Hello friends!
It's been so long since I last wrote...anything really. So long, in fact, that I've even changed my pen name. I used to be BatmanSwim2016, but now I'm Sonata14! (In case you're wondering, that's why character names/stories may sound familiar.) I'll wait until the end to add anything more, but for now, enjoy!
Disclaimer: Do I need to say it? It's on this site for a reason.
The Persistence of Memory
One.
For Roger, the day begins as it normally does: there's a migraine feeling like it was splitting his skull in half, too bright sunlight streams through the window, and the odor of his poor life decisions from the night before clings to his sheets. He groans and tries to cover his eyes with an arm wearing a shirt that should have been washed weeks ago, but it's no use. Through the fog in his brain, he has to estimate it's early morning, explaining the sun, but it doesn't explain why he was up so early.
That's when he feels it: the growing pressure on the back of his head that isn't caused by alcohol. A familiar feeling, but one he hasn't felt in years; the feeling that something was out of place and was coming for him.
Or that's already here. Was that his imagination, or does he hear footsteps on the ceiling?
It's too damn early for this, whatever his senses are trying to warn him about it. He'd go on deck, tell whoever was there to piss off, then go back to sleep. Somewhat resolved, but mostly annoyed, he pushes himself off the mattress and to his feet. He staggers a couple times walking down the hallway from his room to the stairs, but he somehow manages to get himself on deck without seriously injuring himself.
Oh, God. The sun is so much worse out here. Roger mutters a curse and holds his head in his hands, covering his eyes from the harsh light. He pulls at his red hair, trying to will away the headache. He turns slowly, peering through his fingers, somehow knowing that the one who disturbed him was behind him at the wheel of the ship he calls home.
Sure enough, at the wheel is a suave-looking older man, wearing a casual suit with the shirt partially unbuttoned to show off a sun-tanned, toned chest. There was a pair of sunglasses on his face, covering his eyes, and silver hair on the top of his head. Roger drops his hands from his face and attempts to glare at the man, but ends up just squinting at him instead. It doesn't help him that the man was purposely standing with his back to the sun.
Finally giving up on the silence, Roger mutters, "What. The fuck. Do you want?"
The older gentlemen snorts, and is that a damn sneer on his face? Hasn't he seen someone with a hangover before? Seriously, who just shows up on some person's ship and judges them silently for one night of bad decisions?
Well, to be fair, one of many nights of bad decisions. Still, what right does this guy have, anyway?
The man doesn't answer, taking his time descending the short set of stairs from the wheel to where Roger stands, walking in a circle around him, slowly. Like he has all the time in the damn world. This just pisses Roger off more, and he swear his headache worsens. The man stops in front of him.
"You," he says, breaking his silence, "look awful, if I may say so myself, Roger."
"Fuck you," is Roger's immediate response, too caught up with his stupid migraine to come up with something more clever.
"Language." The man takes a step away and a neutral expression slides into place. It's hard to tell with the damned sunglasses on, but Roger knows the man is passing judgement.
"You didn't answer my question," Roger shoots back, actually taking a step forward even though they both knew he isn't in any condition to start a fight. "What the hell are you doing here, and why the hell is it so early? Seriously, the sun's just come up."
"It isn't my fault you decided to try and drown yourself in booze." He sniffs. "And I'm actually here because I need you to do something."
"No." Roger turns around to walk back below deck. "Now get the fuck off my ship."
A sudden pressure fills the air between them and Roger stops. "I wasn't finished." The man says, voice suddenly going dark. "And you're not going anywhere."
Roger turns very slowly, allowing his own pressure to rise and fight the other man's. They stare at each other, a silent battle of wills going on between the two of them. Eventually, though, it is Roger who surrenders first. But only because of the migraine, because oh, God, it's tearing his brain apart. He staggers forward and grips the sides of his head again, desperately trying to squeeze it out so he can just think.
"Fuck you," he rasps again, praying his legs will not give out on him and send him down onto the deck.
"Roger," the man says seriously, coming forward to put his actual hand on Roger's shoulder. "Why do you do this to yourself?" When it became apparent there wouldn't be an answer, he sighs and begins to guide the younger man below deck. "Come on, then, let's find you a drink. There's got to be something on this God-forsaken boat that isn't alcohol."
~...~
Thirty minutes later, and they sit in Roger's cramped kitchen, a mug of black coffee in front of the younger man. His headache was better; not gone, but at least he could properly concentrate.
The older man had taken off his sunglasses and gazes around the kitchen with something akin to disdain in his electric blue eyes. Roger couldn't give a shit if his ship wasn't up to his standards; he's proud of every inch of the Claris, even if she is on the small side.
"You still haven't answered my question," he grumbles. Blue eyes slide over to meet his grey ones.
"Yes, I did. I said I need your help. However, in your current state, I'm starting to question that."
Roger grunts and swallows a gulp of his coffee, not breaking eye contact. He's not even phased by the insult; honestly, he's come to expect worse from this man. Finally, the man in front of him sighs and closes his eyes.
"There have been rumors. Bad blood arising in the Powers of the New Order. One of them, calls himself the Baron, has been gaining a lot of attention recently, and his reach is growing fast. Some say he wants to seize control."
"That does seem like a problem." The older man quickly scowls, picking up the hint of sarcasm in Roger's voice. "What am I supposed to do about it? Politics are stupid, and everyone knows the New Order's been screwed from the beginning. That's what you get for asking a bunch of pirates to make a new government after wrecking the last one."
"The World Government needed to change." He pinches the bridge of his nose, clearly fighting a headache of his own. "You know I wouldn't be here if this wasn't serious."
Roger stares at him. "You're literally asking the last person in the world who gives a shit, Damien."
"Dammit, Roger," Damien pounds the table with his fist, "this is bigger than just you or I, don't you understand that?" Roger takes satisfaction from getting a reaction out of him, even if it means most of his coffee was now on the tabletop.
There's a tense silence in the room before Damien finally retracts his fist with a sigh and sits back, running his long fingers through his hair. He finally looks up at Roger, a strange sort of resignation in his eyes.
"I'm not asking you to do much," he says quietly. "All I need is one favor."
Roger sighs. He knows the man was right; he wouldn't be here without reason. And if that reason was serious enough to ask a person like him for help, it really must be serious.
"What do I need to do?"
Annnnnnnd that's a wrap! For those of you wondering who Damien is, he starred in my original fic, The Artful Dodger. I don't even know what happened with that story, so don't try reading it. It still doesn't make any sense to me.
A couple notes about this story in general: it's set after the end of One Piece. In its own way, it's an AU. Most of the characters are original, though some of our favorites may or may not come to visit. For the time being, though, this is a stand-alone story and has little, if anything, to do what's going on in One Piece.
Anyway, let me know what you think! Favorite, follow, comment, send me some biscochitos...whatever strikes your fancy. Until next time,
~Sonata14