Disclaimer: One Piece and all characters mentioned are created by Eiichiro Oda.
Here With Me
They were still there, lingering about outside his cabin.
Night had fallen and the drapes were drawn tightly shut over the porthole but he could still see them, hear them. The lamp they always kept burning on the main deck swayed with the gentle rocking of the ship, casting dark silhouettes that danced across the curtains like shadow puppets in an elaborate play. Some stood still and silent. Others conversed quietly in groups, their voices low and the words lost their meaning in the hushed whispers.
Shanks let it all wash over him, his irritation mounting with every passing second.
Was he not their captain? How dare they defy his orders? What did they think they were doing, conspiring outside his door like that?
He had worked himself up into a fine righteous temper and was about to get up-injuries be damned-and march outside to give those stubborn bastards a piece of his mind when the door creaked open.
"Ben!" He grinned at his first-mate then pouted. "Make them stop!"
"What? Who?" The tall pirate had to bend a little to get through the doorway. Shutting the door quietly behind him, he leaned his double-barreled rifle against the wall and brushed impatiently at the stray lock of black hair that had come loose from his ponytail to stare at Shanks-half-exasperated, half-bewildered.
"Them!" He cried with all the indignation he could master, flinging an accusing finger at the porthole. "Have I not given orders that everyone is to go on shore leave? We've been at sea for months! Why would they want to stay here when finally there's rum to be had and ladies to find?"
His first-mate drew near and sat himself down on a chair beside his bed. "The men are worried for you, Captain."
And so am I. The statement, though unspoken, was loud in his searching gaze as he studied his captain in thoughtful assessment.
Crafty ol' Ben, Shanks thought grumpily, he always managed to counter my arguments by being so damn reasonable!
"But the rum…" He whined, making a last attempt at proving his point. Rum after all, is very important. Second only to having grand adventures and being a pirate, and sometimes after having a few shots running like fire through your veins, it was even hard to decide.
Ben sighed his patented 'don't-be-such-a-child' sigh at him but grudgingly pulled a bottle out from where he had snuck in under his cloak and dangled it by the neck in front of him.
"Benny!" Shanks exclaimed with delight, struggling to rise, reaching eagerly for the booze.
The first-mate smiled and uncorked the bottle. He sat down carefully on the bed, slipped an arm beneath his captain's shoulders and gently helped him sit up.
"Just a little, mind you." He chided. "Doc will have my hide if he ever knows of this."
He nodded, curling his fingers around the bottle. Movement made the dull throb of what was left of his arm burst into hot blinding pain that made his vision go white for a second. His hand shook as he grasped the cool glass and he hoped Ben wouldn't notice.
But the shadow of concern that fell over his strong face and the brief flicker of something close to pain through the dark eyes told him his sharp first-mate rarely misses anything.
He bit his lip, the alcohol he had so desperately wanted now tasted sour against the back of his throat as he forced himself to swallow. He hated seeing that expression on his first-mate's face, he hated the fussing of their medic and the way the whole crew tip-toed around him as if he was something that needed to be treated with care.
But most of all, he hated himself.
Shanks prided himself in his strengths, but he was also honest about his weaknesses. He knew he lived life perhaps with a little too much passion, becoming rash and reckless whenever an idea gripped him. Countless times he had gotten by on pure courage, the staunch trust and skill of his men and too often, on sheer dumb luck.
And those times he didn't, Ben was there.
Ben was always there. Picking up the pieces, clearing up the mess he made with his childish impulsiveness, taking care of him while he lay completely and utterly useless.
And this time was no different from his other disasters. Even as he lay in bed weak from blood loss and fuzzy with the haze from the painkillers Doc had pumped him with, he knew Ben was out there working hard. He knew his first mate had been busy seeing Luffy home, organizing the men to chase the last of the bandits back into the hills, setting up guard to make sure they don't come back, assuring the men their captain was fine even though he probably was secretly worried it might not be so…
He hated the fact that he was the one who had made the mistake and yet it was Ben who had to be the one to bear the consequences.
"Shanks?" His first-mate's voice sounded vaguely anxious at his captain's sudden silence and disinterest in the rum.
"S'nothin…" He mumbled, turning away and drew a quivering breath. "…I'm sorry."
"Whatever for?" There was a muted clunk as the bottle of rum was set down on the bedside table. His first-mate shifted a little closer so that he could support more of his weight comfortably.
"For panicking when Luffy was taken. For rushing to his rescue without thinking. For getting hurt and making you worried. For generally being stupid…"
He offered his first-mate a weak grin. "For being me?"
"Ah yes…I absolutely have to concur with the 'generally being stupid' bit." There was a hint of mirth in Ben's eyes but when he next spoke, his voice was serious. "But don't you dare apologize for any of those other things."
"No, if I had just stood up to those lousy bandits the first time we met them at Makino's bar, or if I had just explained myself to Luffy better that day…it wouldn't have come to this."
"Shanks!" Ben's voice was sharp. Lamplight reflected bright points in his dark eyes as he regarded his captain almost fiercely. "That was a very brave thing you did today, Shanks. Even if it was a very reckless brave thing." He told him sternly. "Luffy would have died if not for you."
"But-" The protest died on his lips at Ben's commanding glare.
"And that day we first met those lousy bastards, you showed Luffy a very important lesson about honor." He took a deep breath as if to calm himself and went on a bit more quietly. "You showed him what makes you the captain that we are willing lay down our lives for and sail to the ends of the world with. The kid may not know it yet, but he will one day think back on it and understand."
The quiet sincerity and respect in his first-mate's voice touched him. It also embarrassed the hell out of him.
"Aw, knock it off, Beckman!" He growled, throwing a mock punch at him with his good arm, trying to break the somber mood. "Fine! But I'm still sorry I've made you worried." He declared petulantly, determined to succeed at making at least one of his apologies.
His first-mate laughed. "Worrying about the captain, that's the first-mate's job!" He rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't want you complaining I'm not taking my duties seriously."
"Okay, okay!" Shanks chuckled, waving his hand in surrender. "I give up! You go on worrying and being sensible while I'll just go around doing stuff that's reckless, stupid but honorable." He glared at his companion when the man had the nerve to grin at him. "And we'll be a right and proper pair of pirate captain and his first-mate as anyone has ever seen in the Four Blues!"
"Well done, Captain!" Ben's eyes were wide, as if greatly impressed. "You've always been a little obtuse but I must say, this time, you've caught on rather quickly."
Shanks huffed out a long suffering sigh and shook his head. "You're impossible." He informed him with a resigned smile.
They sat in companionable silence for a minute, listening to the familiar creaks and groans of the ship around them as it rocked gently on the waves. Shanks closed his eyes and rested his head against his first-mate's shoulder, suddenly feeling tired. Their conversation seemed to have released a knot of tension in him and all of a sudden, he became acutely aware of every single ache in his body-
-and other less physical hurts.
He had lost an arm that day. In the heat of battle and with the overpowering concern for Luffy shadowing everything else, he had not had time to think much about it.
Now, in the calm of the night, the enormity of that sacrifice was starting to dawn on him.
It was still his firm belief that his arm was a small price to pay for Luffy's life. But he couldn't deny that things would be different, if not difficult from now on. The injury was severe; he would take many weeks to recover his strength. He would have to train himself to do even the simplest tasks with one hand. Were there things he wouldn't be able to do now? Would he still be able to handle a sword? Climb the riggings? Could he still lead the men, protect them, incapacitated as he was?
On any other day, at any other time, he would have given a confident affirmative to all the questions dancing in his head. He was the captain and the captain always had the answers, always found a way.
But tonight, he was exhausted, the weakness from the pain and blood loss were dragging him down like a ton of rock to the bottom of the black sea. He sighed, turning his head a little into Ben's shoulder. At times like this, he was glad for his first-mate, his calm competence he could rely on, his reassuring presence he could draw comfort from and the quiet strength he could lean on until he found his own back…
The next thing he was aware of was the softness of the mattress against his back as he was settled gently back in bed.
"Hmmm?" He inquired sleepily.
"You better get some sleep." A blanket was tugged up around his shoulders. "Doc wouldn't punish an invalid, but he'll have no qualms coming after me if I don't make sure you rest."
"Pfft! Coward." He scoffed.
"Shanks." His first-mate gave him an admonishing frown. "Just go to sleep." He reached out and brushed the unruly red hair out of his eyes, touching the back of his hand against his forehead for a quick check of his temperature. Satisfied, he dimmed the lamp on the bedside table to leave the bed in deeper shadows and dragged a chair into the small circle of light.
"I'm alright, you know. You don't have to stay." He protested as Ben put on his reading glasses and took out a thick leather-bound book.
"It's my job, Captain." He answered absently, flipping through the pages to find his place in the book. Finding it, he marked it with one finger and raised his eyes to meet his captain's over the rim of his glasses.
It was a habitual action, one that he had seen Ben do hundreds of times before. But it was the familiarity of it that made him realize how strong their friendship had grown through the years of crazy adventures they had shared.
"Besides," His best friend smiled. "I want to."
Shanks smiled back and closed his eyes, finally allowing sleep to overcome him.
And when morning comes, he knew Ben would still be there, watching over him.