AN/ Starts out with a remembered scene from Jim Jarmusch's "A Night on Earth." But the whole fic is pretty tame, and doesn't continue in the same vein (though there are allusions).

Taxi

That movie where the driver got all wide armed and wild mouthed, talked about fucking a pumpkin, moved onto a sheep and then his brother's wife. Killed the priest in the back he was confessing to. Not on purpose. Heart attack. Law gnawed at the slightly calloused skin on the edge of his thumb, the other hand loose on the steering wheel. He'd watched that. Movie-goers probably thought it was make believe.

A bus way ahead stopped, its backlights glittering on the rain-sleeked roads, testament to the beauty of traffic. Prettier than fucking pumpkins anyway. Someone out there a long way from the cocoon of his car, someone was going about their business. Breathing. Alive. The wee beacons blinking as the bus turned the corner. People got on and off. Of course they were alive.

A pumpkin. A sheep. The sheep got sold to a butcher once the taxi-driver's father got wise to where his son's affection lay. Fuck, that was a funny movie. Because of the actor. The script. The fact it was true.

Business was slow. Law dawdled behind someone on their probationaries. Put enough space between them not to startle. One conscientious glance in the rearview could cause a beginner to bunny hop all over the road, and all that achieved was making a mediocre day bad. Law's resting bitch face was basically fuck off and die, so he kept his distance.

He recalled the redhead bumpkin who'd piled into his car, almost ripping the door off. He'd wanted to tell him it like, opened by itself. But folks always had something to prove. His legs were up to his ears, that one, his platforms almost in Law's eyes. Red flaming contacts.

Mudwomen. That's what they did in the redhead's town. They were lonely. The few women there wouldn't have them. What next? Law didn't want him, any passengers, to talk about cows. They had cows in the country, right? Let him not hear it.

So, that movie was kinda unique, cos the taxi-driver, like a bartender, was usually the confessor. Sins absorbed in the sweep of a cloth across a counter, in the decimal clack of the meter. If he drove rich folks, he'd be rolling in it — if he had a blackmailer's heart, rather than just a blackheart — but the well-off played things close to their chests.

He drove at night. Drove at any time. Just drove. Had not been suicidal since that time he'd been suicidal and he'd been ten. And maybe for part of that time after. But a man died to give him life — he patted the working kidney — and it'd be a waste to that memory to bump himself off. He just wasn't into it if he could help it.

He should be more, but he definitely saw it all. He let out a few puffs of air. Too warm to see it, but. Yup, still breathing, that was something. Not smoking. It seemed wise. He'd kicked that blond out for lighting up and refusing to put out the cigarette. Could have gone through the sob story of the compromised immune system, but, what the fuck? A little consideration, eh? It was his cab. His body. Buddy.

In that flick the priest had almost died when the pumpkin fucker had lit up, the loon was oblivious to the padre's distress, hacking away in the back. Bishop, he called him, like a chessboard piece, despite the priest's protestations. The blond had kicked the back of his chair, almost spearing Law against the steering wheel. Must've been having a bad day. At least he paid.

Cora smoked. His donor. His guardian. If he hadn't, perhaps the operation wouldn't have gone pear-shaped. There'd be no complications. Thin blood, arrhythmia, weak condition, some lopsided pulse they knew nothing about. He'd kept quiet about it. Some virulent strain of the hereafter laced his blood. He should dig out the records to find out exactly what happened.

Law wiped his hand over his face, all shadow and honeycomb as he zipped under the lights of the city. He turned the corner, down this street, past the souvlaki caravan, up along the edge of the park. The underground water system pumped out moisture to green the grass, even in those droughts they had, the summers that never ended.

It was cooler now, and he didn't need to move forward, to peel his back from the textured beads of his seat cover. Some hippy shit that guy with the beads around his neck had given him. It worked though, was good.

That one. He'd thought he was a goner. Picked him up, his hyperactive brother, and some blond steampunk thing with a steel pipe, from a rave. Their pupils flipping about like bearings in a pinball machine, hyped, and full of love. And then the beaded one had dropped back in his seat, mouth open, drooling. Wasn't wearing a shirt. Nice tatt. Whitebeard. Law'd seen a few of those around. Good crew. Paid up. Didn't try to fuck with him.

The blondie and hyper boy giggled and laughed and marvelled at the stars in the sky which were actually lamplights blurring past their unfocused eyes. Law had glanced into the back from the rear view, once, twice, thrice.

"Guys. Your brother, d'ya say?"

Like dogs at windows on a weekend excursion, the two slobbered all over the glass.

"Nah, like really. He alive?" Law readied his fingers over the direct connection to the office.

Then beady rose like a freaking mummy from a coffin, scaring the ever living fuck out of Law, though he worked not to show it.

"What the motherfuck is wrong with you?"

The hippy dude stretched out, laughed and crawled over into the front. Law tensed. They seemed cool enough guys, but you couldn't tell, and he didn't know what they'd taken. And those boots were workmen's boots. Sturdy, paint-splattered, steel-capped.

"Narcolepsy, man." Then he'd rested his head against the passenger's seat window and fallen asleep in a slightly more natural way.

Law didn't know why beady had given him the backrest. There'd been no more incidents after that. Drove the loll-tongued puppies and their slumbering charge home safely. They paid too much. He wouldn't take it all. How'd he tracked him down?

oOOo

"Nice hat."

Law touched the brim. Like the Whitebeard boy, it was part of him. Though that kid might have been doing a YMCA Village People night or something. That rag-taggle crew of three was decked out like a kindergartner's Hallowe'en party rehearsal run.

"Reminds me of a cow."

"Where to, Eustass?" The redhead was decked out like the teenaged version. Rehearsal.

"Trashy Tatties."

Law nodded, turned on the meter, pulled away.

"A very nice cow."

Law grimaced. Bovines were a little too sentient. He didn't think he could handle it. Farm boys.

"It wasn't like the mudwoman."

Law let out a sigh of relief and rattled his change counter to imitate business, to imitate being the captain of some other ship. It wasn't like the pumpkin. Or the sheep. Or the sister-in-law, he hoped. At least the brother's wife was one taboo closer to decent.

Eustass leant into the front, his coloured nails in Law's side vision.

"She was warm, you know. Loving."

"I don't want to know."

"We had her since she was a calf."

"Don't wanna know."

Eustass pushed Law's hat forward, but not so far he couldn't see the road. "She was pretty, like this hat. Sweet little poddy calf."

Law readjusted, and kept the car straight. Stopped at the red light.

"What do you think I did, Trafalgar?"

Law shrugged. No point in answering questions designed to burn.

Eustass flopped back in his seat as Law pressed the accelerator.

"You ever see that movie. There was that taxi driver? Confessing. Pumpkins, sheep, sister-in-law?"

Law cast a look back. Was this guy in his head?

"You get that, Trafalgar? Get priests you want to confess to?"

"No."

"Priests who want you to confess?" Eustass was searching through his pockets.

"Perhaps."

"And your sins?"

Not for Kid to know.

"Gone the strong silent type? Well, dunno about strong." The redhead folded a few notes in his hand, and now rearranged his glitter, tried lining up his lamé. This humidity, even the slightest touch, killed it.

Law grunted, pulled up outside the club. Some warehouse kinda deal. There was a queue, of course, outside the Trashy and the Tatty. That split-end blond this backwoods escapee hung around with waved at the car.

"I haven't needed mudwomen since—"

Last night, Law thought, counting out the change.

"Not like that. Wasn't like that. She was just a really nice cow and it felt really bad to eat her. But that's country living. Waste not, want not. Eh?" Kid's grin was wide. He'd helped carve her up. Who else was going to do it?

He slammed a few beris back into Law's hand and he didn't refuse them. Though Law didn't think much of the fingers that trailed his palm. He pulled his hand away, not loosening his grip on the money.

"Go on, hayseed. Enjoy the hoedown."

One thing about Eustass was he was more even-tempered than the smoking cook. At times. Law wasn't interested. Eustass didn't mind playing. Law didn't mind ignoring.

oOOo

"Hold up, hold up, hold up!"

Law almost wished for Kid to crawl back into the cab. The man leant in with a leer. "Your night's just gone from cow to worse."

Indeed, Law thought. That kid that was with beady and pipe the other night — one of the brothers also wearing a hat — tumbled into the cab. A curly haired stoner with him, and a bulked up steroid popper.

Kid sashayed away. Greeted a redhead chick in the line and pulled at the long, frayed hair of that blond. Blondy punched his upper arm.

The back of Law's chair copped a few kicks and thumps as rough and tumble settled himself in. All three piled into the back.

"Got your seatbelt on?" steroid popper asked. The one by the door clicked dutifully. A touch of tension left Law. A fine on him if they weren't strapped in, but some of them refused, and if he folded the seat down for whatever reason, the clasps snuggled away like surface-shy larvae.

"Hey Luff, I can't quite... like could you... it's just," the curly-headed guy waved near his seatbelt and the slot it should fit into, "all too hard."

The brother of that other one. Brother of the hat wearer who'd given him the seat back-massager, patted curly-hair on the cheek. "I gotcha." He clicked his seatbelt in and, before they could all go drooling at the windows again, Law guessed he better ask them their destination.

"That other place."

Uh-huh.

"Could you be more specific?"

"That other place in the other part of town."

Law pulled away with a flick of the indicator, and wondered, North, South, East?

"Which direction?"

"Let me call Zoro-bro and we'll let you know."

Law didn't understand the cacophony of cackles in the back, but didn't need to. The meter was ticking over, and they had the cash last time. Freckles. Beads. Hat. Back warmer. He'd given him his number. Law usually didn't keep them. They were frequently pressed into his hand.

The cat-hater never makes eye contact with the cat and felines find them non-threatening, so they jump up, dig in claws, settle on the mean person's lap. Law attracted a lot of cats. Made them feel at home, somehow. Thought there was more to him than there was. All he did was drive a cab. Even so, he'd kept that number.

He pulled out his phone.

" 'sup?"

"Taxi driver from the other night."

"Hey. How's it going? Still got the back-massager?"

"Yeah, thanks, it's good."

"Got some sheepskin seatbelt covers too, and steering wheel protectors."

"Uh huh. I've got your brother, and a curly headed guy and a pumped up thing, and they all say they wanna go to the other place in the other side of town, and they're none too clear about it."

Ah, Law had to lower the windows. Really. Fucking cystic fibrosis, low blood counts, asthma, smoke could set anything off. Anybody could have anything. How'd they know who they were travelling with? At least it was better and sweeter than tobacco.

"Man, it's freezing."

"Stop smoking in my cab."

The steroid boy spoke. "He's right. The sign's there. It's not nice."

"It's very nice," curly-hair said, exhaling.

"Not for everyone," Luff murmured, inhaled, nipped the end, and put the joint in a silver case to sit with its untouched partners.

"You still there, cabbie?"

Law turned back to the phone, to the road.

"Yeah. Where the fuck do they want to go?"

"Ah, drop them off where you picked us up the other night."

"You think I remember everything?"

"You don't remember me?"

"Remember you dying in the back of my cab."

"Ace is flirting," the curly-haired dude said, wiping his hand across his nose a few times as if trying to slap himself awake.

"Nah."

"Totally," said steroid, wondering if Law could press the buttons to make it a little less breezy.

What if he was, Law thought. Beady'd only fallen asleep.

"Drop in Down Drive."

Law put the coordinates into the GPS. "Thanks, man."

"Driver."

oOOo

She'd left a briefcase full of documents that carried some weight. Law only knew that, cos he watched her go over them as he drove along. Adroit. Adroit. Detroit. Meteorite. Marmite. Starlight. Vegemite.

"What're you pondering with that distracted gleam in your eyes, driver-san?"

Law's hat was low enough across his brow that he knew she couldn't see his eyes, and she'd only be able to see in reflection.

"Yeast products."

She laughed. More juniper than gin.

"Like thrush?"

Law smiled. Quick. Sharp.

"Guinness."

That chuckle was dark ale. "The better of the two options," she said.

Law pulled up outside of the sleek skyscraper she'd directed him toward, suits clicking over the even pavements. "Though one leads to the other."

She exited the taxi after paying. "Kinda knowledgeable for a driver."

"Like to keep up to date on fungi and fermentation." Thought about the kombucha in his kitchen.

"As one should." She tipped a hand to her brow, "Canesten's a pain." She straightened her skirt, and strode toward whoever she'd been paid to make disappear. He guessed. He looked at the briefcase. He might not want to mess with it if she really was a hired gun.

He'd clicked it open. She hadn't locked it. Rifled through. No identifying papers. He'd have to hand it in to the depot, but he was working day shift, and hadn't had lunch; that street was lined with trees, and there was a parking-meter with some time left.

He eased in. Pushed his seat back. Unwrapped the blue, black-dotted, furokishi Bepo had placed around the small lunch box. He'd packed it for him that morning. That bear took better care of him than he ever did of himself. He bit down on an onigiri with a fish roe centre, the red baubles popping in his mouth. The next was flavoured with in season bamboo shoots, and the last Bepo's own creation, octopus.

After finishing all in a few appreciative bites, and swilling down store bought barely tea, he packed everything neatly away, and grabbed the door handle. Time to stretch his legs, walk around the block, get a bit of vitamin D, loosen the kinks in his back.

A rap on the window. Passenger side.

Taxi drivers should be awake, alert, and Law was. He was kind of wired to be wired, even without coffee. He jumped. She slipped into the back seat of the cab.

"You came back for me?"

"Taking a break. How'd the assignment go?"

"As well it could."

She had no other bags. Smelt of something gone wrong for someone somewhere. Not for her. Efficient. Proficient. Complete.

"Airport." She drew the briefcase toward her, checked the contents, closed it sharply, left a hand on it.

"I'm not gonna wear anything for this?"

She patted his shoulder and the grip could have broken the bone.

"Nah. The fall guy's fallen. Plus, I like you."

It had a different ring to Eustass' declarations of love for his hat. For his calf. Ally or foe?

oOOo

Ah fuck, not this prick again. Out of all the taxis in all of the world he always requested his and if Law refused, smeared his reputation as a driver, like a child drawing with ketchup. No-one would request him until he let up. Law'd be left working the early morning shifts. Which is what he was doing when he picked up Ace and his brothers, Eustass and his crew.

He flounced into the car, feather's flying everywhere. Cora's brother.

"Ever get that thing dry-cleaned?" Law imagined the pink coat would fall apart under the process.

"Brat. Just drive."

"Where to?"

"Nowhere. Just want to tête-à-tête with my brother's charge."

"How long?"

"As long as it takes."

Doflamingo leant back into the seat, tapping his pointed shoe over his knee, some casual beat exclusive to his ears.

Law exhaled. Pushed back into his seat. At least he paid, at least there was that.

Sometimes he just sat and said nothing, but the man had height on Kid and more than that on Law. Yeah, he was genial with a pugilist's magnanimity. Things were fine as long as you followed the blow, didn't get further in the way, helped it land, hoped it wasn't on your own skin. Fight back and you were fought down.

But he'd provided. Before Cora'd died he'd provided. After he'd died, some experimentalist wacko herbalist candy-striper had taken Law in, and two other kids whose families never visited. Gone, he later found out. Both sets of parents. Crazy without fists was a whole lot easier to manage. Doflamingo couldn't bear to look at him back then.

He was maudlin today. Weeping into his gigantic palm. Trying to see if Law's neck cricked, if he tipped his head up, that hat back, and peered into the mirror. He knew he was. He couldn't resist.

"Why'd he have to die for you?"

Tough question. Law asked himself all the time. But they couldn't bring him back. He checked for oncoming traffic, turned onto the road leading out of the city.

"I told him not to."

They had the finest doctors Doflamingo could buy. It was just tough luck.

"Why'd he love you so much?"

And me so little, the man in the back thought. Illogical. But the heart trails the brain. Rosi knew the risks he was taking, and he took them anyway.

"Lucky."

And ungrateful if Doffy was in the mood to say it.

Law pulled up beside the river. They always ended up here. Both men, ridiculously long-limbed, uncurled from the car. Doflamingo with a bow-legged sway, and Law like the curve of a lariat.

They plopped down on the peeling, rotting bench — old men with a habit of companionship they couldn't break, the slats digging into their backs, Law thinking of the seat massager. The tide was high, the river up to the bank, ducks killing time in the still water by the edge.

Doflamingo took his tattooed hand, a gesture of loss, though Law was still wary. The man could pummel him into the ground, but he'd let up on that as Law matured, filled out, stayed out of his way. As Doflamingo's loss adapted.

"This virus. This tattoo. It's like the one that took him?"

Law's eyes flicked to the tattoo on the back of his hand. shrugged. He didn't know. Looked more like a compass to him. They'd had this conversation again and again. Early onset dementia? He tried to look closer at the hulking man without giving Doflamingo any idea he was trying to examine him.

"When I'm feeling kinder, Law," and Doflamingo threaded his fingers through those of Cora's charge, he tipped their hands so Law's was on top, and his thumb ran over the H that was on Law's own thumb, "I think it's code. Death to viruses. Death to bacteria. Makes me feel better."

About Law surviving, he knew. About Cora being gone.

Death to all blights upon this earth. The compass steered him in the right direction. Kept him flightless. Grounded.

He let him. Let him hold his hand. He was old now. Broken. Not sorry. He'd done a lot of wrong. But Law knew if he missed anything, he missed his brother. He could give him that, and even if he couldn't, Doflamingo would demand it. Law's own grief never disappeared.

oOOo

"Hey."

Freckles. Ace. He wrenched open the front door and slid in next to Law. "To the manor."

Law laughed.

"Which one?"

"Yours?"

"Nah, I live in a dingy flat with a friend from uni days."

"You smart and all?"

"Unrealised potential. Fallen."

"Yeah. Interesting though, you taxi drivers."

Law turned to him, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, well some of you are."

"Some."

"One."

"Where to, Portgas D. Ace?"

"Luffy tells me you've got that initial too."

"D for driver."

"D for deadbeats on our part." Ace laughed and leaned back into the seat. "Hey, you need another massager for this chair too."

Law lifted his chin in agreement, slight smile to his lips, put the car into gear and took off. He liked this guy.

"To the manor."

"Great!" Ace promptly tipped his head back and fell asleep, and Law had to lean across, one-handed, and fasten his seatbelt, eyes snapping up to the traffic, steering one-handed. Ace awoke with a start and grabbed Law's wrist.

"Whoa now. What you up to there? Fucking tickles."

"Buckling you in and wear a shirt."

"In for a wild ride?" Ace tried to get Law to look at him, but he was kinda keen on watching the road.

"Only if you don't let go of my arm. Two arms to drive, change gears, you know."

Ace shrugged and let go. There was a reason he was always taking cabs.

"You like the massager?"

Law shot him a look. "Yeah, really, makes my day a lot sweeter."

"Thought that was me."

Law's laugh was more than a breath of air. "That too."

" 'cept you don't see me every day."

"Guessing you're not made of money."

Ace flexed his triceps. Looked at either side approvingly. Hoped that Law took it in. Really, put on a shirt? The world would be much better off if everyone lost them. "I can send you a message if you like."

"Thought you did already." Law didn't know how many he'd received about massagers, and sheepskin deals, and cushioned soles. Enough to warm the whole taxi rank.

"Hah. I'm kinda forgetful. The narcolepsy."

Doflamingo's dementia, Ace's narcolepsy, Cora's death. Law collected vinyl with warps and scratches.

They wandered a little further out of the city, the same path he'd taken with Cora's brother. The houses a little more weatherboard, the streets more potholed. He turned the car onto a gravelled path the assassin had probably turned down a few times. If she were local.

"Your manor's hidden behind privet hedges and all that shit? Excluded and secluded?"

"It's got topiaries. One's shaped like a polar bear."

Law liked the way Ace sat back into an open-chested grin.

"A penguin."

He ran his thumb against the base of the beads nearest Law.

"And a whale."

"Cool."

Sure beat the city. Law pulled up, just behind the seat where he and Doflamingo had sat, the older man searching Law's hand for answers.

The bench was still rickety, weeds growing in between the gaps in the concrete that kept it cemented to the grass. It'd rot from the top down before the cement blocks left this earth, before the grass let go.

But it was a seat. There was the river and the sky. Ace whooped and leapt over the one sturdy plank and landed on the bench falling through. Ouch. Splinters in the arse. Was amazing it hadn't sunk under Doflamingo's weight the other day.

"Careful, you'll get tetanus." Law sat on the more solid end.

"Cabbies are prepared for all, right?"

Law nodded. He had a pretty good first aid kit. Ace struggled out, shuffled over, and sat near him. He had a few grazes.

"Where are the animals?"

Law never pointed them out to Doflamingo, but looked for them when they sat, one of them remembering Cora, the other avoiding the cloying hold of his brother by staring at the clouds, the mass of trees on the opposite riverbank.

"You got some imagination," said Ace. Seeing a change in weather, and a bushfire hazard. No bear, penguin or whale in sight in the clumps of white in the sky, or the waving branches over the water. He gazed down to the river. The tide out. "You think we could make mudwomen outta that sludge down there?"

Law turned to him. He and Eustass were friends?

"Like, y'know. When my friends and I were young and we were stuck in the middle of nowhere . . . "

"No." Law stood up

"What? A man has his urges. A boy. It's part of the growing process."

The bartender knew when to wipe the counter in silence, the taxi driver when to grunt. Taking the gift had been a mistake.

"But the real thing's better."

"Woman?"

Ace, now standing, draped an arm around Law. He stiffened, but he'd brought the Whitebeard out here.

"Man, woman. Love the one you're with."

"You ever get attached to those mudwomen?"

Ace paused, then laughed. "Nah, man. It was over in an instant, and you got your dick real dirty. Talk about fear of tetanus or whatever it is mud gives you. Fear of whatever else was lurking in the clay. Some scary creepy-crawlies used to slither out of the earth. Worms, leeches, mudskips. It kinda crushed the boner, y'know?"

"Why do it, then?"

"Sometimes the urge . . . mmm . . . feels so good at first."

Law exhaled. Did he know anyone normal? Attract them?

.

.

He leaves Ace while he makes a mudwoman for old time's sake. The kid's got his phone, and Law's left him some money for a cab.

oOOo

It wasn't an empty fare back to the city. It was always worth it to visit the river. He made enough. It was nice to chill in nature sometimes, if he'd just run into a few people who didn't want to live quite so closely to it.

Scraped ragged jeans, faded black t-shirt, green hair, one eye seared shut — trying to wave down the cab on the wrong side of the road. Law slowed the car down, lowered his window.

"You after a taxi?"

"Duh."

Law prickled.

"Going to the city or the river?"

"City."

"Get in."

The guy crossed the road and threw a few staves in the back. Law guessed he'd been hiking. Sneakers flat and not suited to it at all. Bottoms covered in mud.

Law pulled away, continued the way he'd been driving.

"Nah, man, the city's that way."

The guy jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

"No." Law pulled his hat down and kept going.

"Musta shifted it on me again."

"Happens."

"Luff told me to meet him in the city."

"When was that?"

"Dunno. We've seen a few suns, moons, stars, clouds in the blue sky."

Law wondered if he had the money to pay him. Even if he had, if he was a serial wallet misplacer. Good karma didn't pay his rent.

"You wandered away from one of the parties?"

"Nah. Meditation."

"Fair."

Wait? Who told him what?

"Who told you to meet them in the city?"

"Luff. Wears a strange hat, like yours. I mean, yours is strange. It's not like Luff's."

"Ace's brother?"

"You know Ace?"

"Hardly. Left him down the river making mudwomen."

Zoro grimaced and tapped on of the staves like some wise goat, surefooted on the highest crag. "He gets like that sometimes."

"Hmm. You must be Zoro."

He thumped another staff on the floor. Maybe he was trying to summon some kinda genie. "How'd you know that?"

"Talking about you getting lost the other day when I gave them a ride."

Third twig went thwacking somewhere in the back of his cab. It wasn't like it was Law's fault what others said. The passenger let them clatter to the ground. "Whatever. If Luffy'd followed the plan I wouldna been wandering around three days looking for food."

"You find some?"

"Wasabi sushi." A little old vendor outside of some rice fields was selling it on the side of the road. Speciality of the region and sure to make him stronger than anyone else.

"Any other toppings?"

"Nope. Just wasabi and vinegared rice."

"That why your hair's green?"

Zoro leant back on the chair, muddy sneakers over his cover. This guy wasn't worth it.

"I'm beat. Let me know when we hit town."

oOOo

It was always comfortable when the first division commander slid into the front seat. Whitebeard had done business with the Donquixote crew and, unlike the newer officers, he knew the younger Law, the younger Doflamingo and Cora, and the day the Family ground to a halt with Cora's death.

He'd visit the inventor's camp once Law couldn't go back and Doflamingo didn't want him. Those two other half-baked clowns tailing and trailing Law's every word. And that hunkering bear. He'd seen stranger things. He popped in just to see how the kid was doing. Was a vicious little thing when he'd first approached that gang, but they'd seen him soften with Cora, saw the clumsy fighter grow attached. The Whitebeards aided them, Pops aided them, in finding the best hospital, the best doctor. Doflamingo had more than enough contacts of course, but it never hurt to keep things diplomatic on occasion.

It was bad after Cora went. Doflamingo didn't care what he did, who he raided, who he flayed. Thirteen-year old Law was still recovering. If that massive man laid a hand on him at that stage, Law wouldn't see it through. The Whitebeards kept an eye out, and the kid had come from a family of doctors. He liked hearing about Marco's healing techniques. Was a quick learner.

Vinegar rose from the butcher-papered bundle on Marco's lap. Law salivated. Fat. Batter. Salt. Vinegar. Though Law always had his grilled. Doflamingo called him precious.

Marco freed a chip and fed him like a hungry seagull. Law smiled to the side. Ludicrous. Drove to the centre of town. Parked.

The door ripped open and the man swished in.

"You ever get that thing dry-cleaned?"

"As if you can talk, Marco the Phoenix, I've seen you have one outfit change in ten years. Not like our fashion plate here."

Doflamingo leant across and squeezed Law's shoulder with the same kind of intent the assassin had. What did he still fucking have to prove?

Marco tipped his head. Doflamingo sat back, that shit-stirring grin plastered on his face. Not maudlin today then. Mean. He opened his mouth and Marco threw a few chips his way, and like the mighty flamingo he was, he caught them and gulped them down no problem.

"You Whitebeards know how to treat someone right. I tried to teach this one manners, but he doesn't listen to anyone."

Law turned on the radio.

"The usual, Doflamingo?" Marco asked. Law didn't have to.

They drove out the city, past the beaten-up weatherboards, skilfully avoiding the potholes, the road sinking some more since the last rains. They didn't bother locking the car when they stepped out. The grass wet around and over their shoes, Doflamingo's ankles.

He took in the hole in the middle of the bench. "Looks like the old girl's finally had her day."

Marco sat down, Law beside him. Doflamingo shoved Law over and sandwiched him between them.

"Fuck, Doflamingo. Give me space."

"Marco'll fall into the hole, or I'll tumble off the edge."

That whine. Law struggled to get up. As if Doflamingo would tumble off anything. Succeeded. Sat on the concrete in front of Marco's legs, body leaning back into them.

He was a funny kid, Marco thought. Always had been. He tipped the hat slightly, and Law readjusted it like he had to in his day to day just from picking up passengers and being a taxi driver. He eyed the mudwomen lying on the beach like fish gutted at the time of winching them to the surface, the useless part discarded, the useful taken to the market, or in this case washed away. From water and rains, he hoped. Not use.

Marco spread the fish and chips on the space Law had vacated. Tore off some paper. Doled out the vinegared chips, picked up Law's grilled fish, squeezed some lemon and passed it down to him. Law took it with a nod of thanks. Ate his chips before the ducks thought they were interesting.

Doflamingo speared the two battered snappers he knew were his and finished them before Law even started tearing apart his flounder. He threw the chips in front of him, kinda parallel to Law so that any birds looking for a morsel might find a human at pecking level.

"Doflamingo," Marco warned, wiping the grease from his own fish from his chin.

"Died, Marco. He died."

"Yeah." Marco nodded. "Eat up, old man. Cora loved these fish, these chips, this rotting old bench, this river, you guys."

Loved the polar bear in the clouds, the penguin waddling through the bunched leaves masking the vineyard on the other side of the river, the orca swimming hidden in the bottomless depths of the river.

A/N: I wanted to do a Law/Ace, cos' I like the ship, but the fic wouldn't let me. Part of Law's back story has come out in a One Piece magazine, apparently. It's up on the Wiki, and you can find a translation on dawnofonepiece, titled one-piece-novel-law-vol-1. Thanks very much! That's where all the stuff about the crazy inventor comes from.

Another quiet piece. Doffy and Cora maybe having a healthier relationship.

I watched the Robert Benigni section of Jim Jarmusch's Night on Earth when I was thinking of writing a taxi driver AU (is that a thing?), and that's where all that opening scene comes from. As funny and disturbing as ever.

Thanks for reading.