Everyone Law had was dead. His mother and sister died in a fire. His father died of cancer. Law sat in the judge's office, listening to the lawyers and adoption social workers' muted murmuring beyond the wall, and thought that maybe he was dying soon, too. Maybe death was out to get him but just kept missing.

The door opened. A very tall, very blond, very well-dressed man stood in the doorway. Weirdly enough, he was wearing sunglasses indoors. Those were some weird sunglasses, too, glinting red in their white frame. Who even wore sunglasses like that?

"Hello, Law," the tall blond man said. "My name is Doflamingo, but you can call me Doffy. All my family does."

"Who the fuck are you?" Law asked, not in the mood for pleasantries. The man laughed.

"Ooooh, feisty," he said. "You've got fight in you; I like that. I was your father's good friend, Law. Now I'm here to take care of his son."

"Father never mentioned any Doffy," Law suspiciously said.

"Maybe not to his family, but we did keep in touch. We were great friends back in the day, Law. I wouldn't let his son go to a foster home. Grab your stuff, you're coming with me to my house. You're family now."

And just like that, Law had a family again.

There were a lot of people in the House, and all of them were crazy about Doffy.

"Young master is the best," a pretty girl about Law's age told him, her eyes shining. "He's always so kind to us and gives us all the toys. You're so lucky he found you. I wish he found my friends in time, but I was the only one left when he came."

Law thought what she said sounded weird, but he didn't ask because he didn't exactly care.

There were so many children in the House, running and screaming and playing with each other. All of them had some really strange toys, too, toys that looked exactly like real guns and knives. They even cut for real. But Law wasn't interested in toys. He wanted to be a doctor, just like his parents, and all he wanted to do was study and dissect frogs. When he told Doffy that Doffy ruffled his hair, and said he was proud of Law.

That felt kinda nice. Maybe Doffy really was a nice guy.

There were many grown-ups in the House, too, and most of them were really weird. Like that excitable, art-crazed old hag, or that nasty, touchy-feely old geezer, or that huge guy, the biggest guy Law had ever seen, with the highest voice Law had ever heard. All of them looked iffy, so Law made sure to avoid them and only talk to Doffy.

There was also another very tall blond guy in the House, and he was freaky, the freakiest of them all by far. He usually walked around painted in lipstick and eyeliner, and looking perpetually zoned out.

The very day Law arrived, he learned the guy was one of the few things that were not to be touched in the House, along with Doffy's sunglasses and Doffy's favorite gun. The big, thick boy who told him that called the guy, "Roci."

"He looks like a freak," Law derisively said. The big boy blanched.

"Never say that around Doffy," he hissed, "do you want to die? Never say that at all. Do you have any idea what Doffy does to the people who mess with his brother?"

So that was Doffy's brother. So even the big, impressive Doffy had a silly brother he doted on, just like Law had doted on Lami before she — before she—

Law took a deep breath, and forced his thoughts to go back to Doffy's brother.

The guy acted weird, and looked weirder. But Doffy didn't even look like he noticed it. He treated Roci the same as he did anyone in the Family; he smiled at him and talked to him, even if he did have to repeat himself once or twice before his slow brother even noticed that someone was talking to him. Maybe Doffy really was a nice guy. Someone who treated their dim, freaky brother like that could only be a very kind person.

In a month's time, on a sweltering summer evening, Doffy went down to the Hall, looking all dressed up and excited about something. A very tall man trailed behind him, a blond man with pale lips and eyelashes and startlingly blue eyes.

Law only recognized him by his shirt, one of those flowy, softly glimmering silk shirts Doffy's brother always wore.

"So. Today's the big day, huh," Gladius said. Doffy grinned, and put his arm around Roci's waist. The way Doffy held him looked kinda weird, though. His palm was too low, placed on Roci's hip, where Roci's white, otherwise straight jeans stretched so tight. How did the guy even walk in those jeans?

"Good luck, young master," Giolla said, ever excitable.

"I make my own luck," Doffy promised, his grin wide, and pulled Roci after him.

It was late when they got back, so late it was already early in the morning. Law ventured out of his room to take a piss, and when he was walking back, he heard noises.

Ahead of him, someone was panting and whining and growling in the dark. The moans were small and quiet, the growling gruff and hungry, interspersed with loud smacking sounds.

Law frowned. If someone was getting busy in the hallway, Law didn't want to see it. He stopped, making to turn around.

"Stop, Doffy," someone begged breathily ahead of him. "Wait until the bedroom, at least."

"Why should I," Doffy rumbled, "it's my house. I can fuck you wherever I want. I can fuck you in the hall, and no one will say a word. This is all mine," he stopped for a while, and whoever was with him suddenly keened. "My house. My people. My city. And you're mine, too."

"Yours," someone agreed ahead of Law, "just yours."

"Good boy," Doffy said fondly. Wait, boy? "Stop fussing. I want you," his voice turned all breathy, "I want you right now, right here."

There was a shaking sigh.

"Beautiful," Doffy said almost reverently, "do you have any idea just how beautiful you are, my heart?"

Someone cried out, unexpectedly loud in the silence of the sleeping House.

"I want to hear you," Doffy said, "be loud for me tonight."

His big hands tore the clothes off the other man's body like Doffy owned them. He probably did.

And now that Law's eyes got used to the dark, he could see that the guy with Doffy was almost as tall as him. His hair glowed pale in the murky darkness.

Law tiptoed away, trying to be as quiet as a mouse. He needn't have bothered, though, it seemed. Doffy and whoever was with him were making so much noise, the whole House was probably wide awake by now.

Was that other guy really who he looked like? Law couldn't possibly believe it. Doffy was nice. It wasn't nice to do those things to your own brother, so it couldn't possibly be Roci.

He waited in the Hall until the noises died down, and then, he quietly trod back to his room, and slipped under his blanket, and closed his eyes. But sleep wouldn't come, chased away by the strange scene Law accidentally witnessed, so he turned on the bedside lamp and read one of father's books Doffy brought here for him. Doffy really was very nice.

When he went down for breakfast, Doffy was already in the dining hall and looking as dandy as ever, buttering his toast and laughing with Diamante. Roci sat by his side, lips red and eyeliner so dark on his pale face.

His throat was all purple with marks and hickeys. What did he even do yesterday night?

"I have to say, I did not expect things to go that smoothly," Doffy said, biting into his toast.

"Well, we did hold all the cards. Although there was that one ornery guy, I was so sure he was going to make a scene."

"That's why I bring Roci," Doffy said, "he's good with the bratty ones."

Roci didn't even react at the sound of his name. Was he retarded or something?

"Roci," Doffy called, "look at me."

Roci jerked and obediently turned his head. Doffy put his hand into Roci's hair, and bit into his lips.

They kissed and kissed, and Roci was — kissing him back, making those familiar little moans? And everyone else in the dining room just kept eating breakfast, like two brothers kissing each other like that was no big deal at all.

" I think this calls for a celebration," Doffy finally said, breaking away from Roci's lips. His hand never left Roci's hair. "Let's have a party, shall we?"

"Whatever you want, Doffy," Roci breathed, looking dazed, his lipstick badly smudged, and Law felt sick.

It felt strange to remember being repulsed by Roci's makeup, or Roci in general. That precious person, his savior twice over, everything that was home and love.

When Doffy put his knife to Law's neck, the last vestiges of respect Law had for Doffy died in a blazing fire.

It wasn't even that he was afraid (although he was.) It wasn't the pain from Doffy's knife (although it hurt.)

It was Roci, his wide scared eyes, his white face. When it got that white, his lipstick looked like a fresh wound.

Doffy wasn't trying to hurt Law. He was trying to hurt Roci, because Roci loved him. And it worked. Whatever Roci was trying to keep from his brother must have been very important, to make Doffy that mad.

But Roci caved so quickly, and all because of Law.

Law saw Doffy deal with people, many times. It didn't faze him now, and he did come to admire Doffy's efficient yet creative ways. But now that his prey was Roci…

Roci, who gave him a smile as Vergo was dragging Law out of the room. Law's Special Smile, the one Roci only ever had for him. The smile that said, with no words at all:

It's gonna be alright, Law. I won't let anyone or anything hurt you.

And Law knew Roci was in deep shit. He didn't understand what was happening, why Doffy got that mad, or what Roci did wrong; all he knew was when Doffy got all worked up like that, heads rolled. But Law still let that smile convince him that everything was gonna be alright.

It was, for him. In a way.

But Roci was gone. Law never saw him again, just — parts of him.

And now that he remembered Roci's smile, it cut him deeper than Doffy's knife had. Law might have been too foolish to realize it back at the time, but Roci, Roci must have known it was the last time he smiled at him.

Where was he now? What did Doffy do to him? Was he even alive?

Many times now, when the night was darkest and despair deepest, Law considered just taking the scalpel Doffy's money bought him, and putting it to the best possible use. Only one thing stopped him: if Doffy died, there might be no one to tell him what happened to Roci.

Law watched and listened, and looked and searched, and waited and waited, and waited some more.

One day, he'd find something. One day, they would stumble.

And in case they didn't, Law'd just fuck them right up with all the intel he had gathered over the years.

Doffy was a shrewd motherfucker. For all that he made sure the Family had all the money, for all that he never let his knives go too long without a taste of blood, he knew very well that in this day and age, data was the ultimate asset and weapon. And he had a lot of those weapons, trained on cops and politicians and big corporations. There were many people doing his bidding around the country and beyond, all kinds of big shots in high places.

Any of those people would pay big money for the kind of intel Law had on Doffy.

Not that he was ever selling it for the sake of money. It wasn't like anyone could possibly pay the price of the info on all of Doffy's connections, arrangements, bank accounts, or money laundering schemes.

But if push came to shove, if there was no hope left, then Law would see to it that Doffy went down and got buried. Law would make sure his Family was dismantled and destroyed. Law would raise hell and raze the House to the ground, Law would set the whole world on fire, to make Doffy feel a modicum of Law's pain and grief.

To make Doffy pay for the precious person he stole from Law, for someone who was worth more than all the money in the world.

For thirteen years, Law spent sleepless nights watching and searching and planning, but it was fine. He couldn't sleep anyway.

Whenever Roci was in the House, he would always come kiss him goodnight. And he was so silly about it, too. Every single time, he'd leave a lipstick mark on Law's forehead, and then panic and try to wipe it off with varying degrees of success.

And after that, Law would always sleep so well, like someone was sitting there with him, keeping watch over his sleep.

Ever since Roci disappeared, Law never had a good night's sleep. It was either the nightmares, or insomnia. That damn Eustass freak would always say Law's eye bags were bigger than his backpack. Well, the black eye he tended to get in return was definitely bigger than Law's eye bags.

This night was different, though.

He lumbered into his room, dropped his backpack on the floor, barely stayed awake through the shower, fell on the bed, and then he was out like a lamplight.

What a weird day, he thought hazily, before the warm wave of sleep came and washed the last of his thoughts away.

There were no nightmares, too, unless he counted Luffy's nightmarish bike riding style. But there was a dream, a strange dream, as strange as the man who was there with him, hot hard stomach under Law's palms. They were riding the ancient Honda Fireblade, racing through a wide field of flowers. Red, blue, yellow, violet, a sea of color around their little bike, closing in on them to drown and devour them. They were tearing through the thick dizzying sweetness of the air poisoned with the flower fragrance, riding faster than lightning, their hair wildly blowing in the wind, and then they were breaking out of the flower trap — and there was a cliff, a tall cliff over the dazzling blue sea shining brightly under the raging sun, and Law yelled:

Stop, we're gonna fall, we're gonna die,

— and the mad man riding the bike turned around, huge eyes and chapped lips mere inches from Law's face—

and laughed.

And then they were flying, flying straight into the endless blue.

The dream changed. There was no bike, no flowers, no clothes. There was a man, though, a lean golden man in the endless white. His lips, too, were stained with pinkish white. He opened his mouth for Law, and let him taste the cherry on his tongue.

It was — a good dream, even if it was accompanied by a rather wet awakening.

Law wasn't all that surprised, though, when that dream turned out to be the only good thing about his morning.

He took a quick, cold shower, tried to tame his perpetually shaggy hair, failed, lumbered back to his room. Damn, he really needed some coffee to rise from the dead.

A woman rushed past him, dressed — or rather, undressed — in some kind of a torn, glittery cocktail thing. She had long, thick, disheveled dark hair, and a smattering of dark bruises marring her dark skin. Law thought he heard a sob. He twisted his mouth. Honestly, Doffy never changed.

Everybody knew Doffy liked his men and women dark. Some of them even lasted longer than a night. There was that one Latina who looked like a red rose but had the name of a violet; once or twice, Law almost thought Doffy was actually going to keep her in his bed. But she, too, turned out like Roci. Law hadn't heard of her ever since.

Doffy wandered out of his bedroom, yawning widely. Thankfully, he thought to put on some pants this time.

"Ah, Law," he said jovially, "I was expecting you for last night's dinner. What took you so long?"

"A dude on the street kicked me in the nose and invited me for an apology beer. Things kinda spiraled from there on out," Law shrugged. It was best to never lie to Doffy, because he always knew, and he never forgave.

"Sounds like fun," Doffy said with a chuckle. "Buffalo and Baby 5 got you a treat for your homecoming, some nice stiffs for practice."

"Down in the refrigerator?" Law asked. Extra practice was always nice.

"Mm-hmm," Doffy said. He already had his sunglasses on. Did he ever take off that thing?

"Yo Doffy," Diamante said, walking up to them and scratching his ass. He was yawning, too. "Law. Welcome home."

Law nodded.

"I have that report you wanted, Doffy," Diamante said.

"To the study, then. Let's brush our teeth with some good whisky, hm?"

"That's unhygienic," Law couldn't help but say. Doffy laughed.

"Now that's our little doctor," he said. "Don't you worry, I take very good care of my health."

"By the way, what did you do to that little beauty you brought home last night?" Diamante leisurely asked. "I wouldn't mind having a go, she was quite something."

Doffy noncommittally shrugged.

"She left," he said, "check the cameras if you want, maybe she's still somewhere in the house. They do tend to get lost here."

"Did you at least let her keep both eyes?" Diamante asked, looking genuinely curious. "I'd rather first know if she's worth the trouble."

Doffy was never soft on his whores. Well, it wasn't like he ever had a shortage of those.

Law severely doubted Doffy was ever soft on anyone, but then he remembered.

There was that one night, just a regular night in the House, everyone gathered in the Hall and spending time with the Family. Doffy did always encourage it. "Bonding time," he called it.

Roci was sitting on the sofa, reading a newspaper, his legs habitually spread wide. It was a superpower of his, to spread his legs that wide in jeans that tight. He'd usually read the newspaper after breakfast. Law told him that there was the Internet for that, and that Roci was a fossil. Roci laughed, and ruffled his hair.

He was very late with his newspaper today. They had some kind of an operation that lasted since early morning and well into the afternoon, an officer-only operation, and Roci told Law nothing about it, no matter how much Law demanded.

He was just — resting now, reading his newspaper.

Doffy leisurely walked up to him, took the newspaper out of his hands, and carelessly flung it behind his back. The sheets spilled all over the soft, blush pink carpet. Dellinger immediately crawled up to one and started chewing on it. He was teething right now. It was hell.

Doffy plopped down on the carpet between Roci's legs, his back to the sofa. Roci didn't complain.

He'd usually complain if it was Law. He'd just push the intruder away and have them bring the newspaper back if it were the other children. He'd give the intruder a look if it was one of the grown-ups newly working in the House. And all the officers, or anyone else who worked for the Donquixote Family for longer than a day or two, knew to never mess with Doffy's brother.

But Roci never said a thing to Doffy, whatever Doffy told him, whatever Doffy did to him.

Law remembered. Roci put his hand on Doffy's head, his fingers running through Doffy's then-longer hair. Doffy pushed his head into his palm, like a big, lazy cat. He had an uncharacteristic little smirk on his face, so different from his usual wide, sharp smiles.

He started a talk with Trebol, something or other about business in Mott Haven. Law stopped listening; he didn't care about Doffy's business. All he cared about was studying, and Doffy said it was alright.

Law remembered. There was a slight smile on Roci's face — not his obedient "whatever-you-want-Doffy" smile, not one of his careful "pleasure-doing-business-with-you" smiles. A real smile. Law thought Roci only had those for him.

He scowled. Roci looked up, and gave him That Smile — Law's Smile.

The smile he had for Doffy was like a glimmer of sun through the crowns of the plane trees in their garden, blink-and-you-miss-it. Law's Smile was anything but. It was wide, stupid, and so full of love Law had to look down.

It was blinding, the sun of that smile. And it always made Law so very warm.

Roci lightly scratched the top of Doffy's head with that little smile back on his blood-red lips, petting him like a spoiled cat, and Doffy just about purred between his legs, butting his head against Roci's hand.

Law remembered. Several days after the Big Cleaning, Doffy cut his hair short, and had kept it short since.

"I hear you're very diligent in your learning, Law. Rocinante would've been proud of you," Doffy genially said in the middle of the usual lunch small talk.

Everybody froze. No one in the House ever mentioned that name. But Doffy was saying it now, all light and carefree, like he didn't go out of his way to paint that name out of existence for the past thirteen years.

Law swallowed the piece of steak he was chewing. He wanted to stick his table knife in Doffy's throat. He carefully kept his face blank and indifferent.

"He'd celebrate his 39th birthday today, did you know, Law?" Doffy went on, elegantly folding his arugula with his knife and fork. His dining etiquette had always been impeccable.

Law didn't know. In his years with Roci, he had never once seen him celebrate his birthday.

Doffy put the arugula in his mouth and thoughtfully chewed. No one in the dining hall dared to breathe.

"Let us all drink to my late brother, my dears," Doffy finally said, raising a glass of red wine, and everybody scrambled to follow suit. "He'd still be with us if he didn't make that mad, mad mistake of disobeying me. Honestly, I'd have thought he was smarter than that."

But Roci wasn't dead. Doffy didn't know Law saw, back then.

"I did always think he was a bit touched in the head," Buffalo declared. Buffalo was always not very bright.

Doffy looked at him until Buffalo turned about as white as their satin tablecloth.

"But mistakes are the stepping stones to learning, aren't they?" he said. "Law, Baby, Buffalo, there's a task for you for tonight. Trebol will explain the details. Mmm, this carpaccio is delicious," he pierced a thin red slice of meat with his fork and put it between his lips, the raw flesh disappearing between two rows of white teeth, "give my compliments to the chef, will you, Giolla?"

Law finished the dinner, looking appropriately calm and chewing his food exactly 32 times every bite to set up his digestive process for success. He got up and put his napkin on the table. He brushed his teeth in the bathroom near his room. He went to his room and closed the door. He dropped to his knees in front of his bed and screamed into his pillow, hot tears sliding down his face.

Roci, Roci, he thought, I never once gave you a present.

Roci gave him hundreds of presents, on his birthdays, at Christmas, at Easter, on any given day just because he felt like it. But there were no more Roci's presents in Law's room now, not a single one. They took them all during the Big Cleaning.

Law was angry. He was so angry, he was burning down with fury. His hands shook, and there was an iron band squeezing his throat. He couldn't stay in the damn House, not a moment longer.

But there was no other place for him to go. No one waited for him anywhere. No one wanted him, except for Doffy.

Then Law remembered. A whirlwind of music, a hurricane of laughter, delicious smells hanging in the air, and a most delicious boy by his side, his mouth smudged with sauce and his smile wide and happy.

"See you tomorrow," he heard again, clear boyish voice with notes of everlasting laughter. "Just come to the Baratie. Just come…"

Fuck you, Doffy, Law thought, and grabbed his jacket.