To Fix And Repair

Franky was a shipwright.

He repaired and fixed machines and wood and metal and plastic because that's what a shipwright did. Franky would like to say that he could fix anything, and maybehe would have said that, many years ago when he was still a boy who'd not seen the true colors of the world—before pain and despair had changed him, reformed him, evened him out and brought him down a peg or two.

But Franky was older now; he knew some things could not be fixed.

Like his captain's heart.

Franky may have never met Portgas D. Ace, but it didn't matter much to him—any person his captain called brother must've be a SUPER guy. Nobody knew the details of his captain's brother's death, but that didn't matter to him, either. What was in the past, was in the past—it didn't matter anymore.

What mattered was the fact that his captain was still hurting even after two years.

And, as good as he was at being a shipwright, Franky couldn't fix a broken heart or a guilty conscience.

And so, when he saw his captain—a man with dreams bigger than the ocean and a will as endless as the sky—stare out at the horizon, hand over his heart (over his scar), eyes moist in a way they should never (everevereverever) be, he felt a certain organ in his chest stop working and wanted to cry.

But instead, he took a deep breath and put on his best grin. "Luffy-bro!"

His captain's head turned to look at him, a smile on his lips as always (honest and sincere and with all the love in the world, but still so sad and pained). "Franky! What's up?"

Franky swallowed past the tears he wanted to shed for his captain (because this man was worth all the tears, blood and sacrifice in the world), his stomach twisting when he saw the shadows behind his captain's eyes, and only widened his grin. "I made a SUPA cool new invention this morning! Just finished it, wanna see it?"

He could have passed out in relief when his captain's smile turned into a grin, eyes lighting up like fireworks, memories and guilt and pain forgotten for a moment. "Really?! So cool! What does it do, Franky?! Shoot lasers?! Explode?!"

And this time, Franky's grin was sincere but no less full of love, chattering away about his invention while his captain hung to his every word. Although, he still felt his heart break sometimes because his captain's eyes seemed so young and fragile—it made him look like the child that he was inside, despite all the strength, grieving and despairing—but it only straightened his resolve to follow his captain to the end of the world with the ship he built.

Lunch and dinner was full of smiles and Franky shared his recent ideas of future projects with his captain, love and grins and laughter as they randomly threw a party, just because they could. Because they were free. Because they wanted to.

Franky may not be able to repair broken hearts or fix a guilty conscience, but he could give love and fierce loyalty, and hope that it would be enough.

And as a shipwright, he could keep this ship together to ensure that his captain's dreams—and all his crew mates' dreams, for that matter—came true, because although he couldn't heal his captain's heart, he could help.

And Franky was more than happy to do that.

Because that was a SUPER thing to do, after all.

.–.–.–.–.–.–.–.

Author Note:

I am fairly confident on this one. It seems logical enough, I think.

Going on what I know about Franky, he would be the one to sympathize with Luffy guilt-wise. He knows how it is like, and he's had many more years of knowing how to deal with it—I mean, come on, he's in his mid-thirties; he's had experience with this shit.

Technically, I am finished with this story. However, because everyone seems to enjoy my writing thus far, I will consider continuing to write. Depends on what you people want.

Which brings up another point: You guys rock so, SUPER much! I had a lot of people say 'you made me cry!' and similar comment, one asking that I am determined to make you guys cry. The fact is, I am. As a writer, and as a person in general who is not easily moved to tears, I take that as a huge compliment and I cannot help but feel flattered by it—crybaby or not. Tears and crying mean a lot to me, because that mean I must be doing something right.

I thank you guys so much for that.

Thank you for reading and please review!