn't just a memory, an empty space in the apartment, or a face in a photograph smiling at him. This was real.
Sanji narrowed his eye, "Have we met? O-oi! Are you okay?!" The cigarette slipped from his fingers as an overwhelming and odd headrush took Zoro by surprise and the pain in his chest from earlier lanced through him and he tensed, knees buckling and then falling apart from under him. He dropped before he could even realise it fully but was stopped from a smack into the tiled floor by two familiar feeling arms.
"What's wrong? Are you- Help! Someone!"
The shrill beeping from before returned tenfold at a greater speed, grating against Zoro's eardrums and brain as darkness ate at the corners of his eyes. He couldn't breathe. Everything turned blurry and washed out around him and he closed his eyes, barely managing to register the chest he was flopped forward against, the shoulder his head had sunk onto. His knees were bent and cold against the kitchen floor.
He took one deep breath and gave himself up.
Tashigi sat next to the bed on one of the hospital's overly comfortable armchairs which she'd dragged forward from the corner. The room was an average warm temperature, as it should be for such a patient, but she wore her coat all the same, more for comfort than anything else as though it could deflect the chill of monotonous beeps and scathing hisses. She pushed her glasses back on her nose.
Zoro's body was more tubes, wires, and sterile dressings than an actual human form and it scared her, shook her to the core, but she didn't let it show. He wouldn't have liked that. But it was hard not to let her gaze fall over and over on the bindings around his head, the skin around swollen and bruised from the emergency surgery he'd gone under. Both eyes were bruised black and blue and his right arm and leg were grasped in plaster casts. He was marred all over with bruises and cuts, no skin had been left untouched. His chest, still showing in the low cut neck of the loose hospital gown, was tinged red from the CPR not more than two hours ago. She'd been led from the room for that, pushed outside whilst her mentor went into shock and then cardiac arrest, dragged back into life by resuscitation.
She shook a little as the machine the opposite side pushed air into Zoro's lungs through the pipe held in place by gauze and bandage as it pierced the skin of his throat and ran down inside him. There was a slight dent in his esophagus near the top apparently, blocking some of his air until it could heal properly. The police officer's chest rose then fell automatically, almost mechanically.
It had all happened so suddenly. One minute he was on his feet and the next she was answering a phone call from the A&E Department saying Zoro had been hit in a road accident. She'd immediately assumed she was to blame for this. It was all her fault. If she hadn't of suggested to Smoker that Zoro needed some time off then he wouldn't have gone home and he- he-. He'd be awake right now. She fingered the balled up tissue in her hands, scruching it and then teasing it open. It was slightly damp now from her tears, no matter how brave she tried to be the odd few kept escaping.
There was a nurse who came in every so often, checking machines and dressings with his gentle but certain hands. He'd tried to offer some consolation to her but she'd brushed it off, politely of course, and he'd asked if she needed anything. She had told him no thank you but the polystyrene cup with its hot beverage inside had made its way to the little bedside table almost like a peace offering regardless.
She pulled up the chair and herself a little closer and leaned forward, untangling her fingers from the abused tissue to reach out and touch Zoro's hand. She placed her fingertips around the gauze of a taped down needle and felt his skin, finding some reassurance in the warmth resonating from it. She sniffled and moved her hand up and away from the medical paraphernalia there to cup around his wrist and she held it securely, her thumb rubbing soothingly at the skin there, and shook her head slightly. There was nothing to be gained from blaming herself for this, she needed to be there for Zoro right now. After all, he had no family left what with Koshiro passing last year and his sister, Kuina, many years before that. It was going to be hard, she knew, carrying the responsibility of looking after a comatose close friend was no easy feat but she would do anything she could to get him back, she couldn't bear to lose him, not so soon after losing Sanji. She couldn't end up being without the two people she loved dearly.
The sound of her mobile phone vibrating from next to the cup on the table interrupted the sound of rushing pumped air as it fed in to her colleague and she let go of him to snatch the device up. It was Smoker, no doubt wanting an update. This was the second call today and though he sounded so cool and collected down the receiver she knew better.
"How is he?" Smoker's voice was harsh with an underlying tone of worry discreetly tucked into it. She heard the familiar click of a lighter.
"His spine and neck were fine but the doctors are worried about the hit he took to the head..." She swallowed and turned her head to look at Zoro's bedridden and damaged form. She nibbled her bottom lip lightly, "How's clean up going?"
Smoker was quiet a moment, as though he was calculating his answer and Tashigi felt utmost sympathy for him though she'd never admit it because he wouldn't tolerate it. Much like Zoro, Smoker saw most outward feelings from someone as pity, not empathy. But her boss had been put on call to remove the wreckage and debris from the crash that had hospitalised one of his team. Tashigi couldn't even begin to imagine how the man felt about that.
"There's not much of a bike left and the other car is in bad shape too- the windscreen's caved in and-" Smoker's voice got sharp, angry, "You can see where he hit the car-"
Tashigi winced, her eyes immediately looking at the swathes of bandages and gauze around Zoro's head- she could barely see any of his green hair that Sanji used to tease him endlessly for now that the surgeons had shaved it off. It was horrendous to imagine just how hard his skull must have made impact with the concrete- Smoker had described in his first call the fact that Zoro's helmet was merely splinters now.
The man seemed to catch himself, he cleared his throat with a crackle down the speaker, "But from what we've managed to collect, it was an accident. The guy driving didn't see him in time to stop. He's sincere about it, he's been crying for an hour or so now the shock's worn off. We breathalyzed him but nothing, he wasn't drunk, and we know for certain Zoro wasn't intoxicated either."
She nodded then remembered the man couldn't see her, "Okay," She replied.
There was another pause. A cough. "The doctors... Do they know when he'll wake up?"
Tashigi felt the familiar betrayal of burning behind her eyes and rubbed the tissue at them harshly with no forgiveness. She returned her gaze to Zoro's bound and needle pierced hand. Her breathing, jittery, belied the calmness with which she tried to speak, "They can't say... He was really- He had to have emergency surgery and he stopped breathing, I- They don't know if he will wake up."
Smoker replied unusually soft.
"It's alright, Tash. I'll be there soon, I'm on my way." He ended the call.
And it broke her.
She sobbed into the phone though no one could hear and the tissue was no match for the amount of tears, and she would've wailed too if she were alone and didn't want to cause a scene publicly. She buried her face into her hands, her palms covered by her coat sleeves and heaved sobs into the fabric, leaving wet patches but she didn't care for that. She sucked in a breath and held it until her lungs burned, not relieving even when her chest jerked to try and sob some more. When she felt calmer she scrubbed at her eyes furiously, black smudges of mascara and eyeliner clinging to her fingers but she cared little for that too.
She remembered how to reason with herself. She thought of how Zoro needed her now and how much she missed Sanji and couldn't lose her mentor too. She informed herself once more of the decisions she'd have to make regarding Zoro's care considering his lover no longer could and how she needed to be level headed for that no matter what the cost, even if it meant wanting to scream and wail. She would store those emotions away and deal with them on her own terms. For now she would support, be vigilant, and persevere.
She consoled herself with the bittersweet thought that Zoro was probably dreaming now with no idea of the suffering his body was going through. She hoped it was a good dream.
Outside the room on the Intensive Care Unit ward she was in, Tashigi heard the voices of nurses and doctors and professors and consultants chattering dully about problems that seemed miles, worlds away from where she sat. A lot of those people would walk on by this room, she reflected, not knowing of the wonder that was Zoro who lay broken in a bed. They wouldn't miss his smile, or his voice, or his presence in a room. They had no idea of this man who'd helped her through the most ridiculous and most personal of things. They wouldn't stop by and think, and remember, and mourn. He was an object now, a statistic: something to offer empty condolences about. They didn't know of the lives he'd touched, or how he'd brightened people's days by simply existing, but that's how it went she supposed. The world still goes on.
Her hand had found its way by instinct to Zoro's arm and she mindlessly drew circles on it with her thumb as though it could fix the damage and the pain. She wondered if he could feel it wherever he was in there. She hoped he could, that he'd know she was here for him. She smiled a little sad smile.
Suddenly from outside came a ruckus that she was sure she'd be able to hear even if the door was closed. She determined the raised voice of a woman, accusing and threatening her victim with violence, and the sound of a door slamming open and the firm tone of a medic trying to reason. A hardened expression settled itself on Tashigi's face and she let go of her friend and shucked off her coat, revealing her police padded vest and uniform. She stood up calmly and bid Zoro a gentle apology and left.
She may not know how to fix Zoro, but she could fix a dispute. After all, she'd learnt from the best.