Law vindictively took Doffy's favorite pink Cadillac. He was going to get so much grief for this, but the petty revenge felt good.
He sped through the streets, driven by a single desire: to get as far away from the House, as fast as humanly possible. He might have broken a traffic rule or two, but he was careful when it counted, and he wasn't paying any fines anyway. Luffy probably wasn't at the Baratie yet; no matter, Law would just get reasonably drunk while waiting for him.
Pink was not his favorite color by far, but people outside the club ooohhed and aaahhed at his admittedly stylish ride, so Law wasn't too miffed.
He came early, but the club was already half-full. What was it about this place? Sure, the music was great and the food delicious, but this many people, this early?
He got the answer to his question before he even reached the counter. Well, more like it fell down on his head.
First, Law saw a colorful crowd of hip-hop looking people jumping around screaming.
Second, the crowd catapulted something to the ceiling.
Third, the something turned out to be a someone.
Fourth, the toss turned out to be rather ill-aimed.
Lying on the floor, trying to blink away the stars in his eyes, wincing at the sharp pain in his head and lower back, Law blurrily looked at the grinning mug of none other than Luffy the Bike Rider of Death.
"Hi Traffy, you're early," the hellish creature said cheerfully.
"Are you secretly trying to kill me? Because I'd say you're succeeding," Law grumbled, as much as the splitting headache allowed.
"Shut up, you wimp, I'll get you more beer. Come." Luffy dragged Law's body over to the counter and shoved a blessedly cold glass into his hands.
Law pushed the glass against his forehead with a grateful sigh.
Somebody barked.
Law blinked.
Law looked around and found nothing attention-worthy. Surely the crazy, screaming hip hop crowd didn't count.
Law looked down.
A small, white, terribly fluffy teddy bear was sitting at his feet, head cocked.
Law blinked some more. Was he hallucinating? He didn't even get to drink any beer yet.
The teddy bear barked again, and licked all over Law's limply hanging hand.
"What the fuck," Law helplessly said, putting the glass on the counter and leaning down to scratch the mysterious teddy bear behind the ears.
"Hello," someone decidedly human said. "I assume you are Traffy."
Law looked around again. Once again, he found nothing. There was a wall hanging over him where no wall had stood before, but surely not even Luffy's weirdness could possibly warp reality to the extent that walls suddenly started talking.
Law looked down, found nothing but a panting teddy bear, and tried looking up.
And up. And up. And up.
Somewhere just under the ceiling, he found a face. A face that was attached to the wall that suddenly came up to him. A wall that was, in fact, a dude. A very tall, very broad, very thick dude.
Law groped for the glass of beer and drank it all in one gulp, hoping to wake up at the desk in his familiar room back at Pfoho, his books and notes strewn all around him and Eustass' mighty snoring coming from the nearby window.
The wall dude genially laughed, sat down and said:
"Sorry for startling you like this. I understand you've only met Luffy yesterday, right? He can be quite — overwhelming before you get used to his particular sort of madness. I'm Jinbe."
"The pizza-making mama manager," Law identified. The teddy bear agreeably yipped.
"Sounds about right," Jinbe chuckled. "Sanji, can you please get our guest some coffee? And make it sweet, too."
"What is this creature," Law said. The creature tilted its head. It was so cute Law felt his headache subside. Even his bruised butt seemed to heal a bit.
"I think he wants kisses," the cordial Jinbe guy grinned. "You can hold him. It's a Samoyed puppy. Luffy got him this afternoon as a present from a fan."
"Luffy has fans," Law repeated, as he was being slobbered all over by a cute polar teddy bear seal puppy. "Fans that give him puppies. What the fuck."
"You get used to it," Jinbe laughed. "I think he likes you."
Law's heart skipped a beat.
"If you want you can ask Luffy to keep him for yourself."
Oh. He was talking about the puppy.
"Neither of us has the time to take care of a dog, so I suppose I'll have to find him a new family anyway," Jinbe mused. "Oh, he loves you already. Here's your coffee."
"Jinbe, will you be my manager?" Law appreciatively said, pouring the hot, sugary, delicious concoction down his throat. "I'm no star, but I like pizza too."
"Back off! Jinbe's mine," Luffy laughed, magically materializing out of nowhere and throwing his hands around Jinbe's shoulders.
"You only love me for the pizza," the manager duplicitously sighed.
"Nah," Luffy grinned. "Your BBQ is the best, too."
And he gave Jinbe such a glowing smile that Law felt momentarily envious.
"Sorry Traffy," Luffy said, attention back on Law. "I didn't murder you with my butt, did I?"
Law flushed a hot red and started furiously coughing. Luffy helpfully hit him on the back.
"I'm still alive somehow," Law said as soon as he was able to speak. "Luffy. I hope you are aware that your manager is trying to foist your puppy upon me."
"You can have him if you want," Luffy grinned. "He's from Hancock, she's crazy. Her previous gift was so much cooler, though."
"A twenty-feet-long python," Jinbe sighed. "Miss Boa has this animal theme. I'm not even sure it's legal to keep a python as a pet."
Boa Hancock? As in, that Boa Hancock?
"Where did it go?" Law said, resolving to uncover mysteries one at a time. The fluffy seal teddy bear curled up in his lap and started snoozing. Law had a feeling like his destiny was already decided without his knowledge or input.
"Animal sanctuary," Jinbe sighed again. "Luffy really wanted to keep him, but he can't be trusted around living creatures. He killed my cactus."
"He nearly killed me! Several times, mind you!" Law pointed out.
"That's how he rolls," Jinbe shrugged. "What are you naming him?" he nodded at the snowy, fluffy ball in Law's lap.
Law hesitated for a second.
"…I'll think about it," he grudgingly admitted. "By the way, it's not "Traffy." The name's Law."
"Nice to meet you, Law," Jinbe grinned, and shook his hand.
As Law was finishing his sugary elixir of life, he heard a commotion at the nearby table.
"C'mon Robin! You gotta do it! For my followers!" Luffy's loud red friend cried. The dark-haired woman sitting next to her just sighed and shook her head, lips pinched tight.
"What, you have an Instagram too?" Law quipped. Although for all he knew, Nami might just turn out to be a beauty influencer with a million followers.
"I'm a beauty influencer with a million followers," she sweetly smiled. "Look me up if you want, my handle is ‛namikitten.'"
"I don't have an Instagram," Law said grimly. "Is that what you do for a living?"
"Of course not, it's just a hobby. I'm actually studying to be an investment banker. I'm completing my bachelor's this year."
Law looked at her impeccable Hollywood wave, her complex, vibrant makeup, her tight top that revealed more of her prodigious assets than it concealed.
"You're a multitalented lady, I see," he said.
"I also roller-skate, just for fun and viral videos," she said. "I recently got into stretching, too. Which reminds me… Robin! Are you my friend or not? I need a picture with a real pro dancer! C'mon, it won't take long. Are you even a ballerina if you don't post photos with your leg behind your ear? Robin!" Nami wheedled.
Ah, so the black-haired woman was a ballerina. Curiouser and curiouser.
"This is undignified. Don't ask me that again. Ever," Robin said darkly. Law felt a shiver run down his spine.
"Don't sweat it, sweet orange boo," Robin's tall black guy friend said. "She's just tired and hangry. If you want a photo like that, I can be your ballerina girlfriend. What say you?"
"Oh, sounds like fun," Nami enthused. Then Law, for god knows what damn reason, was given Nami's phone and tasked with taking cool pictures.
The Instagram brigade posed in front of the picturesque sea-themed feature wall side by side, Nami excited and the black guy unruffled. Nami easily threw her right leg up, her ankle indeed somewhere behind her ear, and gave the camera a sultry look.
The black guy in his white APO jeans crossed his hands on his chest, threw his left leg up, and gave his own sultry look that bordered between hilarious and outright seductive.
Law diligently snapped pictures, noting that the guy's extension seemed to be better than Nami's, too.
Finally, Nami got tired and put her leg down. She dragged the black guy down to her face level and made a comical duck face. The black guy assumed a stoic mien, and sneakily held two fingers up behind her head. Law wearily took the last picture and threw the phone to Nami.
"Thanks, Traffy!" she called, impatiently flicking through the gallery. Law just sighed. "Oooh, you take decent photos! It's a good thing you said no, Robin, you'd absolutely outshine me. Even Kuzan's split looks way better."
"‛Even Kuzan's split'? You are talking about a ballet principal, you know," Robin said over a plate of steaming paella, her smile back to alluring instead of vaguely threatening.
Just what kind of friends does Luffy have, Law silently wondered.
"Well, I can't roller-skate for shit, so I'd say we're square," Kuzan diplomatically said. "Oh. What do we have here." He spied a plate sitting near Robin's paella, and deftly confiscated a sandwich lavishly decorated with bacon hearts. "Mmm, that's good."
"Hands off my Food of Love!" Sanji thundered. "Here's your shitty order!" He shoved a tantalizingly smelling steak in Kuzan's face.
"Hmmm, I coulda sworn all those hearts were for me. Way to break a man's dreams," Kuzan dramatically sighed, stuffing his face with the steak.
Robin giggled, daintily covering her mouth with her palm.
"You better eat up, girl," Kuzan ordered. "You'll need all your energy tomorrow in the studio. I won't have a partner who's falling off her feet."
"Aye aye, sir," Robin agreed, and went back to her paella.
"Saaaaaanjiiiiiiiii," Luffy cutely demanded by Law's side.
"Alright, alright, here you go, shithead," Sanji plopped down an immense plate full of steak sans any side dishes. Law frowned; Luffy's dietary choices were rather unhealthy.
Luffy was cutely jumping on his chair, all impatient and eyes shining. The moment the plate was in front of him, he dug in with remarkable vigor. Law stared at him, impressed and a bit fearful. The guy ate like a monster; it looked even more astounding than Law's first time at the Baratie, back when Luffy just about vacuumed all the food from the whole table when the others got distracted by the conversation. They just looked away for a second, and when they looked down again, Law, Usopp and Franky's plates were empty and sparkling clean.
"Aw, man," Franky lamented, "you're super paying for that."
"Alright!" Luffy sunnily grinned, licking his lips, and suddenly Law wasn't even all that mad anymore.
He watched Luffy gobble down the food at record speed. Luffy's cheeks were all puffy, like a chipmunk's. It was also unbearably cute.
Luffy swallowed, and blissfully smiled, stopping the destruction for a moment.
"Ah," he said, "I fuck heavy with Sanji's meat. It's the best! Traffy? You alright?"
But Law was furiously coughing, and silently telling Roci goodbye. He was surely dying in the very near future. There was no surviving Luffy. Law just hoped Roci remembered him as the proud, dignified person he usually was.
Deep, deep in his wardrobe, Law had a treasure hidden between his old shirts and pants he long grew out of.
It was something he had stolen thirteen years ago, in the midst of the Big Cleaning. The House was in disarray and the world was in shambles, and it was the first, and only, time in Law's life when he saw Doffy drunk.
Law very rarely took it out, his treasure, scared that someone might see it.
He took it out now, and put it on. The whole world was wobbling again. Doffy was getting too hungry, dangerously hungry, almost — recklessly so. There were too many dead cops now, far too many big shots Doffy was blackmailing, Baby 5 told him in a hushed whisper this night, when they were doing Trebol's task. The police were starting to stir, for all that Doffy's bargains and intel usually kept them off his back. And the Family was starting to — not doubt his decisions, no. If you doubted Doffy's decisions you never lived long, and if you weren't loyal enough to choose the Family over your own family, you had no place among Doffy's people.
But some of them, the dumber ones, were getting too cocky, and the others were starting to wonder.
The House was a hell Law had lived in almost all his life. But it was the only home he had. And now Doffy was getting reckless.
Doffy, who was never reckless. The coldest, shrewdest man Law had ever met in his life, suddenly getting all high and mighty, targeting all the wrong people like that. There were bound to be consequences, and the Family would be lucky if Doffy didn't piss off someone a bit too high up.
"It's like he thinks no one can touch him anymore," Baby 5 whispered where Buffalo couldn't hear them. She was pale and scared; the fear must have been eating at her for quite a long time. "Or like he doesn't even care."
Law listened, and felt like the ground was floating away from under his feet, swimming somewhere over his head, like he was riding Luffy's bike, Luffy doing his favorite nose wheelie.
Luffy.
Luffy… was a hurricane, a tornado that left Law lying in shambles each and every single time. Luffy was absolutely unpredictable, entirely unreasonable, and so much fun.
Law wasn't used to having fun. It made him uncomfortable. Luffy's kind of fun also threatened bodily damage, but flesh wounds were nothing — didn't Law know it, with his old cancer history, with all the cadavers he routinely dissected for practice. It was always the soul that hurt most. And Luffy was particularly dangerous in that regard, with his easy smiles and easy kisses and easy devotion.
With Luffy like that and Doffy like that, Law felt lost and falling apart.
So he huddled up in his old, worn treasure, still smelling slightly of cigarettes and still way too big in the sleeves.
Roci, he thought. Roci, what do I do?..
That night thirteen years ago, a gunshot thundered through the House, and then another, another, another. And Law screamed.
"Wait, you foolish boy," Giolla chided him, carefully disinfecting the large cut on his throat, "you'll start bleeding again."
Law didn't hear her. He broke out of her hold, and then he was running, running until he felt about ready to spit out his burning lungs. His right side felt like a giant knife was lodged in it, going deeper with every step.
"Roci!" he cried.
He left them in Doffy's bedroom. They had to be in Doffy's bedroom. There it was, Doffy's bedroom, door open…
He ran inside, and stopped in his tracks.
The whole bed was stained with smudged blood. There were tufts of blond hair lying around on the pillows, on the sheets, even on the hardwood floor.
There was a shape of a body stamped with sweat and blood in the bunched sheets. Big, long, heavy body, taller than anyone in the House, except for Doffy. The body that wasn't there anymore.
A black, gleaming gun was lying straight in the middle of the imprint, where the chest was supposed to be.
Law gasped for air, but there was not enough air in the room for him.
"He's dead," someone said. Law looked up. It was Vergo, calm and indifferent, with a pickle slice sticking to his beard.
"No," Law said.
Roci couldn't be dead. He was all Law had. He couldn't be dead.
"Yes," Vergo said. "Go to your room, boy. It's grown-up business."
He grabbed Law by the scruff of his neck like a stray kitten, and carried him out of the room. He carelessly dropped Law on the floor, walked back into the room, and shut the door behind his back.
But not before Law saw.
High in the wall, a row of gaping gunshot holes. One, two, three, four.
On the third day, there was the Big Cleaning.
That night, Doffy locked himself in his study, and no one dared to so much as knock on the door. But people'd tiptoe and listen in, the officers as careful and wary as the children. Sometimes, it was quiet inside. Sometimes, there were snarls and clangs of shattering glass, sounds of something heavy falling and breaking.
Doffy didn't come out for two days. When he finally emerged, he looked — shaggy, his clothes splattered with wine and something reddish-brown that looked like old crusted blood. But he was sober and somber, and his voice was the coldest thing Law had ever heard in his life.
"Clean the house," he told Trebol. "Go through everything. Gather all his shit, and burn it down."
There was a lot of Roci left in the house. His silk shirts, his mascara, his syringes, his many dress shoes and white jeans. The books he loved, the drapes he bought, the decor he chose; even some pieces from Giolla's huge art collection, the ones Roci helped her pick or buy. Kandinsky, Rothko, Mondrian — almost a dozen priceless paintings she didn't even dare mourn out loud.
There was a tall pile lying in the yard, all the things that held Roci's touch. Law thought he saw Doffy's shirts, and a pair of high-heeled shoes, blood-red and glossy like Roci's lipstick.
Doffy came down to the front porch and stared at the pile of mismatched memories, the glinting sunglasses hiding his eyes.
Then he turned around.
"Burn it," he said, and went back inside.
Trebol poured gasoline on the pale pink drape, and threw a lit match on it.
The fire burned for a long time.
But nobody in the Family knew there was a thief in the House, small and sneaky enough to slip past the memory hunters, and pick an old jacket out of the pile of unwanted things.
It was black and well-worn, leather traced with the crisscross of marks and scars. It was so big it covered Law's entire body, like a blanket. It still smelled of Roci's stinky cigarettes.
Law hid under the jacket and cried, trying to block out the roaring of the fire in the yard. And when there were no more tears left, he promised:
"I'll find you, Roci. Wherever you are, I'll find you, and get you back."
The jacket was warm over him, a cocoon of peace and quiet.
He only ever wanted to study. Biology, chemistry, pharmacology, anesthesiology, surgery. Cardiothoracic surgery, to be precise. That's what his father specialized in.
His mother was an anaesthetist. They first met in an operating room, and had been together ever since, until — well.
Everyone loved and respected his father and mother, before they died. They always had tons of grateful patients who said they owed their lives to Law's parents. Law grew up hearing talks about interesting cases and new studies and guidelines. Law would always stick his nose into the operation photos and the papers his parents wrote. Law would practice surgical knots instead of playing with blocks; his dad once showed him how to tie a square knot to distract him from crying, and Law had been fascinated with them ever since. Law would stay up until long past midnight, waiting for his parents when they would suddenly get called in to work whenever an urgent patient came in, and he would meet them at the door, and they would look so pale and tired but happy, so very happy.
"You really should be sleeping right now, sweetheart," his mother would tell him, smiling at him with such overwhelming love in her face.
"Tell me all about today's case!" Law would demand. Urgent cases were often exciting.
And his mother would put him to bed, and his father would tell him all about the work he did on the patient's heart, until Law fell asleep.
Doffy was extremely encouraging of his interests, particularly pharmacology, anesthesiology, and surgery.
"Watch him," he'd say, "that kid's gonna be useful."
And Baby 5 would pout, and Diamante would hum, and the tall blond freak would just stare through him with his blank eyes lined with black mascara.
One day, Baby 5 and Buffalo demanded to show them Law's books. They didn't normally show any interest in books; they liked their toys and games best. Eventually though, Law reluctantly showed them, caving in to Baby 5's wheedling.
The Freak was lying with a book and a notepad on the sofa, long legs hanging down the armrest. He was ostensibly watching over the kids, tasked with doing so by Doffy who was away doing the fun kind of business. He took all his officers, except for Roci, and half of the House staff. Law saw: they emptied half of the huge gun safe where the Family kept the fun kind of toys, the ones the children weren't allowed to touch.
Doffy never took Roci with him whenever he did the "fun kind of business." Well, it was understandable. The Freak was so clumsy he'd just shoot himself in the foot the moment he touched a gun.
Still, Law couldn't shake off a lingering suspicion that tasking the Freak with watching over the kids was some kind of a practical joke. The Freak never so much as looked at any of the kids. He never so much as looked at anyone, except for Doffy.
"Ehhh," Baby 5 complained, "this is gibberish! I don't understand a thing!"
"Well, I do," Law snatched his precious book out of her clingy hands. It was one of his father's books. Law was always extremely careful with what remained of his parents' library.
"But it looks so boring," Buffalo judged, leafing through another book; his mother's. "There are all those weird words. Why do you even like this shit so much?"
"It's my dream," Law said, feeling like this was all a dream, everything around him. These people, this place, this talk. His parents' tired faces were smiling at him. Lami's laughter was ringing in his ears. "All my life, I've wanted to be a cardiothoracic surgeon. Like my father. He'd open people's chests and fix their broken hearts, so that they could live long and be healthy. He saved so many lives," he said in a broken whisper, "I've always wanted to be just like him."
"…What a stupid dream," Buffalo finally said. "We ain't savin' no lives here. We take them," he flipped open his favorite toy, a balisong knife.
"Yeah. Why does Doffy keep telling us you're gonna be so useful to him, if you have such a useless dream?" Baby 5 chirped. "I bet you can't even kill a guy right. You never shoot with us in the range."
"Shut up," the Freak said. He was sitting up, watching Law very intently. What was he on about? Was he going to mock Law, too?
Law preemptively scowled, but the guy didn't jeer at him. He just watched them for a while, until the cowed Buffalo and Baby 5 left Law alone, and then he leaned back on the sofa again with his book.
Law only ever wanted to study health sciences. The night Doffy took away his most precious person, Law saw: it wasn't enough. It could never be enough, as long as he was in the Family.
So he stopped skipping training with Diamante, Gladius and Lao G. Doffy smirked at him and said nothing.
He studied other things as well. Things that let him watch the whole House through Doffy's security cameras with no one the wiser. Things that let him go through the officers' messages and listen in to their phone calls, things that let him break into Doffy's systems and databases. He studied and studied; he searched and searched.
He came up with nothing.
There was no data on Roci in the systems, not a single string. No one took abnormal driving routes. No one mentioned his name on the phone. No one mentioned him anywhere, like Roci never even existed at all.
But Law kept looking. He knew Roci was somewhere out there, alive. Even for Doffy, there was someone he couldn't kill.
Roci was alive, because Law couldn't bear it if he wasn't.
So Law kept searching and checking and watching and listening. One day, he'd find something. One day, they would stumble.
Nothing, nothing on the records again. No suspicious conversations, no unusual expenses, no unexpected geodata.
Law took out The Jacket. His hands were shaking, and his eyesight was blurry. He was tired, so very tired.
He pressed his nose into The Jacket, and slowly put it on. He liked to think he could still smell the cigarettes on the leather, even though the smoke had probably long worn off.
"Where are you, Roci," he whispered, like he was eight again, a useless, snot-nosed kid only good for threatening Roci. "How do I find you. What do I do."
Bepo pushed his cold, black nose into Law's limp palm.
The night was dark, and the yellow moon was grinning into his window. Law closed his eyes and thought of Roci's smile, that special smile Roci only ever had for him. It was quite peculiar, that smile; whenever he remembered it, Law always thought it looked rather out of place on Roci's handsome, aristocratic face. His other smiles weren't; he had many of those, for Doffy, for Doffy's business partners, for Law's doctors and medical staff. But that smile, Law's Smile — it was different. It looked so— So—
It looked silly. Roci was a grown-ass man, but with Law, he smiled like he was eight, wide and happy and very, very silly.
Law remembered that smile, and couldn't breathe. He had always thought he would never love another smile as much as that one, until he saw Luffy's.
Wait, what?
But now he couldn't help but think of Luffy — that careless child, that laughing madman, that dancing god.
There was a book Roci would read him at the hospital, an old, worn book with a slightly frayed cover and ink marks all over the pages. Law did always wonder — why that book, to an eight-year-old kid?
Roci probably grabbed it by mistake, instead of some other book he wanted to pick up for Law. But it read like a fairy tale or a poem, so Law listened and didn't complain.
There was a line Law remembered particularly well. Roci read it to him as Law was shivering in his bed, the white walls and the white ceiling and the brown bags with Roci's food on the white table swimming in front of his eyes. He'd hate white for the rest of his life, he fuzzily thought, however short it might be.
His oral cavity was all covered with inflamed sores; it hurt to swallow, so Law couldn't even eat the shitty food Roci made for him. Well, he'd likely vomit it right out anyway, so it was just as well.
Chemo was a bitch, he decided. Still, it was his chance to stay alive, so stiff upper lip and all that. Although Law didn't particularly like living right now.
Aw, cool, another cramp. Law tried to stifle his whine; he didn't want to upset Roci. He failed.
"That bad, huh," Roci said, his eyes all worried and his mouth all chapped. He was paler than the ward walls, and there were dark shadows under his blue eyes.
"Sorry, Roci," Law said in a small voice.
"You silly boy," Roci smiled, That Smile on his pale, naked lips. "You have nothing to be sorry about. I know it sucks right now," he dropped a feather-light kiss on Law's bald head, "but it's gonna get better. I promise you. You'll get well, and live a long life, and go on to be a surgeon, and fix people's broken hearts. Just like your dad did."
Law scoffed.
"Doffy doesn't want me to save people," he said. "He wants me to earn him money. I'm not a moron, Roci. Now I know it was all just a pipe dream."
"Shut up," Roci demanded. "It's an awesome dream. And I'll make sure you live it. You'll save people yet, Law."
"Honest?" Law said mistrustfully.
"Honest," Roci nodded, "want a pinky promise?"
"That's for little kids!" Law said, offended. "I'm a grown-up!"
"Okay, fine," Roci acquiesced, putting his hands up, "so, here's my promise to you, one grown-up to another. I'll make sure you live, Law. I won't let anyone or anything hurt you. And I'll see to it that your dream comes true. How's that?"
"I don't know," Law skeptically said, "you might be able to talk Doffy into things, but stage 3 cancer isn't Doffy. Either the meds work, or they don't. It has nothing to do with you."
"You doubting Thomas," Roci grumbled at him, "I'm saying it does! That cancer tries anything again, I'll fuck it right up."
"You're stupid," Law flatly said.
"Nah," Roci smiled, That Smile again, "I just love you, Law. Don't you know love is the greatest power? If your love is strong enough, nothing can stand in its way. And my love for you is so strong, you have no idea."
"Shut up," Law ordered, unsuccessfully fighting his blush, "what are you smiling for? Keep reading, keep reading!"
"Alright, alright," a laughing Roci picked up the book from the white hospital bedsheets, and read again:
"I tell you: one must still have chaos within oneself, to give birth to a dancing star."
"What does it even mean," Law griped. "Stars don't dance. And even if they did, how do you give birth to one?"
The chaos of a dancing star.
Suddenly, Law wanted to read that book again.
He could have just googled it, probably. But he always did like paper books better than digital copies, the musty smell and the rustling of pages giving the act of ingesting information a certain feeling of romance.
He wondered if that book survived the Big Cleaning.
It was there, still in Doffy's study after all these years. The cover was the same as Law remembered: plain, worn navy blue fabric and a golden silhouette of a slim, long-legged dancing man.
Law took it, and opened it. His hands were shaking.
There they were, the careless marks he remembered from thirteen years ago, squiggled all over the pages four times older than Law, black words generously underscored in blue ink.
"Brave, unconcerned, mocking, violent — thus wisdom wants us: she is a woman, and loves only a warrior."
The line was underscored twice.
Law remembered that line, too. He remembered Roci's strange voice as he read it, remembered his weird face, remembered him tracing the line with his long, bony fingers.
"What is it?" he asked.
"It's Doffy's favorite line," Roci answered, "his favorite line in his favorite book."
So the marks are Doffy's, Law thought.
"Won't he get mad that you took this book?" he said.
"He'll forgive me," Roci smiled, a ghostly smile that did not belong on his ever-kind face. "He always does."
Law was hastily leafing through the pages, looking for the dancing star, when he heard heavy, sure steps from the hallway. He'd know that peculiar gait anywhere.
He snapped the book shut and tried to put it back in its place on the shelf, inwardly cursing Doffy's overly tall ass. Damn it, he couldn't reach. How the fuck did he manage to take out that book? How did he even know the dark, plain, faded spine from all the others?
As he reluctantly considered jumping, his eyes fell on the wrist of his hand he was holding the book in.
His wrist, all but swallowed in the old black leather.
Damn. He forgot he had The Jacket on.
The steps were getting closer and closer, chillingly loud in the silence of the House. Law had no choice. He hastily tore The Jacket off and kicked it under the sofa, mentally apologizing to Roci over and over again.
"What are you doing here, Law?" Doffy said. Even if he had any suspicions, Law couldn't see them behind his usual smile and sunglasses.
Lying to Doffy was always a bad idea. Somehow, he knew, every single time. And he was not kind to the people who lied to him.
"Just looking for a book to pass the night," Law shrugged, and showed him the faded navy cover with the lean, golden dancing man.
"Hmm," Doffy said, "why that one?"
"I remembered reading it a long time ago. It was good, so I thought I might reread it."
Doffy's lips stretched wider.
"You have good taste," he said, "when you're done, let's discuss it, hm? I'm curious to hear your thoughts."
"Sounds good," Law nonchalantly said.
Doffy turned away and walked to the desk, his hands in his pockets. Law wisely took it as a signal to leave.
In the morning, he checked the study. It was locked.
Law waited, and checked again. And again. And again. He took care to not appear suspicious on the security cameras. The footage with him foolishly wandering around the House in The Jacket was now safely cleaned up, but being extra careful never hurt.
In the evening, Doffy came back from work, and strode straight into the study. He unlocked it, sauntered in, and locked it again. Law wanted to swear.
The study was locked in the night, and the day after, and the day after that.
Twice, Doffy held a meeting in the study. There were voices behind the door, laughing and squabbling; Law connected to the security cameras and checked the feed. He saw all the familiar bastards, laughing over glasses of whisky, and a casually grinning Doffy with his feet on the antique table.
He didn't see The Jacket. Could he really have hidden it that well?
Law wanted it back. He tried acting normal; he thought he was doing alright. But it was damn fucking hard. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, couldn't think of anything but his treasure, carelessly stuffed under Doffy's sofa. What if Doffy found it and burned it? What if Law never got to hold it again?
Only Luffy was able to somewhat drag him out of his stupor. Somewhat.
"Oi, Traffy," he said, offended, "pay attention!"
Luffy, on his knees in that narrow bathroom stall, lips all pink and puffy, wild black hair falling into his eyes.
"Sorry, Luffy," Law said, his hand in that hair, "I just — have something on my mind."
Luffy angrily furrowed his brow and rose, crowding him against the thankfully-clean-ish toilet.
"If you have a problem," he said, "you tell me, and I'll deal with it."
"It's nothing you can help me with," Law sighed, his palms slipping under Luffy's sweatshirt seemingly of their own accord. "It's — not a big deal," he bit his lip, "kiss me?"
He didn't mean to ask. He didn't mean for his words to sound so raw.
"Anytime," Luffy grinned, and then his tongue was in Law's mouth, and now Law was paying attention alright.
He wasn't even afraid Doffy'd find out about him keeping something that belonged to the man whose name was not to be said in the House.
But he was afraid, so afraid he'd never get his last piece of Roci back.
The study remained locked, and the perpetual dark circles under Law's eyes were getting even darker, and he was diligently trying to chew his potatoes as Baby 5 busily walked into the dining hall.
"Hey Doffy," she said, "was this supposed to be under your sofa?"
In her hands, she held an old, worn, giant stretch of black leather.
Doffy slowly put down his fork.
"Where did you get that?" he asked, jaws working.
"I found it under the s-sofa when I was cleaning your s-s-study?.." Baby 5 bleated.
Doffy got up, and strode towards her. Baby 5 involuntarily backtracked.
Silently, he tore The Jacket out of her hands, and fingered the leather. Then, for some reason, he checked the bottom of the jacket, and growled.
"Who left this shit lying around?" he said.
He didn't raise his voice, but everybody in the dining hall froze. Doffy's hands clenched on the black leather.
"Leave," he said, and everybody ran. There was still a bunch of spaghetti hanging out of Buffalo's mouth. Law followed them, his heart in his throat.
The Jacket was in the study — well, Doffy and The Jacket, as well as a whole host of liquor bottles. The feed quality was so good Law could even see the names on the labels. Doffy did always tend to invest in the best.
Law sighed, relieved. So he still had the chance to rescue The Jacket, however minuscule it might be.
Somebody knocked on the study door. Doffy didn't answer.
"Oi, Doffy," Diamante's dull voice came from behind the door, "let me in, won't you?"
"Fuck off," Doffy said. Even behind the screen in the safety of his own bedroom, Law froze, his heart beating rabbit-fast.
There was no answer. Apparently, Diamante wisely fucked off.
Doffy — was acting strange. Usually, if something that unusual and suspicious was found in his study of all places, he'd put the whole Family in a lather. He'd have Buffalo and Baby 5 check the security footage, he'd have Trebol and Diamante interrogate the shit out of everyone in the House, cooks and maids included. He might cut up a fucker or two. He'd get to the bottom of this in a couple of hours at most, and then, Law would be moderately skinned before the Family went to bed.
There was that one guy who was stupid enough to ask after Roci, back after the Big Cleaning. Law wasn't sure but he heard the guy was swimming with the fishes right now. Well, whatever was left of him.
Still, Law didn't think Doffy would waste a valuable asset like that. And Law was an asset; Doffy made sure he knew that. He also made sure Law knew just what exactly would happen to him if he ever stopped being valuable.
Why didn't Doffy investigate? Why didn't he come after the people who might have messed with his study?
Why was he drinking from his second bottle right now, looking at The Jacket like it was the only thing in the world?
Doffy threw his head back, chugging down whisky like it was water. Then he slammed the bottle on the desk, so hard it exploded into hundreds of glittering pieces. Doffy frowned, soundlessly working his mouth.
He wouldn't let go of The Jacket.
He looked at it, eyes hidden behind his glimmering sunglasses. A croaky, rattling sound broke out of his chest.
"You. I lock you there but you still come after me," he said, low and inhuman.
Was he really talking to a jacket? Did he finally snap?
Wait.
"I lock you there…"
Was he — talking about the jacket's former owner?
Without thinking, Law stumbled out of his bedroom, and ran.
What was he doing. The study was locked. Someone might hear him.
The thoughts swam in and out of his mind as he ran, ran, ran, his heart breaking out of his chest.
There it was, the study, door closed and locked. There — there were footsteps behind it, slow, heavy, uneven.
The door opened with a creak. Law froze—
But Doffy didn't even notice him. He was swaying on his feet, eyes on the black leather jacket in his hand. Then he made an unsteady step. And another. And another. And another.
Law followed him all the way to the garage, trying to walk quietly, but it looked like he needn't have even bothered. Doffy was a complete mess, so out of it Law could easily walk up to him and stick a knife in his kidney.
Maybe he should—
—but then, he wouldn't know where Roci was.
Doffy toppled inside his favorite pink Cadillac, and shut the door on second try. The engine rumbled. Law hastily staggered inside the nearest car without looking which one it even was.
Was he insane, Law asked himself as he drove out of the garage, to follow Doffy that blatantly, in one of his own cars?
But Doffy didn't seem to notice him rolling out of the garage. He wasn't noticing him now, as Law was speeding after him through the night streets. The pink Cadillac dangerously swerved on the road.
Doffy was barreling like he was immortal. Law privately thanked the God he wasn't sure was there for sending him a car that could keep up with Doffy's. By the way, which car was it?
Law looked at the dashboard. Law looked at the interior. Law blanched.
He remembered Giolla showing off that car to everyone in the House, all puffy like a peacock. Doffy grinned. Of course he loved that car. The man was sick, how could he not love that abomination.
"How many's that now in your collection?" he asked.
"Six," Giolla said mournfully. "There are still so many masterpieces I want, Doffy. But those little pissants just won't sell them!"
"Well, have Buffalo and Baby 5 talk to them," Doffy offhandedly said. Giolla swooned.
"Thank you, young master!" she gushed. "How kind you are!"
"You can always just commission your own, you know," Doffy remarked.
"Preposterous! It's the story behind a piece of art that makes it, art!" Giolla declared.
"The story?" Doffy scoffed. "The only story behind this thing is that it spent eight days in the desert, soaking in sweat off various butts. Can't you take a car to the desert? Or is it the sweat that tickles you so?"
"Burning Man was never just about the desert!" Giolla said, offended. "It's a celebration of free spirit and radical self-expression! Burning Man art is the purest art can get!"
Law deeply hoped he was wrong. He wasn't.
Yeah, apparently, this car was one of those cars, those prized monstrosities from Giolla's Burning Man collection.
Law just about died from sheer embarrassment aggravated by not-so-mild apprehension. Not only was the car entirely ridiculous and downright offensive, it was also damn noticeable with its cartoon design and obnoxious, hot pink color. It would be nothing short of a miracle if Doffy didn't notice it in about two seconds, even as drunk as he was. Seriously, the guy might be three sheets to the wind, but no one with so much as one remotely working eye could possibly overlook this car.
Law hurriedly made his peace with the fact that his dream was not coming true after all, and mentally told Roci, Luffy and Bepo a somewhat emotional goodbye, fully expecting Doffy to blast a round or a dozen at the ludicrous car from his favorite Smith & Wesson M76 any second now.
Doffy always kept that thing in his Cadillac, said he couldn't bear separating his two biggest loves. And it was so easy to reach for that gun from the driver's seat, too.
All Doffy had to do was check the mirror, and stretch out his hand.
But he just drove and drove, and Law drove after him, praying that no one he knew saw him in this monstrosity.
Just what exactly was going on with Doffy? Did the alcohol impact his faculties that much? If Doffy was his normal self, Law would already be coughing blood or, more likely, burning down with his ridiculous ride somewhere in a ditch.
Law could still stop and go back. If Doffy was so out of sorts, maybe he really wouldn't notice him at all; maybe he really wouldn't know Law tried to shadow him.
Maybe Law could still get out of this alive, with all — okay, most — limbs intact.
But Doffy was speeding forward, a pink, somewhat wobbly lightning on the night road, breaking all speed limits and rushing past all the signs. Was he even watching the road?
Could it be that even as he was driving, Doffy was still staring at the black leather jacket he took with him?
Was he really racing towards the precious person The Jacket belonged to?..
Law clenched his teeth and resolved to follow Doffy to the very end, no matter what it brought him. No matter if he had to die inside the most unfortunate car ever. No matter if he never saw Luffy or Bepo again.
Doffy rode and rode, a pink Cadillac with a pink — something on his tail. A tall building was rising in front of them, surrounded by high concrete walls, and Law's eyes were getting progressively larger.
The next morning, Doffy was back in the House and looking as dandy as ever, buttering his toast and laughing with Trebol. He didn't look like he had even a trace of hangover. In fact, he looked like all of it — The Jacket, his outburst, the drunken race — never happened at all.
But there was just one thing off about him, one thing that told Law it wasn't all a very strange dream.
Doffy was laughing, and the deep scratches on his face gaped red.
If you're curious what Bepo, Jinbe, or Law's stylish ride look like, find this story on Archive of Our Own and check the chapter notes. I'd post all the links here but FFN is a jealous bitch, apparently.