[Author's Note: You all don't know how excited I am that you finally get to meet Pierce and learn more about him. I started posting this story last January so this chapter is like an anniversary for me. I have written over 300 pages and 200k words of this fic. This chapter is one of my favorites from the last few months, so I hope you all enjoy it as much as I have. Thank you all for reading and thank you for this amazing year.]
Outside, even on a cloudy day, he is able to feel the warmth of the sun or the soft glow of the moon on his face. Though the caves in Batoidea Island regulate their own temperatures they still drop a few degrees at night. This is how Pierce is able to tell the difference between night and day down here.
Gray.
That's how he remembers the rain. When it beats upon the earth it creates a kind of static in his ears that is an all-encompassing gray.
And then there is the barometric pressure. It changes, even in the caves, bringing an influx of moisture that he can smell from miles away when there is a storm. He can smell it, intermingled with the damp, moldy air of the system and hear it change how Karmen breathes poisonous flowers, exhaling a deep purple from where she sleeps on the bed roll near his.
He knows he isn't remembering this accurately, but after nearly nine months of blindness the colors all become pastel and begin to fade form memory, shunted out by his brain as unneeded in the place of spatial recognition. Sometimes he plays games like this, associating color with sound so that they don't fade completely. Having been soul-swapped into Karmen's body for those fleeting moments helped. All the colors that had faded rushed back to him. He had forgotten the warmth of yellow, the glaring contrast of blood. But most of all he remembered the hopeful olive tones of Karmen's tired face. The deep woodsy brown of her nearly black hair and how the artificial light of Law's sub glinted off it. It seems strange to him that the first thing he wanted to remember about sight would be the color brown.
The rain had started about thirty minutes ago. He heard the first raindrops hit on the gardens two levels above them and trickle down the halls in tinkling white, settling deep underground in the reservoir two levels below. Movement is always white for some reason. So when Karmen hyperventilates ragged purple into the air and rolls towards him, the white movement of her desperate hand stops inches above his bandaged chest. He can feel the warmth of it there through his bindings, but it withdrawals making the cold temperature of the room more prominent with its absence. He hears her nails lightly scraping palm as her fingers curl inward and rest against her chest. She'd woken herself up right before she made contact, too afraid of agitating his wounds to allow herself to cling to him in fear.
This behavior falls into the same category with the reason why she chose to sleep beside him instead of the room she'd chosen down the passageway. If he has a night terror or there is a complication from his injuries she'll be right there to strap sea prism to his arm. He hate's sea prism, but when it's needed she sings, which makes it manageable. Her voice is like a scarlet bird that drowns out the darkness, grounding him to the present and shutting out the past. It's somewhere in the quivering chirps of muted panic in her breathing, hiding amongst the purple.
He hears the flutter of her eyelashes as she blinks, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness; the slight shift of her ears as she listens to the sound of his breathing, cool tendrils of silver that fade into the silence. Her other hand stretches out in hesitant bursts of white. She settles for gently grasping a lock of his hair, just a slight connection to remind herself that he's still there. She doesn't pull, but the slight movement tickles his scalp and sends a pleasant chill down his spine.
"Bad dream?" he asks. It's not what he wants to say. He wants to tell her that it's ok to cling if she's scared, that she won't hurt him as much as she's afraid she will. But that's not Karmen. She hates feeling vulnerable and can't stand the thought of causing him any more discomfort. He meets her in the middle and reaches out a hand. She trades it for the hair.
"Sometimes my unconscious makes me think that this past month never happened," she says softly. The places her hand touch his are a golden glow and full of life. He knows that's not the right visual, but it's the image in his head. "Why are you awake?"
"It's hard to keep track of time when you're blind," he says. He decides to be honest with her. Maybe if he shows vulnerability she'll allow herself to open up as well. "I wanted to reflect upon a few things before I slept, and when I close my eyes I'm back in the basement." Sockets. Whatever. It's a figure of speech. Sometimes he can hear air flowing around where his eyes should be. It's an annoying shade of orange. Sometimes he wonders what Ikaika did with them. Always after he tells himself that it doesn't matter. They'd been thrown away, fed to something, or saved as some sort of sick trophy. It doesn't change the fact that he'll never see again. Sometimes he wonders if things would have come out different if he had broken. If he had wept and begged and whimpered like a child instead of defiantly meditating through the torture. But no. He knew Ikaika too well. He would have gone looking for more ways to hurt him without killing him to prolong his psychotic enjoyment. Or he would have found Pierce annoying and killed him. He'd seen it all. Karmen had seen more. She knew the hand that had done this to him, even if it was never turned on her. He bears her hidden pain in his skin, all the suffering she isn't able to put into words. He'd kept her from this harm as Kuma had asked. To do these two things he would endure much more. It isn't something he himself understands and he doesn't expect her to. Deep down he feels Kuma would be able to name the bond between them. He can feel it in the golden light linking their hands now.
Karmen takes a moment to adjust her hand in order to hold his more comfortably. He wonders if she can feel the gold. "Were you thinking about the bath you took this afternoon?"
He can feel his cheeks flush. "It might have been one of the things I'd been reflecting on." The bath in question had been disastrous. It had been two days since arriving at Batoidea and Pierce had avoided pools of water at all costs. It didn't take his sensitive nose to tell him he needed to bathe. After some discussions about his health Winston had helped him boil water and fill a wooden tub before leaving Pierce to his own devices. So long as the water was moving he'd been fine, but as soon as the static gray of the water tension settled on its surface a cold sweat had begun streaking light gray down his back. Water is the one thing his echolocation can't penetrate. The sound waves skim across the surface instead of showing him what lies beneath, leaving a dark void in his newfound form of sight. His mind filled with flashes of slimy bodies that carried death dealing shocks of electricity. He'd almost transformed and split his spleen open right there. He must have cried out, because Karmen came running, not caring that he was only wrapped in a towel. With her impeccable eye for detail she was able to understand the source of his panic before he'd even calmed enough to utter a word. Humming softly, she dipped her hands into the water, stirring it softly, purifying the gray into white that danced with the scarlet. She made a display of thoroughly checking the tub before declaring it eel free. She then knelt in front of him, prying his fingers from his horns, and simply held his hands until he'd recovered, offering to stay. Being embarrassed enough he had claimed himself capable of taking things from there. Even when she'd left and he was able to lower himself into the water he felt pathetic. He can't even take a bath without having flashbacks to being tortured. "Thank you for continuing to be patient with me, Mistress," he says. "Post traumatic stress isn't the most rational thing to deal with."
"I guess the cave doesn't help. We can make other arrangements if you need it," she says.
"I don't mind the cave. The air here is clean and I find the company more tolerable."
She chuckles, a lavender sound. "If only Winston would stop making you try on three outfits a day you may just find us all rather pleasant."
"At least he only had to measure me once," he says in agreement. "I don't think I'd be allowed to leave his workroom otherwise. You'd have to come break me out again." He softly squeezes her hand and she returns the gesture. "Thanks again for that. And taking care of me while I recover. I know it hasn't been easy for you."
"I'm here because I want to be, same as you," she says. "I helped tear down an entire government-run island for someone I'd known for a few weeks. I've known you my whole life. I plan to tear down his whole empire to ensure you and the others can live the lives you choose. This is the life I've chosen."
Pierce rolls towards her, wishing now more than ever that he could see. He does his best to pull up the image of her that he'd seen in Law's mirror. "If you don't slow down you won't need me as a bodyguard anymore."
"You really are an idiot," she says softly. "Just because I can protect myself now doesn't mean I don't need you. Do you know how hard those two years were without you? That Kami was super scary. I would have died if it weren't for Mihawk and Luffy. And I had no one to talk about Kuma with. You didn't see him, Pierce. I'm not sure he can even be classified as a cyborg anymore. I think we're losing him." She curls into his hand, pressing her forehead against it. "It breaks my heart."
Pierce takes a deep breath, feeling the fear pour out of her. She'd told him this before and neither of them had been able to figure out a way to help him, much less reverse what had already been done. He had attacked her captain at the battle of Marineford, but he had been surrounded by people who could make his life very difficult if he hadn't. Mihawk had attacked him too, but that was just Mihawk. Heck. Mihawk had attacked him a time or two. Not to kill, of course, but to test the protection of his adoptive niece. Pierce had never got the upper hand, ever, but Mihawk commended his progress. He wonders what he thinks of what Kuma is going through. He'd probably say it was up to Kuma as to how he chooses to protect those he cares about. It is also possible that Kuma had sworn him to secrecy on a few things and he would continue to withhold information until the point where it endangered Kuma's life.
"Do you remember me telling you about the two years I spent with Kuma before he entrusted me as your bodyguard?" He feels Karmen nod against his hand. "I was six. My parents had been killed in a battle between Revolutionaries and corrupt Navy officers working for one of the ruling powers in the North Blue." It had been a raid on what was supposed to be a hidden Revolutionary encampment, he remembers that much. He thinks he blocked out most of his life up to that point. He doesn't remember names or faces, the kingdoms or officers involved, not even those of his parents or his own surname. By the time he met Kuma, he was just Pierce. "My house had been destroyed in the battle and I had been living in the rubble for a week when Kuma found me. He'd come as soon as he'd been given the report on the battle. I guess there were some survivors hiding underground, but it had been a total massacre. He took me and three other people off the island. The others had somewhere to go, but I only had the army. Kuma personally trained me for two years straight. He's a guarded man, but when he would leave to visit you he would tell me about it. I felt like your friend before we even met. Then when I was eight he set me as your bodyguard. One day I asked him why he'd asked me to do it. It was obvious that he cared about you, but we were both kids. I was told that you needed a friend more than you needed a bodyguard. I just happened to fill both roles."
"It seems kind of messed up when you think about it," Karmen says. "Sending a child to guard a child from monsters like Ikaika. It's no wonder you got beat black and blue the first time someone tried to kidnap me. I mean, I guess he had Godwin there too, but he had to play by double standards."
"My point is," Pierce continues, "is that Kuma understood that he couldn't take care of us all the time. He trained us and prepared us to take care of each other and ourselves. We lost Godwin, and we may be losing Kuma, but he wouldn't compromise himself if he didn't believe we could survive without him. In his own guarded way, I think he's telling us that we're ready to handle things on our own. Losing people sucks, especially someone as important as them, but we have the resources to take care of ourselves if that should happen."
"I suppose you could be right," she says, rolling over to look at the ceiling. "But what if I don't want to?"
"Then you've got us," he says. "Me, Winston, Saaresto, I guess Lady Camilla, and that crew you're always talking about. And Sir Law, partially. And then there's Lady Shakky and the information web. They're always reliable. And if you wanted to pull in the standoffish big gun, Sir Mihawk. Then there's Winston's six brothers and-"
"Ok, ok, I get it," Karmen laughs. "I couldn't ask for better support, or better friends. I'm really happy to have you back."
"I'm glad you came back. I'll take a cave any day."
"Are you sure?" she asks. "It's not too cliché or anything? We really can build you a house. Winston stole some of Willow's family jewels that he was polishing. I've made a few non-Doffy related black market contacts who are practically begging us for them."
"I mean, seriously, you may have to be my bodyguard while I go train."
"You are not allowed to train until you've healed." Her voice turns a brick red, firm and unyielding.
"You've made that apparent. Sir Law made that apparent. Saaresto and Winston have made that apparent. You know, it's not much different than being in chains sometimes. I can't go anywhere or do anything without someone making sure I haven't sprouted a second set of horns." He feels Karmen squeeze his hand. "I'm sorry, Mistress. I don't mean to complain. I know it is for my own good and I have to take care of myself before I protect others." He says this as if he's heard it a hundred times before. It had been at least twenty-five. He sighs. "If it is your will, I will honor it. It is just that I've been able to do nothing for two years straight. I'm tired of doing nothing."
"I've given you something to do," Karmen says. "How has your study of braille been going?" Karmen had taught herself braille in a week while on Law's sub so that she could teach it to Pierce. In her spare time she sits in the dining chamber poking little bumps in pieces of paper for him to read.
"You know how it's going," he groans. "So far I've got dot dot dot, half-dot, dot dot. And did I mention dot dot dot?" He sighs again, closing his sockets in exhaustion. "I'm sorry, Mistress. It's a wonderful resource and I'll get it eventually, but right now everything feels the same." Braille dots are another shade of orange. Lighter than the air flowing through his sockets but more present, especially when a sheet of it is casually slid towards him every time he sits down. Sometimes he'd like to just enjoy the act of sitting. Sitting is green, like a lawn stretching out with rolling hills and spring flowers. The points of contact of cloth to a surface creates a cushioning sound that is simply green. When you've spent two years chained to a wall, the simple act of sitting is heavenly. Maybe that's why he finds braille so annoying even though the thought of being able to read again elates him to no end. Having Karmen read poetry isn't bad though. Her literary voice is a velvety red, inviting and soft to the touch. "When I do learn to read braille, will you still read to me from time to time?"
"Anything but poetry," she says with a slight groan. "Maybe you can have one day a month where I read you poetry, but just one. I mean that."
Pierce chuckles. "I can tell you've had your fill and accept your terms." He yawns. "We should get some sleep. Winston will be back at it in a few hours."
"He has gotten better, you have to admit that. He only made you stand for one hour of fittings today." Pierce grunts in response. "Do you mind if… if I hold your hand until I fall asleep?" she asks. "I haven't slept well during storms for two years. It would help."
"It might help me too."
She closes her eyes in a flutter of white. Her exhalations of purple slow and her ivory heartbeat steadies.
The sound of sleep: pale blue, like rain should be.
