Chapter 25: In Love With Your Ghost

Writer's note: So. New year, and the final chapter. Writing endings is unbelievably difficult... I was never gonna be happy with this chapter, but I'm as happy with it as I can manage right now. Hopefully I haven't done too shabby a job of it.

I want to say a massive Thank You to all of you who've been reading, favouriting, following, reviewing and generally showering me with love. It's been so appreciated, and has made writing (and especially, finishing) this fic so much more rewarding. I can't get over what a wonderful bunch of OP fic fans and writers there are out here. I'm sending cyber hugs and love and general shameless fluffiness in your direction, all of you. :o) 3

Dreams or nightmares fade. But do the ghosts that have been walking go with them?

There's not enough room in this world for my pain
Signals cross and love gets lost and time passed makes it plain
Of all my demon spirits I need you the most
I'm in love with your ghost
I'm in love with your ghost

- Indigo Girls

When morning came, Sanji woke late and slowly, coming up through the veils of sleep a piece at a time. Sounds came first, the quiet noises of birds coming in through the open window. The flow of his own breath, in and out. Then touch: the feel of warmth at his back, the weight of an arm slung over his waist. He opened his eyes and sight flooded in. At some point in the night he and Zoro had traded positions and now he lay on his other side, the swordsman curled against his back with his arm wrapped loosely over him. For a while Sanji just lay there, gazing at the edge of the bed; at the morning light falling across the wall beyond.

A voice rumbled at his back. "You awake, cook?"

"Mhmm," Sanji acknowledged.

The arm slung over him tightened slightly, pulling him back a little. He let himself be tugged closer against the swordsman's warmth, smiling a little. "Ahh... Sleeping on an actual fucking bed. Luxury."

Zoro's head rested against the back of his: Sanji felt lips press against his neck, before Zoro's low voice came again. "I can think of more interesting things to do in an actual fucking bed."

"I bet." Sanji noted how the swordsman's hand was stroking against his stomach now. Starting to creep lower. He placed his own hand over it and interlinked their fingers, gripping firmly to halt their descent. "I gather that means you're feeling somewhat better."

"Better," agreed Zoro. "But not as good as I could be feeling."

Sanji snorted. "I need to get up and make breakfast."

"What's the hurry?"

"Oi, moss brain... I'm not about to bump uglies with you in the good doctor's back bedroom. Especially since the chances are that he or Chopper might walk in on us halfway through."

"Seeing as they're both doctors... chances are they won't see anything they haven't seen before," Zoro suggested.

"Anatomically speaking, maybe. That still doesn't mean I'm going to give them a working demonstration." Sanji deliberately lifted the swordsman's hand away from his stomach. "Go take a cold shower or something."

"Shitty cook..." The growl wasn't a hundred percent serious.

"Cook being the operative word." Sanji sat up, swinging his feet from under the covers and onto the floor. He pulled his shoes on, before turning and looking behind him. Zoro lay with his head propped on one hand, gazing at him. His hair was rumpled and his eyes still looked drowsy, but his colour was almost back to normal. Sanji found himself smiling. "You look almost human, marimo."

Zoro grunted. "Thanks. Coming from a curly-browed freak like you, that means a lot."

"Asshole." Sanji leaned back with one hand braced on the bed and pressed a kiss against his lover's lips. He had intended to make it swift and then escape, counting on Zoro's just-awakened state to slow him down: but of course it didn't work out that way. A hand curled around the back of his neck, pulling him in. The mouth beneath his parted and after a moment's resistance he just went with it, letting the kiss deepen. It felt too good not to.

When a natural pause for breath came, Zoro kept his hold on Sanji. "Hmm... Sure that breakfast couldn't wait a while longer?"

"You're the one that'll have to wait." Sanji extricated himself with ease of long practice, eluding the swordsman's other hand trying to snag him and haul him down onto the bed. "What do you want for breakfast?"

Zoro regarded him with a look that signified that defeat was only temporary. "I don't mind, as long as there's plenty of it."

Sanji allowed himself a smirk of satisfaction. Zoro's recovery seemed to be following the familiar pattern he'd expected: sleep like a hibernating bear in winter, then eat like one waking up in spring. "Fine. I'll be cooking in the kitchen. You should get your ass up and drag it to the bathroom, take a shower or something."

Zoro's brows drew together. "I don't feel like taking a shower."

"Tough. The rest of us don't feel like inhaling the smell of unwashed swordsman over breakfast." Sanji shrugged. "It's been days, moss-head. You reek, even more than usual. Overcome your usual aversion to soap and water and do us all a favour."

"Mouthy bastard..." Zoro scowled at him.

"No-one wants marimo musk putting them off their food." Sanji moved to the doorway. "Breakfast in half an hour. Don't forget to wash behind your ears."

In the event Zoro appeared just as Sanji was dishing up, looking more or less scrubbed and with hair still damp. Both Dr Kawashima and Chopper greeted the swordsman with pleased expressions, plying him with questions that Sanji interrupted by setting the food on the table on front of them. "Put a hold on the medical consultation till after we've eaten."

Chopper, beaming, picked up his fork. "Sorry, Sanji. We just want to make sure that Zoro's feeling all right."

Sanji indicated Zoro with his thumb: the swordsman was shovelling food into his mouth at a pace that rivalled Luffy in one of his feeding frenzies. "Looks like it, doesn't it?"

Kawashima was regarding Zoro with an expression that was a mixture of satisfaction and wonder. "Quite remarkable. I have never seen a patient recover from such a serious condition so rapidly."

Chopper, more familiar with Zoro's spectacular powers of recovery, gave a nod. "It's good to see you up and about, Zoro. But you must be sensible: you'll need to continue getting plenty of rest, eat well and build up your strength slowly. You musn't overdo things while you're still healing from the anti-venom. And after breakfast Dr Kawashima and I will give you a full physical, make sure that everything is as it should be."

Zoro swallowed another mouthful of food from his plate, before gesturing with his fork. "After breakfast I'm going to train."

"Absolutely not!" Chopper bristled, drawing himself up in his chair.

Sanji bent over his own food, tuning out the argument that was swiftly escalating in volume between his two nakama. He favoured Dr Kawashima, who was regarding Chopper and Zoro with consternation, with a friendly smile. "You may want to find somewhere out of earshot of these two if you want to digest your meal in peace."

As so often happened however, the outcome of Zoro's stubborness and Chopper's persistence was a near dead-heat. Chopper scored a partial victory, whereby Zoro submitted to being checked over by both doctors before being 'allowed' out into the garden to train. Sanji intervened only briefly, making the casual comment that a certain crap swordsman might have trouble finding a certain sword if he didn't listen to what Chopper was saying and cooperate. Zoro gave the cook a filthy look, before grudgingly allowing Kawashima and Chopper to do what they had to.

Sanji took advantage of the temporary lull to retreat into the kitchen, busying himself with clearing away and washing up. That done he took inventory of what food remained, placing any leftovers neatly in the refrigerator. At least Kawashima will have a few days' worth of meals after we've gone. That they would soon be leaving, he was sure of. He was under no illusions that Chopper's opinion notwithstanding, Zoro would want to return to the Going Merry as soon as possible. Not least because his two remaining swords were there.

Sanji himself wouldn't be sorry to go. He'd spent too many anxious hours in the doctor's house to feel relaxed staying under its roof. And although an uneasy truce seemed to be holding with the locals, he was pretty sure that the Mugiwara had outstayed their welcome in Muna. Probably it would be best for everyone – Dr Kawashima included – if he and his nakama got the hell out of Dodge, soonest.

When the kitchen was finally straightened up, Sanji boiled the kettle and brewed some coffee. He stuck his head into the main room: Chopper was sitting at the table, packing away his medical bag. "I made coffee. You or Dr Kawashima want some?"

Chopper looked up. "Oh. I will, thank you, Sanji." He glanced around. "Dr Kawashima went out, to the market. He needs to replace the things from his medical supplies, that we used."

Sanji poured a cup and added milk and lots of sugar, before setting it in front of the little reindeer. "I guess we owe him for those. Any idea how much?"

Chopper shook his head. "He told me he wouldn't accept any payment for treating Zoro."

"Seriously?" Sanji was surprised.

"He said that it was the least he could do." Chopper picked up his coffee mug and took a careful sip. "I think he still feels bad about having concealed the full truth from us."

Sanji grunted. "Well... That's his call, I guess. But it's not like the old guy can afford to give away his services for nothing." He gestured around the shabby room. "He's not exactly living in the lap of luxury here. We ought to at least give him something for his time and expertise. Truthful or not... if we hadn't found him, Zoro would have been screwed."

"I said something similar." Chopper gazed thoughtfully around Kawashima's room as well. "But Zoro's not the only one who can be stubborn. Dr Kawashima absolutely refused to accept anything."

"Hmm." Sanji frowned. "Maybe we can think of some way of recompensing him that he will accept. It doesn't feel right, just high-tailing it out of town without giving him something for having helped us. Not just curing Zoro, although that's what we came here for... But he stuck up for us against the locals, too. That's likely going to cost him in future. After all, his neighbours are his patients, too."

"I know." Chopper's brow furrowed. "Let me think on it. I'll come up with something."

Sanji nodded. "Meantime... I assume the marimo got the all-clear from the two of you after his physical, as he's not sulking in here."

Chopper took on a slightly vexed expression. "He seems to be recovering well. He would recover fully even more quickly if he was to rest..."

"He's training out in the garden, right?"

"Yes." The sigh with which Chopper said this was equal parts frustration and resignation. "I told him not to overdo it."

"Then I better go out and check to make sure he's following doctor's orders. And kick his ass when I see that he isn't." Sanji picked up his own mug of coffee. "Don't worry, Chopper. I'll make sure that stubborn idiot doesn't undo all your hard work."

As Sanji walked out into the garden, warm spring air met his skin. He paused for a moment to breathe in the fresh smells, of plants and moist earth. Reaching down to a small bush of rosemary growing in a cracked terracotta pot beside the house, he rubbed a sprig between finger and thumb, crushing the thin leaves. Lifting his hand to his face he inhaled the resinous aroma, shutting his eyes for a moment. Warm, woody, slightly bitter, spicy notes. Dishes cycled through his mind. Lamb tagine; herbed roast potatoes; apple tart.

The astringent scent on his fingertips grounded him, placed him exactly in the here and now. Standing in this garden, the breeze pushing against his shirt. The taste of good coffee on his palate; the weight of his half-full mug in his other hand. The brightness of the spring sky through his closed eyelids. Somewhere nearby, the woody music of the bamboo windchime he'd heard before, from the window of the little back bedroom.

Sanji opened his eyes and took a sip of his coffee. Stood there for a little while, his eyes taking in the things around him. The growing plants. The clouds drifting across the sky.

He finished his coffee unhurriedly, before setting down the empty mug on an empty upturned flowerpot and taking out his cigarettes. Only after he'd lit one did he slowly stroll forwards, following the stone-flagged path that led down to the far end end of the garden.

When he came in view of the bench he stopped, not saying anything. Simply stood and watched the swordsman moving, his back to the cook, in the open space beyond the bench.

Zoro had Wado Ichimonji in his left hand, held straight-armed before him. Then with a flicker the sword's blade span circles either side of Zoro's head; sliced round through the air in a wide arc as the swordsman pivoted smoothly on the spot. Zoro didn't see Sanji watching him: his eyes were closed, yet his hand and arm and whole body moved surely and smoothly.

It was something Sanji had seen Zoro do countless times. A formal dance of steel and discipline; a choreography for killing. A sword's purpose was to end a human life... Or at the very least, to damage it. When Sanji's own hands wielded his kitchen knives, it was to create food for the pleasure of his nakama. However much Sanji could appreciate the skill it took to execute the flawless patterns of the kata, it didn't really move him.

But now as Zoro shifted his balance, surely placing each step where it needed to be, the muscles in his shoulder flexing as he brought Wado Ichimonji swiftly through the empty air, the rhythm of the kata sharp and precise and perfect, Sanji felt a strange ache in his chest. He raised his cigarette to his mouth and drew in deep, tasting smoke and smelling the ghost of rosemary on his fingers, eyes narrowed as he watched Zoro. The way the swordsman's brows were pulled together, just a little, in concentration. The flex of the strong fingers on the katana's hilt. The single line of sweat that had run down the side of his face and was tracking down his neck. Sanji breathed out a long stream of smoke, his gaze following every movement.

Why are you staring, idiot. It's just the marimo swinging his sword about. You've seen him do it a thousand times.

Yet his eyes took it all in. Every sweep of the bright blade. Every angle and plane of the other man's body, shifting, changing. Graceful, swift, purposeful. The way a flush had risen across Zoro's cheekbones, exertion colouring the skin.

What would I have done. If this had become just a memory. If you hadn't turned around when I shouted your name.

Zoro sliced Wado Ichimonji sideways, exhaling sharply as the katana moved like an extension of his arm. Then suddenly he stopped: both hands clasped around the sword's hilt, his arms outstretched in front of him. Holding still for long seconds, only the sound of his breath coming hard in the quiet garden. Then with a final swift movement he swept the sword downwards, the tip pointing to the ground; before reversing and sliding it gently home into the saya on his right hip. His hands lowered, then relaxed against his sides.

Sanji stayed silent and still, cigarette between his fingers. He saw Zoro's eyes open, fixing on the garden before him. The swordsman took a deep breath in and let it out slowly. Then he spoke. "Chopper send you out to nag me?"

Sanji flicked ash off the end of his cigarette and took another drag on it before answering. "You know what Chopper told you. I'm not in the business of trying to get common sense to penetrate that thick skull of yours."

Zoro turned around then, drawing Wado Ichimonji in its saya from his belt. Giving Sanji an appraising look, the swordsman walked over to the bench and sat down, propping his katana beside him. "I feel fine. Pretty much back to normal."

Sanji strolled towards the bench and also sat. "For a given value of 'normal', maybe."

Zoro grunted. "I didn't have any dreams, last night. And no... other stuff, today." His gaze rested on the garden in front of them. "Like I said. Back to normal."

Sanji gave a nod. "Great. But yesterday you were about to take a long walk off a short cliff, so maybe taking things easy for a couple of days so you don't have any set-backs might not be a bad idea."

A muscle tightened in Zoro's jaw. "Set-backs? That what Chopper said? That unless I sit around on my ass doing nothing I'll start seeing things again?"

Sanji felt the swordsman's quick tension. "No, he didn't say that. And neither did I. I just meant, you've been through the mill. So it wouldn't hurt to pace yourself. Y'know, maybe a little more than you usually do." There was an unpromising silence at his suggestion.

Sanji looked at the swordsman. Zoro was still frowning at the garden in front of him. Where his hand rested on the bench between them, it was clenched. "Oi." Sanji spoke more quietly this time. "Is that what you're thinking, that it could happen again? That you'll have some kind of relapse with the dreams, or the hallucinations? Because neither Chopper nor Kawashima said anything like that to me. Did they say something about it to you?"

"No." Zoro's voice was low.

"Okay then. So, let's assume that's nothing you need to worry about."

"Easy for you to say." Zoro's response was brusque.

"O, you think?" Sanji felt anger spark up in his chest, a flame kindling out of nowhere as if on dry tinder. "Because watching you about to step off a cliff was in no way stressful for me. Right."

Zoro's eyes tightened. "It wasn't exactly fun for me either."

"Yeah? That's good to know. Because for a while there you looked like you were pretty evenly split between whether to step forwards or back." More words were spilling out than Sanji meant, surfing on a tide of anger. "But lucky for you, I turned up when I did and now here we are enjoying the sunshine in Dr Kawashima's garden."

The look Zoro turned on Sanji then was so dark that for a moment the cook thought he was going to find himself sparring with the swordsman. But after a few seconds Zoro spoke in a voice that was tight with control. "You think I'm not grateful? That you showed up when you did?"

"I'm not fishing for compliments, asshole. But if you think any part of this has been easy for the rest of us, you are a bigger moron than I already thought." The ache in Sanji's chest made him reckless. "How do you think it feels for me to know that if I'd got there a minute later, we'd have been burying you today?"

Zoro's lips moved, but no words came. At last he took a breath, before speaking in a voice that was raw-edged. "I know that I owe you my life." His gaze never left the cook's. "I will never forget that."

Sanji felt his own hands tightening into fists. "Is that a good thing? Or a burden?" He watched the other man's face. "That... I don't want that. Your, your gratitude , or some bullshit bushido debt of honour, or however the hell it works. And as for you owing me your life... You're the one that turned away from that cliff edge."

Zoro lifted a hand. Sanji felt the barest touch, fingertips just meeting his throat. The momentary sting of the broken skin there. "I turned away, because you reminded me what was real."

"You still had to make the decision. To trust me." Sanji remembered the feel of the sharp cold blade. How steady it had been. Like the fingers resting on his neck now.

"You told me to kill you."

"Yeah… Looking back on it, it wasn't one of my better plans." Sanji let a corner of his mouth lift wryly. "Spur of the moment thing."

A beat fell between them. Then Zoro's mouth slowly broke into a reluctant answering smile. "Crazy shitty cook."

"It worked, didn't it?"

Zoro let his hand fall onto the bench. "Fortunately." Though the half-smile stayed, his eyes searched the cook's face. "What would you have done if it hadn't?"

"Didn't even consider that for a second." Steel sliding home. A foot stepping back, into air. "I know how your dumb moss brain works."

The smile was gone now. "Bullshit."

"I told you, idiot marimo. You don't get to do something that stupid without me. Remember?"

"I remember." The swordsman's dark eyes held Sanji's. Reading what was really there. "Everything you did."

Sanji felt a flush creep across his face. Suddenly he felt as though he was back at the cliff. Only this time he was the one whose feet were close to the edge. "Yeah, well... I figured whatever got you away alive from that edge, was worth doing."

As as the words left his lips he felt a wrongness break between them. Zoro's shoulders stiffened; his mouth grew tight. "Whatever?"

Shit. Sweat prickled on Sanji's skin. "Well, it was worth it, wasn't it? When it got you back?" He had no idea where this was going.

Zoro turned his gaze away then, leaning forward with his arms resting across his knees. He made no reply, but bowed his head.

Sanji watched the other man. Ventured an attempt to understand what felt like a situation rapidly heading into unknown territory. "Look, it all ended up okay, didn't it? What are you so pissed about, you surly piece of moss?"

"Fuck. You." Zoro's voice was quiet. Barely holding onto some inner storm, but holding it in nonetheless. Because that was what Zoro did. Kept whatever was going on in that impenetrable brain, that proud heart, unassailable from without. Giving nothing away.

What the hell is going on here? Sanji's pulse was accelerating, adrenalin surging in his body. Fight or flight, and this was usually the point where he and Zoro would fight and blow all that spiking body chemistry, burn it out so that afterwards there would be calm of a sort. A thunderstorm that cleared the air. But this felt different. He could feel sharp claws of anxiety digging into his guts. "You are one ungrateful son-of-a-bitch. You know that?" His voice sounded thin. Defensive.

"When we fight." Zoro spoke in that same quiet, barely controlled tone. "I always know. That you've got my back."

"I..." Sanji tried to keep some kind of handle on what was happening. "Well, fuck, yeah. It's what we do. What nakama do."

"Yesterday. At the cliff. I knew. That there was no way you were letting me go. That whatever I did, you were going to be part of it." Zoro's fingers were curled around his folded arms now, gripping tight.

"Yes." It was all Sanji could say. He was running out of words. And the ones he was saying didn't seem to be helping much.

"I've been ready to die for what I want, since the day I chose my path. But yesterday, you were ready to give up your life for me. Or to let me take it." Zoro lifted his head and stared out at the garden in front of him, unseeing. "Sanji. I don't want... another ghost. The one I already have is hard enough to live with."

There was stillness. Only the sound of the breeze whispering in the plants in the garden around them. The half-painful beat of Sanji's heart, that only he could hear. "I'm not a ghost."

"You could have been."

"So could you."

"Except you stopped me."

"Well shit, yeah - "

"I love you."

Zoro's words fell between them like stones thrown into a pool. Clear sounds. And then ripples spreading outwards, expanding, shivering the universe into fragments.

What

Zoro's fingers were holding so hard onto his own arms that they were digging into the flesh, knuckles bone white.

Never

This time Zoro was stepping right off the cliff edge. Out into nothingness, into the abyss.

We never

It would be as easy, as terrifying, as trusting the beating pulse in his throat against the sharp finality of a sword's edge. For Sanji to say the only words that would stop this fall.

"I... love you."

Sanji's voice barely caught the shivering fragments of the universe. Drew them together. Zoro's eyes closed, just for a moment. Then he turned his head and looked at the cook. His hands released their grip; slid downwards to rest between his knees.

Sanji held the swordsman's gaze and wondered if it was possible to die from adrenalin rush. Though all things considered, right now he felt curiously ready for whatever the universe delivered next in the way of unexpected events.

The universe didn't disappoint. Zoro's face transformed with a smile, the way only the swordsman's could, like clouds pulling away from a threatening sky. "...Good."

Sanji blinked. "Good?" He felt his hackles rise. He'd never pictured this moment happening like this. Hell, he'd never pictured it at all: Zoro confessing his inner feelings being as unlikely a scenario as the swordsman becoming a Buddhist monk. So of course Sanji had never, not for an instant, not in the darkest hours of the night, ever imagined how those three words would be said. And of course, of course he had never imagined himself saying them, either. No way. Because this, this thing that existed between him and Zoro, it was real and it was strong and it was more than nakama but the whole I love you thing wasn't on the agenda.

Except, evidently, it was. And trust the fucking marimo to ruin the moment by sounding like he was taking the whole thing in his stride. "That's all you have to say? Good?"

Zoro's smile deepened a little. "That's how it feels."

Sanji wanted to grab hold of the swordsman and shake the smile off his face. Either that, or to kick him through the garden wall. He settled for clenching his teeth together. "You have about ten seconds to start making sense, before I go and tell Chopper you're having some kind of weird side effects from the anti-venom. A minute ago you were acting mad as hell about what I did yesterday. Then all of a sudden you come out with a declaration of love - " Sanji felt himself flushing slightly, but kept going. "Which, by the way, great; although timing-wise, what the fuck?" He regarded Zoro as if he was a previously undiscovered life form. "And when I tell you the same, all you can say is 'Good'?"

Zoro lifted a hand, then reached sideways: Sanji felt the swordsman's strong fingers close around his own. The contact stopped his tirade, words dying in his throat.

"I was angry at what you did. Because I don't want you to die for me." Zoro spoke deliberately. "Help me when I was sick, yes. Fight with me... hah, all the fucking time, cook. But not what you almost did." His grip on Sanji's hand tightened. "You made me promise, back there. Now I'm asking you to promise me. That you'll never do that again."

"Make sure that I don't have to." Sanji met the swordsman's gaze stubbornly.

Zoro let out a frustrated breath. "I mean it."

"So do I, asshole. What part of 'I love you' did you not understand?" Sanji tightened his own hand on the swordsman's, matching the fierce grip. "You don't get to say that, then set limits on it."

Zoro suddenly moved his arm, tugging Sanji towards him until their faces were only inches apart. "I don't want limits. I want you. Alive."

"What a coincidence. That's what I want from you, too." Sanji gave him a sharp-edged smile, bracing himself against the swordsman's grip. "By way of a compromise: how about we both agree to try to stay alive?"

Zoro's eyes searched his. "You are such an awkward fucker."

"Best offer you're getting, shitty swordsman. Take it or leave it."

A single exhalation broke from Zoro. Then he leaned forward and his mouth found Sanji's, pressing against it, pushing it open with his own. And the cook let the warmth in, the clench of their fingers tight enough to bruise. And held the kiss long past the point when lack of oxygen became an issue.

Their hands were still locked together when they broke. Lips slowly releasing: but leaning forward until one forehead rested against the other. Sanji found himself smiling. "Eh... That's settled, then."

Zoro, smiling too, let out a grunt of agreement. "Deal."

And then they were straightening up; eyes holding each other as their hands slowly let go. Sanji leaned back on the bench, stretching his legs across the path in front of them. He felt an overwhelming need to talk about ordinary things. "So. Uh. I guess... we can head back to the Going Merry today."

"That'd be good." Zoro too seemed to need some recovery time. Reaching sideways he picked up Wado Ichimonji, resting the katana across his knees.

"The others'll be glad to see you. They came up last night, while you were asleep." The cigarette in Sanji's other hand, forgotten, had burned almost down to the filter: he carefully stubbed it out. "You know... they were worried as hell about you. They took it in turns to come up and help, the whole time you were sick."

Zoro's brows drew down momentarily. But all he said was, "I remember." Sanji glanced at him, surprised. Zoro made a small gesture with one hand. "At least, I think I do. Not all of it, and not clearly. But I remember... waking up, seeing them here."

"That's got to be a good sign." Sanji wondered how much of the past few days, the past weeks, Zoro would eventually be able to put together.

"Meaning, my brain might not be totally scrambled?" Zoro raised an eyebrow. "Here's hoping."

Sanji gave it a moment before responding to that one. "You're probably going to have to give it some time. Y'know: be patient."

"Till I forget all the fucking weird shit I saw?" Zoro said this as if he had no hope of that ever happening.

"Not forget it, maybe. But know none of it was real." Sanji thought of all the times the swordsman had jolted awake. Of all the nightly fights to the death. "No-one forgets nightmares... the bad ones. But they fade."

Zoro's fingers moved slowly over the white katana lying across his knees. His eyes tightened. "I hope so."

Sanji watched him. He wasn't going to force this particular door open. If Zoro wanted to do it himself, though... that was different. The cook kept a patient silence: making a safe space, for whatever needed to happen.

Zoro's fingers had stilled on Wado Ichmonji. "Some of it seemed... so real."

Sanji nodded. Kept the space.

The sound of the swordsman swallowing was loud in the silence. "She. Seemed so real."

Sanji allowed himself a careful breath. "She was. To you."

"But everything was a dream." Zoro kept his eyes on the white katana. "Everything."

Sanji knew what he was being asked. "From what you've told me, about her... She was your friend, Zoro. She would never have asked that of you."

Zoro's eyes shut. Sanji saw the swordsman's fingers clench on the white saya.

Is it more painful to think that you didn't set her free? Or that she was never there at all?

He spoke softly. "For what it's worth... I don't think you need to set her free. I think she is free."

Zoro's opened his eyes. But they stayed turned down, on the sword in his hands. "How d'you know that?"

Sanji took a breath in, thinking. Then let it out slowly. "I'm no expert. On... ghosts, or spirits, or what the hell happens to us after we stop living, here. But it makes no sense to me, that the dead would carry grudges. Or burdens. I think... maybe when we leave here, we just leave."

The swordsman's eyes narrowed a little. "I don't know what I believe. Where she is. Even though I swore that I'd keep the promise, to become the world's greatest swordsman. So that my name would even reach up to... wherever she is, now." The corner of his mouth lifted a little, just for a moment. "But if she's here with me the whole time, and I just can't see her... Then what does my promise mean?"

Sanji felt Zoro's world shifting on its axis, and knew he had to bring it back. "You made a promise. You have to keep it. That's all." Not just for her. For you.

Zoro was silent for a long time. At last, he gave a slow nod. "Then that's what I'll do."

Right then, Sanji had no doubts about this. No doubts at all.

They sat together on the bench for a while longer, feeling the sun and the wind and watching the plants in front of them go about the uncomplicated business of growing. It felt like a precious and finite time of peace, despite all that had happened. Despite all that they'd just spoken about.

Zoro was the one to break the silence. "So... We can get the hell out of here, whenever we're ready."

"Pretty much. Though we ought to wait till Dr Kawashima gets back, Chopper said he'd gone down to the market to re-stock his medical supplies."

"What are we doing about paying him?"

"He doesn't want paying." At Zoro's surprised glance, Sanji shrugged. "That's what he said. Although I think we'll figure out a way of doing it anyway. Chopper was going to come up with a plan."

Zoro nodded. "Okay. So after he gets back, we'll leave."

"You're really itching to get out of here, aren't you?"

"Yeah." Zoro looked up towards the house. "I'm grateful for what Kawashima did for me. But I've had enough of this place."

"Well, we can walk back down to Going Merry. Maybe go via the market, I can pick up some food on the way."

Zoro grunted. "And some sake."

Sanji rolled his eyes. "Pickled moss-brain."

"You said you'd get some," Zoro pointed out.

"Yeah, I did. Though Chopper said you ought to avoid alcohol for a couple of days... Ah, fuck it, I don't know why I even bother relaying that piece of information." Sanji shrugged. "Right. Sake."

"I feel like celebrating."

"Fair enough. Once we get back to the ship I'll cook you a meal. Something special."

"Sounds good."

"How about paella?" A wicked grin curved Sanji's mouth.

"Bastard." Zoro's fist smacked against the cook's thigh, although an answering grin came to his own face. "Just try it."

"Touchy... What, then?"

"Anything. I don't care." Zoro shrugged.

"Wow. You really know how to inspire a chef." Sanji raised his eyebrow. "I'll do my best to rise to the challenge." The swordsman just looked at him. "What?"

"You forgot, then?"

"Forgot?"

"What I said I wanted to do. After all this was over." When the silence stretched a little longer, Zoro added pointedly, "With you, ero-cook."

Sanji furrowed his brow for a moment playing dumb – then his eyes widened innocently. "Oh. That."

"That," agreed Zoro.

"Y'know, we're not exactly pally with the locals, after all that's gone on. So I think our plan of finding a room somewhere in Muna with a nice comfy bed might be a tad unrealistic."

"We can improvise." Zoro's eyes rested on him steadily.

Kitchen floor, then. Sanji had no doubt that serious improvisation was going to happen, soundproof walls or not. Letting out a mock sigh, he reached out and took hold of the swordsman's hand, letting his fingers interlink with the other man's. "You sure that's what you want?" He gave Zoro a searching look. "I cook a mean paella."

"Fuck your paella." Sanji felt his hand tugged sideways and let himself follow.

"Sushi, then?"

The mouth that closed on his was hungry and warm. Alive. Sanji closed his eyes and curled his free hand around the back of the swordsman's head, pulling him close.

We go to the place of nightmares and we return. And the dreams are not real, they fade. But so does everything else.

The hand holding his felt like it would never let go.

Sometimes. There are dreams from which you hope you never wake.

We are such stuff as dreams are made on,
And our little life is rounded with a sleep.

- The Tempest