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Chapter two: Bad Blood

And I love the way you hurt me.

It's irresistible.

xxxx

She walked down the long passage—seemingly longer than usual. It was always musty and clammy and dark and suffocating—the underdecks of Marine ships—and yet, the chill in her bones had shivers running down her spine. She wrapped a sweaty hand around the handle, pushing it down, barely a creak. Pausing, wishing she could turn and run. That the time might stop. Instead, shoulders squared and jaw set in a clench, she walked in.

"You're later than I expected." Old woman Tsuru said in a deadpan. As if she had had an eye on her ever since she set foot on Dressrosa under Admiral Isshou's contingent. A sharp glance from the hag made her retract—almost. Sneaking away from the squad was not a good idea.

"What do you take me for? After all these years if I won't know you brats like the back of my hand I won't be worth much as a Marine."

Sacha rolled her eyes. Of course. What did she take her for?

"Doesn't mean I'm going to let you have your way." The old woman said, words firm as ice, as if she'd already read her mind. "Return to your squad now, no questions asked. Or I'll have to bundle you out of here and institute a disciplinary enquiry. And this time, I'll make sure you get put under Sakazuki."

Okay. Hard hitting threat. The old woman was every bit worth her salt when it came down to it. But this once—and only this once in her entire existence—she didn't give a flying rat's ass what the oldie said. Nobody could turn back time. Not even her.

"O-Tsuru-san," she said, voice low and firm. "Please. You know my reasons."

"Go back to your squad, Captain Sacha." She replied. "This is a command."

"I understand." She said, bowing low. "I shall accept the punishment. But I'm not leaving."

She stared down the adamant brat bowing defiantly. The last of the battle's clamour had died down. Without. But she saw a raging storm within that she dared not dismiss.

"That Sengoku," she said, sighing softly, "what has he been feeding these brats? Each and every one of them—stubborn as a nail, not an ounce of discipline."

Sacha almost smiled at the triumph of her humility. All too often, her belligerence had backfired. At this point, it was no good pointing out the old Tsuru that she had been long gone out of Sengoku's custody. Why bother.

She straightened up just as the old woman walked out, leaving her alone with the prisoner shackled hands and knees down in the cell.

She turned to him. Barely curious, he had raised his head once and then dropped it again after a short look at her. Unassuming, not even half as interesting as the oldie Tsuru. And nothing of much interest in their conversation.

She stared him down for about half a minute—the tactic falling flat as the man did not even stir to look at her.

"Donquixote Doflamingo." She said, slowly, cocking her gun pointed at him. "Older brother… to Donquixote Rosinante."

He stirred a little at that, nonchalant curiosity in his eyes as they fixed on her for a longer, better look. Something about the way she spoke the last name amused him. She was afraid she had already given away too much of herself.

"Corazon?" He smirked, rather pointedly and shamelessly running his lecherous gaze up and down her form. "I see." He said. "I see. Another avenger here."

She tsked at that. That stupid kid Law—he had gone ahead and done enough already. Even this banged-up brute's sarcasm was a little edgy on that.

"I would've wished to avenge Rosinante, no doubt," she said, the name going down with a sting—like just a tiny little crack on a glass surface, "but I guess Law did enough of that already. The willful brat." She shook her head almost defeatedly.

"You don't sound much better than a willful brat yourself," he said.

"Heads and shoulders above him," she rolled her eyes. "I'm not here to take your life, Donquixote Doflamingo." Hesitation still laced the name as she spoke.

Something about the villainous smile put her off. Was he trying to provoke her into pulling the trigger? She could put the shots straight through his heart, get it over with in a jiffy. But that was not the revenge she could seek anymore.

"You're naïve, Doffy," she said, noticing only a second later she had let that name roll off her tongue. She still carried too much of Rosinante in her. "You couldn't make me hate you. Rosinante never hated you."

Another long silence. Doflamingo's head rolling back, breathing a little harder as he lay flat on his back. Was he trying to stifle a laugh?

"Corazon—that bastard did everything he could to destroy me—"

"Not you, Doffy. Not you. He didn't want to destroy you. He wanted to bring you back. He hated your actions, yes. But you… he never hated you, Doffy." She took a deep breath. Too much of Rosinante left in her still. "He pitied you. So full of hate and rage. He just wanted to set you free. Not destroy you—that's why… he never pulled the trigger."

"He knew I'd pull the trigger." Doflamingo replied, amused for some reason. "What an idiot."

"He was always an idiot." She said, rolling her eyes. Bittersweet twinges laced her nostalgia as if going down a memory lane, reminiscing with the most unlikely person on the planet. She couldn't hate him. There was too much of Rosinante left in her and she couldn't look past it to fuel her resentments.

"I know you're ready to pull that trigger for him." He said, his eyes on the gun.

"Like I said, don't be naïve, Doffy." She said, putting the gun back in the holster. "I'm not Law. I'm way past my impressionable age. I'm not that easy to mislead and fill with hate." It was in the way he looked at her that confirmed she'd hit the bull's eye.

"But your end won't be that easy, Donquixote Doflamingo." She said, steel edge in her voice. "Even if you keep gravitating towards destruction. You won't be free. Live with the burden of the blood of your family on your hands. You'll never find justification except in your hate and rage. They'll wreck you. But I will not set you free."

The low rumble from his throat took form of a loud guffaw as he cracked up. Sacha had the most rueful smile on her face as she walked out of the cell. Donquixote Doflamingo. Always headed for a crash and burn. Always a survivor.

The best of us can find happiness in misery.

A/N: It's hard to think twisted like Doffy *yawns*. Any road, next chapter will be up in a day or two. Maybe I'll put Law in that one *muses*. Maybe another one with Rosinante… hmm, let's see.

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