Rating: PG-13 (language, gore)
All fighting seemed to cease for a moment as the combatants' eyes flew to the faling swordsman like iron to a magnet.
Sanji staggered under Zoro's weight, finally managing to grasp him under his arms and lower him to the deck. All thoughts and sounds of the ceasing struggle seemed trivial as he stared at the green-haired swordsman, trying and failing to comprehend what had compelled him to throw himself in the path of that deadly bullet. The remaining Marines found themselves facing a crew of enraged Strawhats who quickly returned the favor; the crunch of cracking bones, the spraying of bodily fluids, and the screams of the dying echoing briefly across the deck before finally fading away.
Ignoring the ongoing carnage, Sanji rested a hand on Zoro's shoulder and shook it lightly. "Oi, shitty-swordsman, look at me." It was just another wound; he'd been hurt worse than this. Nothing. "Come on, bastard, you're starting to scare me here." He'd surrender even that little bit of pride to have the swordsman turn and smirk at him, growl, do -something-.
It was then he noticed the strange gasping sounds emerging from the swordsman's throat; the hissing, bloody froth that seemed to bubble from Zoro's wound with each breath. He inhaled another strangled gulp of air before brief, hacking coughs tore through his injured body, spraying blood across Sanji's knees and the deck in a grisly caramine splatter. "Shit!" The cook's wild gaze frantically searched the deck for the tiny doctor. "Chopper! Dammit, somebody!" He ripped off his jacket and covered the disturbing mess of Zoro's back, hoping to stem the tide of blood.
The scrabble of tiny hooves alerted him that his cries had not gone unnoticed. Chopper dropped his little medical bag beside the two of them and quickly assessed the situation, kind eyes sweeping Sanji's face before he lifted the black jacket and began to work. "I'm gonna need you to move, Sanji."
"No! Dammit, it should have been me, I need to-" Suddenly a pair of strong arms were there, lifting and pulling him from Zoro's side. He fought, oh how he fought; it was his fault that the Marimo was lying in a steadily growing pool of blood on the deck, turning blue...
"Sanji." The unnaturally serious tone of his captain gave him pause as he was turned to face the younger man. He looked into the pair of concerned black eyes. "There's nothing you can do."
"But-"
"-Sanji-." Luffy shook him slightly. "You're not going to help Zoro by getting in Chopper's way."
The cook let out his breath in one great shuddering sigh and slumped to the deck, Luffy releasing him. Drawing up his knees, he hid his face in his hands; his captain watching him quietly for a moment before settling down beside him.
It was several minutes before Luffy spoke again. "You aren't the only one who cares about him, you know."
Sanji was silent.
Luffy kept his eyes on the slowly rising sun as he continued. "He'll be OK, just you wait. There's no way a stupid little bullet is gonna keep our Zoro down long." He glanced over at the cook, whose face was still hidden by his long, pale fingers, and smiled widely. "Don't worry."
Three days passed in a blur, and while Chopper had managed to repair Zoro's collapsed lung as best he could, it was clear that the swordsman's troubles were far from over. His periods of consciousness had faded into delirium as an intense fever set into his already weakened body. Concerned, Chopper ordered the crew to take shifts watching over him.
Currently Nami had 'Zoro Watch,' and seated herself at a small table pulled up next to the makeshift sickroom. Usopp had hung a curtain to make a separate space in the men's quarters for Zoro to rest; he lay on the futon, propped slightly to ease his breathing and the stress on his wounded back. Nami tried to offer his beset body some comfort as he writhed in fever-induced dreams, periodically wiping his face and neck with a damp cloth. It was all she could do.
He was back on deck, fighting to get to Sanji before that bastard fired the gun. But he couldn't seem to get his feet to move, couldn't seem to close the distance.
"Sanji!" He could see the cook start, turning Zoro again with that same puzzled look. But this time there was no one to block the bullet; Zoro heard the report and saw the cook's chest explode as blood and flesh splattered the deck. Saw Sanji's wide blue eyes lock on his as his body sank slowly to the ground.
Suddenly he was there, holding Sanji's limp form in his arms as the cook's breath shuddered from his body, eyes rolling up into his head and what little life remaining in him fluttering away. Everything around Zoro seemed to fade away as he held the lifeless man in his arms, one solitary tear slipping unbidden down his face. "C'mon, Sanji," he whispered, pressing light kisses over the bloodstained face. "Bastard, you can't leave me like this." The normally stoic swordsman began rocking with grief, clutching the blonde's empty shell to his chest, repeating his name, over and over. "Sanji..."
"Sa...nji."
Nami left her maps and settled in beside the swordsman as he began quivering in what appeared to be sorrow. Lips pursed in concern, she wrung the wet cloth over a bowl of cool water and began dabbing the sweat from his troubled face. The cook's name continued to fall from his lips, tears leaking from the corners of his clenched eyes.
"Shhh, Zoro, it's alright." Her heart ached for her nakama, for the brokenness in his voice as he struggled with the demons in his mind. Hearing Sanji's name coming from the swordsman was a surprise, but after watching him take a bullet for the love-cook and the said cook's resulting distress, Nami suspected that there was something going on between them. Whether they realized it yet or not. The navigator's lips quirked in a small smile. She'd have been teasing them relentlessly if Zoro wasn't in such sorry shape.
Several quiet taps on the wall of the room drew her attention from her patient, and she looked over to see Sanji watching them from the doorway with tired, bloodshot eyes. He didn't look as if he had slept much since the attack, and was dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants rather than his usual immaculate suit. "Your watch is up, my beautiful Nami-san." His voice lacked much of its usual enthusiasm, which Nami took note of as well. At this rate, she'd bet a hell of a lot of beli that there were some sort of feelings between the two of them, even if the stubborn bastards refused to acknowledge it. Sanji crouched next to Nami and the futon, glancing over the prone figure occupying it. "Has there been any change?"
Nami stood quietly, setting the bowl on the table and gathering her map-making materials before speaking. "In his condition? No. His temperature is still very high. Chopper's managed to keep the infection to a minimum so far, but..." She shrugged. "It's just gonna take time."
Nami walked to the door to the women's quarters and paused, hand on the knob, before turning back to the cook. Watching his face, she added, "He's been calling for you nearly the entire time I've been watching, you know."
Sanji's eyes widened in his pale face as her words registered. A blush settled over his features before he quickly glanced away. "I see." He began picking at the blanket nervously before turning back to her, a shadow of a sneer attempting some semblance of normality. "Wonder why the shitty-swordsman would do that?"
Nami rolled her eyes. "Men are so dense," she muttered. She scowled at the cook. "I don't know all the details, idiot, but there is -something- going on between you two. And furthermore-" She cut off the blonde's protest with a wave of her hand. "I think you'd both do better to admit it and move on. There's nothing wrong with caring for someone like that." She opened the door to her quarters and stopped just inside the door. "For... for loving someone like that." The door slid closed with a quiet -ca-clunk-.
Sanji stared after at the closed door with his mouth slightly ajar. Thoughts were churning within his mind, and all of a sudden things began falling into place.
Love?
