Full Summary: Still recovering from the Thanagarian Invasion, the Justice League finds themselves in a new crisis when they discover two mysterious swordsmen from another world, each bearing strength beyond their wildest imaginations and sharing a complex relationship that not even Batman can quite understand.

Dracule "Hawk-Eyes" Mihawk, after fighting the duel of his life and dying at the sword of one of the only two men he ever found worthy enough to taste the full weight of his blade, wakes up in a new land with no direction and comes face-to-face with an older version of the man that took his title.

"Pirate Hunter" Roronoa Zoro, still recovering from the death of his captain during the greatest battle of the age, finds himself enveloped in a mysterious light and into another world, and in the presence of the only man he ever respected in equal measure to the captain he lost.

Enemies, rivals, master and student — neither of them have ever managed to put a definitive label to their relationship, because they've been all that and everything in-between. Now, as they survive this new world and search for a way home, the two greatest swordsmen in history try to find some common ground as they begin this unexpected chapter in their magnificent tale.

Chapter Summary: Roronoa Zoro is alive. Dracule Mihawk is dead. They manage to find each other anyway.

Roronoa Zoro does not get drunk.

He doesn't. He really doesn't. He loves his alcohol, yes, more than anyone else on the Thousand Sunny, but he's not one to fall susceptible to drink. A true swordsman never allows himself to be beholden to something that could muddle the senses. Such a thing could be the difference between life and death, even for the Greatest Swordsman in the World.

So no, Zoro does not get drunk.

That does not stop him from wanting to get drunk.

(Really, really drunk.)

"Zoro."

Zoro ignores her. It's not hard. He's been doing it for years.

"Zoro."

Of course, that doesn't stop her, but then again few things do.

"Zoro!"

Still—

BAM!

He face-plants onto the counter, a bruise on his head. It's a familiar feeling. He'd dare say even a good one. If a painful one.

"Damn witch!" he snarls up at the furious visage of his crewmate, massaging the back of his head to sooth the ache.

Nami, unimpressed and mildly angry, returns the glare with nary a flinch. Her hands on her hips, her fiery orange hair framing her face, she's beautiful and intimidating and every bit the witch Zoro proclaims her to be. But he would have to be blind not to see the concern in her eyes. "Zoro," she speaks, and the vexation is lined with distress, "That's enough."

Her voice softens at the end. It pisses Zoro off. "This isn't nearly enough to get me drunk," he says instead, gesturing to the growing mountain of bottles.

"Zoro—"

"Just let me drink, Nami!" he all but shouts, and there's the flinch, and now he's feeling the regret.

But Nami isn't put off. She steels her expression, sliding onto the stool next to his with the sort of grace that only a woman with years of thieving and piracy behind her can manage. Her hand reaches out, taking his forearm with the sort of comforting gentleness that is uncharacteristic of her except in the most intimate of moments. It's something that's rare with him, unlike the others. Zoro isn't one for sentimentality. He never has been.

"He wouldn't want this, Zoro," Nami's voice echoes through his thoughts, piercing and shattering because even now, the loss is fresh and the wound raw. "He would hate to see you like this."

Zoro closes his one, working eye, and bites down the retort. Nami doesn't need to hear that, and he sure as hell doesn't need to say it. It would just be another reminder of what was gone and what wasn't coming back.

"Come on," and now she's tugging on his arm and slamming some Beris down on the counter to pay for the drinks, and the lack of threats about increasing his debt is enough for Zoro to realize he really does need to stop, "Let's go back to Sunny."

Zoro can't do anything but follow.

The others don't say anything. Chopper just hands him the hangover cure and Robin gives him a pat on the back and Brook belts out a calming tune as he climbs up to the crow's nest. He's the first mate and the lookout. That's all he's ever been, that's all he's ever wanted to be.

He's not the captain. No matter whatever the rest of the world might say.

Zoro closes his one remaining eye, and tries not to dream.

And then there's light.

There's light, and a scream, a call to his name—

And then he's gone.

Dracule Mihawk does not bleed.

Usually.

It's actually been years since he's suffered so much as a scratch. Not even during the War of the Best did he suffer a single injury. No, the last person to draw blood from him was Red-Hair, before that blasted Sea King took his arm and all of Mihawk's few bursts of anything resembling joy with it. For the next decade, not a single person has ever managed to bring it back.

And then there was East Blue, and a foolish boy with three swords and a fire in his eyes that Mihawk had not seen since his own.

No one else has ever made him feel so alive.

Ironic, then, that it is because of that man that he is now dying.

Roronoa is standing above him. He isn't unscathed, far from it, but his grip on his katana is unrelenting and the harsh glare in his eye is squared entirely on his opponent. Sandai Kitetsu and Enma are whole but strewn across the ground somewhere, and only Wado Ichimonji is in hand, but that is more than what Mihawk has.

His kogatana is long destroyed, Yoru is gone from his grasp and Mihawk himself is kneeling on the ground, blood pooling beneath him. Gashes decorate every exposed inch of his body. Nothing, however, is bigger than the diagonal cut that dominates his chest, from the right shoulder to the left hip. It's almost a perfect mirror for the one on Roronoa's chest. The one that Mihawk had delivered him amongst the wreckage of a bifurcated ship in the midst of the weakest sea, when they had made that unvoiced pact to duel again at the top. A silent reminder, a permanent mark to keep this boy going and going and to never stop until he was strong enough to take the head of the man that gave it to him.

It is Roronoa's most prominent scar, one that he wears with pride in every serious fight he's in. Mihawk's golden gaze can't help but trace the outline of that scar now, faded and ragged but unquestionably one that Roronoa will bear for life. His end may be imminent, but the soon-to-be-former World's Greatest Swordsman can't help but take a sick sort of comfort in the fact that, with that scar, he will never be forgotten as long as Roronoa lives.

Hopefully, Roronoa would live for a long, long time.

Roronoa lifts his remaining sword, holding the tip level with the adam's apple of his once-mentor. Morbidly, Mihawk wonders if his one-time student plans to literally take his head. Decapitation, if done right, is quick and painless, and carrying around Mihawk's skull is certainly one way to prove to the world that he is the rightful new owner of Mihawk's title. The former Warlord couldn't begrudge the young warrior that. Not even being the first mate of the most powerful pirate in the world will completely absolve the skepticism that will come with claiming he had defeated Dracule Mihawk.

For a moment, Mihawk thinks that will be his end. But no, Roronoa lowers the tip of his katana so it is now pointing at the center of his chest. As the arm rears back, as Wado Ichimonji thrusts through his heart, Dracule Mihawk meets Roronoa Zoro glare-for-glare, and gives one final smirk even as his vision begins to darken.

He couldn't have asked for a better way to go.

Death, apparently, does involve a bright white light.

And a woman, whoever she is.

Mihawk isn't really in a position to care. Not with the kind of pain he's in.

"Oh no, now this won't do," she coos, trailing her hand across edges of his most prominent wound. It's sensitive there, and he'd tell her to cut it out, but he can barely work up the energy to lift his eyelids, let alone speak.

The last thing he sees before blissful unconsciousness claims him is the blurred visage of a golden mask.

Then… nothing.

"Are you sure of this, Batman?" Superman asks skeptically as he turns his head towards his best friend. Up in front, Wonder Woman is piloting the Javelin, with Flash chattering next to her and Green Lantern listening along behind him. On the other side of the space cop is Martian Manhunter, calmly meditating as always. It's almost like old times — if it weren't for one glaring absence.

It's been six months, and yet Shayera's missing presence is still a cut too deep. Even the fact that she is still alive doesn't cover up the loss. For there is no question that she is lost. Clark can only hope that one day, she can find herself again, and find her way back to them.

He pushes away the thoughts of his former teammate, and focuses on his current one. Bruce, as taciturn as ever, finally deigns to open his mouth and speak. "According to Doctor Fate, those two spikes of mystical energy are unmistakable. His scrying only confirmed it; le Fay is summoning something — or more likely, someone."

"But who?"

The vigilante clicks his teeth. "It doesn't matter who. Whoever it is, is no doubt someone we don't want in le Fay's thrall. We all know what her aims are, and the world is still recovering from the Thanagarian Invasion. The last thing people need to deal with is a twisted version of Camelot helmed by a mad sorceress and her bratty son."

"True," Superman admits. "But you're not one to go into a situation blind."

"In this case, we have no choice. Whoever it is, though, I'm sure we can handle them."

Zoro does not wake up with a hangover, which is a plus. However, he does wake up in a place he doesn't recognize, which is a big, big minus. He's had enough experience on these seas to recognize that, so the moment his head clears and he can move, he grabs his swords, fashions them to his sash and goes out the door. He doesn't dare touch the food or drink lying next to his bed.

The first thing he notices is that this place, wherever it is, is made out of stone. Old stone. A castle, most likely. Wonderful.

At least Nami isn't here to give her bullshit directions. He's sure he can figure a way out on his own. Now, if the world could just stop tilting…

When Mihawk wakes up, he's no longer in pain. There is grogginess, yes, and weariness, but the fiery blister of agony and raw lesions has left him. Once he gets his wits about him, he sits up, pawing at his chest. No bandages, not even so much as a band-aid. He's been healed, most likely by unnatural means.

He looks around. He's in a room of some sort, illuminated by candle light. His cloak is hanging by one of the bedposts, along with his tricorn, the plume sticking out. Yoru is leaning against the wall and — to his alarm — so is his kogatana, still fitted in its cross sheath, the cord dangling from his prized blade's hilt. Mihawk stares at it for a long moment, the memory of the blade snapping from its hilt after an unfortunate clash with Enma repeating in his mind. Absentmindedly, he once again placed a hand towards his bare chest.

No, he thinks, not by natural means at all.

The swordsman spies a mirror against another wall, and almost on automatic, he goes to it. When he sees his reflection, it takes all his self-control not to flinch. His hand reaches up to his right shoulder, before slipping diagonally towards his left hip.

A scar. A massive, slanted scar, freshly healed but still unquestionable present, dividing his chest in two. A reminder of his one, greatest defeat.

If he were a normal swordsman, he would take pride in this scar. He had crossed blades with the World's Greatest Swordsman and lived. But Dracule Mihawk is not a normal swordsman, far from it. He too had once been the World's Greatest Swordsman. He feels pride, yes, but also shame. With this mark, he would forever have to live with the ignominy of this loss. For a man who has lived his entire life undefeated, it is almost inconceivable.

But there is solace. Because the man that had dealt him this wound to his pride was one that he had respected above all others, the only man left in the world that had ever truly deserved to see and match the full weight of his blade. If there is a scar he could live with, it is this one.

He doesn't know how long he stands there, tracing that blemish. But eventually, other concerns win out. He turns away from the mirror, and takes back his cloak and tricorn. He slips his arms through the familiar scarlet sleeves, places his hat on his head, before grasping at Yoru's familiar hilt. He lifts his beloved sword, observing the edge, before sliding it back into the makeshift sheathe he had affixed onto the back of his cloak.

The final touch is his kogatana. Mihawk fingers the crucifix with a fond sigh, briefly taking the blade out of its sheathe to confirm that it is, indeed, whole again, before sliding the necklace on. The weight against his chest is a comfort he will never admit to, but a comfort nonetheless. His ensemble complete, he heads toward the door.

It is time to see what, exactly, is going on.

Zoro will not admit to ever being lost.

But he is lost.

Terribly lost.

Why do the rooms keep shifting! He all but screams in his head. This place is like a maze, all the twists and turns and everything in-between. He could've sworn he had run into the same three rooms a half-dozen times. He is just about ready to unsheathe Enma and start cutting open a path at the rate things are going.

The swordsman grits his teeth, before taking a deep breath and calming himself. No. It wouldn't do to lose his temper over something as stupid as this. He would do it the other way, the logical way, the way any veteran of the New World would. He closes his one eye, and reaches.

His Observation Haki has always been weaker than his Armament and Conqueror's. It just didn't come as easily to him as the others did. But just because it isn't easy didn't mean it is impossible to master, and by God, did Zoro master it. To be the Greatest is to turn your weaknesses into strengths, and Zoro endeavors that above all others. He has trained his Observation Haki until it is as good as Usopp's, as the cook's, as Luffy's, and didn't dare to let it falter even after he had finally reached his life's dream.

So when Zoro reaches, he reaches. He allows his senses to envelop with the environment, to cover every single inch of this castle. He searches for auras, and finds them. Several powerful ones at the center, almost entirely smothering one dim one, and one pitifully small one. And…

Another aura. One almost a match for his own. And familiar. Painfully familiar. It almost felt like—

Zoro's eye snaps open. And he runs.

"You're surrounded, le Fay!" Batman shouts as he and the rest of the Justice League encircle the sorceress. Superman has his fists up, Wonder Woman is pulling her lasso taut, Green Lantern and Martian Manhunter floating above and the Flash all but buzzing below.

"The Justice League," Morgaine hisses, floating above with amethyst energy flaming from her hands. Next to her, sitting on a throne and munching on some popcorn is the forever-child Mordred, who is exchanging faces with Flash. "You dare intrude on my domain?"

"When your domain is giving off enough magical energy to light up Las Vegas a hundred times over, yes, we dare," John snarks back, forming a blaster with his ring and aiming directly for the golden mask. He's always hated that thing.

"Ah, Green Lantern! Still recovering from your little heartbreak a few months back?" The sorceress taunts in return. Mordred lets out a snort, while John's expression grew cold and fierce.

"Hey, lay off!" Wally shouts, briefly pausing from his own exchange with the would-be boy king to defend his best friend. Morgaine retaliates with a small blast of energy, which the speedster deftly dodges.

"Enough!" Diana shouts, cutting through the banter. "What are you up to, witch?" the Amazon demands.

Beneath her aureate concealment, Morgaine smirks. "Just shoring up our forces, dear princess." She gestures to her son beneath her. "See, a conversation with my beloved son made me realize that in order to claim our rightful kingdom, we need an army to fight for us — an army to fight you. Seeing as Merlin obliterated our last one during the fall of Camelot, and seeing as the villains of this world are… lacking, we decided to 'outsource', as you neophytes say in this day and age."

"'Outsource'?" Clark asks, skepticism to his tone.

"Indeed."

Beneath his cowl, Bruce narrows his eyes. "You summoned someone from another dimension," he deduces.

"An alternate universe, to be exact," Morgaine says with her mocking tilt. "Two someones. Two powerful someones, if I do say so myself. All I need to do is to bind them to myself and Mordred, and we'll have two powerful generals for our growing army that will prove to be more than a match for you."

"Not if we have anything say about it," J'onn retorts, eyes glowing scarlet.

A tension falls upon the group as the two sides prepare to do battle.

SLAM!

Only for it to break when one of the doors on the right side of the room slammed open to reveal a new interloper. Everyone stops and stares at the man, this strange man with slicked back green hair and one eye. He has tan skin, broad shoulders, and muscles — powerful, strong muscles — all over. He is wearing a long, open dark-green coat with a red sash, exposing a muscled torso decorated with an old, massive diagonal scar. Within the sash, three katanas are tucked in on the right. On his left arm is a black bandanna, and on his left earlobe are three identical golden earrings.

He takes one long look at the room, and then says, "Who the hell are all of you?"

Everyone blinks.

And then, another door, on the other side of the room, opens.

Everyone's attention turns to the left, where another man steps out. He's tall, about and inch or so taller than the previous arrival, with raven black hair, a similarly-colored beard and yellow, piercing, double-layered irides. In contrast to the other man, his clothing is much more western: a dark cloak with scarlet sleeves that have an ornate floral pattern, opening up to reveal his bare chest and his own scar, and a pair of purple of trousers held up by a single-buckled, golden belt. He had a black, wide-brimmed hat with a white plume on his head, and a golden cross necklace hanging around his neck, mirrored by the enormous cross on his back.

Unlike the other man, he doesn't say anything. His penetrating eyes simply scan over the occupants of the room, before finally landing on the one-eyed man, eyes widening just so. For that one moment, the two openly stare at each other.

"Hawk-Eyes," the first arrival breathes.

"Roronoa," the second breathes back.

For that one, single, excruciating moment, the world stops.

And the next thing anyone knows…

…it breaks.

A new story. I know, I shouldn't, but this wouldn't leave my head, and I'm not really in the mood to right for THAB or TSG since I've been working on those stories for years, and I'm on a One Piece binge with a lot of Zoro and Mihawk feels, so I thought — why not?

Anyway, as you'll notice, this takes place about ten years post-canon, a few months after Luffy's death (which I will reveal the details of gradually). Mihawk died in his final duel against Zoro, so obviously Zoro is surprised to see him alive again. That's going to be an important aspect of their relationship going forward, as Zoro has obviously changed a bit from the last time Mihawk saw him. DCAU-wise, this takes place about a few months before JLU starts, which I've decided takes place about eight or so months after the ending of JL. So, no Shayera yet, though she will show up later on and play a pivotal part in the story.

Also, in this story, both of them have Conqueror's Haki. I know there's been a lot of debate over that and if it's disproven in the manga I will acknowledge it, but I've added it because I can't really see how Mihawk could match Shanks without it due to the recent revelations in the manga. And if Mihawk has it, then Zoro has to have it as well (and truth be told, there's more evidence that's true). Plus, there's going to be an antagonist later down the line that they will both need it for. I won't say who it is, but it's almost imperative they both have it for that reason alone.

Perona is also going to show up later. The reason I don't have her right at the beginning is because I want to focus on Zoro and Mihawk right now and establishing them in the DCAU. But make no mistake — she will show up. I can't have these two around each other without her too, you know.

As far as romance goes, there will be romance later down the line with all three, and with DC characters because I like the idea of crack ships. I won't say which pairings, but it's going to be a lot of fun. It's not going to play a big, big part of the story, but it's going to be somewhat prominent enough to take note.

Well, that's it for now! See ya!