Payback
Marco entered his log house after seeing Nekomamushi off, the huge Mink cat a dot in the distance, ambling back to his subordinates. Man, how long had it been since he'd caught up with those guys? He admired the Minks. They knew how to have a good time, but fought to the last bitter tooth and electro nail when called upon.
He blinked against the darkness of the hut, eyes adjusting. The cheese wheel on the table was a few slices less than the hunk he'd carved out for Master Cat Viper. He placed his satchel on the table, took off his glasses and carelessly scraped at the back of his head.
"Could've done with you at Payback," he spoke to the shadows of the room. Eyes now more accustomed to the dim light, he made out the form of the intruder. Impudent as always, his hat a silhouette on the table.
The schuck of loosened clasps, rustle of bags, boots eased off — the thudded clank of a scabbard leant against the table — interspersed the breeze skirting the hut and the Phoenix's own words. A puff of air.
"Sorry. Was masterminding my own kind of reparation." A knife? clanked against the table's surface. Knuckles cracked.
Marco picked up one of the two bottles of wine on the table, and took in the label, then the other. Some of Zou's finest. Filched? The upstart could try to abuse his own hospitality in a similar way, but he'd misread him if so. Though a pirate was a pirate.
"Wasn't expected. It's not like you had an alliance with the Whitebeards, or anyone," he told the 11% alcohol, Year of the Sun vintage, best served with fish description. But they could have done with him. He had no alliance with anyone at the time, except the Don Quixote pirates, so it seemed. Even so, a connection didn't an alliance make. Was he an affiliate of that scum?
"I'm balls deep in unwritten treaties now. Bepo, remember him? My navigator—"
Some of the tenseness eased as Marco tuned into the ragged smoothness of his visitor's voice. Fuck he was close though. Marco wrinkled his nose. Breathed through his mouth. It was only sweat. Strong enough to waft across the room. He nodded.
"He's a Mink, so that alliance has some basis. I was Shanghaied into the others. The Ninja-Pirate-Mink-Samurai Alliance to be precise."
"Don't hear Hearts or Strawhats in that title."
Law looked at the wine bottle in Marco's palm, wondered if he was going to do anything other than stare at it. "It's long enough as it is."
The commander smiled. "You didn't name it." His eyes had grown used to the light and he turned to Law and took in his amusement as he shook his head, the glint of his teeth.
"It's got Ninja in it."
Marco had to admit, that was pretty cool.
"The treaty members? They're good people. But Whitebeard was a great man. And then there's you." Law ratted through a bag, pulled out a cloth, wiped his neck and face. Scrunched it up to his left. "Wish I could have helped out."
There were a million pirates with a million plans swarming over the New World and the other side of the Grand Line. Even so, Marco flicked his eyes over what he could see of Law, and was pleased that this granite-inflected bastard had dropped in, kinda similar to the way his sub had surfaced at Marineford. The only other supernova there apart from Luffy himself. Right into the fucking heart of it. Gutsy move, and one appreciated and noticed by all. He swallowed. Then there was him, huh?
Law stowed away on the Zou ship when Nekomamushi and the guardians departed from Zunesha. Or more accurately, shambled himself on board. He trusted that Penguin and Zoro were first mate enough to get the scattered alliance members, including all of the Hearts, to Wano. Bepo was a terrific navigator. Kaidou was a threat, but he'd be back as soon as he could. All the same, Marco was surprised to see him. Law must have only just reunited with his crew
"How'd that work out for you?" Marco asked. The bandages around Law's arm looked fresh, his face hatched with shadow or scratches. He seemed to move with ease, but was only sitting. It was dark and hard to tell.
"Payback or alliances?"
"Both."
In the shade, Marco followed Law's arms looping behind his head. The black shirt was new. The last time he'd pushed anything up, along, and off Law's chest, it was a blue and yellow sweatshirt. Law's crew probably dressed him in clothes sporting their Jolly Roger, and were the ones to ink him up with the same, like sewing his name into his underwear, because he strayed. Someone would return him (or the items of clothing) sooner or later. The man was surely more precious to his crew than his clothes, which might explain the stained skin.
The nana in Law was happy to see Marco not all-exposed-chest. From experience he knew just how vulnerable it could leave you. He felt like dipping fingers into a vat of menthol and rubbing the ointment into that plumed skin to ease breathing. A touch under the nose. But, the pirate in him felt a twinge of regret that those wicked abs were hidden. The cross of the Whitebeard tattoo was easily discerned.
Law rubbed his clasped hands up and down the back of his spiky hair, then rested them, still together, on the countertop. He focused on his hands.
"Destroyed a few factories. Pissed off Kaidou. Met Sengoku. Got crushed by Fujitora. Doflamingo's still alive. I'm Strawhat Luffy's brand new best friend."
"Heh." Marco walked to a cabinet pushed up against the rough logs of the cabin wall, and pulled out two mugs suited to drinking anything, particularly alcohol. He poured a drink for Law and himself.
Thank fuck for that, Law thought.
Marco still took his sweet time. He and Nekomamushi had shared an ale. Law wasn't so lucky. Marco liked that Law always brought wine or another beverage. That he was more likely to leave food on his plate for Marco if he had no appetite. If he was relaxed, and he knew you well, you might find your drink gone, but he'd more likely be the one buying, or at least overseeing equal distribution of give and take. Not like Oyaji, but Pops'd had his reasons for thrift. Marco was protecting and honouring them now.
"Avenged your saviour?" Law's father figure. Marco walked to the darker side of the room, passed Law a mug and wandered back to the doorway. The bastard had only looked at him a second.
"Not really." Law turned the handle toward him, and took a draught of wine. Ran an eye over the Phoenix as he retreated. He wasn't wearing them now, but those glasses suited him. He'd been able to check on some of the older injuries from Marineford the last time their paths had crossed, but didn't know what damage the firebird had accumulated since Payback.
He worried about him less due to his powers of rejuvenation.
Marco worried about Law less due to his medical know-how and devil fruit.
Then there was Teach.
Doflamingo.
Kaidou.
Weevil.
Light from a high window dappled the table, but Law remained mostly an outline to Marco. A moon-curve of skin, blunt gold earrings, a hand lifting the cup, making a point, as he leaned forward or back. His inked fingers braided the light.
"But I tried. Killed someone who fucked him up."
"Oh? You said Doflamingo didn't die." Marco stayed upright, resting against the wall, glass in hand. One eye on Law, the other on Oyaji's hometown, the sphinxes grazing in the fields.
"He didn't."
More's the pity.
"This guy beat the shit out of Cora the day he died. Outta me, too."
Marco tried to remember the story. Law had to have been twelve or thirteen. Joker struck the terminal blow was mostly what he recalled.
"Cora already had a few bullets pumped into him. Got shot stealing my devil's fruit. Barrels Pirates. Urged me to deliver a message to the marines — his friends, his employers, those folks he had trust in — and I took it on myself to bring the one I approached back to where Cora lay, all stuck-pig red over the snow."
Law tried not to gulp his drink in an effort to either fuel or fell anger. Guilt. Remembering afresh how long it had taken him to venture out from behind that wall to approach someone, the snow not letting up. He'd been so stupidly hopeful.
"A pirate pretending to be a marine instead of a marine masquerading as a pirate. Vergo-fucking-sama. The first Corazon. I sliced him into pieces and blew him up."
Marco wondered at the tone souring Law's poker voice. He'd only ever heard him use that high honorific in derision or teasing. Hell, it was difficult to get a -san out of him, though he had his own strange inflections for addressing people. Unique to his region, perhaps. Yoi.
"Left him for dead in the SAD room on Punk Hazard." The one they'd detonated.
"Gratifying?" Marco folded his arms, careful not to spill his drink.
"Very." Law patted his left side momentarily, happy to know his heart was at home. The headaches that blindsided him after Vergo smashed that bamboo staff into his skull had been superseded by more serious injuries. Having your heart squeezed was up there with having nails pulled. Getting your arm sawed off made a throttled heart feel like the twinges and stitches of an intense workout.
.
.
"Still got Caesar?"
"Abducted, along with Blackleg."
"He's a Vinsmoke."
"Ya, who knew?" Law bet that Caesar was gone, too. Infiltrate the Big Mom pirates quietly. A quick recon and rescue operation. Right. He'd get the full story from Brook or Nami.
Brook. Nami would charge him what was left of his life in Beri. The bedlam was to be expected really. There was a less than thirty-percent chance of taking down any of the yonkou and mugiwara was involved.
"Vinsmoke's from your way. Icy, snowy climes. Maybe you should have known."
"Had other things on my mind." Law had a feeling that Sanji had too. There was a look to him. Also a number of years between them.
Marco sipped the wine and looked out again at the pastures, green, gentle, no indication of the past they covered. The town was hidden behind the waterfall, hardship buried in the rubble of the outer facade. They all sought out families or created them. Law lost one, escaped another, created a third. Really, he came to see him rather than strengthen his bonds with his crew? But those bonds were strong. That's why he could do it.
.
.
"You get out okay?" He wondered when Law would come into the sunlight. What was he hiding?
"Lost an arm. Doflamingo riddled me with string bullets, and then with real bullets. Lead. A number of times. He was a bit tetchy. Fujitora pinned me with gravity."
The ex-shichibukai — the pink one — sprayed compassion like a pesticide, all jovial intent to maim or kill. Marco had witnessed it at Marineford, forcing Whitebeard commanders to fight one another. They'd almost lost Little Oars Jr to him and the other noble sympathisers, and had lost others. One on one, Marco imagined the menace intensified, the methods of harm grew more inventive. Especially if he knew you. If he felt you'd betrayed him. If you had betrayed him. The only way Doflamingo'd dismiss a subordinate was eternally.
Others didn't know or were surprised with Law's connection to the heavenly demon. Marco, through his own sources, and Law's own words, knew some of it. That heart seat had been empty for years, and there was one North Blue sailor who flaunted the name.
"Okay now? Nekomamushi's covered in gauze."
Law placed a hand on his arm for a second. Princess Mansherry had done a good job. And Leo.
"He and Inuarashi were messed up by Jack the Drought. Zou was a shambles when we arrived; they'd poisoned the land, the Minks. Before we got there, Caesar manufactured an antidote. Chopper healed them. The bastard attacked again while we were there. Zunesha repelled them."
Marco shook his head. It didn't seem the era would find peace any time soon. Especially not in the new world. He'd read the news about the Reverie, and Luffy's amazing bounty. Far outstripping Law's. The Heart captain didn't seem worried. Not that they'd discussed it, but Marco liked that the surgeon didn't care too much what others thought of him. He knew his strengths and weaknesses, although he suspected he sometimes ignored all that he knew. Kaidou was on his tail now. Idiot.
"You're sporting a few injuries of your own. How about Strawhat?" He jangled his free hand in his pocket. No need for keys, no spare change. He'd left his whittling stick and knife outside.
"It's like he's made of rubber. Hardly a mark on him."
Marco lifted his eyebrows at the pun. If it was a pun. Whoever knew with Law?
"Save your bacon?"
"Hell yeah, if we're talking figuratively. Otherwise any bacon would be in his belly."
"Figuratively. Fool."
Law grinned. "I did this cool thing with my amputated arm."
"Do tell." Marco's eyes trailed to the bandages. The Heart wasn't one for hyperbole.
Law let it go. He was amazed he was still standing. Was happy that Doflamingo hadn't decided to slice off his fingers, nose or any other extremities. He'd been more intent on snuffing him out altogether when he wasn't torturing him to the point of snuffing him out altogether.
It was lucky he'd met Luffy. The original plan was a good one. If only he'd had the intel on Joker's status. Vergo's passing words rang clearly. Yeah, maybe the fucker did get the last laugh there, but Law was the one still walking. Smoker had helped him out.
"Trebol set me on fire after the cool thing. My detached arm sliced his core vertically with Kikoku. Got him a bit hot under the inflammable snot collar. His cloak's made up of snot. That slid right off. He's a really skinny guy." A really skinny giant.
"You ignited his flame?"
"He ignited his flame. He'd trapped me under layers of mucous, my funeral pyre. His encore was the epitome of not cool. Imagine going out in a blazing cocoon of phlegm." Legs stretched out in front of his chair, Law grazed a shin with the calloused toe of the other foot. Laughed at himself. There was no dignity for him in the world, new or old.
"Luffy somehow got me away. I'd blacked out. He launched my arm and me off the mountain the castle sat on. Tall as a motherfucking seven storey building, if not more. But hey, Cora did too. I should be used to it."
It hurt, obviously, being so battered. But he hadn't given up. He probably should have, but death was a childhood pal.
"Still feeling sorry for yourself?"
Law shrugged. "Yeah, Luffy saved my arse. Robin wove a net of hands that stopped my fall, caught the arm, my nodachi. Doflamingo sent string bullets after me. I was out cold. Cavendish stopped Doffy's attack. They told me about it later."
Marco tipped his head against the doorframe. "You were rescued by that pop-star pirate?"
"You know him?" Law looked across, then down. "Take care. He'll sign you up to his fan club if he finds out." He rubbed at his temple. "And I'd be more alive if I were helped out by someone with an ugly mug?"
Wasn't sure he wanted Marco to know that he'd been lugged and thrown all around Dressrosa like the fates distressing an old piece of denim.
"You're indebted to him?"
"A little. Carted me about until Princess Mansherry's healing kicked in. She's one of the leaders of the Tontatta kingdom. A dwarf. Another physician of sorts. Cavendish looked over me until a tiny bit of my power returned."
Which he'd used to set Luffy up for his grand finale against Doflamingo. To save Rebecca and Viola. To make sure Luffy didn't become a literal supernova, exploding, imploding, not only himself, but all near him, as he hurtled brightly to the hard ground of Dressrosa after winning his battle.
"Are you full strength now?" Marco'd not seen Law lose his stamina, but when they experimented, the surgeon kept a close eye on his ability's use, explaining how it wiped him out if he overextended himself.
Law looked again to the arm, and formed a small Room. It appeared, no problem.
"Almost."
The dome retracted.
.
.
"I always thought you were cool, calm and collected."
That's how Law was in bed, anyway. An assuredness and respect that didn't cancel out the tug of a firm grip on a belt buckle, fingers nimbly easing leather through the clasp, but ruled out histrionics. His humour was dry and absurd. They had fun. Things went wrong, but neither man let it faze them. Law's confidence and practicality, straightforwardness, surprisingly, buffered Marco from the loss of Marineford, and that loss would easily swallow Little Oars Jr whole and had. It mostly went unmentioned.
"I'm always calm, except when faced with bread." Marco's belt buckles were a snap in comparison.
The Phoenix walked to the middle of the room. Law's nodachi rested to the left of his chair, the white crosses bright. It seemed that the red tassel had been rethreaded, not looking battle weary at all. He poured another glass of wine for himself, and flipped a hand Law's way. The Heart captain slid his mug across the smooth pine surface. Marco topped it up, and sliced off some cheese for both of them. Passed a plate and the drink back across the table.
"I read a theory once that there are countries that define themselves as ordered, but which are chaotic." Marco sawed off a hunk of Law's nemesis, dark rye he'd picked up from the market that morning, and slapped cheese on it, grimacing an apology to the craggy neurotic in the corner. Law ate his own piece in two bites.
"Then there are countries which sell themselves as chaotic, but are ordered. Countries, that recognise themselves as ordered and are ordered. And countries which truthfully boast disarray's graces. People are the same."
"Which one am I?"
"You think you're ordered, but you're as chaotic as fuck." Marco gnawed at the bread. Ate it in chunks.
"Gracefully as chaotic as fuck?"
Marco could grant him that. He pushed a palm down on the table and turned Law's general way. "That you are."
He'd pinned him. Law was tumult masquerading as machinations. But a tangled mess of havoc worked well to shake up the equilibrium. What was equilibrium when it was maintained through oppression apart from fucked up? And Luffy had chosen to fight Bellamy? Where could order go when faced with that other than spiralling down the shitter? Strawhat played their trump card before the game had even started. Law guessed the rashness was an act of faith, though he really could have done without being plugged with another round of bullets. Now he knew how Cora felt, except only one of them had survived.
"You've never travelled with the Strawhats, have you?"
"I knew Luffy's brother."
The village would have been too quiet for Ace. But not for Thatch. Parts of the fleet dropped in occasionally with Pops, but mostly they'd sailed the seas.
Law buried his nose in his drink. Marco more than knew him. "What's your take on Luffy? In your chaos theory."
"From the newspaper reports, chaotic-chaotic. From Marineford, same. Gotta admire him. Nico Robin, ordered-ordered, but willing to take a risk. The actual Marineford, ordered-chaotic — like you."
"Don't compare me to the marines." Except Cora. He could take that. Was that man chaotic-ordered, or chaotic-chaotic? Law figured, probably the latter. Doflamingo? Chaotic-ordered, and then at times, ordered-chaotic. Definitely psychotic.
"Dressrosa?" Marco had his back to Law, looking out fully at Oyaji's birthplace. He'd heard all about the land of passion, but the media silence before the reports of Law and Luffy's achievements meant very few knew what really went on. Even when the media had access, information was limited.
"Chaotic-ordered. Doflamingo ruled with an iron fist. As long as you didn't cross him or come across him, life was peachy. Sold as a place of hot blooded passion and decisions made in the heat of the moment, but with a nine p.m. curfew." God forbid you were caught out after hours fraternising with one of Sugar's metamorphosed toys.
Law glanced around the cabin. Simple, clean, comfortable. One room. A bed, cooking area, the table where he now sat.
"The women knife men if they're spurned in love?"
"Apparently. King Riku Dold the third has been restored. Things should be more ordered-ordered now." Folks and their fancy titles. "And you, Marco the Phoenix?" What kind of country was Marco?
"I'll fight if I have to."
Like Nico-ya, Law thought.
He pushed back his chair, wood scraping across the floor. Taking his cup with him, he crossed to his fellow-doctor. He hadn't seen him for so long.
Finally, Marco thought. No smile to his lips, but no flint to his eyes.
Law liked those glasses. Not that he was wearing them now. They so suited him. That purple jacket would always be Marco, but this simple style appealed too.
Once in front of him, Marco took his and Law's mugs, and placed them on a cabinet shelf. He put his hands on the hips of the Heart captain, scratched his gaze all over the sleepy, inquisitive eyes, the grey splintered with gold. He lifted a hand to the bandages around Law's arm, and the pirate didn't flinch. They'd both look into the wound later.
"It insults me that you don't see my more conservative side."
Marco sought Law's lips and was rewarded with a gravelly kiss of welcome. Guess there wasn't much chance for personal hygiene as a stowaway on Nekomamushi's ship. The exhalation and proximity lulled them both like the rise and fall of a boat at dock, replete with the odours of the gutted remains of the catch of the day. Okay, not quite that bad.
There was nothing conservative in that kiss though, except for the knowledge that time was borrowed, and Law potentially on enemy land. Not an agitation of want either. There was more than the physical to catch up on. Belt buckles be damned.
"Oh, I've seen it," the Phoenix said, pulling away, but pulling Law's head down and close to his own. He put an open palm across the rough cheek. He was glad he'd survived Doflamingo. "In fact, I lifted a few coins for you from Teach's purse before he laid us low."
"Maybe that's why," Law smiled. He wanted to explore, to check Marco's body for any injury he'd gained in his absence. Another part of him itched to seek out that coin purse and find if Marco's plunder was worthy of his collection.
"Nah, wanted to wipe out any remains and remembrances of Pops."
Focusing again on Law's injury meant Marco missed the look of concern. The surgeon had overheard his conversation with Nekomamushi, the distress in Marco's voice as he recounted the story of the island and Whitebeard's connection to it. Of Teach's massive betrayal. So the grave of the great man, and the second division commander, Fire fist, was nearby. He'd have to pay his respects.
A latent ache from having his arm sawn off and roughly reattached lifted before Law felt the lick of Marco's flame. Looking down, the zoan's power encircled the injury. It encouraged severed nerve endings and capillaries to do a better job communicating with one another, to try to fill up each other's dance cards, and at least try to do-si-do, rather than sitting all bunched and jumble-footed in some self-imposed wallflower corner. But in terms of medical reach, Law's own fruit surpassed it.
He had to treat himself within a certain timeframe with certain types of injuries. He carried a collection of scars that hadn't received timely attention, or that didn't interfere with function, so he hadn't bothered depleting his power by removing the cosmetically ugly. His lovers seemed to like them.
It didn't hurt to work in tandem with another power, and he and Marco had done it before, so Law fired up a small Room to cover the area the blond healer worked on. To aid him, but also because he didn't trust the Flame of Restoration to not actually catch fire. Marco had assured him it wouldn't, and he'd seen that it hadn't in the past, but trust was hard won.
.
.
They'd met at a homeopathic convention some time in between old worlds and new. Law had been star-struck, and curious enough — confident enough in his own abilities — to seek out the Whitebeard commander for his opinion on how the physicians with devil fruits could work together to best optimise healing amongst themselves, but also when applied to others.
If the artificial zoan fruit were being developed, as he'd had a strong inkling they were at the time, fruit where maybe a user could survive and use two, like Blackbeard, or armies of artificial users were being created to hunt down people like Law and Marco, they had to think of ways they could coalesce their powers to defend themselves. Ways to gain more than a fingerhold in the gaping maw of power. Before it consumed them whole.
Allies were needed to protect villages like this one, like Zou, and Law, his own hometown, if he'd only had the strength then that he had now. He'd take on a thousand Sengokus and a million Doflamingos if it had meant saving Flevance. In spite and because of his strengths and weaknesses.
Law had flattered Marco by knowing a hell of a lot more about him than the commander knew about Law. Soon to change with the harvesting of the hearts stunt. The Rocky Port Incident. His stint as a shichibukai. Then to change even more when Caesar broadcast his chained captives suspended in a cage, while advertising the lethality of his chemical weapons, poison rolling below them. Law was one of them. What was he doing with Luffy? With Smoker? In a cage?
The papers soon told them about the alliance, and the marines for once gave them credit for Dressrosa, or pinned it on them. Whatever angle they were selling that week.
At the medical convention, the boasters, the big noters, the toad oil salesmen, filled all the spaces. Law's understated attitude was a sharp relief. The Heart captain was hunted for his fruit, so the Phoenix understood him lurking in dim recesses in many ways. The quiet could be more deadly than the loud, as Caesar's poisons showed. But Law had given Marco a number of reasons to trust him. Yet, it took a few drinks and recollections of Marineford packed tight as shrapnel strafed into a wall for the two to agree to experiment.
The practitioner in either one of them was curious how their fruit might work with the other, and the results were reassuring, They'd discovered then, as they knew now, that Marco's fruit eased pains that hindered function, and Law delved into the physical and manipulated sinew, muscle and bone. His ability could strain blood. Isolate particles.
.
.
"Better?"
Law nodded, leant his head against the Phoenix's own. Marco wondered. There was a lot Law wasn't telling, but all they had were stolen moments, really. He did look whole, even if he wasn't really wholly there. He ran his hand at the back of Law's head.
"Doflamingo wanted me to perform the perpetual youth surgery." Law stepped back a bit. He refused to close his eyes. Refused to feel the pain. Anger raced through him, and his gaze bore into Marco's. His words brushed the firebird's cheek.
"What'd ya do?"
Law couldn't help it. He lifted his arm from Marco's body, and wrapped it around the bandages. The ache was so minimal, if existent at all. The memory was not.
"I agreed."
What? This was why they saw each other. Marco was the one man Law would never have to sacrifice himself for in battle, push come to shove, from a tactical point of view. He was the one man who'd never think of Law's usefulness to him in terms of prolonging his own life, because he regenerated, baby. Over, and over.
"He said I could have whatever I wanted."
Marco gripped the bandages. Law's injuries be damned. "What devil's deal did you make?" Shichibukai dog. Collaborator. He noted a quick wince before it disappeared. A beat of concern and confusion filling Law's face at the serious tone. Law pulled his hand from under Marco's, dropped it by his side
"Told him to bring Cora back to life, then to lick the arses of all of the residents of Dressrosa whose lives he had made a living hell, and then I shot him the bird."
Marco's hold eased up. Law didn't show his relief, but an evil grin crawled across his face.
"What'd he do?" Marco still wasn't smiling, but fuck, he admired this pretty pirate. Felt petty for his reaction.
"He shot me so full of lead that pustules of my body-double's innards provided the raptors with enough carrion for a week, I'm sure."
"Body-double?" Marco absently ran his palm along the dressing. Law inclined his head. It felt nice.
"I swapped myself out with some unconscious Don Quixote flunkey a few levels below after the first shot. Fixed him up later. That was the second time Joker emptied the barrel of a gun into me within a twenty-four hour period. Lying in the courtyard, all I could hear, over my own breath punching the shit out of my eardrums, was the click of the trigger over and over, no report. He'd emptied the cartridge into what he thought was my corpse and would have done it incessantly if he had the ammunition."
Law looked away. "Doflamingo's tit-for-tat leans to the extreme."
"Was it was worth it?" Marco figured it was. A sly smile crossed Law's face. He rubbed at the back of his neck.
"I'm not sure."
"How many arms did you have at the time?"
"One. Bleeding out. On my knees like a chastised school kid. Trebol— the executive?"
Marco nodded. He knew of him.
" —orgasming on fuck knows what. My near demise. The grand king Doffy. They'd slammed me into the rubble and thrown me about like cats batting a near-dead mouse. Doflamingo's strings pierced me more than once, but I got him a few times. Couldn't get close enough to extract his heart. Drew blood. Sliced up Trebol for a bit. Counter-shock, Gamma-ray — affected him, but none of them had a permanent effect. That was later, though, when I was fighting as Lazarus the amputee."
Marco tipped his head indicating the outside, released Law. The day was clear and bright. Better than the gloom of the cabin. Law took the other bottle of wine from the table, and the cups from the cabinet, handed them to Marco, then went back for his boots. Once in front of the hut, they sat on the same log Marco had shared with Nekomamushi. Luckily Marco generally had this afternoon free.
He uncorked the second bottle, noted the slight flush to Law's cheeks, and knew his own would be the same. He filled their drinks. Leant the bottle at the back of the log. Law and Nekomamushi in one day. Things were looking up.
"Cheers." Ceramic toasts were always so unexciting unless you toasted with Jozu. Then the mug invariably broke. "Eternal youth surgery? You were saying."
Law held the mug in two hands, rested it on his lap. All of these islands were a hell of a lot more attractive than Punk Hazard. Minion. Spider Miles. "I couldn't comply, couldn't do it. Had no intention of doing it. Not for that for that piece of shit. As if I'd give him life with my own. Sengoku told me not to question love, but that was love in the Family. There was a stage of my life I was going to follow that man to my death."
"You lost me." Marco rested an arm back on the log and raked a glance over the unending blue above.
"When he found out I'd eaten the ope-ope mi he wanted to train me up to die for him. I would've done it, before Cora kidnapped me. Cora helped show me the way back to myself."
It was too early — they hadn't had enough time to get used to each other yet — for Marco to take Law's hand. He turned his mug instead, elbows on his knees, and looked up at him. "Nothing wrong with thinking." Maybe it would have saved Ace if he'd been able to cut his losses and had walked away from Akainu's venom instead of diving right back into the fray. All that effort for nothing. All that loss for more loss.
Marco knew he was with Law, this new thing, because his chances of survival were greater than most. From every tumble from the steepest of precipices, Law had crawled back, even when he'd been so convinced that all that laid ahead was blackness. He could be careless with his life, it was true, with his fruit, with that cursed sword. It only took some seastone to render him helpless, like them all. And the stamina thing. He wasn't immortal, but it wasn't his life purpose to give up his own life for another, depending on your view of the proper use of devil fruits.
Law eyed Marco's chest where he'd told him Kizaru had pierced him. The areas where Akainu's flames had tried to put out his own. No marks. Just as Marco searched for, but didn't find, the memories of Flevance. Neither man had to heal the other. The fear of not being able to save someone you so desperately wanted to was minimised, but not extinguished.
For all that, they liked to pool resources. The twisting conjunction of dome and flame contained and nurtured a world between them where families survived the cold the world government abandoned them to, and avoided those looking to profit from poverty and disease. Beyond policy and ambition that claimed lives in the names of fear-mongering and prejudice, Law and Marco had their sphere of healing, and between them a small world for moments of calm and respite.
A/N Thank you for reading. Not set in the Repossession/ Law's Collections series! A first for me.
I know that it's really unlikely that Law would leave his crew and alliance members when they could be meeting Kaidou at any moment, but indulge me :-) Both Birds of a Feather and Gimcracks (not a T rating) explore the idea of Marco and Law working in tandem with their devil fruit to heal. It's an idea I really like, and one that was done fantastically by Moonlit Nocturne in Shambles on FFN. Then when Oda showed Marco as the Whitebeard doctor, and using his powers in that way, I couldn't resist.
Canon will laugh at me, I know. So I'll just get this character study out of the way while I can. It will probably laugh at me this week.
I hope you enjoyed it. All forms of feedback are very much appreciated.
Note: Dec 8, 2018: The Vivre Cards have come out with Marco's height, and he's got 12cm on Law. When I started writing these two, a post on Oro Jackson had Marco at about 184 cm, which I prefer. I initially wrote Marco taller, and readjusted everything. Now, it seems I need to go the other way! BUT, I'll just leave author notes instead. It's always an AU anyway.