Light was already beginning to stream into the dining hall when the guests started to leave. The celebration was excessively lively and unusually sober. Up until now, Gangplank never thought a combination was possible. Then again, the Solari woman Leona just managed to secure an alliance between Noxus and Mount Targon, the latter which had already established trading routes with Demacia. This undoubtedly meant her pacifist ambitions were coming to light, with the former archenemies finally sharing common grounds. Of course, this would severely limit the invasiveness of Noxians in many city-states friendly with Demacia, since the wrong move would mean their connection to the Rakkor dissolving. Gangplank couldn't understand what made the war-loving people so invaluable to the Noxians, but he had the vague feeling that the Sinister Blade had her hand in this. It made sense, he thought, since her most cherished "asset" resided in Demacia anyway.
It seemed that all of Valoran was overjoyed with this new alliance. Consequently, the League held a banquet in Kalamanda to celebrate "closer steps being taken to unification" across the continent. All the champions of the League (save for those from the Shadow Isles) were invited, many travelling hundreds of kilometers to reach the valley. Their long journeys weren't for nothing. Almost everyone was in high spirits, especially the burly Crownguard, who laughed heartily at jokes made by the Barbarian King of Freljord. The Rakkor warrior Pantheon arrived (to the astonishment of others) with his trademark helmet absent, and when asked, would say the reason for his doing so was "in the name of celebration". As a man accustomed to aggression and animosity, Gangplank was surprised at how little enmity there was during the banquet. Many of the champions, including the Blood Brothers of Noxus, acted respectfully and caused little trouble. Maybe the Solari woman's vision of a unified Valoran wasn't so far-fetched after all. He reminded himself to take back his snub comments the next time he sees her.
And yet, despite the miles the participants travelled for this celebration, it ha reached its inevitable closure. Having come from Bilgewater, Gangplank checked himself into a small local inn and decided to sleep out his hangover. His head was barely on the pillow when he felt the unmistakable muzzle of a gun pressed against his forehead. He quickly opened his eyes only to stare down the barrel of a 45 and the angry gaze of Miss Fortune.
"What the hell?"
"Be quiet."
"What is this, Fortune?" Still lying on the bed, he glared at his colleague.
"I need you to explain something to me," she angrily spat.
"Or what? Ya wouldn't shoot me," Gangplank challenged, his mouth forming a leer.
Fortune raised her pistol, allowing him to sit up. "No, I wouldn't, because you still need to answer a few of my questions."
"Sorry to rain on yer parade dearie, but I need to ask ya one for meself first."
She cocked an eyebrow. "What is it?"
"Why weren't ya there? Or, why didn't ah see ya?" He briefly remembered how the nobles he'd been drinking with expressed their disappointment concerning her absence.
She stared stonily at him for a moment, gun still pointed at his head. Then, she pulled something from her pocket and held it in front of his face. "I found this."
Gangplank's mocking expression melted into seriousness. "Never seen it in me life."
"You're lying." Fortune angrily pressed the barrel into his forehead. "Tell me where you got this."
"I don't even know what yer going on about, never seen it in me life," he repeated, shoving her away from him.
"Yes you have. I know you have." She waved the object in front of his face, forcing him to look at it. What she held in her hand was a small white comb, or, more specifically, her mother's comb.
"Get that away from me face," he said aggressively, standing up and ignoring the pistol at his head.
"If you don't know what it is, why would this bother you then?" An angry smirk stretched Fortune's lips, her eyes revealing a predatory glint.
"Because ya looked through me private things. Ya proved ya don't deserve me trust."
"You never trusted me anyway. Now explain this."
"Figure it out yerself." Turning to walk out the door, he felt his colleague's gun press against his back.
"I've had enough of your cageyness, Gangplank. Now tell me the truth." He remained silent. Sighing, she tried again. "Who are you?"
"I'm the Saltwater Scourge." His gruff voice was solid with conviction.
"And I'm beginning to doubt that," Fortune quipped, turning him around to face her. "Only two possible people could have possession of this. I need to know which one you are."
"Could be neether," Gangplank mocked.
"You couldn't have been him. He looked younger than me. How can he be you?" Fortune mumbled to herself, looking briefly at the floor.
"I'll say this again, dearie, I don't know what the heck yer talkin' about." He turned to leave again, but the Bounty Hunter grasped his arm before he could move out.
"You're not walking away from this until you tell me, goddammit." Her eyes were almost red with angry desperation. If he weren't what he is, he would have felt bad for her.
"I could do what I want."
"No you can't, because I'll stop you." Her nails dug into his arm, but he didn't even flinch.
"Tell me what that is, then."
"It belonged to my mother," said Fortune, flipping her comb around in her hands. "The only two people who could possibly have it are the boy I gave this to, and the man who took her life."
"Then I know I'm neether, Fortune. Told ya, never seen it in me—"
"Quiet!" She grabbed his hat and threw it on the floor, nostrils flaring in rage. "Do you know what the man did to her, did to me? I walked into my house, only to find her lying in a pool of her own blood. She was the most precious person in my life, and if you took her away from me I'll—"
"Fortune, I'm not the man who killed yer mother."
She was shaking. Her gun wavered in her hand. "Then who—"
"He's dead. I killed him."
A tear fell. "Who was he…?"
"He was me father. Me dad."
"How do you know that?"
"Because he wanted her but she refused him. He did the same to me mother as well."
Her arm dropped. Her eyes stared incredulously at him. "Then…you're…"
"I'm what?"
"You're the boy in my judgment. You're boy who saved my life."
"I don't hafta be. He coulda sold me the comb, ya know."
"Then you wouldn't have kept it." Her voice quivered as she threatened to break down. Gangplank offered no comfort.
"I'm not that boy," he said, and turned to walk away.
He was almost out the door when she threw his hat at him. "Just admit it, Gangplank."
Picking his hat off the floor, he turned to her and raised his eyebrow. "Admit what, Fortune?"
"Just admit that you love me." Her eyes were dry, lips stretched in a challenge.
He walked maliciously towards her. "I'll do no such thing."
"Okay, maybe you don't need to." She raised the comb. "If you had no feelings, none at all for me, then you wouldn't have kept this all these years. You would have sold it, lost it, or even given it away to some other girl. I know, Gangplank—"
"I'm NOT that boy. I'm the Saltwater Scourge!" He shouted, bristling in rage.
"So this is why you never admitted I was pretty. I had thought you weren't interested in women altogether, but that never felt quite right. THIS is why," she gestured between them. "You were hiding this from me because you're too ashamed to admit—"
"Admit what?" His voice cracked loudly.
"You're too ashamed to admit you have feelings for ME, who you've seen too many men break their hearts over."
Gangplank angrily shook his head. "Yer wrong, Fortune."
"Then you're ashamed to admit you have feelings at all." She jabbed her finger into his chest. "Too busy feeding your reputation of the Saltwater Scourge, is that it? You're too busy trying to be tough, trying to prove to everyone that you're a ruthless—"
"I AM ruthless." He pushed back, knocking her off her guard slightly. "I'm not who ya think I am. I'm not that boy—"
"The boy who saved my life. Is there anything wrong with saving a drowning girl?" Her voice was calm, yet resolute. "Ruthlessness doesn't mean not helping the innocent. It means showing no mercy to those who don't deserve it."
They were both silent. None of them made a move for the door, but Gangplank refused to budge. "I'm still not that boy."
"No, you're a man now." Looking at him almost serenely, she clipped her gun onto her belt and stuffed the comb in her pocket. As she walked towards the exit, she turned around and shot him a small smile. "Too bad I expected more of you. I thought you'd be much stronger than you actually are."
He whirled and faced her, voice dangerously low. "Whaddya mean?"
"The man I thought you'd be wouldn't be so weak as to deny his emotions. One thing I learned from working with the League is that strength doesn't mean not feeling. Strength means facing how you feel." With that, she twisted the knob and opened the door, only to find him slamming it back from behind her.
He was fuming. His eyes dangerously wide, bare chest heaving. "I'm not weak."
Realizing their close proximity, Fortune's lips curled into a mocking smirk. "Then prove it."
Gangplank inhaled sharply, taken aback.
"As I thou—"
She was interrupted as he suddenly slammed her against the door, his body colliding with hers as he pressed her to him. "Shut up." He kissed her, stunning her with the faint scent of alcohol and citrus.
"Gangplank—" "I said shut up." Without warning, he lifted her and dropped her onto the bed, following soon after to brush his lips against her neck.
Their clothes shed soon after, both of them lost within the other.
"Sarah…" he lay panting by her side, the hard exterior of his usual self gone. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his chest.
"Didn't seem like my kickers disappointed you," she said cheekily.
"They didn't." He turned to face her in all seriousness. "You don't."
"You said you've seen better," she ran her fingers through his beard, "have you?"
"No." He shot her a teasing look. "But that blue-haired string maven…" he winced when he felt his partner's palm smack his cheek. They chuckled, and he combed through her scarlet locks.
"Sarah. How do ya know I'm not the man who murdered yer mother?" His tone was almost urgent, as if he didn't believe she could trust him.
"I've known you for years. You would've considered it beneath you to harm a woman." She stood on her elbows and faced him, "why'd you save me back then? I didn't even know you."
"Me father talked bout yer mother. I never `preciated it, he killed me mother when she wanted to leave `im."
They kissed, the taste of seawater from their first time echoing in their minds.
Gangplank was the first to pull away, teeth flashing in a playful grin. "So, I was in yer judgment?"