Author's Note: Oh my goodness! Wow! Immediate responses and I'm grinning like a fool 'cause there's people leaving me reviews of how happy they are to actually see this story come to life! And yeah, I get what they mean, since I would go crazy happy if some story I loved that's been long dead comes back from the ashes with a fire to burn right through me! Wow, thank you guys! I know you missed the story, but I just have hard times believing that people missed it that much! Thank you!
So, the story is a lot different from the original but still retains some of it in the previous work. Do you guys like? Also, I've been wondering about something: when it comes to the One Piece world, would it be better if there was Japanese curses and attack names? or should it all be translated in English? It's something that's been bothering me for awhile. I mean, I look back to the old work, there is some stuff that sticks while other stuff that makes me tilt my head a bit and wonder if I should do something. For example:
Japanese: "Gomu Gomu no Muchi!"
English: "Gum Gum Whip!"
I will not take anymore of your time, just know that this story will have its mistakes here and there since I'm not that great of a writer, but I do my best. Just remember to leave a review 'cause this story sails itself!
Disclaimer: One Piece and its characters belongs to the ever talented Oda-sensei, my only feeble belongings are Reuben and Original Character(s)!
Warning: The story contains strong language and explicit descriptions of violence, viewers discretion is advised!
—
Chapter 1 - Drown me in Storms, Carry me to Shores
—
There was something comforting about sitting inside a baby's room, like it was a foreign language that spoke of new beginnings and better days to come.
I swallowed thickly as I stared at the baby blue walls with painted fluffy clouds, ocean waves, and little sail boats that had jumping dolphins and seals popping their heads out. Stuffed animals were lined up against the wall with colorful nightlight to keep the baby from getting too scared of the dark when night fell. The crib that dad finally finished without my help stood at the corner, little soft blankets folded neatly and more stuffed animals plopped in to keep the baby company when he or she slept or simply sat there with big eyes staring around the new world they would grow up in.
I looked over at the clothes mama picked out, clothes for the cold and for the summer, clothes for parties and for picnics, clothes for whatever occasion because she couldn't wait to bring her baby out into the world to spoil and love endlessly. Dad would complain to mama for overdoing it but he knew he would do the same when he thought everyone's backs were turned. He'd probably teach the baby what to look out for when it came to fighting or defending, and he would take them back to the shed to show off the glass bottle ships he would make as a side hobby and help them make their first.
When it came to wonder what I would do when the baby would come into our lives—my mind drew a blank.
"Supper's ready!" mama called from downstairs.
I put down the sock monkey that I was holding onto the rocking chair before leaving the room. I closed the door behind me and headed down the stairs, mindful not to stomp since it grated on mama's nerves. The table was already set, something I went ahead and did when mama said she was making potato and chicken soup for supper.
Quiet and patient, I helped mama with the two bowls and set them down the table, pulling out a chair for her to sit in then going to my own seat. I waited as she finished a quick prayer, giving the blessing to dig in. I remained quiet, avoiding looking her in the eyes.
After the bar, I was listed as a volunteer to go out at sea at the beginning of the storm season. I got yelled at, called a fool and some other names, but I didn't budge on my decision. They didn't need to get in my business about what I was doing. Besides, they were going to go off somewhere, weren't they? They were heading off to see friends and relatives further mainland, what the hell did it matter to them if I ended up heading out?
"—Jesse Sharden, Pamela Valet, Joshua Vasquez, and Capt. Clant Hansley of Monte Blanc will be reporting at the docks by 6:30 in the morning—"
The guys, followed by half a dozen others, ended up volunteering as soon as I had left the bar and headed back home. Whether it was because they were tempted by the money Creedy promised, or they had felt some sort of obligation to join a dumbass kid, they went ahead in canceling whatever plans they had to follow me into sea.
I honestly didn't know how I should feel about that.
Mama, however, knew how she felt about that decision and made sure to tell me through her screeching and waving wooden spoon. And knowing mama, she probably went ahead and called dad's hospital room number to tell him everything.
It was wrong to think so, but I was glad dad was still being kept at the hospital for safety reasons and what-not after his stroke. I could only imagine the firestorm he would bring with when he would come after me, look me straight into my eyes, and with silent fury, would promise me absolute ruin. He wouldn't have to say a damn thing, either, just give me the most evilest glare until I broke down in a mess of my own puddled piss.
I could feel mama's disappointed stare, so I kept my head low and busied myself with eating the warm broth she made. I wanted to finish this brew quickly so that it would excuse me from the table.
"Me and yer daddy haven't decided what to name the baby, ya know?" her voice cuts through the silence like a megaphone.
"O-oh, really?" I choke out, having almost let something go down the wrong tube.
"Mhm. I mean, we decided to be surprised an' all, but we'd be crazy not to think up a name for yer baby sister."
"Or brother." I added, she was so determined to have a girl after having dealt with too much men nearly her whole life.
"I'd get to brush her hair, buy her pretty dresses—"
"And we'd have to chase away the boys." I snorted as I ate more of the chicken broth.
"—and I'd have to teach her how to deal with louts who think they know better." mama drawled as she gave me a look.
I winced. "So, uh, what 'bout those names you were thinkin' of before I left?"
Her pregnancy, being a new and scary thing for me since I didn't know what she was thinking one minute to the next, made her a walking contradiction. Her unimpressed eyes disappeared and there was all brightness and sunshine brimming out of her pearly whites that I was almost tempted to whip out some shades to block it. She was too much sometimes, my dear mama.
"Oooh! I borrowed Trudy's baby-naming book and saw a whole list of nice names in the R section. If only I'd gotten it first years ago, I could have named you Reggie!"
"My name is just fine, mama." I muttered, a little glad that my naming came by chance; some stranger got my dad out of a serious pickle when he was young, so when my old man held me in his arms for the first time, he decided to slap me with that name in honor of the stranger.
"Ronnie, Rosalind, Rosy, Reagan, Rachel, Randy..." my mama listed the names on her fingers, quickly losing the digits as she recounted them with near perfect memory.
"And what if it's a boy?" I asked as I couldn't help teasing her.
She pouted at the thought of another little boy, but answered. "Well, there was just as good names. There was Richard, Riley, Raphael, Rodan, Ray, Rook, and—Oh! Ya know what?"
I laughed as I pulled up the spoon to take another bite. "What?"
"Maybe we can name him after your uncle—"
The spoon clattered noisily against the porcelain bowl, spilling some of the broth that had been on the silverware.
Even after all those long years, the mention of him was like shoving lime and salt over an open wound that was still in the works of scabbing over. It hurt just from thinking about him. Involuntarily, my eyes drifted over to the ever empty chair that used to scrape loudly that mama would scold him for causing ugly marks on the kitchen floor. I can still remember him treating every dish mama served up like it would be his last supper.
And in the end, he did end up having one.
"I—" I rose up from the chair. "I gotta give a call to Joel, tell him not to come for me."
"Reuben, honey...!" mama's voice pleaded, but I couldn't stop myself from wanting to get away.
"I gotta make a call." I told her, my voice barely holding together as I pulled away from the table to go to my room upstairs, leaving her alone.
Once upon a time, dad used to laugh more, mama looked at life as a cup half-full rather than half-empty, and I thought I was going to keep him forever with me...
-¤-¤-¤{Dulesday Beach Harbor}-¤-¤-¤
"Some weather..." somebody said.
The skies were darker than I had ever seen. The world looked bleak and lifeless without the sun to give us a sense of hope and warmth rather than the sharp, biting winds that chilled us to the bone. The waves, we all could hear, sounded restless and wild, brushing up higher against the beach as if trying to climb higher onto the mainland.
And the wind, I winced, howled loudly like hundreds of invisible banshees wailing overhead. The air felt thick and heavy like it was putting more weight than there already was on my bag and gear.
There was something about today that brought unwelcome tingles and goosebumps rising that didn't come from the cold blustering wind. The dark skies with screaming gales brought a wave of nostalgia that set me a little off edge.
'It's just the nerves. Stand up straight!' I told myself, brushing off the unpleasant feelings.
I had a job to do.
A hand pressed against the small of my back. Mama stood next to me, eyeing the sky with about as much trust as I held until they fell onto me.
"You don't have to go, honey." she grabs my hand. "No one would think less of ya. You don't have to go out there."
She was scared. She wanted to pull me by the arm, drag me back to the truck, push me all the way into the house and lock me inside my room until dad came out of the hospital to man-handle me all the way to school. I could see she was very determined to follow through with that ridiculous idea, but...
She knew I would stop at nothing to get on that boat with the rest of everyone. She knew I would risk my own life just to make sure that she, the baby, and dad were comfortable without having to worry about money with dad taking time off to recover from that horrible stroke.
"You don't have to keep tryin', honey..." she tried once more. "You don't have to keep going for me and yer daddy."
I poured all my dedication, conviction, and utmost love for her and dad by pulling her into a hug. I buried my nose into her honey-colored locks that fell in cascades around her shoulders, making sure to give it my all without hurting the baby that was pressed against my abdomen. A small huff escaped me when I felt something poke near my belly button, and we both pulled away from each other to look at the round belly that showed the baby's kicking against the thin cage they were trapped inside.
"I think she's trying to tell ya to stay home with us." mama said with a weak smile as she slides a hand across her tummy.
I knelt down on one knee, slipping the duffel bag down on the wooden docks so I could face the plum-colored fabric shielding the belly holding my kid brother (or sister).
"Hey, little guy, you awake?" I teased as I pressed my ear against mama's belly; I closed my eyes when I felt her fingers comb into my scalp that sent pleasant tingles. "Did you wanna say something to me before I go, too?"
A nudge against the temple of my left forehead was my reply.
"Ah, I see," I nodded, playing along. "I know I'm acting like a fool right now, but believe me, if there was any other way to make sure you and mama and daddy would be okay, I wouldn't do this."
Another one, but a much stronger kick that it left mama a little breathless.
"Hey now, be nice for yer mama. This is between you an' me, you punk." I admonished the little fetus.
"Reuben!" mama's appalled gasp garnered a laugh.
As if heeding my wishes, the jab against my cheek was much softer. I smiled at the gesture.
"That's much better. Be good for me, okay? Know that I love ya so much." I told the baby, pressing my lips against the stretched fabric and feeling no more kicks from the baby residing in the womb. "I can't wait to meet you one day, sweetheart."
I finally pulled away from her, mama's fingers dislodged from my hair as I stand back up on my own two feet that she has to once again tilt her head slightly to look me in the eyes. Her eyes are red and puffy, tears rolling down her cheeks. She grabbed my hand once more in her own, feeling the rough, calloused skin with her softer ones.
"Be careful." she croaked so lowly.
"I'll see you and dad again, mama." I whispered before a playful smile broke out. "And besides, if I come back late, well, you can always come find me yerself."
"You bet yer little sorry ass I will, Rubes." she promised with a crooked smile.
The Monte Blanc pulled up to the docks, ready and loaded with all that we needed to get as many fish as possible and get the hell out before we were caught in a really nasty storm. With much reluctance as she had when she watched me walk to my first day in kindergarten, I followed the men and women onto the boat without looking back.
Much later on, I was going to regret that.
...
The first day didn't start out so great.
A couple fishes, not even marlin, caught the lines and nothing else after that. It was difficult to operate through the whole thing because of the high and low waves that rocked the ship in unsteady rhythms that we couldn't do much of anything. Plus, there was a very dense downpour that we barely could hear and see what the hell was going on that our voices were hoarse.
The next few days were just as terrible. There was a marlin or two, but that was all we caught so far within the few days. It angered people, making them feel useless and frustrated because we were coming up empty-handed. A fight broke out because some guy made jabs about Creedy being right on Phil not picking up the slack and being a lazy ass bastard, and of course it ended up with the idiot getting a black eye for his shit talk. I felt responsible for all the turmoil we were feeling, sometimes wishing I hadn't said anything to the old bastard, and everyone would be back home dealing with their own lives rather than risking it by coming out to sea with me.
But I was selfish, and I was going to get that money for my mama and dad. I didn't care if I got yelled at when I got back, all that mattered was adding that extra into their savings so they had little to worry about money problems. I would be off in school, just like they wanted me to, and dad, in the mean time, would recover at the hospital until the doctors deemed it safe enough for him to go back home. Dad could finally take his much needed rest, never having to think about work until he recovered from the stroke.
Now, all I had to do was set that plan to fruition by catching us some goddamn fish.
And to do that, we had to go further out of our usual fishing hot spots... and closer into the storm's path.
At the seventh day, our lousy luck finally changed.
The waves still came in lumpy forms from little to large varieties, but they helped pull in line after line after line with the very fish we'd been searching for. Within an hour, Cooper, a guy named Frankie, and his niece Shelby, were knee deep in the icebox. It was steadily getting higher as the day went on until it got too dark, even with the lights on. The following days were the same: fishermen cheering while the rain pelted their coats and sou'westers as they hauled struggling marlins. I never felt so sore from how many times I had to cut off sharp noses and fins, open their insides to fill with crushed ice, and have the whole thing done under one minute before someone dumped another on my table top.
All the simmering looks and sharp retorts that had been thrown the previous days before were long forgotten as we shared big smiles on our filthy, wet faces of sea water and fish blood. The rain that drizzled came a little harder with every new passing day, even as we pulled in more catches that it was beginning to pack our icebox. The black skies was a sight that grew daunting every now and then, the wind still cold even as we all wore our rain gear, but there was something about this as a whole that encased my heart into an icebox of its own.
Through the cheers, smiles, and hope that rose with more fish being dumped down below, the unsettling feeling that I had felt since leaving port followed with me throughout the voyage.
It was feeling most heavy and God-fearing that came to me like a thing I could guess animals felt when they sensed disaster not too far ahead.
The next day when we woke up to repeat yesterday of catching as many until we had to stop and dig up more space to make room in the icebox, I noticed something.
It was hot.
Like, the cold that whipped around us usually wasn't there anymore. Instead, my face was blasted with hot air that made people break out sweats that they had to remove their jackets and several layers of their shirts because the air was so warm.
And just like that, my stomach plummeted. The deep, primal part of my brain that spoke of ancient evolution that came from billions of years ago was screaming, bouncing, and banging in my head that everything was wrong and whatfuckiswrongwithyourun!
Our lucky streak of multiple catches finally ran out when the ice machine that kept the frozen fish cool and prevent it from being spoiled died on us. There was no way to fix it, nobody really knew how to fix a broken cooler. Besides that, it wasn't like we could actually open it up properly: there was no room to do the deed. Hansley decided to call it quits and head back home, and everyone agreed with him.
Privately, I let out a breath of relief.
Three days later, I found myself struggling to breathe as the Monte Blanc was met with every violent wall of waves splashing across the deck. People sprawled and struggling to keep balance from the motion of being knocked around like a bunch of mice being rattled inside the cage by an impudent child who didn't know any better.
There was a hurricane right on the ship's tail.
'Well fuck me!' I thought as I dragged wooden boards behind me, ducking and slamming into the side of the ship when hundred pounds of water rammed me from the side.
"We've got to shield the windows!" Pamela practically screamed in my ear since it was the only way we could communicate through the high pitch winds that blew by us.
The hassle of re-enforcing the ship to take on hits from the water resulted in two people getting injured that they were sent below to keep out of everyone's hair. Shelby twisted an ankle after slipping off the ladder on her way up to help, and Luis suffered a head injury (and possible concussion) from being hit by a loose board that flew off from a strong gale while he had been nailing it to a window.
The rain pelted down like trillions of bees stinging my face, my vision obscured even with the goggles everyone had on so we weren't walking around completely blind. Again, I was pushed down by another wave that came onto deck, making me slip to the floor where I barely had time to inhale when disgusting salt water made contact with my tongue.
"Augh!" I gagged, furiously spitting out the taste.
After struggling to get to the upper deck to deliver more boards, I barely stepped on the second floor when a crash was heard within the wheelhouse. Dropping the boards, I rushed inside to see Jesse, Joshua, and Amelia holding back Frankie as he swung his arms wildly towards Hansley, who in turn was held back by Phil.
"What the hell is goin' on here?!" I shouted, gaining everyone's attention.
And then Frankie's furious gaze focused on me before he started swinging again. I barely got away, crashing against the table behind me and scattering the bottles, maps, and breaking a radio that Hansley used to listen to his dinosaur-ancient music. I couldn't, however, dodge the kick to my gut, I keeled over, coughing as my stomach flipped around dangerously with the threat of throwing up on the floor right there.
"You stupid fuck! You stupid fucking fuck! YOU DID THIS! YOU KILLED US ALL!" Frankie screamed, making me freeze like a statue.
I felt hands reach for my arms and pull me back up, I nearly doubled over again because of the pain and my mouth forming a lump that I had to swallow thickly to keep the awful bile down. Frankie was thoroughly secured, screaming wildly with hate and blame thrown solely on me as Phil kept me upright on my feet.
I looked up and found there, plastered on a screen that got installed three years earlier, were two red vortexes just barely touching one another.
"A double hurricane collision...?!"
Those were exceedingly rare storms that happened only once every few decades. Because the storms rotated in different directions, the superior storm always won out while the smaller one merged with the bigger.
And we were smack dab in the middle of the whole thing!
"Fuck you, Reuben! Fuck you and yer need to be all righteous and shit!" Frankie continued to scream. "I hope my brother fuckin' pisses on yer empty coffin when we're all dead!"
"Shut the hell up, Frankie! You didn't have to come along!" Amelia snapped at him, placing herself between me and the other man. "We're just as responsible for own actions, and you decided to step on the boat, so shut the fuck up and leave him alone!"
"Go fuck yerself, Am! Yer just a bitch who'll kiss anybody's ass and roll over on her back to get fucked by Creedy if he promised to pay ya more!"
"Shut yer fuckin' mouth, ya spineless asshole!" Jesse slams Frankie harder against the wall where he was being held against.
"Fuck you! Fuck ya'll!" Frankie cried, breathless and panting as he lost more of his hold on reality from the fear that climbed up to his neck and threatened to drown him before the ocean could get a chance to.
"We... We can still get outta here!"
Like a gunshot heard around the world, everyone and everything stopped inside the wheelhouse.
I remembered working with Elden Kontch in the warehouse office, helping the elderly man with the filing and organizing of the papers (before the iPads and iPhones came in). Every now and then, the local meteorologist would send faxes to Kontch to give the heads up of the weather... and the ocean currents.
"If we do this right, we can get on top of a current that can lead us the hell out!" I pointed at a section I remembered from the maps. "It'll take us further up North, but better there than here!"
The others looked closely at the screen, but Frankie just unleashed a skeptical laugh.
"Yer saying we should head further into the storm ahead of us?! What else do you want us to do, Rubes? Throw ourselves overboard and look for mermaids?"
Quicker than anyone could blink, I whirled around and connected my knuckles to Frankie's jaw, feeling the bones shudder and give away from the force of the punch. Like a sack of potatoes, Frankie dropped to the floor, a silent scream escaping his gaping mouth as he squirmed on the wet floor next to the steering wheel. There was a stunned silence.
I crouched in front the man, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt so that he could look at me. I bared my teeth at him, snarling into his face.
"Get down below, Frankie, and let the adults do their work."
I shoved him away and turned to face Hansley. The old man looked at me and around all the others that looked to him for an input of my idea. Yes, we would be heading into the hurricane in front of us, but there was a strong enough current that could slip up through the middle and out of the way that we could make for New Jersey.
"Alright." Hansley concedes.
With the plan set in motion, we head out to do our jobs while Hansley steered for the current I pinpointed for him on the navigation screen. The current should be a long stronger now because of the added force the hurricanes were giving off, making it more possible for us to escape while the window of opportunity was still open to us.
I busied myself securing and locking up equipment that could dangerously roll around on deck while everyone was doing their damn hardest to get things moving along easier. The hatch leading to the icebox was hammered down, a small precaution as it was the least important thing at the moment with everyone's lives hanging by the end of their rope. With fewer and fewer things to look out for, the crew would duck under to find shelter from the pelting rain and ramming ocean that tossed our boat like a laughably tiny rubber ducky.
'I'm comin' home, soon.' I told myself, convinced that I was going to walk down the platform on the docks, face dad with my head held high while he raged at me. 'I'm gonna see them again!'
Three things happened from behind me: there was a crash, the ship was slammed by another huge wave that washed along the deck, and Pamela was screaming, "MAN OVERBOARD!"
To mine and everyone's horror, the six that were outside were now counted down to five, the sixth currently being swept away and drowning under the unforgiving waves. Vincent Burnseid, a man around Hansley's age and having recently become a grandfather when his eldest daughter came back from the hospital the day before we arrived from the last trip, was trying to keep his head above the water while screaming from the distance. I couldn't hear him, only watch as he got farther and farther away from us.
'Do something!'
I snapped out of it, blinking out the shock and forcing my feet to move and my hands to grab for anything that could help!
I looked around wildly for anything that I could use and spotted a nearby lifesaver along with one of the special long-reaching ropes we stored in case we ended up deep sea fishing for something other than marlin. With my body moving and my mind barely working together in synchronization, I grabbed both items, threw one rope end to a stunned Cooper before diving into the maddening ocean.
Everything was dark, and cold, and it was like a force pushing me down, but I kicked my legs like I was back in the bar in my first brawl with my arms swinging as well to fight against the great ocean that dared me to challenge its wrath. I gasped, greedily inhaling the air when I broke through the surface and kicked more towards the yellow blob waving their arms.
"VINCENT!" I cried, spluttering around the nasty water that got into my mouth again.
It felt like hours (and it could have been a few minutes), but when I reached him, I felt unbelievably exhausted from pushing myself to him and keeping afloat at the same time. The lifesaver a little heavy from dragging it along but doing a fantastic job at staying close to the surface. Vincent coughed in my face as I got closer, I swung the lifesaver around him and he raised his arms over the ring.
I turned back to the direction of the boat and felt my eyes widen to saucers at the distance. That freaking rope I knew was long, but I had no idea how fucking long! We were probably almost three football fields away from the Monte Blanc! I turned back to Vincent, the old man looking about as spooked and helpless.
"Just kick yer legs, Vincent!" I tell him, still holding the rope and hoping to God somebody actually held onto it.
I grabbed onto the lifesaver and kicked my legs despite the growing soreness. I was determined to get back on the boat, through every wave that crashed on me and Vincent, through every pull the ocean ducked us under, I was not going to let the damn sea win over me when I saw home just waiting for me at the far end of the dark clouds that shrouded the sun. I was determined to see the shorelines, the crappy-looking warehouse I worked at, the streets that led me to the local shops where at the end stood the Shipwreck Den, the white house at the corner end of the neighborhood, past the white fence full of wild vines, onto the porch where the colorful glass wind chimes hung, and inside where waiting for me was—
The rope in my hand tugged forcefully forward that it nearly slipped free from me. I let out a victorious laugh, showing Vincent that the guys back on the Monte Blanc were hauling our asses out of the sea.
"Look! LOOK! They're pulling us in, Vincent!" I shouted, looking over my shoulder to the older man. "Vincent, they're—"
There was no joy, no relief, no hope on his bearded face. His eyes were drawn to something so horrifying that it sent a chill far colder than the icy waters could ever accomplish. Following the line of vision from his horror-stricken expression, I looked to find what made that ever dreadful look.
A rogue wave.
My arms slackened, dropping the hold they had on the lifesaver, my muscles turning to jelly. The only thing keeping me up on the rocky water's surface was Vincent's mighty death grip on my rain gear. The stomach in my belly turned to stone, my bowels loose so I could piss myself as I watched a giant wall of raging water rise higher and higher the closer it came to our feeble forms.
I guess this was the disaster that I had been waiting for the whole time on the trip.
There was a numbness at the tip of my fingers; it grew until I finally caught what little grip I had left to notice that it wasn't the fear (not entirely, anyway) that was doing it but Vincent's fingers squeezing me to cut off my blood circulation that my whole arm was probably white as a sheet of snow.
He looked defeated. He looked older, much more older, with his face slacked and the dead look in his dark eyes. He was rolling over on his stomach for death to take him, just like I was.
Was I wearing that same look, too?
A small wave slammed the side my head, I coughed and spat out the salt water and winced from the throb on the side of my temple—
"I think she's trying to tell ya to stay home with us."
I blinked, touching the side of my temple, the same spot I felt the baby kick me... With a cry, I punched my head, feeling the hurt and dizziness before focusing back to Vincent's despair. I grabbed him by the collar and shook him hard, garnering a yelp from the older man as he looked wildly towards me, like a fire lit up once more.
"Vincent, let go of the ring! We're gonna dive under it!" I shouted, pulling at the ring until he shimmied out from under it so I could toss it aside and leave us both to struggle afloat the choppy waters. "Give me yer hand!"
With his hand offered up, I grabbed it and wrapped the rope around his wrist, quickly enough because the wave was almost on top of us. With the rope tight and secured, I grabbed him around his arms and we threw each other one last look.
"Deep breath!" Vincent inhaled as I did, both of us looking up to find the wave beginning to fall over.
And we dove under, hoping to break the surface one last time...
.
.
.
-¤-¤-¤{Dulesday Beach Harbor}-¤-¤-¤
It seemed like forever ago that Reuben saw him at the Dulesday Beach Hospital.
Robert "Rob" Campbell growled under his breath, glaring at the open sea like he had a bone to pick with it. Nearly in his mid forties and that stupid kid of his was making him push closer to the grave. Agitated and almost frothing at the mouth from how angry he was, Rob looked elsewhere and almost wished he was somewhere else rather than being in the same space as Creedy.
He scratched at his beard, thinking whether or not to shave it all off or just trim it enough that it wouldn't agitate Claire when she wanted to cuddle and all that stuff she got in the mood for because of the hormones and shit.
"They're comin' in." Kontch announced as he walked over to them from the office.
"Did they say how much they got in store?" Creedy asked, folding his arms as he glared at the speck that was the Monte Blanc.
Kontch shook his head. "They... they didn't have much to say other than they're comin' in."
Rob breathed in heavily as something unpleasant came over him. He pushed it down, but it tickled the back of his head when he looked at the boat that grew little by little as it sailed in closer to the harbor, the black clouds rolling from behind with its occasional illumination of lightning painted a foreboding picture.
'The moment he gets off that boat, I'm gonna wring his neck.' Rob told himself, scowling deeply as he glared ahead. 'Just wait until he gets off that damn thing, the little shit!'
Time ticked by, like a snail taking so long to reach the other end of the leaf it was sliding across that it left Rob restless. Pacing back and forth on the wooden docks, completely ignoring Creedy and his damn grumblings, the older Campbell was brimming with bright fury when the damn thing finally, finally, lined up beside the dock. He didn't wait for the people to lower the ramp to let out what words he wanted to get off his chest ever since he learned from his wife what his boy just did while he had been hospitalized.
"REUBEN, YOU NO-GOOD, SNEAKIN', LYIN', LITTLE RAT! COME OUTTA THERE AND FACE ME!" Rob screamed at the top of his lungs, making others give him a wide berth. "YOU JUST EARNED YERSELF A FOOT IN THE ASS WITH THIS LITTLE STUNT YA PULLED, AND BEHIND MY BACK, TOO!"
Across from him, the crew on board paused and tossed glances at each other, everyone looking haggard and worse for wear from whatever they had faced out in the sea. When Rob looked a little more closely, they all looked pale and jumpy... that, and they couldn't look him properly in the eye.
And who would? If there names weren't Reuben then they were pretty much cleared from his wrath; it was only that little punk that deserved all that was coming to him that Rob was more focused on.
"DON'T MAKE ME SAY IT AGAIN!" Rob hollered out once more. "GET YER SORRY ASS OUT HERE, REUBEN! YOU ARE IN SO MUCH IN A WORLD OF FUCKIN' TROUBLE!"
Clant Hansley stepped out into view, bags under his eyes and he was looking straight at Rob. He was one of the few that would take on whatever Rob threw at him and return the favor, one of the few that gave him a foothold in this town when almost everyone looked at him with wariness and suspicion. Hansley looked as terrible with pale skin, ruffled clothes like he stepped out of fight from behind Shipwreck Den, and showered in the rain with his hair all wild and untamed.
Hansley was the only man looking at Rob while everyone else couldn't bear to face him.
"Rob—"
"DIDJA HEAR ME?! COME OUT HERE RIGHT! THIS! SECOND!"
"Rob," Hansley's voice was just as gruff as Rob's. But right now, it sounded fragile. Broken. Lost.
There was something awfully familiar about this, Rob thought as he felt his glare loosen and his mouth dry, a playback to a scene that happened a long time ago. He was on his porch, standing behind Reuben when Hansley and Kontch came over to his house to tell him something about—
"REUBEN! DON'T MAKE ME GET IN THERE!" Rob threatened, looking wildly for a familiar black-haired youth. "I'LL FUCKIN' DRAG YOU OUT, KICKIN' AN' SCREAMIN'!"
"Rob!" someone grabbed him by the shoulder. Hansley. How the hell did he get to the other side so fast? It didn't matter, he had to find his son.
"REUBEN!" Rob called out, frantic as he moved around to find his boy. His stupid, smart, idiotic, charming son that wanted to do better for his mama and daddy. "REUBEN! JUST COME OUT, SON!"
"Rob, stop!"
"I-I'M NOT MAD ANYMORE! REUBEN! COME OUT, PLEASE!"
"Rob, I'm sorr—"
"REUBEN!"
There was hands, pulling him back, pulling him away from the boat that he knew had his son onboard. So why wasn't his son scampering out by the booming of his father's voice? Reuben knew better than to hide from Rob when the older man was angry, it only made things worse for the boy. His little boy always swallowed down his fear before confronting his father, shaking but determined to see through the punishment. That was his boy. That was Rob's brave baby boy.
"REUBEN!" Rob cried, eyes clouding over and feeling breathless from shouting over and over for his boy that refused to show himself for some reason...
"—stop! Just stop, Rob!" Hansley pushed him back, further away as Rob tried to look around more.
He spotted Vincent staring after him, looking gaunt and clutching tightly to his wrist that looked strangled by whatever had been wrapped around it tightly.
"Reuben!" a sob came out rather than a shout.
His hands grabbed Hansley by the collar of the other man's coat, unwilling to go anywhere without his little boy.
"Where's my son...?!" Rob demanded, his legs feeling weak as he sunk to the ground, shaking Hansley as he cried. "Where's my boy?!"
"I'm sorry Rob," Hansley choked out, breaking down and barely holding Rob up. "I'm sorry!"
The ocean, Rob remembered when he stood on the front porch of his house with Hansley and Kontch telling him the news, had taken away his little brother.
Now, Rob cried as he fell to his knees, looking at the ocean that used to make his whole family run along the shoreline with laughter trailing from behind them under the sunny bright skies, it took away his little boy.
...
Claire hummed to herself as she pulled out the freshly-baked apple pie from the oven. The hot pan hovering over the kitchen counter, she gasped when she felt a kick against her ribs, causing her to drop the pie and wince as it clatters noisily on the counter. Removing her mittens, she slides her hands over the round stomach.
"I know, I know," Claire murmured. "But yer gonna have to wait a bit longer, little lady."
There was a kick of protest.
She laughed, rubbing at the spot.
"Just a few more minutes, baby," Claire told the rambunctious infant inside her womb. "Daddy's comin' home with yer big brother. So until then, I'm gonna make him eat somethin' nice after yer daddy has a long grown-up talk with him, okay?"
The baby didn't kick anymore.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Somewhere, someplace, it was dark and deep and I was scared.
My chest hurt, my arms and legs were sore, and I was slowly losing my breath from being under too long. I needed air, I needed it so badly! I couldn't die like this, not after everything, not after I promised mama that I would come back, not after I told dad that I would go to school!
'I CANNOT DIE!' I screamed beneath the waters, my voice mute and causing bubbles to erupt around my face. 'I WILL NOT DIE!'
With vigor and viscous intent, I clawed my way up the water. I kicked like a mule and waved my arms like a bat out of hell. I refused to open my mouth to inhale water because my lungs were screaming at me to do so, and I refused to acknowledge the black spots dancing closer from around my vision and further into the center.
My hand broke the surface and slapped down under to push the water so I would lift up in the air. I drank the oxygen, inhaling my lungs to full capacity until I let it out with a scream.
A long, shrill, spine-tingling scream.
A wave slaps my face, making me sputter and cough and choke. I splashed around wildly, never allowing for another wave to pull me under as I fought to stay up, to stay alive.
Something grabs me by the back of my collar, gagging me as it roughly tugs me backwards in a fast pace through the water. I swing my arms wildly, kick my feet up and causing more splashes while I was being pulled along until something touched the back of my heel. I coughed, reaching to remove the stinging salt from my eyes as I felt my feet dragging along until it brushed against my legs. The water grows shallow all around me and the tugging finally loosens enough for me to pull away and simply breathe.
It took a moment to regain some sense that I was sitting on my bottom, my legs bent with my feet on the ground below the water, and my hands and fingers digging in the sand beneath. My vision clears up a bit, still watery and puffy, and I'm met with a most unusual sight.
A vibrantly clear blue ocean, white sandy beaches, and bright skies with the sun keeping it dry.
"... w-what...?" I croaked, terribly shaken and growing increasingly perplexed as I took in the picture of paradise.
"Oh, hey!" a loud voice announced itself next to my ear, almost causing me to piss myself again. "You're alright!"
I whipped around to come face-to-face with a scar-faced boy giving an almost glasgow smile, the corner of his lips almost reaching his ears. He was crouched close beside me, his bare feet nearly disappearing with the wet sand as the ocean crashed around his ankles. But what drew my eyes the most (beside his impossible smile) was the straw hat wrapped in a red band that was sitting on top of his head of messy dark hair.
"Hi there, I'm Luffy! Nice to meet you!"
