Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece.
Author's Note: The world needs more Crocodile x Robin.
How long has it been?
I rid the thought from my mind as quickly as it appears and look down towards the document I hold within my hand. I eye it intensely, as if the harder I scrutinize the paper the more compelled I would be to actually read it. Which is accomplishing nothing more than the beginnings of a headache. I've seen enough.
Stacks of papers lay strewn across my desk. Letting my eyes roam over the documents I find no motivation within me to organize them. It was pointless to connect with those of whom I had hold onto these documents before I had been exposed. Documents that were filled with information, guidelines, and instructions to plans I had yet to pursue. The information is dangerous. These papers will need to be properly disposed of, but before they are I take to admiring the genius that I had spilled onto these papers, truly a testament to my intelligence.
But genius wasn't all that I found within these old records. As I filed through the papers, catching parts of the writings, my discomfort grew. I hadn't needed read their entirety to see it. There was a darkness that laced these pages. As one would cook a meal with love I had once written on parchment with such malicious intention. I would say there was a feeling of madness reverberating from the content. Not the comical villainous nature that is assigned to the boogeymen of children stories. This was something real and unsettling. The same three words pulsed constantly within my mind while grazing through the stacks.
Obsession. Paranoia. Irrationality.
The realization that this had once been me leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. The disgust I felt for my past actions would have spoiled a cigar if I had been smoking one.
It's pitiful really. I had hungered for power to the point that it had consumed me, blinded me, and made me into a complete and utter fool. I, who once controlled an entire organization, an entire kingdom, lost control of myself. I thought myself a God among men. Untouchable! I believed I was insusceptible to the follies of man because I believed myself not among them. Such foolish thinking brought me to my downfall. And what a pathetic fall it was!
I have seen the fall of a God. It was unforgettable. Granted he had not been what he once was but he was still a force like no other. I had never seen the world come to a standstill as I did when his life had finally ended. His end reverberated through the field, no, the globe. There is no doubt in my mind even the ignorant children of this earth felt something change. An era died along with him, leaving a mark similar to that of the Void Century. My only regret in watching his end was not being the one responsible for it. A regret I shall have to carry till the end of my days.
In truth I no longer aspire to accomplish such grandiose nefarious plans as I once had. This personal admission is no testament to sainthood. I am no reformed man seeking atonement for his sins. I simply want to be left to do as I please. I've learned my lesson, one may say I have been humbled but reformed?
My laughter breaks the deafening silence in the empty room.
My time in Impel Down was more enjoyable than one would believe. Spending time to myself without the worry of having to constantly check on something was liberating. I had no interest in the outside world. What took place beyond those sea stone bars was no concern of mine. Not until I learned of the impending fall of a God. Now that was an opportunity I dare not miss. What I have done since has been on whims of fancy, calls to my interests and attention. I no longer hold obligations to any one and have taken advantage of the freedom I now hold. Though I have not been the only one to run rampant in the New World. This end of the Grand Line has been kept on its toes with the occupation of the Supernovas and now even more with the recent return of the Straw Hats…
I quickly try to shift my thoughts to anything but them. A topic I try to avoid at all costs, one that leads to memories that I don't wish to dwell on. Memories of a land where the sand is bountiful, the heat is strong, and the time spent wasn't spent alone...
With a huff I toss the document to the side and bring my hand to pinch the bridge of my nose. The coldness of my hand surprises me and alerts me to the frigidness of the room. I shift my attention towards the open window to the side of the room. There had been no wind to disrupt neither the curtains nor I. I was careless, letting myself be enveloped in thoughts of the past, thus allowing the still chill to creep into the room unnoticed.
I begin to notice the deep ache coming from within my hook, an ache that begins to deepen as my awareness rises. The quickly increasing pain causes me to abruptly rise to my feet causing my chair to be thrown back a few inches with a grating screech. An assault on the auditory senses that barely registers as I briskly make my way to the window slamming it closed with my hand. I turn away from the window and lean heavily against the adjacent wall. The visceral pain was making its way up my arm, mimicking the behavior of lightning.
Hissing through clenched teeth, I clutch my forearm at the base of the hook. I ignore the freezing touch of metal against the side of my palm. My knuckles turn white from the deathlike grip.
The pain isn't subsiding.
Quickly abandoning the hold I have on my forearm I focus my attention towards the hook and getting it off. My movements are frantic and the sweat gathering in my palm causes my grip to falter several times before I finally loosen it. I hurl the heavy hook across the room with a flick of my wrist as if it had burned me. The loud concussion of heavy metal does not faze me as I scramble to get my cravat off. Digging short nails into my throat I fight to get the cloth undone. I rip the fabric from my neck, friction heating up my throat, and use it to messily wrap my stumped arm. I grip it once more, unlike before, applying a steady pressure, massaging through the fabric trying to gain heat and relief.
I can hear the blood pounding within my ears. A light layer of perspiration has formed upon my skin. My throat, stinging from sweat settling onto the welts created during my struggle. A bead formed on the back of my neck loosens and glides down my back. I have long since relaxed my jaw but soreness lingers in my gums. I take in deep breaths and the chilled air can't help but raise the thought to the forefront of my mind once more.
How long has it been?
So it looks as if I won't be able to escape from the past tonight. I avoid reminiscing because I know it will bring nothing but aches from within that I do not wish to acknowledge. Thinking of the time of my reign brings me face-to-face with the reality that I have more weaknesses than simply water.
The pain in my damaged hand has begun to subside into a dull ache I can stand. I quit my ministrations and release my hold, letting the fabric fall to the ground. After a moments pause I decide to follow the cloth to the ground, using my uninjured hand to lower myself. I bring my back flush against the wall, pulling my knees up and setting my elbows to hang over them. The coolness emanating from the wall into my back is an ironically welcomed sensation. I run my hand through my hair, repositioning locks that had previously been misplaced and lean my head back against the wall, returning my arm to its previous position. A deep sigh passes betwixt my lips.
How long indeed, has it been since the warmth of Alabasta soothed my nerves instead of punishing them as the cold has? It has been too long. Too long since I've felt the comforting arid lands. It is a kingdom with a magnificent sun that would beam down from dawn till dusk. It is home to heated breezes that would encase me and calm the restless sand that crawls upon my skin. It truly is an extraordinary land. I dare say I consider these plains to be a part of me. The terrain spoke to me in more ways than one and still I failed to respect it. I was foolish to believe I would be able to tame it. We are alike in that sense. You may believe yourself to be our ruler but only because we have allowed it to be so; we can be complacent but also unforgiving when we see fit. You cannot change our nature no matter how much you will it.
Ah, and there is the pang, the yearning for a land from which I have been exiled, never to return. Though I am sure I am not the only one to feel its loss, she couldn't hide it from me she also had an affinity for the kingdom as I did for her… She was walking poetry… Too dangerous to be left alone, I had to destroy her.
Maybe it's the homesickness that has put me in such a somber mood. If so I have no will to attack the thoughts I have of her. No energy to bury them deep within the recesses of my mind only to deny their existence. If only her life had ended like I intended it to. Maybe these reflections would have ceased to exist along with her. Or maybe she would have haunted me, plagued me with visions of her so real that when I came to I would be left with nothing but the scent of cherry blossoms and fresh rain. A scent that would last only but a teasing moment before disappearing, leaving me with a craving so strong for something I couldn't understand that I would be driven mad.
Seems I was bound to lose no matter what I had done. It would be the least I deserve for the ruin I have wrought upon this earth. Even so I regret nothing, nothing but being unable to put an end to another life.
She must have known, must know.
Nico Robin. One of the most intelligent persons I have ever pitted my mind against. Quiet and calculating you were always the ultimate observer. You dared play a dangerous game with me and it was refreshing. Though we spent quite the years around one another the days never seemed to bore.
"Sir?"
Leaning against the frame of the balcony doors I crane my neck over my shoulder to silently answer the call. There she stood silently waiting for a reply a few feet away. No matter how many times I lay my eyes on Nico Robin's nude body it is a sight I have yet to tire of. She is truly a work of art. She owns a body adorned with generous curves and scarless skin. One would believe her perfect form to be a statue carved from marble had it not been for the tan lines that graced her body indicating her humanity.
I, surprisingly, found myself in her bed still this morning. After we had separated from each other and the bed she had gone to the adjoining bathroom to freshen up. Having reentered the bedroom catching the sight of me naked against the balcony must have further baffled her as to my prolonged presence in her quarters. Maybe it was the comfort of the suns rays beating across my skin but I felt no rush to leave.
To spare her the formation of permanent wrinkles from the intensity of her furrowed brow I uncross my arms and hold out my hand, open and awaiting the arrival of hers. The widening of her eyes is quite amusing but it does not show through my visage of indifference. Just as soon as I gain it I start to lose my good humor as I feel the beginnings of irritation caused by her hesitation to come. Before my mood worsens I push off from the frame and slightly turn towards her continuing to extend the irrefutable invitation. She seems to snap out of her reverie because she begins makes her way over albeit rather slowly. This woman really wants to test my patience.
I hold her in my gaze as she makes her way over and stops only close enough to steadily slip her hand into mine. I grip her hand only slightly, only to pull her closer to me and into the rays of the sun. Whatever expression she was to put on her face from my actions is abandoned the second she steps into the direct light. She instead takes on a peaceful expression as she raises her face, tilting it towards the sun and parting her lips just so, to release a breath.
"It feels wonderful."
I grunt in agreement as I take to trailing my fingertips from the hold I had on her hand up her arm gingerly and deliberately. Almost to her shoulder I start to trail over goose bumps and short erect fair hair. I trace my hooked hand up the side of her thigh bringing it to rest on her lower back guiding her even closer to me. She complies and comes closer bringing her hand to rest on my arm. Continuing the exploration of her body I drag an open palm across her collar bringing it up to cup her neck, thumb stretching out to the side of her jaw.
She lets me mold her like clay.
I tilt her head to right and she tries to lengthen her neck. The gesture brings a smirk to my face, one she can't see through closed eyes. I lower my head to hover above the base of her neck. I do not place my lips upon her yet but simply let the heat of my breath caress her flushed skin. Teasing, I wait a moment for an indication of impatience. Barely a moment passes before I feel her grip on my arm tighten and I give her what she silently asks for. She brings her other arm up to grip the forearm that holds her as my lips connect to her. I do not suck or nip but graze my lips up the length of her throat. As I come to her jaw I use my bottom teeth to gently trace its outline. Reaching her chin I lift my head soothing the scrape of my teeth with a press of my lips on her chin all the while positioning her head upright, neck faintly tilting back.
The warmness from her erratic puffs of air constantly running over my face as I hold my head above her tilted one and quietly take in her features. It's times like these I would greatly appreciate another set of fingers to trace the contours of her face. No matter I will make due with one as I always have.
I release the hold I have on her neck and bring it up to cup her cheek.
Her face is all sharp edges, from the point of her nose to the jut of her chin. Deep valleys and slopes from the dip of her cheeks to the pout of her lips. I cast my eyes to her piercing blue ones. Through heavily lidded eyes she watches me, picking me apart piece by piece. I can't ever look into her eyes for too long. The longer I gaze into them the more it feels as if I'm coming closer to surrender. Surrendering to what? I never have been able to find the answer.
The feel of her gripping hand loosening catches my attention and I watch it make its way atop mine.
My chest tightens and a terrible feeling settles at the bottom of my stomach. The action is far too tender to bear. Whether she is aware of what she has just done or she is simply responding with her passion I do not care to find out.
Destroying the moment I roughly bring her into me, arm tightening around her waist and hand harshly clutching the hair at the back of her head. I crane her neck painfully; her indifference to the strain sets my blood aflame. I jerk her to my lips but before we lose ourselves once more I give her one last reminder.
"Do not trust me as easily as we find ourselves in each other's arms."
I slap my hand over my eyes as I let loose thunderous laughter.
What hypocrisy, what irony to preach those words! When I am the one who's frustration grows in not being able to remember the taste or the feel of her lips. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. As if I could not paint a more dismal figure. Now I sit here punished, struck by an illness caught only by those of simple minds and weak constitutions. As if my pride hasn't suffered enough!
There is nothing for me to do but to sit as I eventually begin to come down from the high of my heated internal tirade.
What force is out there in the world that can extinguish this fire from within me? It took a God to put out the first sparks of my flame what will it take now?
Calmed, I drag my hand down from my eyes to my mouth and ask myself once more, hopefully for the last time.
How long has it been?