Chapter 53
A Strange Conversation
Hawke scrubbed at the stains she'd left on the wooden planks.
Crocodile was sleeping soundly and Daz was out at the helm.
The girl let the sound of the brush scrubbing away at the floor take up all of her attention.
Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.
The rough sound was soothing, and loud enough to block out her thoughts.
"Get to Luffy, get to Luffy," she chanted as she swayed back and forth in her motions of cleaning, "Get to Luffy, get to Luffy."
Hawke finished her work on the floor and changed the water in her bucket, then she brought the chair over to Crocodile's bedside. She was about to start on the blanket when she noticed the cloth had fallen to the floor.
"You must have been fidgeting," she muttered, picking it up.
As she was wiping Crocodile's forehead, he began to speak.
"No, don't," he muttered.
Hawke lifted her hand, startled into reacting.
"Does this bother you?" she asked.
She glanced down at Crocodile's face, but his eyes were closed.
His forehead wrinkled and she saw his fist clench.
"Are you okay?" she asked, beginning to get worried.
But he didn't answer her.
His head suddenly jerked to the side, facing her.
"Wait!" he growled, his expression dark and menacing, even with his eyes closed.
Hawke jumped and took a step back from the bed.
He must be dreaming…, she realized, somewhat astonished, I guess he can have them too, just like everybody else.
She had forgotten that this man, who had been their enemy, was a person and not just a power hungry, emotionless robot.
This realization made Hawke suddenly see Crocodile in a new light. She saw that he was a man who had struggled through a hard life, who had been constantly denied his dreams but had still moved forward.
And we were the ones who denied him a dream, she thought, though she didn't regret doing so one bit.
Hawke sat down and watched Crocodile as his head rolled back and forth across his pillow. Her mind, in an effort to keep her in this calmed state, focused all its attention on this new event.
"That must be some dream," she said quietly, "I wonder what someone like you dreams about."
She thought for a moment and came to another realization. She didn't know anything about the men she was now sailing with, except for the little she could remember from Alabasta.
She looked up and surveyed the room.
Her eyes fell on Crocodile's large cloak. It was draped over the bedpost at the end of his bed.
Eyeing the man, she carefully got up and tiptoed over to it.
Kneeling down, she began carefully rummaging through the large pockets.
I have to be careful, she thought, who knows what he has in here.
She laid out the contents of the cloak on the floor in front of her knees.
The first item was a small, delicate-looking knife.
Must be a last resort or self defense thing, she thought, twirling it in her fingers, it's pretty nice.
Next to it was a collection of four rings.
He must have taken them off during the battle, she thought, looking up at the ring free hand clenching the covers.
The next article was a decent-sized bag of coins.
I wish my wallet was that big, she pouted at the bag.
The ones that followed were typical left-forgotten-in-pockets stuff like buttons and pieces of string.
Hawke quickly scanned over them and came to the last item.
It was a piece of paper with some writing across the top of it.
Hawke picked it up and squinted, trying to read it in the lamp-light.
"Don't forget me, Crocoda, - Cielle"
Hawke blinked and stared as she saw a small heart drawn at the end of the woman's name.
"He has a lover?!" Hawke gasped out loud.
She covered her mouth and looked up to see if she had woken Crocodile.
He had stopped moving around and now seemed to be sleeping peacefully again.
Hawke stood and went up to the head of the bed, looking down at the man lying in front of her.
"I guess you're pretty handsome," she muttered, wiping the cloth across his forehead, "For an old, creepy guy," she added.
She lifted the paper and re-read the note.
"Crocoda?" she felt her lips twitch, "That's a cute nickname."
Just then the paper slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor.
"Damn," muttered Hawke, quickly bending to pick it up.
As she did so, she saw that the paper had flipped over. The other side wasn't blank as she had thought it had been.
"It's a picture!" she gasped.
She scurried back to the end of the bed, crouched down, and started to scrutinize the photograph.
It was of a young woman.
From her body and complexion, Hawke concluded that the woman was probably in her late twenties. She was wearing a soft blue dress and her wavy, white hair fell gracefully down her back. She seemed to be trying to hide herself from the camera. Her hands were half raised and her face was tilted slightly away from the viewer. She had a smile on her face, though, and she looked very happy.
"This must be Cielle," Hawke concluded, her mind gobbling up the new information, "She must be Crocodile's sweet heart. I wonder where she is now?" she glanced up to check on Crocodile.
He was still sleeping soundly, so she returned her gaze to the photograph.
Suddenly, a recent memory came back to her.
Could this be what he had in that secret compartment in his hook? she wondered.
Hawke hesitated as she looked at the woman's face.
She blinked and shook her head.
"Wow, I must be pretty shallow," she muttered, "How could I look like her…?"
Still, Hawke stared down at the photo.
She shook her head again.
"Don't be silly," she told herself, "You have the same eye colour, that's all."
She quickly stuffed the articles back into the pockets of Crocodile's cloak.
But as she moved to put the photo back, she found that she couldn't let it go.
"Come on," she muttered, trying to force herself to put it away.
But she found herself examining the picture again. This was an excellent distraction and her body wouldn't let her leave it just yet.
This time her gaze was drawn to the background.
The photo had been taken outside. She could see a blue sky and some white clouds. Cielle was standing in front of a building. Hawke could just make out the sign, which was almost cut out of the picture.
"The Howling Harpy?" she mumbled.
"What are you doing?" Crocodile's menacing voice suddenly rang out through the room.
Hawke froze and quickly looked up towards the head of the bed.
Crocodile had propped himself up and was staring at her with a very terrifying look in his eyes.
"Nothing," she squeaked and hurriedly stuffed the picture back into a pocket.
She stepped back and tried to look innocent.
"How are you feeling?" she asked quickly, failing to hide the quaver in her voice.
Crocodile was still glaring at her. He looked very scary.
"What were you doing?" he asked again threateningly, his hard eyes digging into hers.
Well at least he sounds like he's feeling better, thought Hawke.
"Umm…," she stalled for time as she picked up the bed cover from the floor, "I was just washing this stain out before it set."
Crocodile glanced down at the bucket of water beside the chair near his bed. He slowly reached down and wet his finger. His eyes flicked back to her.
"With cold water?" he asked sullenly.
Hawke opened her mouth, then closed it again. Her shoulders drooped in defeat.
Crocodile shot her another menacing look. Then he seemed to deliberate with himself.
"Bring it here," he sighed in a tired voice, holding out his hand.
Hawke stood frozen.
Crocodile frowned and flicked his wrist.
She immediately felt the band of sand tighten around her rib cage.
"Ouch, okay!" she gave in quickly, her body wanting to prevent any further pain.
Crocodile watched as she retrieved the photo and placed it tentatively into the palm of his hand.
Then he sat still, unmoving.
Hawke gave him a questioning look.
"Do you like this picture?" he asked her suddenly, his eyes boring into hers.
Hawke blinked in surprise. Crocodile's voice wasn't as aggressive as it had been moments before. His eyes were still hard as steel, but they weren't glaring anymore.
"Uh," she stuttered, "Well, yeah… I guess."
"You didn't seem to want to let it go," Crocodile muttered, his eyes back on the picture.
Hawke sat down on the chair.
So he had been watching me for a while, she sighed.
There was an awkward silence.
"She's very beautiful," Hawke said quietly, hoping that it wouldn't make him angrier.
Crocodile adjusted the photo in his hand, but he only let out a soft grunt.
This surprised Hawke, but she was glad he wasn't going to strangle her again.
"Here," he said gruffly, suddenly holding his hand out to her, "Take it."
Hawke quickly took the photo, as a reflex, but she was very confused.
"Why?" she asked, "Don't you want to keep it until you can get back to her?"
Crocodile looked away across the room.
"She's dead," he muttered darkly.
"Oh, I'm sorry," mumbled Hawke, there was another awkward pause, "What happened? Was that long ago?"
Crocodile turned to look at her, his eyes piercing and probing.
"Seventeen years," he said, ignoring the other half of her question.
Hawke blinked.
"Oh," she said.
She looked down at the picture in her hands and stroked her thumb down the woman's face.
"Her name was Cielle?" she asked,
This conversation was extremely strange. But Hawke's mind fixated on it and didn't want to let it go yet. Still, she was very surprised that Crocodile had let it go on for this long.
"Solace D. Cielle," he replied, watching Hawke as she looked at the picture.
"D?" she asked, "Like Luffy and Ace…"
She felt a jolt of emotion go through her body as her brothers rose once again in her mind. Her shoulders started to shake, but she gripped the photo tighter and bit her lip. She would not lose her composure in front of Crocodile again!
Just get to Luffy! she began chanting in her head, get to Luffy, get to Luffy.
She swallowed, wetting her suddenly dry throat, and turned the photo over and reread the note.
She felt her mouth twitch as she read the "Crocoda" part again.
"What?" Crocodile asked tersely.
"Ah…" Hawke jumped a little, "She just seems like a really nice person."
Crocodile grunted.
Hawke looked up and saw he was no longer watching her. It seemed like this strange conversation was over. Fortunately, her mind didn't have time to scramble for a new distraction, because just then, Crocodile shifted his sitting position and groaned, bringing his hand to his stomach.
"What's wrong?" Hawke jumped up, placing the picture on the nightstand.
Crocodile stared at her worried face for a moment, looking startled, and then, to Hawke's great surprise, he let out a chuckle.
"No need to get so worked up," he said, "I'm just hungry."
Hawke blushed and stamped her foot.
"Well don't groan like that if all you are is hungry!" she snapped, "I thought something was wrong."
Crocodile didn't respond, but he smirked and watched as she walked around the bed and took the thermos off the table.
"Here," she said, unscrewing the top, "It's soup."
Hawke watched Crocodile as he eased himself into a full sitting position and took the thermos from her. He seemed to be much more relaxed. She had never seen him like this, even when they had been alone in Alabasta. And certainly not in Impel Down.
Even she felt quite at ease at the moment. Her blanket of blankness had returned, not as intense as before, but she felt safe and numb again. But she had a nagging feeling that this wouldn't last.
Hawke shook her head and walked over to pick up the bucket.
She let her body leave the room to refill it with hot water. When she returned, Crocodile was sitting quietly in his bed and the empty thermos was back on the nightstand.
Hawke stayed silent as she sat down and began soaking the cover in the water. She took the soap and began lathering it.
"You don't have to stay here," Crocodile said gruffly as he watched her work.
"You're still recovering," said Hawke absentmindedly, more focused on the stain removal process, "I should stay nearby in case you start bleeding again or your fever picks up."
Her eyes flicked upwards and she caught a smirk flit over the sand man's lips.
She shot him a questioning glance as she scrubbed the stain vigorously.
"What's so funny?" she muttered.
Crocodile paused before answering her. Hawke could tell he was thinking about his words.
"I can take care of myself," he stated, "It's annoying when you do it, so stop."
Hawke frowned at him. She saw that the stain had been lifted off the blanket and rinsed the suds off in the bucket of water. Then she stood and draped the blanket over the end of the bed.
"I'm only doing this because we have a deal!" she snapped, "Don't worry, as soon as you're better I won't care about you at all!"
Crocodile smirked again and opened the drawer in his night table, taking out a cigar.
"No way!" snapped Hawke.
She quickly snatched the cigar out of his hand.
"You can't smoke with your injuries!" she exclaimed, "Are you crazy?!"
Crocodile glared at her, his face was dark.
"Give that back immediately!" he snarled, trying to grab her.
Hawke leapt back out of his reach. But he flicked his wrist again and she felt the ring of sand tighten around her chest.
Pain seared across her back as she was squeezed.
"Ow!" she cried out in fear, "That hurts!"
"Give it back, Angel," Crocodile sneered, "You don't want this to continue do you?"
His words echoed through Hawke's mind, bringing back the memories of the events that happened in the Rain Dinners Casino. She clenched her fists as she felt anger welling up inside her, fueled by her already roiling emotions and the tremendous urge to end the pain.
"Fine!" she yelled, throwing the cigar at him, "I don't care if you get even sicker! You're still just a cruel, bullying, pervert! I can't believe I almost thought -!"
She cut herself off and let out another cry of pain.
As the cigar fell onto Crocodile's bed, the grip of the sand shackle loosened.
As soon as she could breathe properly again, Hawke spun around and ran out of the room without a backwards glance.
Crocodile stared after her, completely ignoring the victory prize sitting on his sheets. He glanced over and caught sight of the picture laying on the nightstand.
He quickly shoved it into the nightstand drawer and slammed it shut. Then he turned his attention to the cigar. After a few moments of silence, he threw that into the drawer too. For some reason, he didn't feel like smoking anymore.
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Hawke stormed out onto the deck and ran to the rail, gripping it until her knuckles turned white.
"That bastard!" she screamed at the waves, letting off some steam.
She stood clutching the rail and began catching her breath.
How could I fall into his trap? She seethed, He almost tricked me into caring about him!
She looked up at the sky. It was dark and the stars and moon were shining brightly.
If only I could fly away from here, she thought desperately, her thoughts turning to Luffy once again.
She looked down at the shackle wrapped around her chest.
"Ugh, let me go!" she shouted and began tearing at the shackle.
But, as it was made of sand, it just kept reforming as soon as she tore it and she only succeeded in getting burns on her fingers.
She heard footsteps approaching her.
"What's wrong, Shrimp?" she heard Daz's voice.
She tensed her shoulders and shook her head.
"Nothing," she quietly, "I just got strangled for trying to heal your stupid boss!"
Daz looked down at her and shrugged.
"Well, I'm going to turn in," he said, "It's late, you probably should too."
Hawke stood and shook her head.
"I'll take over navigating," she said, "You get to bed."
Daz stared at her. She turned away to made her way towards the helm.
"Oh, I washed the blanket on your bed," she called over her shoulder, "It's still damp so don't use it or you'll catch a cold."
She heard a grunt.
As she positioned herself at the helm, she saw Daz enter the bedroom and close door behind him.
"There's no way I'm stopping this boat," she told herself, making sure that they were still on course, "This pulling sensation is getting stronger and stronger."
As Hawke steered the small ship, her mind wandered back to the picture of Cielle and Crocodile's reaction to her seeing it. It seemed she had found a sufficient distraction.
He had seemed like a completely different person while they were talking about the photograph. And he had treated it with… something akin to gentleness. Still, she thought, I don't know why he wants me to have it. The bastard!
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The next few days passed in a depressed silence for Hawke. She couldn't find the strength to acknowledge either of the men, even as she treated them. They did try to engage her in conversation a few times, but after receiving a constant cold shoulder, they both gave up and let her have her way.
Hawke would cook and keep an eye on Crocodile's condition during the day, then she would take her place at the helm at night. Her own wounds were slowly healing. She was getting Daz to help her change her bandages and apply salve to her back, and now she could move without much pain at all.
However, Hawke was immensely restless and was having a lot of trouble falling asleep. The truth was that when she did fall asleep, she would be assaulted with terrifying nightmares that re-enacted Ace's death and showed Luffy drowning in his grief, alone and screaming. She would wake up sharing those screams. She had been sleeping at the helm, but even so, her screams would wake Daz and he would run out onto the deck, thinking they were being attacked. He would go back to sleep when he realized it had been Hawke, and after the first few occurrences, he didn't even bother getting out of bed. Hawke tried to stay awake for as long as she could, not wanting the nightmares to return and also not wanting to keep disturbing the men. In her waking hours she kept the thought of getting to Luffy at the forefront of her mind, leaving no room for anything else.
During a particularly bright night, Hawke was once again standing at the helm. She had been awake for more than two days and her mind was showing the strain.
I feel so heavy, she thought foggily, I can barely hold the wheel…
Her weak grasp on the helm began to slip more and more often as the night went on. Hawke could feel a pressure building up in her chest, an undulating mass of unexpressed emotions that needed to be unleashed.
But I can't do that yet, she thought slowly, fixing her gaze ahead and feeling the pull on her heart, I need to make sure Luffy's okay.
She kept the helm as steady as she could as the night grew older. It was in the early hours of the morning when she noticed something strange about the sea in front of them.
She squinted ahead.
What is that? she wondered.
The sea, which had been covered in small waves, suddenly became very still, mirroring the stars almost perfectly.
Oh no, she let out a small gasp, looking up as the sails suddenly emptied, it's the Calm belt.
Hawke knew that it was extremely dangerous for a sailing vessel to enter that sea, seeing as the last time she had entered it they were almost eaten by sea kings, but the pulling sensation was still telling her to go straight ahead…
She had to keep going and hope that the sea monsters were busy elsewhere.
Using a piece of rope to tie the helm in place, she frowned at the motionless water below her.
I'm sure they have an oar somewhere, she thought and began searching the ship.
Hawke went into the kitchen, riffling through the cupboards, then around the front of the ship. She finally found what she was looking for tucked under a bench.
Gotcha, she grunted as she pulled up the oar, I'm coming Luffy.
Going back to the helm, she sat down to start paddling.
After a few hours, she began feeling the strain in her arms.
Phew, she panted, this would be hard enough without being exhausted.
She paddled on as far as her arms would let her. She could feel all her restless energy being spent and her body begin to shut down.
Maybe a little rest wouldn't hurt, she sighed, bringing the oar back up on deck.
Hawke felt her arms relax as the strain on them was lifted.
Just a few minutes, she thought as she closed her eyes and fell into an exhaustion induced, dreamless sleep.
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Sengoku watched silently as the reconstruction finally got underway.
The days of moving bodies and creating space for make-shift infirmaries were finally over. And the rebuilding of the marine fortress could finally begin.
"What a mess," the Fleet Admiral muttered, crossing his arms and surveying the destruction, "The damages are much higher than we anticipated."
He had expected some infrastructure damage of course, knowing Whitebeard was going to fight and knowing his devil fruit power. But this was almost irreparable. Almost.
Sengoku was brought out of his analysis of the situation by a marine saluting him.
"Yes?" he asked, noticing how tired his own voice sounded.
"Sir!" the marine saluted again, "I have some… bad news!"
Sengoku frowned and mentally prepared himself, this wasn't the first, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last, piece of bad news he would hear before this was all over.
"What is it?" he asked, keeping his voice calm.
The marine held out a clipboard with a piece of paper attached to it.
"The squads just finished the damage analysis of the lower levels," he stated, "And they found the lower vaults were severely damaged."
Sengoku's eyes widened.
"The vaults!?" he exclaimed, "But that's where-!"
He snatched the clipboard and quickly read over the words on the paper.
"Prisoner 00!" he felt beads of sweat forming on his brow, "That's not possible! Those walls are twenty meters thick!"
The marine nodded and gave the Fleet Admiral a nervous look.
"The highest priority prisoner is reported missing," he stated, "Along with the escapees from Impel Down, this is the worst breach of the navy security in history!"
Sengoku frowned deeply as he read over the report.
"Could this have been part of their plan all along?" he muttered, "And considering the Dark Angel managed to escape… this is very bad news."
His grip on the clip board tightened and turned his gaze to the marine.
"Let all the Vice-Amdirals know about this," he ordered, "We must quickly recapture the escapees, especially Prisoner 00 and the Dark Angel!"
"Yes, sir!" the marine saluted him and hurried off.
Sengoku turned and quickly went off to find Garp and Kong.
This must've been planned, he thought grimly, we can't let them meet!
