Authors Note:

I have not actually seen One Piece up to the point of Perona. So I don't really know her personality and had to make guesses based on pictures. I am also a bit unfamiliar with Mihawk. I have only seen him in his first appearance of the anime. So please don't get mad at me for any out of characterness T_T. I also tried to enter a bit of humor in this chapter to maybe lighten the mood. I Hope it's funny to someone other than myself. Please oh please review!


Ch.2

Thunder boomed low in the sky, the stone castle resonating like an old church bell. Sunlight never seemed to be present on the shadowed island. The threat of rain was a constant reminder from the dark gray clouds that draped themselves heavily across the foreboding landscape. Mist gently swirled over the ocean, muffling the waves that rolled softly against the rocky shoreline. Fog crept through the lichen encrusted castle that appeared uninhabited with its stone walls covered in ivy that scaled upward.

Occasionally gargoyles or demons would loom out of the mist, seated on their stone fortress. Their sightless stone gaze still managed to pierce any life that happened to wander by. Birds chirped softly in the gnarled trees that dotted the rocky landscape, but they never sang. Winds would moan through the trees and stone, its voice eerie and despairing.

Gray and depressing, yet still it was home to the pale skinned, raven-haired, and golden-eyed man. He cradled his now shivering burden tighter against his ivory chest, and headed up the neglected, crumbling rocky path to his stone castle. Gold orbs looked down at the green-haired man nestled against his chest.

The teenager's slightly frowning face had gone pale and sheened with sweat, yet he still shivered as if he were cold. Again that painfully annoying twinge plucked at his heart strings and he looked away to rest his eyes on the castle gate.

Not breaking in his long legged stride, he gracefully kicked the twisted dark wrought-iron gates open with a loud bang and continued down the inner courtyards gravely lane. Sporadic patches of grass peeked between the cracks of the stone inlaid path, indicating multiple years of neglect and age. Even more stone statues that dotted the yard watched their passage across the tall, grassy, and stone strewn lawn.

Black boots quickly overtook the stone steps up to the castles front door with practiced ease and again kicked the doors open, this time more gently so he would not splinter the darkly carved oaken doors.

Both doors swung inward with a shuddering, teeth grinding groan to reveal a dimly lit interior, its ebony chandeliers high above feebly glowed to reveal the dust covered area. Stone walls were decorated with old oil paintings framed in complex twisting structures and the occasional statuette peered out of the dusk menacingly. Stain-glass windows cast gloomy colors out before them to bathe everything in opalescent light, barely back lit with the ever gray sky. Dust motes could be seen in the unnatural glow, moving like specters through the stagnant air.

"Perona", the raven-haired man called, readjusting his bundle in his arms, and stood there expectantly. About a minute passed and suddenly he felt his right eyebrow being to twitch dangerously, his face managed to deepen into a visual death threat.

"PEERRROONNAAA! GET OVER HERE NOW BEFORE YOU GO TO BED WITHOUT DINNER AGAIN!" The tendons in his neck bulged along with a vein that had formed on his forehead.

BOOM! THUD! Dust fell from the ceiling as a low rumble echoed down the stone halls. The man felt his lips twitch with the beginnings of a smirk, but he resumed his scowling composure swiftly. Everything went deathly quiet again as the dust began to settle back down.

Suddenly hurried footsteps clicked in staccato along the hallway the lay to the right, and a pink-haired girl emerged from the shadows. Her pigtails flowed behind her before she came to a halt right in front of the man. Her angelic face was twisted in a not so angelic scowl that left her red in the face. He briefly indulged himself with the image of a dainty pink teapot boiling over, steam surging out of its spout.

"Mihawk…you know I hate being ordered around. IM A PRINCESS INCASE YOU HAVN'T NOTICED!" She screamed, and practically foamed at the mouth. The pink-haired girl then paused, her storm of rage ending briefly to look at the green-haired youth in the older man's arms. Her face instantly switched over to a curious expression with her head titled to the side. "Ooooo", she cooed and poked the teenager non-too gently in the forehead. "What exotic cutie have you brought this time?" she said smirking up at the older man with all the intentions of getting a good tease out of him for the personal offense of daring to order her around.

Mihawk's gold eyes blazed at this insufferable girl before him. He growled low in his throat, "Stop that and go fill a basin with warm water, then find some fresh bandages. Also," he paused to remove Zoro's black bandanna that he had pocketed earlier, "take this and wash it", he said extending it towards her with his long arm.

Black doll-like eyes fell on the equally black bandanna and curiosity got the better of her. She took the dark cloth in her pale hand daintily, almost immediately held it away from her body as she screeched, "OH MY GOD, it's bloody! You ignorant ass Mihawk! I could have stained my clothes with this!" She stamped her red heeled shoe against the floor in outrage, nearly snapping the heel right off with the force, and glared up at Mihawk, forgetting temporarily in her anger that she had just been ordered again, oh how she hated that.

One look from the older swordsman's intense eyes instantly silenced her. She gulped nervously and looked back down at the green-haired one in his arms, and noticed he was wrapped up with Mihawk's favorite jacket. 'How unusually charitable of the old man' she thought to herself.

"Well what's wrong with him?" she asked and folded her arms across her small frame, careful to avoid getting the disgusting bit of cloth on her. "He looks like a green-haired zombie. Not to mention it looks like a got chewed up by an angry fishman." She snickered to herself briefly reveling in the amusing images that formed inside of her head. Perona was further delighted as she watched the scowl on the older man's face darken much to her personal amusement.

"Oh he is only dying my dear girl", Mihawk replied with sarcasm enriched annoyance, his amber eyes rolling up towards the ceiling. His voice rose in volume with each new word he spit out, till he ended shouting, "Now would you kindly go get those bandages? Or would you prefer to prepare his grave and deal with the corpse?"

The cold smile that did not reach his golden eyes made Perona go rigid for a second before she abruptly turned around and fled down the hallway. She yelped over her shoulder, " R-right I'll just be right back with those bandages."

"And Perona, please bring the bandages to me first and do not forgot to wash that bandanna and fill the basin. I will meet you in the guestroom that is next to mine", called Mihawk after the pink pigtails that retreated back into the darkness. Air was sharply exhaled from his nose in a sigh, and he readjusted the shivering weight in his arms before turning to stride down the hall, opposite the direction that infuriating girl had taken.

~ X ~

Screaming, he could have sword he heard the screaming of what seemed to belong to two different beings. One had been high and one had been rich and low and seemed to echo in the apparent space that he sensed around him. Shivers suddenly racked his body and he leaned in closer to the firm warmth that was pressed against one of his sides.

Was he moving? Why was this gentle heat against him swaying ever so slightly? Maybe he was back on the ship…No it was different somehow, too steady a sway to be the ocean. He groaned as his brain seemed to churn along with the heats movements and his body began to throb in meager waves of pain. Pressure suddenly increased around his body drawing him further into that enticing warmth. He couldn't stop himself from snuggling further into the smooth surface, his nose grazing against it as he let out a content sigh.

He felt the warmth around him twitch, as if in shock or surprise in response to his nuzzling. 'Huh...why did this warm thing suddenly move…was it because I moved?' he puzzled these thoughts in his hazy churning brain that was working oh too slowly. 'Wait…if it is because I moved then this thing must be alive. But I was the only one on that island. I think…' He groaned and decided this confusing matter was worth investigating, so he began to crack his eyes open slowly.

His eyes blinked owlishly in the darkness, unable to focus on anything for everything was shrouded in an unexplained gloom that seemed to mute any colors. Sluggishly his gaze was drawn upwards, he tilted his head back slightly, for it was all he could manage at the moment, to see two molten amber disks that seemed to glow from a pale face framed by a short dark beard.

Twin black lines, a mustache, twitched upwards along with a mouth that smirked down at him.

"Ah, have you awakened young Roronoa? I must admit I am surprised. You are barely clinging to life after all", the golden-eyed warmth seemed to say and briefly flickered up before looking back down at him, seeming to consider him a moment before it spoke again, "Hmmph, not for long it seems."

Zoro felt his begin to eyes flutter shut with sudden exhaustion alighting on him like a lead curtain. He desperately tried to keep them open, blinking fiercely at those… hawk-like-eyes. Then he gasped in sudden realization. "Hawkeye", he managed to rasp from his scream tortured throat, an odd metallic taste entered in his mouth. Sudden weariness dragged is eyelids back shut. He was no longer able to keep his eyes open despite his sudden panic at the realization of literally being in the hands and arms of his enemy.

Just before he felt the darkness embrace him once more he heard the voice that rumbled through him say, "Goodnight Roronoa, rest in peace. You are safe." He drifted off into the quiet warmth that was sleep. His body seemed to melt and his head lolled back against what he now realized, with his last fragments of consciousness, was Mihawk's chest.

~ X ~

Soft candlelight flickered around the room, a solitary candle standing vigilance against the ever present gloom that swathed the castle in perpetual twilight. Its warm light managed to illuminate the scarce furniture that adorned the hastily cleaned and once dust covered guest room. One large faded mahogany dresser, it surface slightly scuffed and covered in miniscule scratches, was pressed against the far wall, opposite from the bed. The dresser was just a few large simple drawers really.

Mihawk lowered the catatonic youth on top of the charcoal colored sheets of the queen sized bed. He leaned over to prop him against cream colored pillows that matched the swirling ivy-like designs that decorated the covers, and then rummaged in the small side tables drawers for a moment.

He dragged a nearby stool over, hooking a dark booted foot around a leg, and promptly sat himself on the left side of his patient, nearest to all the wounds that conveniently were all on the same side.

Pale hands emerged from the tiny wooden compartment with what gave the impression of being a sewing kit. Various shapes of needles littered the bottom of the dark wooden lacquered box. Mihawk's hand emerged with a somewhat curved and extremely thin needle; the other hand plucked out a spool of dark thread and closed the lid in one swift motion. He placed both objects on the small bedside table and returned the sewing kit to the table's drawer.

"Ooooohhh…" Golden eyes flicked over to see a small ghost enveloped in white strips moan, its black pits of eyes wide and almost apologetic, hovering just inside the door. It floated over, the paraphernalia of medical tape, gauze, bandages, and other numerous types of bindings appeared to have been haphazardly thrown on the unfortunate creature and trailed upon the ground after it. Slightly rounded appendages of the wraith offered some of the bandages to Mihawk, the ghost again moaning what seemed an apology.

Long pale fingers gripped the bridge of his thin nose twixt the eyes that closed shut in an effort to impede the oncoming headache. 'That girl is simply beyond infuriating' a vein once again manifesting on his forehead. Amber eyes snapped back open, Mihawk once more focusing his attention on the green-haired man before him. 'Thigh wound first' he mentally decided. The threat of a ruptured femoral artery was the most severe.

Skillful fingers finger quickly unwound the green improvised binding to reveal a gaping puncture wound in the man's left thigh. Blood flowed weakly from it, not much left was in the body to cause it to surge out as it once had. The older swordsman quickly snatched the thread and needle resting on the bedside table.

As the curved needle sank in and out of the flesh, knitting it together with as much proficiency and dexterity as the older man's swordplay, the younger man began to writhe against the sheet in his sleep.

Zoro's head tossed side to side restlessly against the pearl colored pillowcase, but he still did not awake from his fitful slumber.

Ebony eyebrows were drawn down in worry. "Now would not be a good time to wake up Roronoa", Mihawk muttered under his breath as he finished the last stitch. He gripped the underside of the others knee to push up the thigh, getting better access at the formerly impaled limb. Dark red liquid gushed out in response to the sudden movement, only to be wiped away by a gauze pad the older man held in his free hand. Once the affected area was clean of gore again, the thin crescent shaped needle threaded through the flesh, neatly knitting dermis and epidermis shut.

Moonlight passed through the window from its own crescent of the sky. It a washed the grisly screen in its haunting light, revealing what occurred on the bed that dominated the center of the room and the golden eyed man's attention.

Two ghosts, more large and burly that the one covered in bandages, arrived with a basin supported between them. The sloshing of water announced their presence to the hawk-eyed man who was deeply engaged in the medical procedure. He motioned them closer with one long pale finger, splattered in gore that sharply contrasted with the owners ivory skin.

Wordlessly they hovered over in unison, one grabbing the candle to vacate the bedside table and make room for the other to place steaming basin. The ghost that now held the candle floated above the headboard, allowing the light to continue to wash over the patient without dripping wax.

'Apparently the ghost girl doesn't have the stomach for surgery' the raven-haired man mused to himself. Obviously he was content with the girls much appreciated absence, leaving her specter lackeys to handle to situation. Certainly they were more efficient than that cotton candy brained moron anyway.

He dipped his hands in the basin, and grabbed a white washcloth from the first ghost that hovered nearby his elbow like a fretting nanny. Once his hands were clean he dipped part of the cloth into the now cloudy red basin, and wiped the younger swordsman's thigh clean.

Bandages were swiftly wrapped around the now clean and stitched wound. The soiled rag was placed on the edge of the basin and he focused his attention on the left forearm of his patient, already beginning to remove the temporary wrappings.

'Hmm… this wound is small enough to cauterize. Burns heal faster than other wounds and I won't have to waste time stitching', he concluded and removed the golden cross from his bare chest. He motioned for the ghost with the candle to come over, it smoothly glided over and held the candle out to him expectantly.

Mihawk held his cross-disguised dagger over the candles flame until the blade glowed a bright angry red. He grasped his patients left arm, just underneath the elbow and above the wound, in one hand and brought the blade down on the boy's surprisingly smooth skin.

Immediately the sounds of sizzling assaulted his ears along with the unmistakable and offending stench of burning flesh reaching his nose. Just barely he won the battle of fighting back the bile that rose in his throat that threatened to gag him. Quickly, before he did indeed retch, he reheated the blade and repeated the process to the underside of the forearm.

Mihawk looked up to see the boy's face as a low groan was emitted from the convulsing body. Green hair clung to the forehead that glistened in the dim light. He had broken out in a cold sweat that now sheened across all of his exposed skin. Zoro's anemic features were twisted in a look of extreme agony and discomfort.

Amber eyes looked away uneasily, his innards clenched unpleasantly at the sound and the sight of the teenager's suffering. 'He has suffered enough already. Wait, why is this bothering me so much?' He had certainly had no problem cutting him down when they first met, resulting in the scar that went from the boy's hip to shoulder.

Gold eyes now stared at the scar on the boy's damp and trembling chest. He frowned to himself as he continued to analyze it. It had been stitched together by an utter novice apparently. 'Such a shame, If I had been there I would've stitched him up so that the scar did not become so ragged.'

All three ghosts looked at each other; silently agreeing the look of worry, and possibly guilt, on the hawk-eyed man's face was beyond unusual. Having a guest and caring for it further instilled the thought that the older man was indeed behaving strangely.

Abruptly Mihawk roused himself from these unwanted thoughts. Cleaning the dagger free of the blood that was beginning to crust its edges, he replaced it around his neck so it once more resembled a golden crucifix necklace. He looked at the cauterizations on Roronoa's forearm for a moment, than rummaged once more through the bedside table until he came up with a bottle filled with a blue-green substance.

He himself had created the substance from a spikey green plant known as Aloe. Its healing properties had been very useful. His own chalk-white skin was particularly vulnerable to the sunburn, one of the many reason he preferred his wide brimmed hat. Though Mihawk's favored hat had been discarded to the top of the dresser for the sake of the procedure.

Tilting the bottle so a good amount of the highly viscous substance flowed onto his palm, he gently massaged the rapidly cooling gel into the younger man's burns. His fingertips worked the aloe until most of it was absorbed into the youth's skin.

A soft sigh breathed out in obvious relief came from the green-haired man.

All three ghosts froze, flabbergasted at what they witnessed. Did Mihawk just smile? Albeit if it was a tiny one. There is just no way that the king of gloom, in his ever depressing castle of gloom, had just smiled.

Mihawk had already been virtually ignoring the ghosts as he patched up the straw hat pirate, so he failed to notice the soul's apparent shock. He firmly wrapped the forearm in bandages and couldn't help feel that he had forgotten something.

"Ugh the shoulder…," Mihawk unexpectedly uttered, this sudden outburst further adding to the attending ghouls now paralyzing astonishment. How could have he have forgotten something like that?

He picked up his thread and needle again, after having washed his hands for a second time, and began to stitch the front of the wound closed. Further examination revealed that whatever had gone through the boy had passed through the left scapula and exited right underneath the clavicle above the first rib. Zoro was lucky to get away with just a hole through the scapula and not the heart.

There had also been the danger of the subclavian artery being punctured; it was indeed an increasing miracle that the boy had survived. 'Well maybe it had been punctured and I just didn't realize…. I don't know …I'm a swordsman not a doctor dammit!' Mihawk thought to himself with sudden agitation.

Now that he had sewn the front shut he needed to get to the boys back. He thought about it for a moment, amber eyes glittered in the darkness resembled the candlelight, and pushed the boy over so he rested on his right side facing away from him.

After he had sewn the back puncture wound closed, he noticed the sunburnt, and slightly chewed on, swordsman's back and applied his aloe serum to that too. He taped gauze pads to both sides of the shoulder wound and finished bandaging it securely.

"Phew…" Mihawk sighed and propped his feet on the bedside table for a moment, arms tucked behind his head leaned against the wall behind him. He noticed the ghosts staring at him strangely and angrily shooed them away with a heated glare. They scurried off, one simply dissipating into the air, another phased through the door, and the last one bowed quickly before it too faded into nothingness.

Once more the older man sighed letting his gaze rest on his recent patient. 'Oh his blood soaked pants are staining the sheets' he observed calmly as he noted the dark patches on the gray covers. With a grunt he got up and paced over to the large mahogany dresser, digging through its contents for a suitable article of clothing. This proved to be difficult as it was full of entirely random bits of clothing he had acquired over the years.

At last his eyes settled on a neon green and white piece of clothing. He held it between both hands at eye level and simply stared.

Bright green tabby cat heads that dotted the fabric at regular intervals looked back at him. Their eyes smiled along with a single tooth that showed in its upward curved open mouth. Three of its claws were raised apart from the rest of its paw to symbolize his thirty third birthday, a gag gift from his best, if not mischievous, red haired friend.

It somehow reminded him of the green-haired man passed out on the bed nearby.

He stared a moment longer at the patterned boxers he held in his hands. The gears of his mind whirred briefly before clicking to a halt.

Wheezing laughter suddenly erupted from him until his sides ached and he hobbled over to the unconscious man on the bed. He all but fell back on the stool. He struggled to contain the laughter, but not to no avail as he continued to hoot out his undying amusement.

Perona chose that moment to walk in, freezing in shock, her mouth dropping open as she stared at the king of gloom and death stares who, with boxers in hand, seemed to be utterly crippled by laughter. She tried to speak but ended up just making small indiscernible squeaking noises, pointing at the man with a trembling hand.

Mihawk looked over, arching a single eyebrow at her sudden intrusion, and raised a hand impishly over his wolfish grin, still chuckling. "Huhuhuuu…Oh hello Perona", he managed to get out before resuming his snickering once more.

"There is definitely something wrong with you old man", she said glaring at him with her large black eyes. "Dirty old man…" Her pink pigtails swirled around her as she turned and walked out of the room before the older swordsman could reply.

He listened to the girls heels click down the hallway for a moment before he turned his attention back to Roronoa who was still on his side. Looking back down at the pair of boxer in his hand and back to the other man he realized "Oh. Well this does appear odd indeed."

Hesitating a moment, he proceeded to remove the younger man's pants, noticing that his hips were narrower without the usual green haramaki around them. Blue-black boxers were all that was left. He adverted his gaze, being the gentleman that he was, before he pulled those off too.

He replaced the old boxers with the new gag gift boxer's, the white contrasting nicely with the tan skin as he got it around the sleeping man's ankles. As he pulled the fresh boxers up the progression of the fabric was brought to an unexpected halt. The boxers were unable to get past the hip that still pressed against the mattress. Left with no choice he looked over at the obstruction and wedged one hand under the hip to grab at the boxers along with his other hand.

He then lifted the white and green boxers the rest of the way to cover that firm, yet cute butt.

As the waistband settled in place he realized the sudden absurdness of own his thought, subsequently falling off his stool and onto his own ass with a loud thump.

He got back to his feet in a sudden jerking movement and ran a hair through his raven colored locks. 'What the hell is wrong with me… I just need sleep. I haven't had a nap all day and I'm just tired.'

"God dammit", Mihawk muttered aloud. He picked up the younger swordsman's ruined and soiled pants as he stomped off to his own room that was adjacent to the current one he fled. Lightning arced from his heart to his stomach when his thoughts drifted back to the sleeping pirate. Agitated he threw them roughly at a startled ghost that happened to wander by not much caring what the unlucky creature did with them.

He slammed his bedroom door shut, and with a groan he flopped himself onto his own crimson red sheets. Golden eyes shut as his pale hands ran over his tired face. He kicked off his both of his boots, still flat on his back, and they struck the stone wall with a muffled thud.

'I could really use a glass of wine right about now. A shower wouldn't hurt either.'

Nah I'm too tired, it can wait until morning', he thought letting his laziness take over and slid his tired aching body under the sheets.

A single golden eye flashed open as he double checked his sword was still leaning against his bedroom wall. Its ebony surface reflected the moonlight and he closed his eye once more.

Just as he was getting comfortable Perona stopped in his doorway, he didn't even have to look to sense her exasperating presence. So he sat up against his red-trimmed black pillows and stared at her blankly till she said something or went away, he much rather her go away at the moment.

"You forgot to make me dinner old man", she slowly grated out between clenched teeth.

He stared a moment before replying, "Well your ghosts helped me not you, so no dinner. While you are here you can get me some wine from the cellar."

Her black doll eyes grew wide and her face grew a startling shade of red, accented most likely due to the pink that already framed her pale face.

"Well then. Hurry with that wine, girl."

"Hawk…UGHH NEVER MIND YOU STUPID ASS HOLE!"

Mihawk raised one eyebrow and stared after her retreating figure for a moment, quickly storming out of sight.

"STUPID BASTARD!" a high pitch scream echoed down the hallway and back into the bedroom.

Moments later a feeble looking ghost appeared in his doorway, a wine bottle clutched in its rounded appendages trembled faintly. After seeing Mihawk's expectant stare, it hovered over and extended the still cold beverage to him.

Mihawk smirked and patted the feeble specter on its head. The ghost moaned softly and turned to fly back out of the door.

He pulled the cork out with his teeth and proceeded to down his favored drink. No breathing required. A wine glass is always nice, but certainly not necessary. He stretched languidly with a yawn that popped the ligaments in his bearded jaw.

And so he fell asleep with an empty wine bottle clutched in his hand. It had been a long day.

~ X ~

Peron floated down the hallway, her initial anger had warn down to a simmer and she no longer felt the need to stomp down the stone hallways. Her pink eyebrows were drawn together in thought and subtle pout on her face.

'What the hell is with that old man? He doesn't make ME dinner but he patches up some random green-haired zombie. If he was any other person he should have died. Not to mention the old man was acting awfully strange.'

Images flashed back to her as she recalled some of the images her ghost surveillance system had sent back.

When her two large ghosts had entered with the basin he hadn't even bothered to glance at them and continued to focus on that patient. Images of the gore on that ivory skinned man made Perona shiver in disgust. She had passed out, though she hated to admit it, when she had looked through her ghosts eyes to see all the blood..and those stitches! Ick! Makes my skin crawl.

She nearly resumed her stomping down the hall as her annoyance began to catch up with her. 'Something just doesn't add up. I mean I caught old hawk-eye cackling over the boy with cat printed underpants in his hands.' She grinned to herself. 'Maybe the old coot is finally going senile.'

Then she let out a gasp and dramatically came to a halt. 'OR WAIT! MAYBE HE IS A PERVERT?!' '...well he hasn't tried anything on me and im freakin' adorable so maybe not.'

Suddenly somthing snapped in her mind. She had just left the room in outrage after he had dared to ask her to get his wine!

"STUPID BASTARD!" her screech resonated down the hall.


Sub story notes:

Subclavial refers to under the clavicle (the collar bone).

Femoral refers to the femur (the thigh bone).

I struggled giving the characters dialect in the first chapter, so I made the effort of more dialect in this chapter. I am not an expert on first aid either, so I improvised.