Chapter 3 - Tectrices
"The baby seems healthy."
"Seems?"
"To the best of my knowledge."
"And you're pretty knowledgeable, right, when it comes to medicine?" Tashigi pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose, red nails bright against the cream of her dress.
"What do all those files you folk keep on me say?"
Tashigi took a sip of her soda. There hadn't been much she could eat at the banquet, and boy was she tired. They'd have to have another feast once the baby was born, or more than likely, a couple of years after.
"Captain of the Heart pirates. Ex-shichibukai. Surgeon of Death."
Law grinned lazily. "In the dark and dim old days, eh?"
"Your epithet doesn't strike confidence into my heart."
Law shrugged.
"More likely that you'd extract it."
Law shrugged again. "I gave it back," he grumbled.
"That's not the point." Tashigi tapped her fingernails against the white tablecloth.
"You gave up being a captain?" she asked when she saw she'd get no further enlightenment on Law's bizarre surgical techniques.
"I don't know that you can ever give up."
Law sat in Smoker's seat, opposite Tashigi, at the bridal table, his long black-clad legs stretched out. He'd forgone his hat for the wedding, and had managed to tame his hair a bit after Marco had mussed it up. His earrings were standard Law-issue. No special patterns like he'd worn for Bepo's nuptials. He'd given those to Mina, Bepo's bride, as a gift – after he'd cleaned them up, of course.
Law hadn't lost the rings, hadn't forgotten to bring them, and he'd got Smoker so riled up the marine had forgotten to be nervous. In his estimation, a job well done.
He wore his island sandals, but they were the ones he wore to his practice, not the lounging around the bar pair. He liked to show off the ink on the bridges of his feet. All that black against cream, he contrasted well against Tashigi.
She had been surprised at the precision of Law's touch, but also by the reassurance in it. She'd eyed his slender wrists, followed the tattooed fingers as he described the processes her body would go through, that she would go through, that her baby would go through. He'd been discreet. It was a wedding after all. Her wedding, but marine doctors were perfunctory at most, and Law was good. The files damned him with light praise. She knew she had to take advantage while she could.
"He's still cut down to one cigar?"
"For quite a few years."
"See if you can get him to stop and it will benefit you and the baby."
Tashigi nodded. She doubted Smoker would willingly follow any of Law's edicts, but if it was for the good of the baby, he might.
She took her glasses off to clean. She hadn't wanted to wear them, but God knows who she would have ended up wed to if she hadn't. Placing them back on her face, she eyed Law's nodachi casually resting by the side of his chair.
"How's Kikoku?"
Law cocked a brow. Over the years they'd had a few kenjustsu sword conversations about method, technique and occasionally the art thereof, but her attention was mostly centered on Zoro in that regard. He'd spent more of his fugitive life avoiding Smoker's jutte than Tashigi's blade.
"Fine. Shigure?"
"Does the trick."
"Captured any more meito recently?"
"Liberated," Tashigi corrected. "Less call for it nowadays."
"Tracked some down for your collection?"
Her face was suddenly animated in a way it wasn't when talking about the baby. At those points it had been all quick glances and insecurity.
"Smoker and I are opening a museum."
"Is that where they belong?" Tashigi was opening a museum, Law thought to himself. What did Smoker know about swords? Except that they'd cut if they got too close.
"Better than them falling into the wrong hands."
Law pulled Kikoku close as if the sword were a child easily hurt.
"Don't worry, she's not ranked."
"And she is in the right hands," Law said, a slight menace to his voice.
Tashigi felt a strange buzz resonate from the sword across from her. Law noted the look of puzzlement.
"She's cursed." Rage sung through the sword. Hell hath no fury . . .
"Are you sure she's not crying because she's been put to criminal use?"
Law eyed her slowly before answering. Tashigi had released him from shackles more often than imprisoned him. He liked her, but they had their differences.
"Like deflecting marine bullets or fighting Doflamingo? I don't see the crime in that."
Tashigi coloured a little. A pirate was a pirate, but her now husband had taken a pretty keen interest in this one, and Law had helped them escape Punk Hazard. Had helped her men escape. The World Government had been responsible for a great many atrocities. Not all of them though. Pirates were far from innocent.
Even so, her gaze kept landing on the nodachi.
Law smiled the smile that had slaughtered a thousand sheep. Was Kikoku bewitching her? She looked too interested.
"Yes, you can touch her, but I'm not responsible for anything you feel."
She edged closer, eager, wrist hovering over the scabbard, wanting to play with the tassels of the red thread Law wound around Kikoku's sheath, wanting to pet the white fur that trimmed the hilt. But mostly she wanted to attune with the blade and hear its story.
"Wait." Law touched Tashigi's wrist. A child shouldn't have to suffer for its mother's curiosity.
The marine still wasn't used to an outlaw approaching her that way. Even if he had just gauged the stages of her pregnancy, and she had held his own wrists in similar ways during various forms of official confinement. But the power dynamics were different. She'd been all business.
"Wait until she's born. I don't know what kind of energy Kikoku might wield on an unborn."
Tashigi sat back in her seat. He had a point. If Kikoku was upset with Law, the sword would easily betray him. In fact, it was almost written into lore. She wasn't sure how cursed swords interacted with those who were not their ill-fated owners, even though Law and Zoro were both very comfortable with their blades.
"She didn't finish you off before, you'll probably be safe later, and if not, you'll be the only one in danger."
Tashigi winced with the memory.
"It seems to me that you were the one brandishing the blade, not the demon trapped within, that day. We'll battle fairly, without your devil fruit some day."
He'd apologised to Tashigi for his words in the past. Tashigi was kind of pleased that Smoker had stopped Law from finishing her off after he bisected her on Punk Hazard. Law had been going to fulfil her noisy demands to let her die honourably after she had lost against him.
"Not now, though," Law said. Tashigi was proficient at swordplay without any devil's fruit. Law and she hadn't fought in a situation where he hadn't been using his powers, luckily for her.
He wondered how she felt about Zoro's swords now that he was near to winning the title of best swordsman, though Law wasn't sure that he'd ever defeat Milhawk, even if they both lived well into their hundreds. He wondered if she still wanted to "liberate" the katana so they were used for what she viewed as noble purposes, and wondered if that purpose was to remain behind glass in a lovingly tended museum.
oOOo
Tashigi and Smoker had found their way was stronger than all others, and they wanted to make it official. Or maybe it just was that the mound under the layers of cloth and rough textured lace of Tashigi's wedding dress was more than a little gentle. Along with Luffy, she was the only one not drinking alcohol.
Marco glanced at Law at the wedding trestle with her, now that the eating had wound down, and the drinking and dancing was in full swing. His lanky lover was resting his head on a curled up fist, his elbow resting on the table, the soft cloth of his tunic slipping down to reveal his forearm ink, the indentations near his wrist, the silver bangle he sometimes wore, and the black design on the back of his hand. They were probably chewing the medical fat, though you'd never know it, looking at Law.
He drew his attention back to Smoker, still puffing away despite his partner's condition. The Phoenix knew Law would have words to say later. There was a chill in the air sitting outside, but it was nice to be away from the revelry inside.
Luffy and Zoro were there of course, and Luffy danced with Nami and Usopp, rather than his stoic boyfriend. The lava beads Zoro had brought back from their successful hunting down of Akainu moved from side to side as he pogoed all over the place. Usopp and Nami ricocheting away from him, before closing in again.
oOOo
The man had been old but they'd still had to disable him with seastone when he, Zoro, Garp and Sengoku descended upon the volcanic island he'd been exiled to. Benn and Shanks too. And the goat. The expedition carried Ace's name – was done in his memory – and the reason Luffy hadn't joined them was his own fear of not being able to extract the ultimate retribution. Of being too compassionate. Marco represented Whitebeard too, as well as his fiery ex. Ex through circumstance, not design.
While the victorious crew drank loudly, celebrating the demise of the magma man, Sengoku stood to the side, chatting to the goat, which had played a major part. Knowing Akainu's weakness for animals, they'd dusted its coat in seastone, and sent it in before them. The craggy peaks that surrounded his isolated home were full of mountain goats, so the random appearance of one wasn't so unusual. The non-fruit users washed her down after the battle. Marco wandered over to join the former fleet admiral, his sandals crunching through the loose slippery rocks.
"He had some good points, you know," the old man said, as fatuous and venerable as ever as he gazed over the ranges stretching on and on. He spoke without physically acknowledging Marco's arrival or presence. "But lost his way." He chewed on his favoured rice crackers. They had the bite of wasabi. He offered the bag to Marco, still not making eye-contact. Marco declined, and the old man shrugged. "I'm glad you all avenged Ace."
Marco guessed there was something redeemable in everyone, but he couldn't forgive Akainu, even in death.
"But that isn't why you're here," the Phoenix said, scratching at the tattoo on his front. Despite being weakened by kairoseki, and the extra chains they'd thrown on Akainu, the ex-admiral's sparks had still landed on his skin. Marco healed himself quickly.
"No. You neither," Sengoku said.
"Not entirely."
The goat chewed at a patch of grass complacently, its yellow eyes dashing to the side to weigh up whether Marco was worth eating, or had anything worth eating.
"What he did to Roci's boy . . . ."
Marco kicked at the soil. Law hadn't come with them. Luffy and Law had the most compelling reasons for seeking Akainu's demise, but Law had washed his hands off his tormentors long ago.
"I couldn't let it go. Roci died to give him a chance, he was that invested, Died for his freedom."
Sengoku ratted around the bottom of the packet that had been holding his crackers. His face lit up as he discovered the last two or three, and ate them with pleasure.
" . . . and Sakazuki did everything he could to take it away."
Marco lifted his eyebrows in unseen agreement with the old man.
"The Strawhats and his own crew say he was never the same after that captivity. It didn't stop his fighting ability." Marco had fought side by side with Law on many an occasion. "But there were certain opponents he refused to face again."
Four to be exact. He'd raze platoons of marines in seeking his own form of retribution, even though he knew someone like Cora might be among them, but he blanched at the thought of ever being in the same room with those demons.
"I wouldn't know much of what effect it had on him, but what you say doesn't surprise me. Doflamingo and Vergo had a lot to answer for as well."
"It broke him. All of it. I mean, they can't compare with what the World Government did to his family – as in, that's when he probably first snapped – but each assault created a different kind of fissure that just kept compounding any historical injury."
"Or found his resolve,"
Sengoku ran his tongue over his teeth, dislodging mushed-up crumbs.
"Maybe they helped him find that. He's always been a smart kid. He might choose not to fight them, but he only backed down when it was advantageous for him to do so, so he could fight another day."
"Sure as hell wasn't their aim to help him find anything." He backed down so he could survive.
"No."
It hadn't been their aim, the government's aim. Pirates, even the ones they'd made – and they were responsible for a lot of people choosing to be so – were eliminated.
"I think it was a case of survival, but I also think . . . is it Roci? . . . Law calls him Cora . . . I think it was Cora-san's sacrifice that really gave him his mettle," Marco said.
Sengoku glanced over at the utterance of the personalisation used by the younger Law of the name given by Domflamingo to the holder of the heart seat. He worked his jaw, thinking of the danger Roci had been in, and the other Corazon, who had betrayed his men, and somehow escaped Punk Hazard, even after Law and Smoker had laid him low.
Law and he had talked across the years, and his stomach grew tight thinking of the marine the World Government had trusted – the Don Quixote pirates' first Corazon – who Sengoku had sent to supervise G5 just six months before Doflamingo murdered his brother. The thought of Vergo, especially sent to Swallow Island to help with the anticipated showdown with Doflamingo's crew, slamming a haki-laden fist into a fatally wounded Rocinante on nearby Minion Island, caused his spine to caterpillar.
Why was he even on that island? Because of Law. He couldn't hold Rocinante's foolish kindness against the surgeon, but he also couldn't bring himself to use the name Cora-san, though he allowed Law his childhood fondness and memory. As if he could put a stop to that.
"Or his moral code. Maybe Rocinante, marine 01746, gave Law his moral code."
"As an individual."
"And part of being an individual was being a marine."
Marco sighed and nodded. No point in getting into an argument with Sengoku, and both he and Law had lived long enough to know one encountered many shades of grey while negotiating the world. Law had gained his own more compassionate sense of justice after Roci's death, or maybe during the six months he'd been with him, visiting hospital after hospital, camping out, overhearing the man's true feelings. Compassionate justice, despite rumours of his sadism and barbarity. Just ask Jean Bart about that, Marco thought. Or Kinnemon. The verdict was hung.
He'd told him of his original intention to level the world to a pile of rubble, as Flevance had been. He told him of entering the Don Quixote mansion wearing a garland of grenades, believing his limited lifespan made him impervious to optimism or any kind of connection with others.
The goat wandered over to Marco and started nibbling on his cut-offs. The pirate absently patted its head.
"It's true, he provoked strong motherfuckers, and knew there'd be fallout, But, there's only so much anyone can humanly withstand, and Law crossed that threshold long ago. It's amazing he can string a sentence together, and yet he's pretty good at those.
"There were four people he never wanted to see again, and Akainu was one of them."
He did see them, of course, but on each occasion, no physical harm came to him. The people around him saw to it. Psychological damage was another matter.
"So we have similar purposes."
"We share one the same."
Sengoku finally looked at the pirate next to him, Whitebeard's righthand man, wondering why one would choose such a life. Then again, the World Government had been draconian. He still didn't understand Roci's decision, but maybe he would have done the same for Roci.
"That pirate is quiet, y'know – but tremors swallow the earth whole, bring buildings down." He shook the empty bag of crackers out. The goat looked hopefully toward the crumbs.
"Sounds about right." Law whittled away at the foundations of a structure to make sure it couldn't be rebuilt, that's when he didn't slice it clearly in two.
Shanks wandered up and clamped a hand on Marco's shoulder. "Where is that lazy sonofabitch? Making us do all his dirty work?"
Marco and the retired admiral turned to him.
"Ah, it's not his day," Marco shrugged, his face blank. They'd come for Ace's sake.
Zoro walked over too. Benn sat down next to the goat.
"Someone has to take care of Luffy while we're away," the swordsman said. Benn had diverted him from taking a path leading down the mountain, instead of the track over to the team.
"Hmm, guess so." Shanks scratched the back of his head and then lightly touched Marco's upper arm. The Phoenix knew the touch was for Law. As much as he'd attacked Akainu for having brought Luffy to death's door, he'd fought for the surgeon's peace of mind as well.
Shanks had been the one to take Ace's body from Marineford, and had stood beside Marco to pay his respects, on the island where Ace's grave sat next to Pops'. So his sense of connection to the two was not a shallow thing. But he also knew Law. Well.
"Time to drink!" Garp barrelled over, almost slipping on the rocks below his feet. Zoro collected some of the basalt to make a chain for Luffy.
Time to drink more, Marco thought.
"I'll join you soon."
The Whitebeard pirate crossed to a boulder not smoking from the rivulets of lava that riddled the land underfoot, and sat. It was done. It was over. Crimes were avenged. He picked up some basalt too, chose two rounded pieces, and ran them together in the palm of his hand. Smoke rose from the land, especially evident along the plateaus below. He hoped the town at the foot of the mountain had some baths.
He sighed. Vengeance didn't bring Ace back, and it didn't erase Law's memories, but at least there was one less living nightmare in the world, one more reason to feel safer.
Marco sealed the small rock in the letter he sent to his partner by Daily Coo, telling him Akainu was gone. The other he kept in his pocket. It now sat alongside the lapis lazuli grounding stone he'd claimed as his own during the year of trouble.
oOOo
The Heart captain had kept that letter within reach, tucked into his pocket, while Marco and their friends were away, knowing from Luffy's relieved excitement, and his exclamations over how cool, and how just like Ace's – except a different colour – the beads that Zoro had sent were, to know just how important the mission was to Strawhat. Zoro was right. He did have Pirate King Luffy babysitting duties.
That night, remaining true to their current partners, the Strawhat and Heart captains shared a bed like they used to. Law's nightmares, and his own attempts to stay lucid or to rearrange his bad dreams into something he governed rather than the other way around, meant that he had never fully blocked out the events of the marine captivity.
Akainu being so doggedly on his tail for so many years before the change of power, at least in very vocal and spoken intention, hadn't helped either; those never-ending fucked-up marine bulletins describing the fugitive's past life as Doflamingo's slave.
Sitting against the headboard, he rested in bed. Luffy had pushed himself into Law's chest and was snoring away. He'd later wear the beads Zoro had sent him around his neck like Ace, but had wrapped them around his wrist now, and fallen asleep counting them like a rosary, or a child mesmerised by round, shiny things.
Law knew Luffy wished his older brother had been able to see his successes, and he was glad that Sabo was there for him. Law knew the younger man felt agonising guilt over his inability to save Ace. Despite superhuman efforts.
Law could blame his own failures in the past on his age. Luffy hadn't been that old either, but he hadn't been dying and he knew many of the strengths of his devil's fruit. Law's had been so newly acquired that neither he nor Cora knew how to harness it.
Having been so close to saving his brother must slice him to ribbons. Law knew that if as a thirteen-year-old, he'd had even a sliver of knowledge about his devil's fruit, Cora would be alive and kicking, and Doflamingo would never have recaptured him. But Akainu was not Doflamingo.
When Luffy finally slackened into loose muscle and deep slumber, rolling away from Law to snuggle with a pillow – Misery looking on with far too much approval at the intruder in the bed (she loved Luffy) – Law stepped away from the mattress.
In the study adjacent to the bedroom, he opened a box, a simple black lacquer design, separate from the deep rosewood cases that contained his coin collection, or the tansu that housed the extra commemorative tea-towels. He placed the lava stone alongside the spoon Marco had brought back, pulled from Vergo's face, and Doflamingo's earrings, unlatched from his lobes.
Marco hadn't wiped out the two Don Quixote pirates, but he'd been able to gather a few souvenirs after their demise. Holding them had given Law a sense of peace he hadn't felt for far too many years. Kizaru's beating heart would join the accoutrements of defeat in the near future. To the victor goes the spoils.
He'd had to clean the spoon and earrings of course, otherwise the spoils really would have been spoiled, in the case of the Vergo-souvenir. What was it on the spoon? Dried egg yolk? That man, despite being an immaculate dresser, could not keep his face free of his latest meal, no matter how hard he tried. Law figured he didn't try that hard. Too busy thinking about who he could next enjoy brutalising at Doflamingo's bidding.
oOOo
Marco turned the stone now. The one he'd picked up to remember Ace.
"If Ace were here," Smoker bit down on his cigar, noting the similarity between the still exuberant older Luffy and his now permanently younger, yet older, brother, despite no blood connection, "He'd approve of it all. Look at Tashigi and Law up there. I don't regret my time with him, though it would have been better if we'd both known what we know now.
"Same with Ace. I know he joined up with you, and what we had, as with everything in Ace's life, was breathtaking but, appropriately, burned too fast. Law and Ace found a happiness with you that I couldn't give them. We didn't want to give it to each other, the world being what it was. But times are different, and Tashigi gives me the stability I need, and Zoro is Luffy's rock."
The empties piled up in front of Marco and Smoker, though Smoker had been pacing himself more.
The Whitebeard and marine had intersected across the years, mostly because Smoker remained an important part of Law's life. Was now the right time for a heart-to-heart? If their conversations lingered on relationships at all, it was usually Smoker demanding and checking that Law was treated with respect. Ah well, since they were in a sharing-caring mood.
"Luffy worked wonders with Law, and as selfish as it sounds, I'm glad they split up. Law was what I needed when I started out again, and that took some time. I've always honoured Ace, y'know."
"I know. Your man does a pretty good job too."
And he did. He always had. Marco glanced at the table again. A decorative bouquet of white roses was almost indistinguishable against the tablecloth. He turned to Smoker.
"Isn't it time to dance with your bride?"
"The smell of cigars makes her sick at the moment."
"It's your wedding night. Couldn't you have stopped for a day?"
"And killed or tried to arrest every pirate I came across? Even if they all seem to be working side by side with the better elements of us all now?"
Marco tipped his head. Smoker had a point, but Tashigi was obviously pregnant. Smoker grimaced.
"You're right. I'll freshen up, and see her."
He didn't want Law to charm her too much. He eased himself out of his chair. A bottle on the table tipped over. Marco righted it. He stood too, knowing he stank of cigars as well. He ran a quick flame over his body, hoping to fight the after-effects of fire with fire. It seemed to work.
Smoker wandered to the bathrooms, and Marco crossed the floor. He wanted to see Law on this romantic night, though he knew Law didn't buy into that stuff too much. Neither of them did, but it didn't mean they were incapable of small touches that carried greater weight.
It looked as if Tashigi and his lover were talking about swords from the hand gestures. From the corner of his eye, Law saw Marco approach, and Marco inclined his head towards the gardens surrounding the hall.
"Sorry Tashigi," Law leaned across, and lightly touched her on the arm again, "Contact me if you have any questions about the baby." Zoro passed in front of Marco, and Law swapped himself with the swordsman, who landed in his vacated seat with a clanking of swords. Zoro probably thought he'd just wandered the wrong direction again, though he was aware of Law's powers. Tashigi eyed the katana hungrily. Law hoped Kikoku was in good hands. Tashigi didn't covet unranked swords, as far as he knew.
It wasn't that Marco called and Law came running, but at social events, there was probably a deeper reason why he'd seek him out. They tended to join up at intervals before separating again.
.
.
Law landed gracefully in front of the Phoenix. Black hair rising slightly with the motion, before settling down.
"What's up?"
"Wanted to see you."
The two men matched each other's pace in the way of those who know each other well, and crossed the floor to the exit.
"You see me all the time."
Law hoped it wasn't too chilly outside. He hadn't brought a jacket.
"You have too many exes, Law."
"Are they hassling you again?"
Marco shook his head. "I'm glad they're there for you." And my ex overshadows your every move, he thought.
They strode into the night air, along the garden paths leading to a bench near a rose trellis. Surely Tashigi chose the location, though it would have depended upon whether she had worn her glasses or not. Smoker could be strangely sentimental at times. The two men stood opposite one another. Law tried to read Marco's eyes.
"You're not messing my hair. It's not the right time. I'm not in the mood."
Marco moved closer.
"Just want to feel your shirt."
Ah. Marco dipped his head into Law's shoulder, Law feeling his scratchy cheeks. By this time of night, his were the same. He wondered what memories were crowding the Phoenix at the moment. He pulled him a little closer. He seemed a little out of sorts. This wasn't usual.
Though the reasons for Law adopting the Nehru shirts were not the greatest, and thankfully he now mixed up wearing them along with outfits that showed plenty of his tattoos, they were free-flowing and enticing to Marco, especially with Law's embellishments.
Law looked across. His lover's eyes were closed. Law raised a hand to hold the back of his head, and worked his fingers through his hair. What had upset him? What had Smoker said? One of Marco's hands, palm flat, rested along the seam directly under Law's upper arm. Marco tallied the feathers in blue. One, Two, Three, Four, Five. His lips murmured the numbers. Why did it give him so much reassurance?
Marco slid his hand down Law's side and, as before ran his forefinger and thumb along the hem of the shirt. Like a child studiously counting every crack avoided on a path, he paused whenever he felt the familiar areas where the cloth was raised, as was his habit.
His inventory, his litany, of Law's needlepoint. There they were, the coloured-in cross – a symbol of the symbols on the back of his hands. The amoeba sun-like figure from his forearms, and Cora's Jolly Roger. No cancellation allowed. The swirls and curls and, this was new . . . he had only vaguely felt them this morning, Law pulling away and anxious to get to the wedding. His finger tattoos were sewn in, with the D louder than the others. He kissed the side of Law's neck in curiosity.
He quickly ran his fingers along the length of the hem wondering how many new designs there were. Would he find Luffy's straw hat? Penguin's namesake? A smoking cigar? Could he talk Law into including the twin faces of tragedy and comedy?
He returned to the first one, Law seemingly passive under his exploration, though the strength of his arms told him otherwise. He'd explored this shirt so often by touch alone that he had some skill in discerning shape that way. Next to the 'H' was the curve of his mythical form. And next to that, and next to that, and after that. A row of phoenixes. That choked clicking sound hadn't just escaped his throat.
"New?"
He felt Law nod against him. He knew his partner was puzzled, but there were many things the younger man could feel, and many things he knew. Marco had not unfurled his other hand, but Law did so now, and found both the lapis lazuli, and the basalt he'd brought back from Akainu's grave. He curled the fingers over the stones again, and sighed across Marco's hair.
"I'm sorry about Ace," Law said, his arms hooked now around Marco's upper back, and drawing him seriously close. Marco just nodded against him, unable to speak. Was it fucked up that he sought out Law to relieve his pain at losing a past lover?
He felt Law whispering into his hair. Who knew what he was saying. Hold on, he'd heard him reassure Luffy in the same way in the chasms of his sorrow. He reassured Law the same way when he crawled out of the most distressing of dreams. Marco raised the hand without the stones to his cheek. Damn, they were a little wet. Was that why Law was whispering?
He lit a fire to move himself away, but Law formed a room around them, and dumped water from the pond over them both. He held him still. Marco slit his eyes and saw flames flickering across the water like a flambe, could feel Law's heart beating against his own body.
"You want me to let go?"
Marco shook his head.
"I'm wet too now, you know."
"Motherfucker, I'm soaked."
Law gave a quiet laugh, stepped back and wiped his assured doctor's hands and fingers along Marco's cheeks and tipped his face.
"I know. You can dry. You can dry me too."
"Why do you sew them, Law?" Marco had pocketed the stones, and now stood in front of Law, almost like a school boy shamed. His fingers held the hem on either side, and his head tipped against Law's chest. His shoes seemed to hold his fascination, or the chest below him, rising and falling, regular and soothing. The very real life emanating from another person. His person.
Law stepped back, a hint of incredulity. Marco stumbled a bit, and had to look up, but Law still had him.
"Don't make me explain myself, Marco."
Law knew if Firefist were there, he'd dance with Luffy, steal and eat all the food, rile up Smoker, have some brotherly bonding with Law, perhaps. He seemed a pretty easygoing kind of guy.
And he'd go home with the Phoenix.
But conjecture and jealousy over a dead person was a treacherous slope, and he'd already spent too much time living his life trying to fulfil what he thought were the wishes of a loved one, had spent too much time questioning Cora's love. He didn't regret his actions. He'd brought about change. But he wished he'd accepted Cora's affection for what it was a whole lot sooner. He'd fundamentally never doubted it, but the mind was a curious animal.
However, his actions and single-mindedness had also heaped misery on his own head. So much that even though he knew he had a life he was happy with now, he didn't know if he'd ever recover from the wounds he'd endured. He didn't deserve all of those wounds, but he had them, nonetheless. He kept going, with and through the pain, and there was so much less of it nowadays. So much more to be glad about for all of them.
"Marco?"
His scruffy, stylish, laidback, lethal blond looked up at him. His eyes, sleepy as always, wearing a hint of trouble he hadn't seen in many years. He wondered how much he'd had to drink. Weddings were hard. They were always hard. Except for maybe Bepo's. The Minks really knew how to party.
"Ace cared for you, and he would've wanted you to be happy, and if you have that, happiness, you are being respectful."
If I have that? Marco thought.
"Law."
"Mmm." Was Marco still wet from the water, or was it something else?
"I love this shirt, kid."
Law nodded. "I kinda figured." Marco hadn't stopped holding its hem, as if it was something Law had accidentally pulled from Marco's own wardrobe.
And its wearer? Law wondered. How did his lover feel about that?
Marco sent a lick of fire over himself once more, sized up, and kissed and nibbled along the curve of Law's neck. He knew the Heart captain didn't fully understand him yet, tonight. He was like a mother cat, taking in all the nuzzling and imposition of her brood into her space. Waiting for the day they ventured out on their own. Willing to nip and growl if boundaries were breached.
The Phoenix wore many different colours, and Law was waiting on the shade. Marco loved him for it. He would not have the same patience for anyone else, and he would not have the patience if he didn't sense Marco's confusion.
"I couldn't be happier," he breathed into Law's ear.
Law closed his own eyes. Relief. Tashigi didn't seem to resent his past or connection with Smoker, and Zoro and he had sorted out his differences long ago. But how to combat or compete with a ghost?
Marco's hand snaked to the back of Law's head. He pulled Law's head down to his own. Law hoped he hadn't drunk too many coffees that day.
"Ace would approve of you, because of the peace of mind you've given me."
And Cora would be thrilled with you, Law thought.
"I'm glad, Charlie. I'd hate for us to have come this far for no reason."
Law and his stupid jazz puns, but no-one was called bird after Doflamingo had used it as a way of expressing his twisted feelings for Law. Little bird. His captured, seething, startled fledgling.
"Can't you just tell me you love me?"
"I do, all the time."
He placed Marco's hand on the larger phoenix figure again, and then guided it to the row of birds mixed into a damask repetition.
"Though this shirt gets packed away, there are others."
Embroidery was surface of course, and long-term actions were what counted most, but they both enjoyed Law's wardrobe.
"I'm here, Phoenix. I only want to be here."
"You do love me then."
"Don't force it. You know I say it."
"I know."
Law led them to the bench and he set up a room so Marco could warm them with fire without hurting him, at least for a period of time before Law grew tired, or they were called back to the reception. They sat close, and Marco kept an arm around Law. Law could feel him, again and again, returning to the blue feathers.
"We're the sum of all people, Phoenix, good and bad. And I benefit from the good in you that Ace brought about. I'm thankful. The pain you go through, I wouldn't wish it on anyone, and if we could bring Cora or Ace back, Whitebeard, my parents or my sister, I'm sure we'd sacrifice us, our relationship in a heartbeat, and we'd understand. But without being able to do that, we let ghosts rule our life if we get caught up on hypotheticals."
Marco could never be thankful for the monsters in Law's life, though he wouldn't be Law without the way they'd shaped and garrotted his psyche, and the way he'd rebelled against their definitions and expectations, and overcome them.
An inky flower in the blackest of nights, Law's nature was not easily discerned. He wouldn't scream like a mandrake if pulled from the soil. In fact, his centre burned brightly at times, a beacon, like the stigmata of many a dark flora.
He operated by stealth, not deceit. Affection stitched for those who knew where to find it, with a needle that could pierce an eyeball as easily as mend a heart.
"Will you sew a submarine?" Maro asked, feeling exhausted, and now resting his head on Law's shoulder. It was usually the other way around.
"Who's to say I haven't?" Law smiled.
Marco looked up, interested.
Law shrugged. "I try. There might be a paw print too."
"Where?"
"That's for me to know."
And Marco to find out.
A/N: Thanks for reading. Repossession chapter 3 refers to are particularly chapter 4 (read the warnings), part of 5, and generally the rest of the fic in terms of Akainu. That's a tough story to read, so read the warnings, as said. The story about hunting down Akainu, and the beads that Zoro sent Luffy feature briefly in the epilogue, as do mention of Smoker and Tashigi's wedding, and Sengoku's goat!
Tashigi commissioned the tea-towel for this event, so it was a lot classier than Law's general tea-towel taste. However, Tashigi has good taste in swords, but maybe questionable taste in other areas, so whether the dishcloth is considered the crown jewel of the collection (by others, not Law), or just one run-of-the-mill tawdry tea towel out of many is open for debate.
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That might be it for this series. I know Law and Marco are a very rare pair, and my work is mostly pretty canon divergent/au, and is probably difficult to read without knowledge of the long fic. Writing a rare pair gave me a chance to explore a few themes. I hope this small foray away from the mainstream was a break for the few looking for anything different. Thank you to those who stuck with the fics despite my inconsistency. Keep reading and writing on.
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.