Chapter 25: Empty Air

The rare break of sunshine in Wano stretched on, peeking through the wooden blinds and bathing the bed in warmth. Birdsong was audible only because the room was so quiet otherwise. The mattress was soft and the covers freshly laundered. It was the smell of breakfast—sweet tofu soup and pork buns—that gradually roused Spade from sleep. What a gentle way to wake up, with no sudden jolts from nightmares, no rising panic and breaks of sweat. She opened her eyes slowly, feeling very safe and uncomfortably pain-free, until she saw Law lying on the futon next to her, arms crossed under his head as he stared up at the ceiling.

Spade shot up, heart racing and head pounding at the sight of him. She was in danger, this peace was just a façade and he was going to hurt her any moment now—

At her sudden movement, Law turned lazily to face her. He seemed to understand her reaction, for he did not make any indication to move closer to her.

"Good morning," he said quietly.

His voice soothed her, and she was quite certain Law knew this, for there was no other reason for him to be so talkative first thing in the morning.

"I won't hurt you," he continued. "You should know that by now. I asked you to stay here after we fucked yesterday. We talked, remember? Cleared the air. Figured out…" He gestured between them, reminiscent of her actions the day before, "whatever this is between us."

"Yeah," she said, catching her breath. She brought a hand over her eyes. "Yeah, I remember."

He gave her several minutes of silence to calm down. Spade thought back to the night before—yes, that had all been of her own volition, despite how rough Law had been. She remembered how carefully he'd held her afterward, how gentle he'd been when they slid under the covers together.

"Are you all right now?" he asked.

"Yeah. I just…panicked for a second."

Law scooted closer and peered up at her. Spade let her hands drop into her lap. He reached over for one of them and pressed his lips to her palm. She shuddered, and Law let go, expression guarded as he leaned back against his arms.

He was beautiful in the sunlight. She'd been so terrified of his presence for so long now that Spade had nearly forgotten just how gorgeous Law was. Curved muscles, sharp collarbones, lines of clean ink decorating his godly torso. Law had beautiful eyes too, like flint that could ignite into a blaze with the right incentive. She sighed a bit, content with simply looking at him and not being overcome by the desire to run.

Law was thinking hard about something. "What can I do?"

"About what?"

"You being frightened of me," he answered. "You jump at the slightest sight of me. I can tell you always have to convince yourself that you don't need to be scared."

She gave a hollow laugh. "It's just a matter of time, right? Until the conditioning wears off."

"Partly." Law sat up so that they were face to face. "Maybe it's a matter of rewriting the conditioning as well."

He made a movement to kiss her, but she instinctively drew away. Something dark flashed through his eyes, but he did not pursue her.

"Sorry," she said breathlessly.

"Don't be. I understand." He rolled off the futon and headed for the bathroom. "I'll see you at breakfast."

Spade nodded, but Law did not see. There was not the same level of hostility between them as before, but she could not shake the feeling that Law was disappointed in her reaction. If Spade were being honest with herself, she did not blame him.

Marco met with Spade alone first thing after breakfast. They didn't stay in his office, but instead went up to the roof by Marco's suggestion. He always knew the little things that put her at ease.

The sun was brilliant and the wind wonderfully cool. The sight of calm ocean extending as far as the eye could see connoted a freedom that Spade could not fully wrap her head around. She could fly as far as she wanted to, and there were no chains holding her back, no strings manipulating her every motion. The prospect of such autonomy almost frightened her; part of her expected to be lurched back and slammed into the ground, reminded of gravity and an oppressive force greater than she.

They sat in silence for several minutes, Marco just watching her awkwardly, while Spade fixated on the ocean. Maybe Kaidou was only a few knots away. Maybe the Marines were readying a surprise attack on Wano. Either way, Spade found it difficult to give a fuck. The moment her brain began to process the endless permutations of the future, a fog settled over her thoughts like a tacky gum that trapped her gears. She was tired, aimless, and apathetic. She felt very detached from her body, this physical vessel that had failed her in these last few months. Despite Marco's miraculous healing, she still felt broken in a way she couldn't quite express, a toy cobbled back into a functioning piece despite serving no purpose. The only thing that she felt acutely was the ache between her legs, a reminder of Law and her patched up tattered relationship that still had no explanation.

"I should've come for you," Marco said, finally breaking the silence.

"Don't be stupid."

"Nothing happened here. I sat on my ass and just waited while you…" Marco let out a frustrated noise that made Spade hurt. "Kaidou didn't even come."

"It was the right decision regardless," she muttered. "You know it was. I know it was."

"Still feels like shit."

"Yeah." A gentle breeze blew. "It does."

Marco laughed weakly and reached for her. When his hand found hers, Spade did not pull away.

"It wasn't the right decision," he whispered. "You're my responsibility."

"No. I'm not." She squeezed his hand. "I'm not a Whitebeard. You're not my captain. You…you don't owe me anything."

"After everything we've been through—"

"It's not the same. We're friends, Marco, and we have a long and complicated history. I'm your informant, your scout, but I'm not part of your crew, and you aren't my captain, no matter how many times we've joked about it before. I'm no one's responsibility."

She pulled her hand away from his and rubbed it with her other palm, trying to warm up her fingertips. She avoided his gaze.

"Are you Aokiji's?" he asked.

She laughed, and it rang hollow. "Of course. Why raise a weapon for years and years and let it break prematurely? He needs to take care of his investments."

"And Law?"

Spade's gaze softened. "He had an obligation. He repaid it."

"How are you guys now?"

"I have no idea." She ran a hand through her hair out of habit, surprised when her fingers grasped emptiness around her shoulder. It had been a long time since her hair had been cut so short. "I don't know where I am with anyone anymore."

Spade finally looked at Marco and wished she hadn't. Marco's face was twisted into edges of regret, and every muscle in his body was tense with grief and guilt.

"Hey," she whispered, touching his shoulder.

"No, you're not fuckin' comfortin' me," he said, turning to face her. He wasn't crying, thankfully. "I'm not—you're not—you're a lot—"

He was clearly having difficulty with his words, and it made Spade smirk a little.

"Any day now, Marco."

"I'm pissed!" he shouted. Spade jumped in place slightly, caught completely off guard. "I'm so fuckin' pissed off at you, Spade, and you're too fucked up for me to even yell at you properly!"

"Pissed…pissed off at me?" she gaped. "What the fuck for?!"

"Who the fuck said you could make that deal with Aokiji? And don't act like you didn't discuss it with him before—you should've run that fucking plan by me, you should've never been in a situation where Kuzan could manipulate you like that because you fucking had me. I would've never said yes, I would've never let you play some stupid sacrificial part because I would've never jeopardized you like that! I'm pissed because you should've run it by me, but like you said, I'm not your captain, you don't owe me anything, you don't have to listen to my orders, and then I get pissed at myself because I shouldn't have been such a coward all these years and should've became captain like I was supposed to instead of letting us run around without any kinda definition because you are my goddamn responsibility, Spade, no matter what." Marco's voice had deflated like a popped balloon. "Ace left you to me."

Spade had felt rather apologetic for her poor decision-making up to Marco's last sentence. Her temper, mercurial as of late, simmered to a boiling point and tipped over.

"I'm not some poor damsel in distress being left to be taken care of," she snapped. "I'm not this…this baggage left behind! Ace didn't leave me to you—for fuck's sake, he didn't understand what kind of danger we were in up to the moment he fucking died."

Marco brought a hand up to his forehead, clearly regretting the direction of the argument. "That wasn't my point."

"We never had definitions because we never needed them, Marco," she snarled, bulldozing his feeble resistance. "Regardless if you were captain of the Whitebeards, I wouldn't have been your crewmate! I never swore Whitebeard an oath, I never saw him as my captain. I was Hurricane, Marco, I was the goddamn queen of the Underworld and there was no way you could've ever taken responsibility of me because your men could barely stomach the idea of having even an Underworld contact! We had no definition because it worked for us—it got you what you wanted, and if shit hit the fan like it so clearly did…you wouldn't need to be obligated to pick up the pieces and clean up the mess."

Marco didn't answer. He just looked at her, wounded but defenseless, with an expression that Spade didn't know how to handle. Marco was her unequivocal support and vice versa—she was not supposed to be the one tearing him down so eagerly. Something burning lodged in her throat and she looked away from him, brushing her eyes as she did. She was so angry, but it wasn't even at Marco, it was just the residual fury that constantly festered inside her now, swift to strike and maim as it saw fit. She wanted safety in someone, and she thought it'd be in Marco, but clearly she was mistaken.

"I made a choice," she whispered. "Maybe it was a bad one. Maybe Aokiji convinced me when he shouldn't have. But I did what I did, and it wasn't your obligation to stop me. Just like it's not your obligation to fix me now."

Marco opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out, and he closed it promptly. Spade stared out at the open sea blankly, suddenly very tired even though she'd woken up only several hours ago. She felt hollow and overwhelmed all at once, yearning for something she couldn't quite identify, but some part of her mind thought of Law's arms around her and tha-thump of his heart against hers.

"If it's not my responsibility," Marco said finally, "then whose is it?"

"Why should it be anyone's, when it was my choice?"

Marco didn't answer. He let the silence, punctuated only by the waves and occasional seagull's caw, a buoyed whisper of nothingness. Then, he took Spade's wrist and tugged her back toward him. She collapsed against his chest and his arms wrapped around her body tightly. Phoenix flame engulfed them both, and she felt the cool fire lick under her skin, intrusive in a way she hadn't expected, as it burned deep inside her, searching for something to fix. Marco let his flames speak for him, and Spade had nothing to say in return as the fire sought for an obvious wound and, when it found nothing, simply settled in her vacancy.

Spade spent the rest of the morning on the rooftop alone. Marco left to lead a meeting to determine the next course of action, now that it was unlikely for Kaidou to attack Wano any time soon. Despite Spade's questionably safe return, the issue of Izou and Haruta's imprisonment loomed over the Whitebeards, and Marco did not want to delay their rescue any longer. Spade was not uninvited to the meeting, but Marco also did not ask her to attend. He understood to some capacity where Spade's headspace was.

Still, it was difficult for her to be idle. As much as she wanted to not care, Spade dealt poorly with being aimless. It didn't take long for her to pilfer an Interceptor Den-Den Mushi from the library and flip through Underworld channels listlessly, more out of habit than necessity, especially when information was so baseless. She let the channels play static as the news gull arrived, but the newspaper was fairly useless as well, stating only information that she already knew.

"Anything important?"

Robin climbed over the wall onto the roof fluidly. She sat down next to Spade and offered her a small container that smelled absolutely divine.

"Meat buns," she explained. "Pork and beef, if you want some."

"Thanks." Spade took the box gratefully. "There's been nothing new. Why aren't you at the meeting?"

"There are enough Strawhats to delegate the work," Robin said cheerily. "I thought I could take a break. Marco thought you could do with the company."

"Marco sent you?"

"He didn't send me," Robin chided. "He merely suggested."

"I don't need—"

"Spade, please. Just let people care for you, all right?"

Spade bit into a steaming hot bun and nearly scalded herself in the process.

"Shit." She spat out the bite.

"Not to your taste?"

"No, it's fine. Just burnt myself." She ran her tongue over her teeth and winced as the tip of her tongue seared.

Robin was amused. "See, this is why you need people to take care of you."

Spade waited silently for her meal to cool down. Robin did not attempt to force further conversation, instead waiting patiently for Spade to contribute her end.

"There's no point," Spade said finally, "in people taking care of me. I don't…no one owes me that."

"We all owe you that," said Robin. "That's what friends do, they take care of each other."

"Yeah, but what if it's between your friend and your captain? Your friend or your crewmate? You have to make choices sometimes, Robin, and I don't want to make that decision hard. It shouldn't be, not when you've sworn loyalty."

"It's not your choice whether that decision is hard or not," the historian returned. "It's going to be hard regardless. Marco made a decision that would've ended in guilt no matter what—you don't need to try and wish that guilt away. You need to accept it. Find a solution for it, not pretend it doesn't or shouldn't exist."

Spade looked at her suspiciously. "Were you eavesdropping?"

"No, of course not. Marco was upset after your conversation, and I made some deductions."

Spade narrowed her eyes. "You seem to understand Marco quite well."

Robin shrugged. "To be honest, he's not a complicated person. Law is much harder to read."

Sometimes, Spade couldn't explain just how her mind worked or made assumptions, but the words fell out of her mouth with a conviction she could not doubt.

"You and Marco are fucking, aren't you?"

Spade did not sound angry or accusatory, but behind Robin's amusement was the barest flicker of wariness.

"How'd you get there?" Robin said wryly.

"Because I know his type. He likes a puzzle." Spade sat up so she could face Robin properly. "It also explains just how weirdly guilty he's been."

"Are you mad?"

Spade laughed, but it rang untrue. "I'm not allowed to be mad, Robin. Marco and I weren't anything exclusive."

"For fuck's sake, just because there are no labels doesn't mean you're not allowed to feel things," Robin said coolly. "If you're upset, just say you are!"

Spade bit her already sore tongue. "I'm not mad. I'm annoyed, but it'll go away."

"You don't need to be annoyed," Robin said. "It was a one time thing."

Spade frowned. "Marco doesn't really do one time things."

"We've been stressed and needed to decompress, that was it," Robin said firmly. "We're friendly and we enjoy each other, but that's it."

"Not for Marco. If you know him well, then you should know that about him. He's not like Law."

The amusement had all but disappeared from Robin's face. "I wasn't looking for—"

"It's none of my business," interrupted Spade. "You two figure it out. Just don't ignore it. Marco deserves better than that, and I'll be more annoyed if you hurt him."

Robin let out an exasperated breath. "Fine. I'll talk to him about it." She reached over for one of Spade's pork buns. They ate in silence for several minutes, enjoying the fresh air and sound of the ocean. Spade hadn't been lying about her irritation going away; she could feel it withering away with every passing second. There was truthfully nothing to be angry about, and nothing between her and Marco had changed. Their problems remained, and their fundamentals were unchanged.

"We should probably stop sleeping with the same men, shouldn't we?" Robin said suddenly.

She looked slyly over at Spade, who tried her best to keep a straight face. At the sight of Robin's creeping smile, though, Spade burst out laughing, joined quickly by Robin's chuckles. She felt slightly lighter, and she realized that Robin had somehow managed to treat her in a way Spade couldn't have explicitly verbalized: normally, unapologetically, freely.

She took advantage of dinnertime to slip back into the sleeping quarters, intending to retire early without giving anyone a chance to interrogate her. The corridors were empty and the prospect of a bath relaxing. Spade made her way to her room, but paused when she got to Law's room.

She wasn't sure why she stopped. She wasn't sure if she wanted to knock. She wasn't sure of what she wanted. Sex? Company? Cuddling? She couldn't justify any of them. Was she safe with Law now? No, fear didn't disappear so quickly. There were so many reasons to be angry with him still, and she wasn't prepared to let all of them go.

Still. She didn't know what she wanted of him. She just knew she wanted him.

"Everything all right, Miss Spade?"

Spade startled and turned to find Law looking at her with a peculiar expression on his face.

"Yeah. Yeah, sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for."

"Shouldn't you be at dinner?"

"I ate earlier. I'd rather sleep early, take advantage of the quiet while I can." He approached her and reached for the door handle to his room. "Should I invite you in?"

She gave him an appraising look, which he returned with a half-smirk.

"I'm being considerate, Miss Spade," he explained.

"Well, it's creepy," she said. "You don't need to act unlike yourself, you know."

"Would you rather me grab you and shove you into the room, because I can do that too."

"Just open the damn door, Law."

He obliged and she followed him inside. The room was not terribly well furnished, with a single futon in the center of the tatami mats and a small desk to the left-hand side. A small wardrobe sat in the opposite corner of the room. Without any other options, Spade boldly sat on the mattress, unsure of what to ask for and what to expect.

"You weren't at the meeting," Law remarked, heading first for his closet. He took off his cap and placed it carefully on the counter.

"Marco didn't ask me to go, and I didn't want to."

"Do you want updates?"

"No." He arched an eyebrow at her, and she scowled. "Maybe later."

Law pulled his shirt over his head. "Don't do this to yourself, Spade."

"Do what?"

"Take yourself out of the picture," he said. "You aren't the type to sit idly. Miss too much, and people will stop considering you as a player."

"Maybe I don't want to be one anymore."

Law dropped his shirt in the laundry hamper and proceeded to remove his trousers. Spade unabashedly watched the clothes slip off his skin, revealing lines of muscle and ink, appreciating the view as Law straightened up with his cat-like grace and ran a hand through his hair. He made his way over to the mattress in nothing but his boxers and sat down next to her.

"You don't mean that," he said. "There's still much to be done."

"I'm tired." She looked down at her hands. "It took me so much time and energy to build up what I had before. I don't think I have it in me to do it again."

"You don't have to rebuild the same thing. The Underworld will disappear without you or the Joker. Perhaps that's not a bad option."

"The Underworld will never disappear—there will always be a need for a black market. Someone else can fill my shoes." She lied down fully. "I'm not irreplaceable."

Law sighed. "Don't wallow in your self-pity. It's unsightly."

The words stung more than they should have, but she did not have a good response. She knew that she was irritating everyone, including herself, but she couldn't help it. She needed time to process and recover, and resuming her role as Hurricane or whatever force she'd been before felt like an impossible burden to bear.

"How are you okay?" she said hollowly.

"I never said I was."

"You're functioning," she said. "You're…you're calm. And after everything you went through, from Doflamingo to losing your crewmates…I just don't understand how you can think about next steps."

"I'm good at hiding my insecurities." He climbed over her, careful with his weight, and leaned down so that their foreheads touched. "You of all people should be able to see through my façades."

"I really can't tell right now," she said weakly.

"That's nonsense. There's no other reason that you barged in here yesterday to confront me." His lips brushed hers. "The only reason I am calm today is because of what transpired last night."

His voice dropped lower, and briefly his eyes flitted away from hers and he looked uncertain. The expression was as transient as the flicker of a flame. He looked at her again with renewed resolve.

"I think we've both underestimated the effect you have on me," he said very quietly. "When our circumstances are unsettled, I am disrupted to the roots of my very being. I didn't quite understand until after what happened last night, and I'm…I've been able to be calmer today."

"You think we're just fixed now?" she whispered.

Law scoffed. "I'm not so naïve. Your reaction to me this morning proved that we're hardly normal. But still. Compared to how things were before, I am not complaining."

He cradled her cheek with one hand and kissed her, with a careful purpose and intention that left Spade irritated but simultaneously wanting more. She opened her mouth against his and his tongue slipped into her mouth, intrusive and deep but tender. Law had always been a good kisser, but they had never really spent time solely making out, not when sex was an option. Now, though, Law made no move to progress further than kissing her deeply, exploring her mouth with a gentle diligence that he hadn't possessed before.

Before, she would've been annoyed. I don't need you to treat me like I'm going to break. But now, she appreciated it. His gentleness wasn't a result of pity; it was deliberate and methodical, an attempt to break down her guard and prove that any fright wasn't warranted.

She kissed him back deeply, enjoying herself as his hands found their way under her clothes and removed them, meticulous in their exploration. He touched her slowly but not shyly; her body was familiar territory to him, and his touch lingered with a comfort that she sank into. His weight didn't feel oppressive, but instead enveloped her in safe warmth that she opened up to. Her legs spread and his body settled easily between them. He leaned to the side, and in a combination of her own volition and Law's encouragement, Spade found herself sitting on Law's lap, arms linked loosely around his neck. He lied back fully, letting her weight rest against his chest, as they continued to kiss unhurriedly. Law's hands wandered her thighs, found her bottom and slid under her thin panties, tracing senseless patterns and leaving heat in its wake.

She broke off the kiss to mouth down his cheek, feeling the scruff of his manicured beard, before her lips settled in the hollow of his neck. Her tongue traced the ridge of Law's clavicles, leaving marks as she liked, while Law's hands roamed her backside. Spade slipped her hand down his chest and under his boxers to take his length into her palm. She rested her chin on his chest, watching his eyes slide half-shut and his mouth open slightly as she touched him slowly, fingers running over the head of his cock and then back to the base. It wasn't particularly late but they were both sleepy, and their touch was relaxed. Spade took her time with him, waiting patiently for Law's arousal to perk up before attending to his balls with a firm gentleness. She rolled him in her palm and Law let out a sigh.

"Good?" she murmured.

"Slow." Law curved upward so he could kiss her. "You should ride me."

She laughed against his lips. "I didn't think you liked being on the bottom."

"And you don't usually like giving—" He gasped when she seized his cock suddenly, "—head."

"Usually, no." She slid lower, trailing her lips down his chest until she was level with his half-hard length. "Maybe you changed my mind."

She took him into her mouth and Law groaned. He shuffled and rested on his elbows so he could watch her, gray eyes swallowed by pupil and an undeniable hunger in them. She knew what he wanted to do—he'd told her before, after all, and knew that it was taking every bit of self-control Law had not to grip her neck in place and fuck her throat roughly. This pace was unusual for them and she understood that it was intentional. Law wanted Spade in control, for once; he wanted to let her do what she liked while proving she had no retaliation to fear. No matter that Law's hands had already formed fists in the sheets and he was shaking with the tension of holding back.

She began to take more of him, up and down, tongue tracing the head and tasting the salty fluid of his arousal. Her palm continued to fondle his testicles as she felt Law grow in her mouth; she was too tired to try and take all of him and attended what she couldn't fit with her other hand. Law was panting harshly by now, over-stimulated but controlled, and Spade continued, overwhelmed with Law's taste, his musky scent, his heat. Her eyes met his, and she was struck again by how—what was the term Robin had used—oh, yes, pretty he was. The sight of Law holding himself back, on the edge of breaking, sent a rush through Spade that settled in her lower abdomen in a heated knot.

"Spade," he said, voice shaking.

She understood. She detached from him and crawled over him, licking her lips as they scooted face-to-face. Law's hands found their way to the curves of her hips, and he was doing his best not to seem to pushy but was failing because there was an undeniable pressure on her waist, urging her to sit on him.

Spade kissed him and he returned the action hungrily. He pressed her body lower as his own hips thrust upward; she felt his erection, hard and full, brush her thigh and she grinned.

"You're so eager." She pushed him down so that he was flat on his back. She brushed his nipples lightly, and the action made him buck upward with a moan. "Okay, okay…"

She peeled off her underwear, took his hot erection in her grip, and guided him inside her slowly. Thank God she was wet; the ache between her legs from the night before was not insignificant, and she bit her lower lip to muffle a whimper as she eased around him gradually. Law's nails dug into her skin. She was going slowly, much too slowly for his comfort, but she was controlling the pace right now and her needs came first. If Law followed his instinct, Spade would be in tears and screaming into the pillow.

But of course, Law did no such thing. He simply watched her, his face flushed, but his eyes had a glint in them that she did not know how to interpret.

She finally sank down fully around him, gasping with sensation. She felt full but not painfully so; Law fit inside her with a familiarity that Spade was beginning to remember. She began to move up and down, her hands resting on his shoulders as leverage. The motions made Law groan and he began to move with her, carefully and thoughtfully. When they reached a good, even pace, he changed his angle and hit a spot inside her that made her throw her head backward in a moan. Shocks of pleasure reverberated from her core outward, and though their pace did not quicken, their movements gained a depth that they didn't have before. The slow, nearly lazy fuck allowed them to settle and squirm in sensation that they hadn't dwelled on previously. Law felt so fucking good fully sheathed inside her, and he looked incredible underneath her, his mouth curled in a sly smirk, his gray eyes alive now that they were moving at a more bearable pace.

"You look good like this," he said huskily. "What a view."

She should've been past the point of shame, but Spade blushed. The sight of her embarrassment only made Law grin wider.

"I think I like this," he said, almost teasing. "You doing the work."

"Shut up," she said breathlessly.

"Mm. Can't believe I've missed out on this for so long."

She rolled her hips, taking him deeply, before grinding to a halt. Law let out a hiss, but Spade grabbed his hair and leaned close to his ear.

"I said. Shut up."

She began her movements again, small ones, slowly, and Law groaned as he yielded to her pace. She took one of his earrings into her mouth and tugged on the metal with her teeth, the metallic coolness soothing her sensitive tongue. The sound of Law's gasp, the feeling of his hands, one on her breast, one on her backside, the heat they shared filled her senses as the rest of the world blotted from her consciousness. She quickened her pace and Law released a breath in relief. She kissed him briefly before straightening up so she could ride him with full control. Law met her hips with perfectly timed thrusts, the speed built, and Spade kept her eyes on Law even as her vision blurred and her thoughts grew muddled by the pleasure inundating her. Law's own eyes were closed, lost in the moment, and Spade felt her senses heighten in anticipation of watching him come. This was an easy association to make—Law, sex, pleasure—and she was in control, Law was at her mercy so there was nothing to worry about—she could let go, just let go—

Doflamingo sneered at her from underneath, and it was as if she'd been doused in icy water, violently awakened and all traces of her arousal disappeared.

She watched with uncomfortable clarity as Law, unaware of anything, reached his own orgasm and released inside of her. She felt the warmth spill between her legs and shuddered, nauseous with the familiarity of the sensation, reminded of how it felt to be used. She moved off of him quickly. Law, foggy in his post-orgasmic state, still somehow noticed.

"Hey," he said, grabbing her wrist as she tried to scoot off the mattress.

"I have to go," she said, forcing her voice to remain level.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing you can fix." She grabbed the articles of clothing scattered around the floor. "Just—I need to be alone."

Law sat up behind her and placed his hand over hers while his other arm wrapped around her waist. He gently tugged her clothes out of her grasp and placed them back on the floor.

"That sounds like a bad idea," he said quietly.

Spade let out a wracking sob, refusing to move forward or backward. She had been so convinced, had glimpsed the barest sense of control and the freedom to let it go on her own accord, only to have it shattered by someone who wasn't even there, who probably wasn't even alive. The flashbacks she had of Ace's death were terrible, but these were worse: all-consuming, paralyzing, maddening.

Law held her tightly from behind.

"It will take time," he whispered. "Longer than you can imagine. But you will heal. I'll make sure of it. I promise."

He interlaced his fingers with hers, his dark skin making a pretty pattern with hers. She read D-blank-E-blank-A-blank-T-blank-H-blank and did not miss the irony of how reading DEATH made her calmer.

Law knocked on the door and politely waited to hear "Come in" before pushing it open. Marco sat behind his desk, which was surrounded by Jozu, Vista, and Blenheim. Empty trays of food were piled in the corner of the room and the remnant odor of meat drenched in savory sauce wafted through the room; they'd clearly had a working dinner.

"Need something, Law?" Marco said, surprised.

"A word, if you will."

Marco glanced at the other Whitebeard commanders. "Now? We're in the middle of something."

"Then I'll make this quick," Law said coolly. "I'm going to ask Spade to join my crew."

The Whitebeards stared at him. The silence was broken by Vista's sudden outburst of laughter.

"What the fuck? Yeah, real good one, Law, super funny…as if you could convince Spade to leave Marco."

"I actually don't imagine it would be terribly difficult," Law said. "I'm rather surprised that this would come as a shock—surely you've considered the possibility."

"No," Jozu said gravely, "we thought you had more honor than to poach a crewmember. Do you know what kind of offense you're suggestin'?"

"It's hardly an offense when she is not your crewmate," he returned.

Jozu's face darkened. "She—"

"If you have doubts about what I just said, you should ask Blenheim what Spade is to the Whitebeards, and that should vindicate me," Law interrupted.

"Don't bring me into this," Blenheim said gruffly.

"Why?" Law retorted. "Don't you represent a fair faction of the Whitebeards who refuse to accept Spade's role as a Whitebeard affiliate because of her Underworld dealings? It must be nice to adamantly remain on the side of moral justice while benefiting from all the dirty work you righteously condemn."

"Law," said Marco sharply.

But Law was past the point of giving a fuck. He wanted nothing more than to be rid of the Whitebeards. The majority of the morning meeting had been a longwinded discussion of how to save Izou and Haruta, which was fine, except Law felt no desire to contribute to another escape mission. He had just taken down a Yonkou, and there were multiple vacuums in existing power structures that he'd rather take advantage of; playing the hero yet again was none of Law's concern. His goal was to find One Piece, just like Ikkaku and Uni wanted him to. To accomplish that goal, Law wanted the Underworld, and to achieve that, he needed Spade by his side.

This reasoning, of course, was further justified by the fact that Law simply wanted Spade, and upon having her, would never let her go. He hadn't been lying to Spade; when they hated each other, Law was rattled to the center of his being. When they were reconciled, Law felt whole in a way he had understood he'd been searching for since his childhood.

He knew why. He also knew better than to voice that reason aloud.

"Let me be clear," Law said, the picture of calm despite that he had four Whitebeard commanders glaring daggers at him. "I am not here to ask for your permission. It is purely out of polite, gracious courtesy that I am giving you a notice. I want Spade on my crew. I am not afraid of her Underworld dealings—if anything, under my captainship, she'd get more support from the Hearts than she ever got from you lot. I've already asked my men, and they are more than willing to have her join. I merely need Spade's consent—your opinions are, for lack of a better word, irrelevant."

"You lil—"

"Fine," Marco said, eyes closing in acquiescence. "Ask her."

"Marco, you can't be serious," Jozu said in disbelief.

"None of his argument is wrong," said the Phoenix serenely. "He has every right to ask, and Spade has every right to consider the offer."

Law had expected a bit more resistance from him, but Marco appeared weary and unwilling to fight. He only stared at Law, his blue eyes unblinking and penetrating in a violating way.

"That's not your only reason, is it?" Marco's question, cryptic and accusatory, was directed to Law alone.

Law didn't answer. Marco laughed slightly, deeming his silence satisfactory, and waved him out.

"Good luck, then."

The days passed at the pace of a Mushi's crawl. Spade did not mind. Even though her nights blended into days, sleeping with Law always granted her several hours of sleep smattered throughout the day, and it was enough for her to regain a weak rein over herself. She tried to establish a routine, nothing too strenuous—cardio exercise with Underworld news in the morning, then breakfast, then World Government news, then strength training before lunch. Her afternoons were spent on Haki meditation, which she begrudgingly shared with Aokiji. The two of them exchanged the barest minimum of words; Kuzan was still cautious around her, and Spade was still resentful. Nonetheless, her fight with Doflamingo had unlocked a dam of hidden Haki that Spade had never imagined she'd have. Aokiji, pleased with his investment, was eager to hone it further.

Spade was, of course, thinking too poorly of him.

Her meals and free time were spent largely with the Hearts. It didn't make a lot of sense; she should've been overjoyed to be reunited with Marco and the Whitebeards, but Marco and the other friendly commanders seemed crippled in his interactions with her. The Whitebeards who'd resented her so much before now did not know how to express their hostility when Spade's Underworld dealings had yielded the death of Blackbeard. Spade hung around Robin occasionally, but found it difficult to interact with the Strawhats normally without feeling the pressure to address the hovering question of what had happened during her captivity. It was a question she did want to answer and an answer that she was quite certain the Strawhats could not handle.

She oddly enough felt none of that pressure or awkwardness with the Hearts. She felt guilty the first few days—surely they held her accountable for Uni and Ikkaku's deaths—but there was never any indication of the matter. She shouldn't have doubted. If a crew could love Law this much, then forgiveness came as second nature.

Which left Law himself. Something had changed fundamentally in him, likely for the better. He'd seem to have come to terms with something between the two of them, and it made him gentler, kinder, almost to an unsettling degree. She'd thought initially that it was an overcompensation in response to her fear of him, but she swiftly realized that it was different. He had always expressed a deeper desire for her, through control, power, or ownership, but recently that had disappeared. There was no struggle between them now, or at least nothing that Law contributed to. Any tension left was residual trauma, and Law assiduously whittled at it with the determination of one grinding a log into sawdust.

Only Law had an idea of what had happened during her imprisonment, likely because he had undergone similar treatment, and as a result, only he truly understood. Spade didn't know how to express her appreciation for him.

One night, the Hearts were trying to have a bonfire outside in the eastern gardens, which was a terrible idea because Wano was a rainy country and dry wood was difficult to find. The Hearts gathered a large pile of damp logs and bark and Spade, after Bepo's irresistible beseeching, dried them with small puffs of wind. After over an hour of failed sparks and inhaling too much smoke, the Hearts celebrated around a teeny campfire, which Bepo promptly extinguished with an ill-placed sneeze.

Spade leaned against Law, the two of them wrapped in a blanket as they watched Shachi and Penguin chase Bepo around the poor remnants of their hard work. She laughed at the sight, and Law gave one of his half-smiles.

"Enjoying yourself?" he said.

"Not hard to, with your crew," she murmured.

He made a noise of assent. His hold around her waist tightened and he rested his chin on her head. She heard him take in a deep breath and exhale very slowly.

"Something wrong?" she asked.

"No. It's just…we're going to leave in a few days."

Spade felt Law had just picked her up and thrown her into the open ocean. "What? Why? Where?"

"Marco wants to sail off to Impel Down soon, and that's not a battle I have a stake in. I want to take advantage of him clashing with Kaidou. There's an open Yonkou position, possibly two if Marco wins, which means many New World territories will fall into chaos. I want to take advantage of the mess."

Of course. While Spade had enjoyed the stagnancy, Law had never been content sitting still. He had attended all meetings faithfully, and while Spade retired early every night, Law had reassumed his terrible sleeping patterns, spending hours mapping out what he knew of the New World and digging into the deepest Wano archives for additional information. She should have seen this coming, but it did not blunt the shock.

"Why is this the first time I'm hearing about this?"

"You've been avoiding the meetings," he replied, "and you never wanted updates."

"This is a different kind of update!"

"It doesn't have to be. I didn't bring it up because I didn't think it'd matter."

"Of course it matters!" she said angrily. "You were just going to disappear on me?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Law sighed. "I didn't think it'd matter because I want you to come with me."

Several meters away, Bepo let out a playful howl as Shachi and Penguin finally caught him and tackled him to the ground. In the furthest corner of the garden, Jean Bart had started his own fire, while other Hearts egged on the brawl. Amidst all the joyous chaos, Spade only heard Law's statement echo through her head. He returned her expression with a blank one of his own, but she was against his chest and could feel his heartbeat thump quickly.

"Why are you so surprised?" he asked, tone dry. "You never considered this?"

"I…I guess not," she admitted. "I don't know why, though. It…seems like a rather obvious option."

"Yes," he said simply, "I thought so too.

She just stared at him, dumbfounded and feeling rather stupid. She knew this was a huge deal, that she should be feeling many emotions, but all that registered was a wet blanket of numbness as her mind feebly attempted to process exactly what Law had suggested. Spade could tell that he was growing increasingly unimpressed with her lack of response, and in a slight panic, she brought a hand up to his cheek and kissed him. Some crewmembers whooped off in the distance, but she ignored them and deepened the kiss, tasting Law and cigarette smoke. Law broke off the kiss, clearly seeing through her distraction, and he resumed his gaze with unfettered intensity.

"So?" he said. "Is that a yes?"

"I…I need to think about it."

"What is there to think about?" he said a tad impatiently. "It makes sense, doesn't it?"

"In some ways, yes, but—"

"You've never wanted to be a Whitebeard. I highly doubt you'd be more comfortable around the Strawhats than around us. We have similar goals and similar styles—I respect your skills and won't hold you back. I understand the Underworld likely better than any other captain, so if you want to recover Hurricane, I could help you recover it faster than anyone else. My crew likes you and vice versa. We don't have a navigational scout, and that's your area of expertise. We both have grudges against the World Government, and believe me that I care very little if the Marines as an institution survive this era. So it makes sense. Not to mention that I love you."

It was clear that Law had prepared this argument well in advance. Throughout it, his tone never inflected. He stated his last sentence just as dispassionately as the rest of his argument, a single bullet point in the "pros" column of "Why You Should Join the Hearts Pirates, presented to you by Trafalgar Law." His breath never hitched, his voice did not waver or soften. It was clear, confident, and it was because Law did not make a big deal out of this declaration that Spade believed him. Just like everything else he had stated, it was a fact.

"I…" Her voice came out wobbly, and she cleared her throat so she could start over, stronger. "Thank you. For offering. And for saying that."

Law remained expressionless, but his heart seemed to be beating very rapidly and Spade wanted desperately for it to slow down before it exploded.

"I'm not saying no," she said seriously. "I just need more time, all right? I need to talk to some people."

"Like who?" he said evenly.

"Marco. And more importantly, your crewmates."

"I've already asked them and they are more than happy—"

"Law," she said gently. "I think my questions will be a little different than yours."

He was clearly displeased with her response and finally averted his gaze elsewhere. Penguin had wrestled Bepo to the ground ("That's 117 to 116, bear, now you're the subordinate!") and Shachi had started roasting some kabobs over Jean Bart's fire, which was now dancing and alive. The scent of meat would surely lure Luffy over to the Hearts' quarters, which meant this privacy between them would disappear soon. Spade opened her mouth, but then Law spoke, so quietly that Spade could barely hear him.

"I thought we would heal best when we were together. Thought we'd be better…around each other."

Spade's throat felt dry. This remark, barely audible over the crackles of firewood and the laughter of Law's family, meant more than anything else Law had said up to this point. It was an invitation to be a partner, a recognition that their biggest flaw was that they were both a little fucked up and was it a good idea to be around each other because of it—but Law didn't see it that way, he thought they could bring out the best of each other because they understood each other, and not just the little quirks or their best qualities—no, they truly understood each other, trauma and hopes and dreams and fears, dark instincts and moral compasses and impulse. This was what Law had meant. Stripped raw of any other defenses, this was what made the most sense.

"Hey." Her whisper came out cracked. "I love you too."

Law nodded, his lips set in a grim line, and he held her tighter like he was afraid she would disappear into empty air. Despite that Spade had done that very thing so many times before, she stayed in place this time, because there was nowhere to run, and even if there were, she did not want to.