AN: What's this? An update – after two years? I should be flogged for my insolence, but I hope you like it, regardless. If anyone is still reading this thing, that is. A massive writer's block has been eating at me after my muse up left me two years ago, but I would very much like to stress that I haven't abandoned this story! For those of you willing to wait, I will endeavour to earn your patience. Also, an enormous THANK YOU for the feedback on this, especially from those of you who've recently read it and reviewed despite the fact that I haven't updated in two years. YOU ARE GOLDEN.

Chapter XI

In the days that followed, her smile was hard to remove.

The entire village had to know something had happened, but Makino couldn't be bothered to mind. For one, she was much too happy to give a fine damn, and was loath to ruin that happiness by taking notice of the murmurs that followed her wherever she went. So on her way to the local grocers or the fabric shop, she turned her ears away, refusing to let their gossip settle in her mind long enough to fester. She'd lived all her life listening to the whispered musings about her old guardian, and it looked like she was heading in the same direction. Some were probably shaking their heads at her misfortune – or her lack of sense, knowing full well where Emiko had ended up – but Makino's spirits were simply too high for her to be dragged down by the churning of the local rumour mill.

Of course, if Garp ever found out, there would be trouble, but as she was the sole provider of alcohol in the entire village, she hoped it might deter anyone from letting the old man known of her affairs. He'd have her shipped away to a convent at the mere notion of a romantic dalliance with a pirate. Although when it all came down to it, she was a grown woman, entirely capable of making her own decisions, but she also knew that part of her would always be the little girl looking up with awe at the strange marine who'd come to visit, and who brought odd knick-knacks from his voyages. Garp was, after all, the closest she'd ever had to a real father, and the thought of letting him down was hard on her heart.

But there was still a while yet before Garp was due for another visit, and so she went about her chores with a smile on her face and a new bounce in her step, revelling in her rebellious ways. It was strange, how one man could make such a potent difference in her life, she who'd been raised with such strict discipline. It was such a liberating thing, and for the first time in years, she felt truly at peace with her situation.

Humming softly to herself as she conducted inventory, the tune was cut short at the sound of footsteps on the landing, followed by the slow creak of the bat-wing doors swinging open. The smile on her face widened a fraction, as she knew full well who it was calling on her so early in the morning. Closing the door to her pantry, she walked out into the common room, to find him already seated at the bar. There was an easy smile on his face, the one reserved for her, but upon catching sight of him she stopped in her tracks, brows furrowing in concern.

"Something's wrong."

His smile quirked with wryness. "A fine morning to you as well, my dear."

Weeks ago she might have blushed, but now she merely cocked an eyebrow at his remark. "Good morning," she emphasised deliberately, and with enough cheek to earn herself a grin, before walking to stand behind the bar directly opposite. "And you're evading my statement, Captain."

His sigh was a surprisingly heavy thing. "And here I was hoping you wouldn't notice. You're getting a little too perceptive for your own good."

She smiled. "You're just too easy to read sometimes."

"Ben tells me that every day – don't tell me you're planning to start, too?"

Makino hummed, "Ben has a point, but now that you've brought it up, you might as well come out with it. Is something wrong?"

His smile turned rueful, as though fate had dealt him a particularly unfortunate hand. "Not exactly."

She felt unease coil in her stomach. "That's awfully cryptic, for you."

"And here I thought I was such an enigmatic character," he drawled. "Can I hide nothing from those eyes of yours?"

She pursed her lips. "Trying to avoid the subject again?" she asked. "You'd do well telling me sooner rather than later, or you're not getting any breakfast. And don't think I don't know that's part of the reason you show up so early," she said, brow raised in challenge, before adding, "I know Ben refuses to cook for you."

He looked oddly hurt. "Conditions now? Whatever happened to feeding me out of the goodness of your heart?"

"The goodness of my heart is wholly dependent on conditions, Captain. Now, out with it."

He shook his head, and she'd half-expected his next remark to be playful, when his expression turned suddenly serious. "We're setting sail soon," he said then, without further preamble, as he leaned his elbows on the bar. It fell between them like a weight, heavy on the air, and rested there like a physical thing.

But despite her initial surprise, Makino greeted the fact with surprisingly detached acceptance. She'd suspected for some time now that it would soon be time for them to leave. In fact, she hadn't expected them to stay as long as they had in the first place, but of course, knowing that only took the sting off – it didn't remove the pain at the prospect. With a heavy sigh, she let the fact settle on her shoulders, and nodded once – to herself or to him, she didn't rightly know, but it hardly mattered.

"The look on your face renders my pleasantries redundant, I fear," Shanks quipped with a sombre smile, and she felt a dark sort of humour tug at the corner of her mouth.

"I apologise for ruining your plan, Captain. Should we start over? I'll be more surprised, this time." But there was no malice in her tone, and his eyes softened at the sound.

"You are a strange woman," he told her, not for the first time, but there was fondness in the remark.

She grinned. "So I've been told. And I've anticipated this, to some extent. You did warn me, several times," she reminded him.

"And you disregarded them all," he retorted.

She shrugged. "And I don't regret that," she said, and meant it. She'd had her reservations, and had been about to make a different choice. But regardless of the life that lay ahead of her, she couldn't make herself regret her decision. To her death, Emiko had not regretted hers, and Makino was beginning to understand why.

There was a comfortable silence between them. Laden silence, but comfortable nonetheless. Even in the odd lulls of his cheerful nature, his mere presence had the ability to fill a room to the brim, and she wondered idly how silent it would be when he left. She knew well how eerie the tavern was in the absence of the Red-Haired Pirates, but there was always the expectation that they would return. When they left for good, would the calm she'd cherished so long drive her mad?

"It's not for a few more hours yet," he said then, as though having read her thoughts. She nodded, almost numbly, and her hands itched to clean something. The tabletop, the glasses – anything to keep herself occupied, and from letting her thoughts wander to the future she knew lay ahead but didn't want to acknowledge.

"Will you be coming back?"

He would have known the question was coming before he even stepped foot inside the tavern, and the heavy sigh that followed only served to underline it. And despite the fact that she had known they would soon be leaving, they hadn't yet broached the subject of a possible return. Would this be for good? Or would it just be another voyage, from which he would come back with more tall tales to tell and scars to show?

Shanks regarded her for a long moment, his gaze lingering on hers, too deep in thought to actually see her, but then there was a smile tugging at his lips, pulling them into a familiar grin, and as though by magic, the tension left his stance and the guilt vanished from his eyes so fast it might never have been there in the first place. "Aa," he said then, and for all her calm and attempted detachment, Makino's relief was so staggering in its intensity she almost felt the need to sit down.

Inhaling a shuddering breath, she allowed herself to smile, but it wavered despite her attempts at making it seem effortless. "Then I'll be awaiting tales of new adventures."

He grinned. "Tall tales, or just regular ones?"

Her smile was effortless this time, and undeniably cheeky – his own influence, Makino suspected. "Tall ones, please. I'll get the actual events from Ben when you've got your back turned."

His sigh was wonderfully dramatic. "Sometimes I think you fancy him more than me," he muttered, tone mildly accusing, and she laughed.

"Jealous, Captain? I'd never thought you the type."

"I am a great many things if I put my mind to it," he quipped.

"Yes, Ben said something along those lines, too."

"Hey, now..."

She laughed, and for a moment, forgot their original topic of conversation, distracted by the warm atmosphere and simple banter that came so easily with this man. Fiddling absently with the rag in her hands, the smile playing on her lips was a genuine one, although the thoughts lurking at the back of her mind were enough to wipe it off.

"You know it won't always be like this?" he asked then, and she'd long since stopped being surprised that he could read her so well.

She inhaled deeply. "Yes." She knew that, although they would be coming back this time, next time could be different. Would be different, perhaps, if he was bringing it up now. One day, they would leave, and they wouldn't come back. The momentary relief of his previous good humour faded abruptly at the prospect, and she felt her spirits sink a little. She shouldn't have let her detachment go so quickly.

"Garp has been making his visits more frequent – soon we won't be able to keep up with the news from Headquarters, and he'll catch us, and that won't be good for either of us."

She nodded almost mechanically. His words felt hollow, somehow. Excuses. Valid ones, perhaps, but excuses nonetheless. She knew the real reason, and he knew that she was well aware, but still it hung between them, untouched.

"I am sorry."

A rough-palmed hand closed around hers where it gripped the rag atop the counter, and she started. Lifting her gaze, she met his own, and there was genuine apology in the usually playful dark eyes. Makino sighed, and a small smile pulled at her lips. "Sorry for what, Captain? For being a pirate? Don't coddle me, please – I've known this was coming. You're no farmer's son."

He regarded her closely for a moment, although he didn't loosen his grip on her hand. "Do you sometimes wish I was?"

She didn't even need to think about that. "Never."

His smile was wry. "Are you sure? A farmer's son wouldn't leave you."

"A farmer's son wouldn't have given me half the adventures you have," she countered with a smile. "I wouldn't have had it any other way. I've carried no disillusions that you'd stay with me in this backwater town of mine."

He was silent for a moment, before asking, "Would you come with me?"

Makino blinked, momentarily taken aback by the question. "Please don't joke about that, Cap–"

"I'm perfectly serious."

And as she took in the set of his brows, she found that he was, in fact, entirely serious. Her heart leapt in her chest, and she gaped a little, unsure of how to respond to such a question. And so staggering was her surprise, that when she finally managed to locate her voice, what fell from her lips wasn't the familiar title, but something else entirely.

"Shanks–"

"There's room on the ship," he said then, the earnestness of the offer punctuated by the fact that he wasn't even pointing out that she'd let his name slip. "It would be my bunk, of course, but it's big enough for two, and the others wouldn't mind. As far as they're concerned, you're already part of the crew, anyway. All that's missing is for you to join us."

Makino didn't know what to say to that. She honestly hadn't considered it, in all their time together. She'd known he would leave, and though a closet-adventurer at heart, she'd never once entertained the idea of actually going with him – or that he'd ask her to, for that matter.

"Speechless, my dear? It's good to know I've still got the charm."

She shook her head as she tried to collect her thoughts. "I'm afraid it's got little to do with your charm, Captain."

He grinned. "It hardly matters what it is. So, what do you say, my girl? Are you up for a real adventure?"

She smiled, turning her hand so she could wind her fingers through his. "You know my answer already, I think," she said. "I'm a barmaid, and this is my life. The sea is your home, Captain – I'm land-born, and I'd be a burden. Maybe not at once, but one day I would be, and something tells me your path won't be the safest of routes."

She wasn't going to kid herself – there was something undeniably dangerous about the man before her, hidden beneath his easy grins and honest laughter. Ben had let slip once that he'd been a swabbie on the ship of the Pirate King, and had it been anyone else telling her, Makino would have laughed at the tall tale, but it was Ben, and so she'd believed it without a single shred of doubt. She hadn't mentioned it to Shanks – like the scars marring his eye, it was a subject best left alone. Perhaps one day they would talk about them, when she wasn't quite so young and impressionable, and he not quite so burdened. Because under the smiles and the laughter was the heavy tension of a man who knew more about the world than was healthy. It was another reason she knew in her heart she couldn't leave her home and go with him – whatever fate had planned for him, it wasn't for her.

"It's not a pirate's life for me, I'm afraid," she said then, and the words carried a finality to them that left no room for argument.

His smile was guilty, but undeniably sad, and she tried a smile of her own to lighten the mood, but it only succeeded in making her feel worse. It wasn't that she didn't want to go with him. In fact, part of her wanted nothing more than to leave everything behind in favour of adventure and the open sea. It would be ten times more thrilling than any paperback she'd ever read, certainly, and she'd be with him. There'd be no more departures and lonely days waiting for him to return.

But something held her back. Something told her she still had something to do in Fuschia, at least for now. Perhaps one day, though.

Inhaling deeply, she added, "At least not yet."

He looked up at that, one brow raised, and she grinned. "You've told Luffy time and time again he's too young to join you, and you've given him ten years. But he won't say yes to that – he'll make his own crew."

Shanks grinned at the mention. "That he will."

Makino's smile was a cunning curve. "That means there'll be a spot open on your ship." His face lit up visibly, and her grin widened. "Give me ten years, when your duties to the world of pirates is done, and mine in this backwater town, and then maybe," she inhaled deeply, "I'll say yes."

"I'll hold you to that," he said without so much as a pause, his voice rough, and when she nodded he tugged her forward. With a yelp and a laugh, she braced herself on the counter, one hand slipping around the back of his neck as he tilted her head. The edge of the counter dug uncomfortably into her ribcage, but she pushed away her discomfort, because he was leaving soon, and she would take whatever moments of happiness she could get. She'd already given her heart, and there was only one path left for her to take and that was forward, with or without him. For now, that was her role. That was her adventure.

But on the edge of her subconscious was a thought – a minuscule chance that she clung to with whatever strength she had left, like driftwood in a storm. Because there's a spot on his ship, reserved for her, for a time when his duties are done, and she's ready to leave her home for the open sea. And as she clutched his shirt with all the dignity of the tavern wench she was to the marrow of her bones, Makino wondered idly what she'd gotten herself into.

Because knowing him, he would hold her to her promise.

Where the first time was full of awkward moments – of limbs bumping and small discomforts, and an interruption she wouldn't soon forget – the second time was something quite different. There were no interruptions, for one, and no distractions, or even the possibility of getting caught. It was easier, too, although Makino was certain she'd never know exactly where to put her hands. But he'd laughingly told her it came with practice, and he'd said it with such a wicked grin, she'd been so busy laughing she'd quite forgotten to blush.

They were back where they started – in her apartments above the bar, and this time there was no hesitation on her part. There was nervousness, of course – she suspected there would always be a little of that on her end, but it was a good kind of nervousness. His smile was a constant against her mouth, and she nearly tripped over the doorstep, attempting to walk and kiss him at the same time. Grace had never been a particular virtue of hers, and she balanced precariously on the balls of her feet as she wound her arms around his neck.

Her discomfort discovered, he took her by surprise by hoisting her into his arms, earning a yelp and a trill of laughter as he spun her around. Her fringe fell into her line of sight, and she blew it away, eyes crinkling at the corners as she grinned down at him from her new perch. The grin she received in return was much too boyish for a man nearing thirty, and she brushed a hand against the scars across his eye, which closed at her ministrations. Covering it with the palm of her hand, she mused at how much younger he looked. It was odd, and somehow too unfamiliar, and so she drew her hand away. In the dim lamplight, the markings on his face were thrown into stark contrast against his skin, and she tilted her head as she traced a fingertip along one of the jagged lines.

The curiosity would never really go away, she knew, but she didn't pry, and when he nudged his nose against hers, she figured that it didn't matter. One day, he'd tell her – he'd tell her, and she'd either be horrified at the tale, or give him a slap for his recklessness, because knowing him, it could be either of the two. But for now it didn't matter which it was, because in a few hours his crew would raise anchor and sail away and there was no telling when she'd see him again. All she knew was that she would, and she'd hold him to that. This time, he'd be coming back.

But next time, she thought, and knew in her heart, they would be leaving for good.

The bed was undeniably more comfortable than the floor of the bar, and this time there were no thoughts of Garp finding out or Luffy walking in on them, and all she could think was how she would miss this man – the man who'd taught her to let go, to love and to feel loved; the man bearing scars she didn't know the stories behind, but that she kissed deliberately, one by one, regardless. Because Makino knew that in the years to come, what would sustain her would be her memories.

And so that's what she did – she made memories, etching them deeply into her mind so she would never forget, no matter how many years passed in his absence. Knowing that he'd be gone, she also knew that in the future, and the long, lonely years that were sure to follow his final departure, she wouldn't take a husband. She wouldn't settle down with a small batch of children for Garp to babysit and scare into obedience, because there's a place reserved for her on a ship. A ship that will sail for the Grand Line and back, and when the day comes for her to take her place amongst the crew of which she is already part, she will have nothing holding her back. Fuschia will be just another port, and her tavern – her home – will be traded for another. Because she's already made her decision.

The second time it happened, it was almost perfect. Slow and deliberate, his grip on her hard enough to hurt, and all too telling of the thoughts behind it. And when it was over he tugged her towards him, wrapping his arms around her and tucking her against his chest, an embrace she felt in her bones, and that had stubborn tears escaping, despite her attempts at keeping them at bay. But she only tightened her hold on him in turn, lifting her legs to press herself against him, until there wasn't space for thought between them, and she could feel the steady drum of his heart as her own. In a few hours, his crew would set sail, and she would remain, wiping her tables and mopping her floors. Waiting, as she always did.

And from now on, always would.

AN: So this is my new year's project – to finish this story. There's approximately five more chapters to go, so stay tuned!

Next up: it's all fun and games until someone loses an arm.