Heart [-less]

It was raining, so Kid skipped his normal jacket, grabbing a more boring wool bridge coat. It was water resistant, had a high collar, and, most importantly, was something you might see any sailor wearing at any dock. And no one on the ship would question Kid wearing it, because of the weather; that was nice, because he hated ducking into alleys to disguise himself. It made the entire thing even more pitiful and ridiculous than it already was.

The city was gray in the rain, dreary and wet, the bar he slipped into dark and dreamless. Or maybe he was projecting. He'd told himself again and again he would stop this. That he'd throw away that transponder snail, that he was too proud, too self-respecting — if nothing else, too downright mean to do this again. He told himself that every day. Then Trafalgar would call, and tell him where to meet, and he'd come like a trained dog, not a wild, mean thing at all. Domesticated.

His self-pitying musing was thankfully interrupted by a familiar feeling. Kid slipped his hand into the pocket, fingering the key that'd appeared before pulling out the note that'd come with it. He took the last few pulls off his ale as he tried to decipher the handwriting. Kid was barely educated, but even he wrote more legibly than this. Doctors, what the hell.

He finally figured out the directions, but ordered another drink. He reasoned that Trafalgar didn't like it when he was right behind him; although he'd not seen the man enter or leave the bar, he'd had to have been there to slip him the key. Kid'd let him get some lead time, get to the room. That's how he excused himself, anyway. It was just that, though. An excuse. Kid was really trying to show his independence. "See," he was saying — "I'm not trotting right along like a pet." He wasn't fooling himself, though, so how the fuck would it fool Trafalgar? Who probably wouldn't even care, either way.

"Fuck this."

Slamming back the rest of the rum, he slapped the payment on the bar and slunk back out into the rain. The inn was only a few blocks down the road; a particular type that Trafalgar favored. Instead of having a large building with rooms inside or upstairs, they would have the rooms in a long row, each opening out into the night. They were made for crime, or assignations, it seemed to Kid — whoever'd come up with them was a shifty bastard, no doubt about it. And this way Trafalgar had even less chance of being seen with him, of course, so that had to make him happy.

Kid fit the key into the lock and knocked twice lightly before opening it. He didn't want to arouse anyone in the adjoining rooms, if there were any, but his experience was that it was always best not to surprise men with hair trigger tempers. He was one, himself, and he had a habit of sending knives flying at the door if he didn't expect it. It'd saved his life at least twice, so the crew could live with it.

He opened the door and ducked inside, trying to shake his jacket off a bit as he came.

"Don't bother." Kid looked over at Trafalgar, who was pouring a drink with one hand while he pointed with the other. "There is a little washroom over there. Just hang the coat over the basin."

Draping his dark bandanna over the rod with the coat, Kid toed off his boots, and, after consideration, removed his shirt as well. Walking back out of the little nook, he accepted a drink and sat down on the rough wooden stool opposite Trafalgar at the small table. It seemed this was going to be a night for talking, first. In a way, those were the best nights, but awful, too.

When it'd been sex, dirty and hard and … impersonal, really — when it'd just been fucking, at the beginning — Kid'd been fine. He'd thought he could handle it. And he could! But then there had been the other nights, creeping in with more and more frequency. Nights of shooting the shit and getting stupid and giggly and maudlin… Of getting to know Trafalgar. Of falling in love with him.

It was an attack from a blind-side, a flank Kid didn't even know existed. Who would guess someone as selfish and cruel as him could fall in love? They say even bad men love their mothers, but Kid would cheerfully slit the bitch's throat, were she miraculously resurrected and in front of him today. He was an unrepentantly self-serving bastard who wouldn't bother to cross the road to piss on a man on fire. Something like love, what the hell?

Sure, he loved his crew, and he'd kill anyone who crossed them, but this, this sort of drowning helplessness… He never would have thought it was something he could even feel, something he needed to worry about, defend against...

Kid reached for his other bracelet, clasping it around his wrist. Trafalgar slept soundly, belying the rings under his eyes, so Kid wasn't worried about waking him. Unless he started making real noise or some killing intent in here, Trafalgar was going to sleep like the dead. He'd thought the man was faking, the first couple of times, but it was apparent he wasn't.

This was the worst part. Getting his stuff together to sneak off into the pre-dawn, while his lover slept, uncaring. Not that having Trafalgar awake would make this any easier, that he would care more. The leaving-before-dawn thing was his rule, after all. One of his many rules. Rules that Kid followed, because even if all he got was scraps, it was better than nothing at all.

Trafalgar didn't love him, surely. Who would, who could, after all, Kid being who he was. He didn't blame Trafalgar for not loving him. Kid didn't blame him even for continuing to use him when it must be obvious Kid'd fallen in love. After all, Kid had made himself obviously available for the use. Wanted it, even.

Someday, a day too soon — because any day was too soon, and he could feel the nervous energy pouring off Trafalgar when they held one another, could put together the cues in his tipsy ramblings… Soon, Trafalgar was going to call it quits with Kid. Shake his hand, maybe, "no hard feelings," perhaps. And he'd go on to his revenge on "that Man."

Kid would have to learn live without him, without this part of his life he didn't even know he'd been missing, six months ago. Except now he couldn't remember how that life before had worked.

Trafalgar was collecting hearts, for his plan — he didn't say why, but he had a gruesome collection of pirates hearts, he'd confided one drunken night, giggling. Kid wondered if he could talk him into taking his with him, when this was over. That way some part of him, at least, could stay. Could be with Trafalgar. Maybe it would hurt less, if he didn't have his heart.

Gathering his coat, Kid left the key on the table and stepped out into the cold drizzle, making his way back to his ship and his crew, alone.

AN: I got this kind of melancholy feeling from a couple of the awesome doujinshi that amaitsumi had scanlated, and decided to make words of it. In particular, the "Before Dawn" and "Tangible Emotions" part of "Days" by 吾郎. (Who is just the most incredible artist, I'm like, in awe of how cool that person portrays Kid and Law. "His Special Right" is so~ my super~ duper~ favorite3 and I have it separately bookmarked for when I want a cute pick-me-up.)

I got into this crack-ship in the first place because guk and Doctor CYANce are compelling writers. So: All their fault, I accept no blame.

I might have a follow up in mind. A chapter two, as it were. Kind of with a protective crew (who picked up a lot more than Kid thought because subtle he ain't) who are all like — "God, no, it's that submarine! Turn the ship around, we don't need supplies that badly, he's just starting to get back to normal!"