CHAPTER SEVEN UPDATED

Okay, so I don't know how this happened, but somehow I've lost an entire Chapter. It literally vanished.

Maybe I accidently saved over the file or something, but it just disappeared. The first part of this Chapter is the edited version of the basic draft file I managed to salvage from when my computer was corrupted.

If I had somehow changed the storyline and have forgotten to put that into this new edited version then please PM me. (Honestly, I'm writing so much as the moment all my storyline's are getting muddle).


This Chapter is dedicated to Ashlielle, who has supported me from the beginning. Love all of you. Keep it coming with the support!


The Lives That Bind Us

Chapter Seven: Trusting One Another

Zoro

It was like someone had turned every one of Zoro's senses into overdrive.

The restaurant became dark; the background noises muddled. He could hear his heat beating in his chest, it's pace quickening from the killing aura that radiated from the opposite side of the room.

Sanji's.

He turned just in time to see, not Sanji strike, but a stranger. He took Sanji square in the jaw with a heavy right fist, knocking him flat on his back. He watched Sanji strike out with his kick, knowing that if Sanji had caught the man instead of the table, that man wouldn't have a spine intact anymore.
He jumped from his seat, straight for the blonde who was pinning the man with his foot, his eyes focused and concentrated. His legs flexed and Zoro could see the weight being pressed on that man's neck…

"SANJI STOP!" Zoro grabbed Sanji by the arms and used all his strength to pull him backwards. They stumbled into a table, just as Luffy reached them. He grabbed Sanji as well; standing between the blonde and the man retching upon the restaurant floor. Nami was stood over him, a candlestick ornament in one hand.

"How dare you attack the waiter," she screeched. She let a quiet hush befall the dining hall before continuing. "He did nothing to you. Why did you hit him?"

"Someone call the police," Usopp chimed in, making sure to remain a safe distance away from the Blonde and the Pink. Customers turned to one another as noise broke out. Babbled confused about what had just unfolded. Accusations, speculations.

Suddenly, the Kitchen Doors burst open and Zeff marched out, a wooden thunk following him. "What's going on in my restaurant?" he boomed, causing people to cower behind their menus. He spotted Zoro supporting Sanji, who was no longer fighting back. He was holding his hands to his chest, wide eyed as he saw felt the blood dribbling from his palms.

"Sanji…"

"I've called the police," said a woman, approaching from the back of the room. She walked to the group with a powerful air about her, her white hair and wrinkled skin doing nothing to rob her of strong beauty. "That boy needs to go to the hospital. Hurt his hands. And bad," she continued, an edge to her words. Obviously, it was an order, not a request.

"I'll take him," the long-nose piped up, waving his keys. "I'll go too," Zoro said, his hands still tight on the boy's arms. He hadn't seen the wound and felt bad. He'd heard Sanji harper on about his cooking skill enough to realise what his hands meant to him. He'd hurt his own hand, but Sanji needed there was no real damage.

Zeff grunted something which sounded like approval. "Best get going then. And don't let him back till he's completely healed." He turned his back, returning to take charge. The chefs, who had gathered near the doors, were ordered to make each customer a drink in apology for the conundrum. Luffy and Nami were asked to stay for witnesses. The old lady had gone.

"Come on. We can't leave him like this." Zoro nudged Usopp with his elbow, following the bushy head out to his car. Usopp climbed in first, leaving Zoro to push Sanji into the back. He had sort of shrunk into himself; unresponsive and puppet-like. He let Zoro crush his wrist without protest, simply to stem the flow of blood that covered his midsection, making the cut on his palm look like a gut stab wound. But the Marimo knew this cut could be just as bad…


At A&E, Sanji was taken immediately, surrounded by Doctors and Nurses talking in jargon that only turned Zoro's head around. The only words he picked up, was drip, shock and surgery.

Zoro and Usopp were directed to a waiting room, with little plastic chairs and half-empty vending machines. They were joined by Nami and Luffy later, accompanied by Police that just wanted to get Sanji's statement on the record.
Sanji was the victim on all accounts, so he was in no danger in the eyes of the law. But medically? His hands? He didn't know. And neither did any damn nurse nor damn doctor that he asked when they entered the waiting room. They wouldn't tell him anything. Whether or not Sanji had snapped out of shock or not. Whether he would be having surgery. Or not.

And how did it happen. Was it the Pink man who did it? Stabbed him with a stake knife? His own concealed blade. Was this a deliberate attack on Sanji or a random act of violence, broken free simply through rage.

Why wouldn't they say anything?
Why wouldn't they…

And then Zoro realised something.
Miniscule and unimportant. But important and massive at the same time.

Zoro was in hospital. He was in Drum Hospital. For Sanji. For a man he barely knew. For a man that he wasn't sure if he like him or he hated him or both.

Zoro had come to hospital for Sanji.

And not Kuina.

Disgraceful.
Zoro didn't bother to think up excuses, nor believe any that his mind may produce for the soul art of saving what little pride he had left for himself-

"You coming?" Zoro looked up to see a familiar Blonde looking down at him. But it wasn't the Blonde he wanted to see right now.

"Zeff-?"
"You coming?" he repeated, ignoring the Marimo's blank stare. That quickly changed to a deeply confused frown. Enough for the other to explain further. "Sanji's awake. Not that he was asleep anyway, but they say that he's responsive now."
Zoro was quick to his feet, dismissing his self-loathing rant in his head. "Have they heard anything about his hand?"
"Thing was nearly obliterated with glass. Shards didn't sever anything so he pretty much has full function. Couple of days till the stitched come out. Once the stiffness goes it'll be back to normal," Zeff answered gruffly, tongue sharp, words to the point. But Zoro picked up on the relief laced in his tone.

The Cook led the way to where Sanji was waiting. He was sat, not on the bed, but in the chair usually reserved for visitors. A boy, who looked like he should be in primary school was reading things off of a clipboard whilst Sanji nodded at every pause. "… can't get the bandages wet otherwise you'll have to change them. They have to be changed every two days, so come in if you have no one to help you. Also, you must not use your hand in the meantime otherwise the healing process will be delayed and you may lose function in your hand. I know how important they are to you so you cannot use them until the stitched are removed," the boy said sternly, waving a pen at the Blonde.
Sanji nodded again.

"Don't just nod. You have to say "I understand Doctor Chopper"."
"I understand Doctor Chopper," Sanji repeated, smiling as the boy grinned back. Obviously he liked his title.

"Then see you in a week to check on those stitched." He made to leave, but stopped upon seeing the men in the door. His smile dropped slightly, but that didn't stop him looking any less like a child. He had wispy brown hair and freckles all over his cheeks. There was a blue ink smudge on his nose from where he had accidently drawn on himself with his pen and had tried to remove it, to no avail.

"He's not old enough to be a Doctor," Zoro said out loud, watching the boy scurry off into the maze of hospital corridors.

"Annoyed someone so young has more brains than you?" Sanji asked, probably trying to start an argument. But it wasdropped the second he cringed when he tried to move his head.
"Have you convienently forgotten what he just told you?" Zeff growled. "If he didn't want me to use it, he wouldn't put it in a cast," Sanji snapped back, his good hand rifling through his pockets. "Now lets get out of here. I want a smoke."

Nami and Luffy had already gone home, hitching a ride with Usopp back to the dorms. Zeff left quickly after seeing his son okay. That left Sanji and Zoro to hitch a ride in the taxi. But not before Sanji got a lecture from the old man about not working, nor driving for a week at least. "I've called your University already and told them you won't be attending. No buts," he warned, seeing Sanji open his mouth to complain.

Zoro heard all about in the Taxi ride home, in the parking lot and in the elevator. By that time, he'd had enough. "Shitty geezer," Sanji growled, stamping out his second cigarette on the floor outside the flat. "He's only doing that because he cares about you." Zoro followed at a safe distance. It was Sanji's hand that was hurt. Not his legs.
"No, he's being intrusive and controlling," Sanji spat.

"He's protecting you."
"He's inhibiting me."

"You did that yourself when you smashed up your hand," Zoro pointed out, leaning against the wall as Sanji fished in his pockets for the door key. "You think I meant to do that?" Sanji snarled.
"No. But what were you doing?" Zoro's words cut through Sanji's tantrum with ease. His seriousness seemed to struck a chord with the Blonde. He realised his immature behaviour and cut it.

"Self defence."
"No way was that-"
"Self defence," Sanji repeated. His stopped what he was doing and looked Zoro in the eye, his face calm. His tone deadpanned. "I acted in self-defence. That man attacked first."
"Do you know him?"
"No. He was simply a customer in the shop." The Marimo stared at Sanji trying to see a flicker of emotion behind the mask he was wearing. It was as if he had fallen back into his zombie-like state, yet walking and talking.

"Fine." The two resumed the silence. Zoro looked elsewhere as Sanji found his keys and tried to slot them into the door.
Actually, Zoro wanted to ask more about the incident. He probably shouldn't ask while they were out in public, but it was late and no one was around. Maybe not risk it in case Sanji had another meltdown.
Best to wait. Wait until his mask slipped. Until his walls crumbled.

Sanji was probably absorbed by panic and relied about the use of his hand. He was swearing on the back of his neck, skin white. It was worse it was his dominant hand that was hurt. Sanji couldn't even focus on his front door keys enough to get them in the lock. And why was his hand shaking so much-

"FUCK!" Sanji threw the keys against the door before storming to the far end of the corridor. "Cook?-"
"Opening the blood door Marimo, because I can't," he spat, burning a hole in the floor with a fierce glare.

Zoro could hear the tremble in his voice. Yes. It was best to wait.

The Marimo opened the door without a word. He turned on the lights, taking off his shoes and coat, just as Sanji had instructed him every time they returned. Only now he was silent, barging in and through to the living room.
Zoro let him go, heading to the kitchen to make himself a drink. He kept half an eye on Sanji, ready to collapse on the sofas. Then decided to make Sanji one too.

Even when Zoro had finished, Sanji hadn't moved. He was stood, still with his coat on, something in his left hand. He was shaking as his gfigners curled around whatever….

Blood dripped to the floor.

"You're bleeding again!" Zoro jumped forward, abandoning the coffee. His hand grabbed Sanji's uninjured one. Paper fluttered, landing on the coffee table as Sanji cried out in shock. It was as if he was daydreaming.

"No, don't look!" Sanji yelled.

Too late.

Zoro stared down at the photographs.
Recent pictures of himself.
Sanji. Nami. Usopp. Luffy.

Blood seeped along the edges, sticking the pictures together, smeared across their glossy sheen like paint.

And a letter….

I warned you Mr Prince.

"Sanji. What the fuck are these?"


Sanji hadn't said a word.

He was scrunched up on the sofa, trying to hide himself under his limbs; pulled up around him. His head was buried somewhere behind his knees, his fringe covering more of his face than usual.
He wasn't just hiding.

He was cowering.

Cowering from Zoro who glowered at him from the opposite sofa. He was just as silent, although this was simply a break from all the yelling he had been doing. About various things. But most importantly, about the spread of photos that separate them, laid out for all to see on the coffee table.
Stained in blood.
They hadn't been touched, simply left in the place they had fallen. The only thing that had, was the crumpled note the Mosshead had swiped.

"Explain."

The word was said as a demand, no longer a suggestion. The man's patience was wearing thin.
Sanji didn't respond. He had been silent for hours. Just sat on the sofa, staring at his knees, hoping Zoro would give up and go away.
But Zoro was anything if not stubborn. "Is this why you've been suddenly acting weird?" And again, Zoro was met with silence.

He got angry. "For fucks' sake Cook, I'm trying to understand here so I can help you."
"But you can't help me." Sanji's voice was low and barely audible. "Says who." Zoro, being Zoro, was not going to back down without a fight.
But he found his voice gentler than earlier. At least Sanji was talking now. "Says me," he croaked from his place on the sofa. "I'm way too deep into all this mess, and if I tell you then they'll-"
"Cut the crap Cook. I'm strong enough to deal with anyone. Tell me their name and I'll deal with whoever that's threatening you-"

Something Zoro said must've been funny. Sanji began to laugh. The noise jumped in the empty room, making it sound disjointed and unattached.

Sanji lifted his head, one wide, crazed eye boring into Zoro's. "You can't fight them. Not all of them. There's too many." He began to open up, his cocoon of limbs slowly unravelling from his body. "I've been involved with Baroque Works for years. Maybe two or three years ago you could have put a dent in their schemes, but now?"
"There are hundreds of members. Too many to count. And they all kill for money, sport and entertainment. It's not even a job to them. It's a game."

Zoro kept quite as Sanji continued. He wasn't about to speak up when the blonde was starting to spill his secrets, talking faster and faster as if worried that Zoro would stop him now that he was finally, finally, telling someone.

"Even if you beat the Millions, you wouldn't be able to take on the number agents. Mr 5 is a bomb specialist who could blow you up from the next city over and Miss Valentine has a way of crushing people by making it look like an accident. And Mr 10 was killed just because he tried to help me and Miss Wednesday when we first got involved with Baroque Works. He didn't take kindly to Igaram's compassion. "

Sanji stood up, tears in his eyes and blood on his lips from where he had been biting them to keep himself from talking. His damaged hand was held close to his chest, the other tightly balled into a fist.
"They kill for a living. They torture people because it suits them to do so. They destroy lives because they're in the way or too useless to put to work."

"You say they," Zoro said calmly, interrupting Sanji for the first time. "What about you?"

Sanji hesitated. Zoro could see his eyes glance around the room in panic, something else suddenly weighing on his mind.

"Forget it," he said hurriedly, turning away. "I didn't say anything. You don't know anything," he whispered hurriedly, his eyes scanning the room, darting to each shadow cast from the low light. Maybe it was Sanji's panic that had Zoro scour the room, but he could almost feel another presence…

Sanji darted away from the sofa, making for the light of the kitchen. Zoro rose to join him, his hand unconsciously reaching out, grabbing Sanji's gently.

"I heard everything Sanji. Don't try to cover it up because you're scared-"
"'But they'll kill you." Sanji's voice cracked slightly. He was scared. "They'll kill you and it's all my fault. Because I had to open my stupid trap and tell you stupid things because I wasn't thinking-"

"Let them try.' Sanji looked up to Zoro. He was stood taller now, no fear in his expression. Only a flicker of determination in his eyes. "Let them try and kill me. I'll kill every last one of those bastards first."

The two stood in silence. The darkness seemed to close in around them. Zoro was aware of the feeling creeping down his spine. He was being watched.

But at least the Marimo knew why Sanji had been freaking out so much. This morning, he must've gone to see someone. Maybe Zeff knew. And that's why he was so lenient when the Blonde went bat-shit-crazy.

"The man today…" Zoro began. "He's not a part of the company," Sanji finished for him, pulling away, his wrist slipping from Zoro's lax grasp. "He was a target. I was meant to scare him a bit but I screwed up. Now he'll probably be killed. And as punishment, it will probably be my task."
An ominous silence filled the room again but the pair continued to stand in the dark.

Zoro watched Sanji. He could see the pain and fear eating away at him. It only made Zoro's respect for him grow. To everyone else, Sanji was still strong and responsible and trusted. Even with a deep dark secret.
It made Zoro want to share his own.

"'I'm looking for a man. It is my task to kill him."

He sat himself back on the sofa, staring up at the ceiling, letting words spill without much thought. "I tell everyone that I'm training to be the world's best swordsman, but that's only half of it. I have to be the best, so that when I face the man in a duel to the death, I can proudly say I have done all I can to defeat him. It's why I don't bother with hospitals and doctors if I'm injured or ill. I want to train my body up to recover by itself. I can't cheat using medicine." There was the sound of springs and a change in the way he sat as the couch dipped down beside him. Zoro guessed that Sanji had sat down. Otherwise he was just telling the apartment ceiling about his life.

"The man you have to kill…?" Sanji's voice was calm. He had forgotten his own worries. Or maybe he had lived with them long enough to ignore them when needed.

"Hawkeye Mihawk. Currently the world's strongest swordsman. Both in national competitions and in the underground world. My dream is to defeat him and claim his title. If that means killing him, then all the better."

"So, you're trained in sword play?" The Cook's voice was slightly muffled. Zoro looked over to see him wrapped up in the throw, just the top of his blonde head visible. "Sword fighting. There's no play, unless you're three with a wooden stick. And of course I do. I was born in a traditional village in Japan. It was a highly respected art to know. Naturally I kept learning when I came here."

Sanji was curious about Zoro's tale. He had him explain in depth, of as much as he could remember. Which was a lot, and Zoro's stories took them deep into the early hours of the morning. How Zoro met Kuina and Sensei. How he stayed with them, lived and trained with them.
Zoro talked on and on… until, they touched upon the subject of why he fled his home country to seek shelter from another.

"I used to live in a village. Near mountains and a forest, somewhere civilisation barely reached. Maybe that was the reason why he targeted us. No one would notice a simple backwater, un-developed village vanish."

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, seeing the faces fill his mind that came with every nightmare he had since the day he came to the village.

"Mihawk. He slaughtered everyone. He killed every single person I ever knew; my family, my friends, my neighbours. Everyone. Everyone except for me. I escaped alone and escaped from Japan. At first I was scared he would hunt me down, but then I decided that if he ever found me again then I would defeat him."

Zoro sat up sharply, ripping away from the comfort of the nook he and Sanji had created with their bodies. The chill of the empty living room surrounded him, the cold sheen of moonlight illuminating him as it pierced through the veil curtains drawn across the balcony doors.

Zoro frowned to the wall. His eyes began to tear from the anger and the hatred that burned in his heart and his hands that curled into fists

"I'll make him pay for what he did to my village and when I do I can regain the honour he stole from us." Zoro's body began to shake. Cuts appeared on his palms from where his nails cut into this skin where he was clenching too tightly; voice twisted into a snarl.
"I'll make him pay."

Dawn was peeking upon the horizon when Zoro stopped.

A cold hand reached out, curling around Zoro's fist and pulling it away from the tense body. Sanji slipped onto the sofa, catlike in the way he curled against Zoro's body, locking his arms against the man's back as he hugged him tightly. "I'm sorry. You didn't have to tell me. If it was this painful-"
"No," the marimo choked out, suddenly aware of Sanji and how close he had become. "It- it feels better to get it all off my chest," he said, sighing as he dropped his head onto Sanji's shoulder, inhaling the smell of perfume, food and the faint aroma of cigarettes.
"My purpose in life is to kill Mihawk. I trained with whatever means necessary, and when I had no money I took down street thugs and low life criminals for reward money. I never had a permanent roof over my head, nor a bed every night but I made do. I made myself strong for my village's sake. So Sanji," Zoro said, putting his own arms around the blonde's body and pulling I'm tighter into the hug.
"I am strong enough to help you."


Zoro was smiling softly, the memories relived as he spoke. "I found Sensei and Kuina when I was fourteen. They were cornered by some street thugs in some back road people barely used, and Kuina had her bokken, trying to fight them off. I stepped in when the thugs got too rough and helped out. Sensei was grateful and asked to repay me with food. He ended up giving me a room to stay in, helped me to train and define my own fighting abilities."
Which lead to a long explanation of Santoryuu and lots of snarky jabs from one tortilla Blonde. Zoro shot down every one he thought up, leaving him sniggering into his blanket.

"Are you going to keep interrupting or do you want me to continue?"
Sanji scowled with one eye. Zoro just waited, until he waved his hand in a motion that encouraged the Marimo to continue. Zoro obliged, turning his head into the sofa more, half hiding it from view.

"I stayed with them until the Academic Term of the year I was able to move out. After all, I wasn't Sensei's responsibility." Zoro's words took a sad tone and he had to pause his story. Sanji watched him. Zoro found him in the corner of his eye and said nothing.

Sanji filled the silence instead.

"Zeff's not my real father either."
Sanji curled against Zoro's chest, moulding himself against the way the Moss-head was sat, making himself comfortable. He ignored pride and the other useless charades, surrendering to the warmth of another human's body.

Zoro was warm. His chest was broad, his muscles just soft enough to rest his head against comfortably. He could still feel the shudder under his skin every now and then, but it seemed the man was calming down. Sanji felt guilty. He had been wallowing in self-pity and had been feeling sorry for himself whilst Zoro had been hurting for much longer.
Well… they both had.

They were more alike than they knew.

"I think I was five, or six, I can't remember. The fragments make it hard to recall." Sanji's own body shuddered as the all too familiar feeling of hunger washed over him. "Sanji-"
"Just let me speak," the blonde said quickly. "Let me… get this off my chest."

Barely a moment passed before Sanji began telling Zoro his story. Just as Zoro had done, Sanji would tell the man his past. He wanted to show that he trusted him, just as Zoro had trusted Sanji to listen to his own story.

"When I was a child, I lived in a really big house with lots of staff. I don't remember my mother or father much because they were hardly around. I think they were important people. Or that's what I'd like to believe." Sanji smiled to himself. He had always hoped that they were kind and loving people, and would someday find him; apologise for all the years that they had been apart, where they had spent every waking moment searching for him desperately…

"My parents were rich. I was victim to their wealth when I was kidnapped. I don't remember it happening. I just remember… waking up…" Sanji felt his voice catch in his throat. His stomach growled from hunger pains but Sanji knew that it was all in his head. All in his head…

"They locked me in a concrete room with one barred window. No bed, no furniture." Sanji shuddered again.
Zoro pulled his arms tighter, resting his chin against the top of the blonde's head.

"They left me… they locked me up in that room and left me to rot. They didn't feed me nor give me water. I survived on rain water that was blown in through the window. I- I ate… creatures that crawled into the room. I did anything I had to, to survive."
Sanji felt his body shudder again, his stomach squirm and growl angrily. He couldn't help but hold it tightly, trying to wish away the feeling of starvation… the feeling of wasting away as his body ate away at itself in an effort to survive.

Like a snake that ate its own tail…

"They found me later, barely alive. Somehow, I ended up with Zeff and he taught me how to cook, how to use every aspect of an ingredient so nothing was wasted. I developed claustrophobia. I never waste food. With every meal I eat, I always think it may be my last so I make an effort to savour every part of it."
Sanji trailed off into silence, letting his body calm itself as it rose and fell with every breath Zoro took.
It was as if he was saying a silent I'm here. You're no longer trapped in that room. You're here with me.

Zoro leaned in, his arms lifting to wrap around Sanji's body and pull him closer.
It felt natural. No, it was natural. For the two of them at least. They could be at each other's throats all they wanted but somehow, their relationship had developed and they had become this close without even having to talk about it.

Zoro tilted his head to the side, moving slightly so that Sanji could see him. "My teacher used to tell me that change was for the better and that I should learn to accept it. I was never good at accepting change and I can't accept that… well I've lost people. I don't want to accept that either. But you're change. And I can accept you. I've never told anyone my story. I think Sensei suspects it, but Kuina doesn't know. But I told you. Because I trust you."


Trust.
It was something you earned and something you shared with someone you were close to.

Someone who you cared for and believed in and looked to for comfort, for support, for the shoulder that you needed to lean on when you were hurt or sad or in need of someone you trusted.

Zoro trusted Sanji. Sanji trusted Zoro.
They trusted each other to tell their secrets, knowing they would be safe with the other.