TW: graphic violence.
Sanji's the first to notice the lack of haunting heat at their heels, his captain must've been able to stop Akainu pretty quickly then. It makes Sanji curious and anxious enough to look over his shoulder. He catches sight of Luffy's back, smaller than ever in his black suit as he faces off against Akainu.
I have a feeling.
"Luffy!" The yell is ripped out of him before he sees any real need for it as if something within him was warning him. Sanji means to turn back, he's the fastest out of their crew, but he's not fast enough anyway. The Admiral is steaming. Arms made of magma from the elbow down. A satisfied glint in his eyes—the cat who caught the canary.
"I knew you were rotten from the beginning." His voice is ominous, maniac, and it drifts through the hall to crawl in Sanji's ears. "We should've thrown you to the darkest depths of Impel Down, of course, you'd be no good with blood like yours."
Besides him, he feels Zoro stop in his tracks as well. In his arms, the gorgeous archeologist wiggles, and Sanji's too scared to even think to be jealous. Luffy had carelessly thrown her at their resident swordsman with a stern look, an unspoken order. The woman -Nico Robin- looks downcasted and defeated, she clearly doesn't want to be rescued -or kidnap as it may. Sanji is very hesitant to go against the will of a lady, but... Luffy is rarely wrong in his eccentricities. So, Sanji keeps an eye to makes sure the moss head is gentle with her, but he doesn't move to help her.
They're far, too far to help, too loyal to go back against an order. Next to the cook, Zoro growls, an inhuman sound like a beast caged. Deep within him, Sanji resonates with the feeling, even if he'd never voice it in such a vulgar way. He twists his wedding ring, a poor substitute when what he really wants is a cigarette, but one that brings comfort and death the same way. He reaches delicately to grab on to Nami's wrist when their navigator threatens to do something particularly foolish, like rush into a fight amongst monsters. Sanji has to ignore the acrid taste in his mouth, hypocrisy burning at the back of his throat when his feet are just as restless to move towards his captain.
Watching Luffy twist himself around molten rock, hot enough to burn him out of existence, is one of Sanji's worst experiences, and he's had a couple of them. Seeing him hold his own against an Admiral, even when he's already tired from running and fighting, reminds him why he believes Luffy's word without question.
I have a feeling.
And then, Zoro, Sanji, and Nami watch the impossible happen. Luffy breaks his word.
"I've never pretended to be anyone! What's happening here is wrong!" Luffy kicks and screams at his superior, raised in the air, neck squeezing beyond human ability. His feet dangle several feet off the floor, like a man in the gallows. If Luffy was a normal man, he would be dead. "Branding little kids criminals, burning down islands... IS THAT WHAT YOU WANT TO CALL JUSTICE?"
He's made up of the impossible and righteous fury right till the end.
(Really, he'd been asking for the magma punch to the chest.)
The last time Marco spent any significant amount of time in a cage, he'd had no name.
There's a lot of things about him that are really just bits and pieces of people he loves.
His birthday, chosen by Vista.
His birthplace, chosen by Izou.
His name, gifted by Pops.
Because the truth is that Marco has been a phoenix for a very long time, much longer than he's ever been a man.
"We cannot trust your memories, and that's final." That stupid fuckwit of Garp, why can't anyone else see?
"You don't get it," he repeats, clenching down on his teeth and hopefully, his temper. His colleagues are already wary of his mental state, 2 years... how? Why? He won't get any points by losing himself to rage. No matter how satisfying it would be. "That child is a traitor, an abomination, a blight on this world." He feels vulnerable, he wants his uniform or at least some fucking real clothes. The hospital gown is papery, a temporary measure, and he feels naked despite being fully covered. He curls his fingers into a fist, Sengoku taking a careful step back as the limb lets out a wisp of steam. The movement snaps a memory. "I was sure I had killed him, he needs to die. What he can do..."
"You and the Rear-Admiral fought?" Sengoku interjects. He's been quiet, but his eyes have been calculating since they set eyes on him. There was no 'how are you feeling?' or 'thank god,' only a court 'good to see you alive' before the barrage of questions. The patient doesn't fool himself. Right now, he is only a puzzle piece, a survivor of a conflict he hardly remembers. 2 years... almost 3.
"I punched right through him." That memory is vivid, clear as if it happened yesterday, and to him, it did. He's familiar with the feel of magma burning through skin and tissue, muscle and bone without care. The smell of burning rubber hit him hard, and he'd tighten his control to avoid being disoriented. Nothing with that idiot could ever be simple.
Apparently, this is the right thing to say because Sengoku's eyes snap tp Garp across the room. The other man is angry, nostrils flaring.
"Luffy would never...!" he immediately begins, no doubt wanting to defend his cursed legacy.
"We don't know what happened to him over those two years, Garp," Sengoku tells him, in a tone that might be sorrowful if his eyes weren't so hard. "We've been as lenient as we could, but his injury was suspicious since the beginning..."
"He almost died, that's what happened!" Garp explodes, but experience has taught him better, and he's quick to reign in his anger. "And we don't know what happened to him, either." There's nothing particularly rude about how he gestures to the hospital patient in the room. However, somehow his utter distaste is still palpable. "Luffy barely survived Enies Lobby, and as soon as he was back, he got right into working for Justice, for what's right...! Even though-" The Vice-Admiral's -now Admiral, he thinks bitterly- voice cuts off abruptly, making a high-pitched sound that might be surprise or regret. It piques his curiosity, but there's one more voice that makes himself heard before Garp can be further questioned.
"This could be a ploy to cause infighting," Rear Admiral Coby comments. He's barely recognizable from the snot-nosed brat from years ago. His pink hair is easily distinguishable, though now it's longer than he's ever seen it, flowing its way down his back to an unpractical length. It is the fire in his eyes that gives him away. It has never flickered, a world-nurtured hatred for piracy that has hounded a crybaby into a formidable marine. That look had been the reason he'd been taken in as his apprentice. Coby is a man who'll stop at nothing to eradicate the root of evil. The marine had known that two years ago, but it is strange to see his vision come to life with no journey in between. Contrary to the older men in the room, Coby had been more emotional at his return. He'd try to keep his emotions to himself, which was appreciated. "Luffy has been closely monitored since his return; there have been no hitches in his behaviors, not even false ones. He has taken to his new duty with an uncanny fervor, and his crew's reviews from their time in different ships are rowdy but otherwise clean."
"And who exactly monitors that kid?" Because if it was Garp, he has a couple of opinions about it...!
"I do," Coby answers quickly, "Sakazuki-sensei." And he's definitely going soft if such a thought manages to ease some of his worries. He narrows his eyes.
"The fact that he's been laying low doesn't mean anything," he refutes immediately, "I know what I saw. The Buster Call was summoned to Enies Lobby because Monkey D. Luffy and his ragtag band of dirty marines committed treason of the highest order."
"Or that's what they want you to think..." Coby interjects," sir." Sakazuki looks again at his pupil. He looks as put together as always, and his eyes are sharp and unforgiving. Maybe another man would feel hurt or threatened. Still, Sakazui recognizes his own teaching style when he sees it, putting Justice over everything and anything. For the world to be fair, Justice must be Absolute. (It almost makes him... proud.) Now, why couldn't Coby take his seat as Admiral instead of Garp? Along the lazy Kuzan and the fickle Borsalino, Sakazuki's surprised there is a Navy to come back to.
And how did he return?
"For now, we'll keep your return a secret," Sengoku declares, "and let's see how things go."
Sakazuki bites down on his opinion. Monkey slipped once, he'll slip again. And this time, this time Sakazuki needs to aim better.
"So? Spit it out Phoenix," Doflamingo ends his story much the same way it went, abruptly and irrevocably. Slowly, his wide grin is making home in his face. Still, even the unflappable Warlord hadn't been able to curve his visible annoyance. Marco looks at him, bruised and disheveled, a man who thought himself a god stricken down to one of the darkest pits in this world. Something niggles in the back of Marco's mind, the brush of a feather, of soft fingers drifting down his ribs. Too soft to tickle, but willful enough to be electrifying. (Luffy really is something else.) "What happened between you and Straw Hat?"
What happened indeed, Marco wonders.
The blonde tries to piece together when it started. Maybe when someone offered comfort to the first mate of the strongest man in the world, a man who recovers from any damage by the gift of flames. Or maybe, when a marine risked his life and health for an island that had tried to betray him. Those would be somewhat understandable scenarios. Marco can admire drive and strength and courage, appreciate righteousness and freedom when he sees it.
(He might be even growing a little fond of Justice when it's wielded in stubby, scarred hands.)
Maybe it comes to life when those treacherous fingers first ran their way down Marco's chest when he had been a beast made of fire and miracles. Perhaps he hadn't noticed as they carved runes upon his skin, tilting everything just so from that moment on. Luffy's touch had been chilly, almost cold enough to keep him rooted right there on the Sunny's grassy deck. Plant him and let him bloom in a wild, new ecosystem -steal him away from everything Marco's ever known.
(The offer had never sounded tempting before.)
But really, the more Marco thinks about it, the more it is that one first smile.
It seems impossible, ridiculous, and Marco's never been much of a romantic. (He doesn't think he could ever speak of it out loud.) But, he can swear that even through the fogs of time and the fickleness of memory, that the first time Monkey D. Luffy smiled at Marco, black meeting blue in a lost ship in the middle of the sea... the Universe let out a sigh of relief.
It was momentary and momentous, a finally gossiped amongst the stars.
Luffy just... knows things sometimes.
(Did he know then, too?)
Marco shivers, almost as if he can still feel the rain that pelted him like punishment when he abandoned the Moby Dick. He'd run because if he ran into Pops before Marco took flight, the Phoenix isn't sure he would've had the strength to leave. (He wishes he would've stayed so viscerally it makes him sick.)
Rear-Admiral Luffy is on the line. Marco, he says it's important.
Marco has avoided thinking about it. First, too concussed and cold and hurt. Then, puzzled by Luffy's appearance, cold eyes, and a different kind of pain. Thirdly, distracted by Doflamingo's retelling. Now, there's no thinking around it: What would've happened if he had picked up the den-den mushi? Did Luffy predict this too? That Marco would lose? (That he could?)
"Luffy?" Marco asks nonchalantly, saying the name as if it didn't burn in his mouth, as if he hasn't uttered it in a myriad of minimally different ways. (Like he hadn't screamed it so meaningfully that even in the darkest corner of his being light shone briefly, a night-lamp trying to find the outlet it could make a home in.) "We fucked once," he dismisses quickly.
Marco thought, as much as he doesn't consider it his brightest moment, that Ace going cross-eyed at Luffy having a sex drive would be the most extreme reaction he would have to that particular declaration. Doflamingo, Marco thinks as the former Warlord pales in one fell swoop, might just give him a run for his money. The former royal stills, motionless as if he'd become a photograph immortalizing his absolute surprise.
He looks at Marco as if it's the first time he's ever seen him, mind trying to catch up to this new reality. Honestly, it's not really that big of a deal, Marco ponders. Why are people so surprised?
"Fucked?" Doflamingo's voice doesn't waver, but there's something wild in his eyes as if waiting for Marco to jump up from where he lays slumped against the wall with a just kidding! The pirate shrugs, carefully maintaining an uninterested vibe, perfectly imitating the idea that he and Luffy had tumbled into bed once -courtesy of a most likely drunken mistake- and had been in the peripheries of awkwardness ever since. Nothing could be further from the truth, of course, but Doflamingo doesn't need to know that.
A beat passes, and then, Doflamingo laughs. Long, hard and obnoxiously as he's wont to do. Marco eyes him cooly, keeping his eyes on the other inmates. Several conversations are running in the background, most prisoners too far away from their cell to share stories or insults. Most of their unwilling companions though, are snoring away, it's probably early morning or whatever passes as early morning in a dark place. He and Doflamingo have nothing to say to each other, and eventually, the laughter dies down.
Marco tries not to remember when he learned what a place was like when it was cold, dark, and silent. He presses his hands in between his thighs and his chest, knees withdrawing in a mockery of keeping body warmth in a place that sucks it right out of you. His hands are trembling, so he's not doing a very good job.
So, funnily enough, there was one scene planned for this chapter (where we found out what's going to happen to marco) but it's... not here? Like, idk what to tell you. Hoped you enjoyed the chapter anyways :)