Sorry for being away for so long-I was on a travel trip with my sports team and couldn't update anything at all, but here I am again.

Please excuse any grammatical or spelling mistakes.

I sincerely hope you enjoy,

L & D

There was a routine that the Gol household adhered to religiously after they settled themselves with their newest member.

Maman would make breakfast, Papa would stretch out his tired muscles, and Anne would set the table after getting Roger washed up. They would eat whatever they could afford.

It was simple, repetitive, but familiar in a way that Anne adored. She needed something consistent like breakfast in her life-nothing too normal, just normal enough to the degree that it was human necessity. She needed to eat, and so she ate. It was as plain as that.

What wasn't nearly as simple was running her operation in Loguetown and managing to help Papa on the farm everyday.

She had to cut her hours back; a lot, and much more than she could afford, to be frank. Then there was the issue of her aging grandparents. They were getting up there in years, and aching bones and life on the farm tended not to agree very well with each other; even if Papa did have the strength of ten men put together. Anne knew that either she or Roger would have to pick up the slack-her most likely until Roger was old enough to work the land-and even then, it seemed like a condemnation of sorts.

Anne was ten years old, but she knew that she wanted to live. She wouldn't stay tethered down to one place, much less a farm. She loved her family, but she just couldn't live that sort of life.

Not that she would ever tell them that, of course.

Until the day Anne would seek her place in the world, she made it work. Mornings and most of the afternoon were for helping Papa tend to the fields. Evenings were dedicated to helping her operation flourish. (Well, relatively speaking. It was hard for a ten year old to make anything flourish, especially complicated things like businesses.)

Except, Roger threw a loop in her schedule, as he did for most things. She was basically his main caretaker, all things considered. Maman had to do what she did best-quilting-to make money on the side where their profit from the harvest fell short. Maman needed peace and quiet when she worked her magic; two things Roger was absolutely horrible at. Thus, he was Anne's charge. And as Anne's charge, Roger had to go where she went, and so was her conundrum.

The unrespectable parts of Loguetown weren't the sort of places a child should be in, under any circumstances. Anne tried to reason that he had already been there before-hell, he was probably born there-and she also made regular visits to said congregation of unsavory characters herself. Anne had her morals, but she also had secrets to keep and a business to run.

She could take care of Roger-that was the easy part.

Staying out of trouble would be the challenging bit.

This whole train of thought occurred at the table, while Anne was chewing at her toast very slowly. Roger threw some porridge at her, and she expertly dodged it while he giggle. Maman looked unamused, seeing as she would be the one forcing Anne to clean it up later.

"Anne?" Papa bellowed happily, rubbing his stomach.

She hummed, signaling that she was listening. Sort of, at least.

Papa stared at her, and she realized he wanted a verbal response, so, "Yes, Papa?"

He grinned, satisfied, taking a gulp of coffee before he continued. "What are ya plannin' to do today? Since there ain't much work to be done in the fields. You gonna go to the river?"

Anne hummed, scrunching her face up thoughtfully. "I guess. I'mma just wander 'bout, like I norm'lly do. Find a new hidin' place maybe." She took another bite of toast.

Her grandfather laughed, slapping his knee in a way only grandfathers can do. "Annie, you and yer hidin' places. You've got too many of those as is!" He gave her an impish, almost childish grin. "Ya ever gonna show any 'em to me?"

"It ain't much of a hidin' place if ya know where it is." Anne informed him blandly, attempting to be serious, but after a second or two of them staring at each other in silence, they cracked simultaneous smiles.

Maman shook her head from across the table.

"Roger, your sister's a lil' bit crazy, ain't she?"

Roger squealed, "Annie's da bestest! Yup!"

"Roger," Anne said, flapping a hand in his direction in faux embarrassment, "You flatter me."

Roger stares at her blankly for a second before turning back to Maman. "Sausage!"

"Why's it that ya can only say 'Annie' and 'sausage' correctly?" Papa crowed in amusement as he pounded his fist on the table. Anne snorted delightedly, shoving the rest of her toast into her mouth as she scuttled over to Roger, and picked him us.

"Because he likes me and sausage best, obviously Papa." She informed him as she swung Roger around so that he was piggy-back riding essentially. "We're gonna head off. Is that a'ight?"

Maman and Papa shared the universal, 'Do we really have any say in the matter' look, complete with mutually raised eyebrows and everything. Anne shuffled to the door, and opened it-gently for once-and after it closed quietly behind her, Anne craned her neck around uncomfortably to give Roger a look. He practically beamed at her, exposing all the gaps in between what few teeth he had.

"You realized it too?" Anne questioned as he blew a raspberry at her. "Yeah," Anne smirked, "Maman totally forgot to make me clean up that porridge."

The raven haired girl let out a cackle that definitely would have sounded insane if anyone had heard it.

"Annie, go!" Roger demanded, kicking his sister in the side with his heel.

Anne gasped, obviously faking (well, maybe not so obvious to Roger), and stumbled forward two steps.

"I've been shot! The mighty Roggiekins has vanquished me!"

She felt Roger flail on her back for a second before he shook her shoulders, "Annie, Annie, 'm sowwy, Annie don' die, pleases, Annie!"

Anne laughed, spinning in tight circles abruptly; that definitely shut Roger up. He hated being dizzy.

"Just kidding!" She screeched and she took off running towards town.

The ferry left from the village dock-which was rather isolated. Anne could only assume that it was because people didn't seem to use it very often when it wasn't time to go to Loguetown for the farmer's market. This set up always was a blessing; Anne could get on that ferry without the captain even knowing and get back on without him knowing again, and nobody else was ever at the dock, so nobody could ever see her. Which was a good thing, because Anne didn't need somebody ratting on her to her grandparents and ruining everything she had built up.

Anne ran, taking mostly back ways and dark alleys to the Sunshine Dock. Anne loved the irony that accompanied every visit to the Sunshine Dock. It was a gloomy place and the waters were at their murkiest just beyond the very nearly rotting wood of the dock itself. Sunshine Dock was therefore generally (and rightly) regarded as the most unpleasant place on the island. Roger seemed to agree, if his squirming had anything to say about it.

They arrived with time to spare, and Anne tiptoed around empty rum barrels and old, discarded fishing equipment so that she remained unseen. Not that she really needed to; she was naturally a very stealthy person to begin with, so getting into places she shouldn't be came just as quickly to her as sneaking about. Her brother wriggled on her back, letting out a soft, impatient whine at her.

"Shh." She breathed out at him, place of a finger on her lips. "Quiet now; we don't wanna get caught." Her words are are light the rustling of leaves in autumn-quiet, and somehow so very urgent sounding.

Anne darts forwards, using the ropes and riggings to jump on the boat with minimal movement, and monkeyed her way up to the ship's stern*. She ignored Roger's suddenly tightened grip, and how she could practically feel his heart beating out of his chest. His breath quivered in her ear, and Anne paused only to flit her eyes over to see the huge, amazed expression on his face as he looked out into the horizon.

That is always the right expression to have when you looked out into the sea, Anne thought approvingly.

She didn't acknowledge the feeling in her bones that that look meant to so much than just simple amazement. It would be the start of a love affair between Roger and the ocean that would never die (not that she knew that).

There was a dip in the ship at it's stern that was uncommon in other's like it, just a few feet above the waterline* and that was where Anne sat most of the time for the ten minute ferry ride.

Having Roger along with her was exciting-and slightly aggravating to say the least. She had swung him around so that he was on her lap, and every time a wave crashed against the ferry and splashed all the way up to them, he would squeal and reach out to grab the water. He did this, without fail, every single time waves battered the boat. Naturally, it got boring after a while.

Thank all that was good in the world that the ride was only ten minutes; Anne could only take so much.

And you could believe it when Anne caught a glimpse of Loguetown, and was safely within range, she jumped off that sucker like no tomorrow. Roger clung onto her, grinning like a mad...child?...all the while.

When her feet hit the ground she took off running. Anne zipped through town-knowing exactly where to go and how to get there like it was second nature (it practically was at this point). She hid her cart a good block off from where she actually set up shop, and the black tarp she covered over it always blended in nicely to the dark alley way she stashed it in.

It took minimal effort for her to lug it to its rightful place on Trace Boulevard-notorious for its black market trade.

"What do you think, Roger?" Anne asked the child, who was on her shoulders now, as far away from the deadly weapons as Anne could manage without letting him go. Trace Blvd was sketchy; and some people had no reservations about nabbing a child to sell to a slaver. Anne had run into those folk more than a couple of times, and they made her skin crawl. So, letting Roger go for even a second was out of the question.

"Hmmm." He replied, drumming in her head. "Good." He appraised, smacking her head to the side with strength appropriate only to someone in the Gol family. Anne shook her shoulders in retaliation, but Roger seemed to be more pleased by it than annoyed.

Roger chattered at her, and she pretended to listen while she pulled up an old milk bottle crate, and flipped it over next to her cart so that she could sit on it. It was, after all, pretty early in the morning, and customers started showing up after they all got over their respective hangovers.

It was slow going at first. Men stumbling down the street would spit at her rather than stop and buy anything. Women spared her a sharp glance with impossibly tired eyes while they dragged their feet down the road. Roger practically snarled at everyone, and that was probably why they didn't stop, if she thought about it.

A few hours had passed-how many exactly, Anne didn't know-but judging from the sun, it was 10...ish. Belonging to a poor farming family had its perks after all; being able to tell time by the sun just happened to be one of them. (Because they couldn't afford clocks and the sun was kinda hard to miss, so it worked all the same.)

She had closed her eyes for a second, a second, and when she opened them again, there was her number one customer, right up in her face.

"Annie-bananie! What d'ya got fer me?"

She cracked open one eye, winced as Roger kicked her ribs, and sighed at the teenager in front of her. "I dunno, Walter. What kind of trouble are ya plannin' on gettin' into today?"

He laughed, throwing his head back all the way, raggedy brown hair flying everywhere. "Oh, ya know, the usual. Piss Nottingham off, check out the pirates comin' in fer supply runs. Jerk 'round."

"Stop it with the language in front of the kid." Anne nagged without even looking his way. She hopped to her feet and rummaged around her cart. After a few seconds, she pulled out a tanto knife and a shoddy pistol. "That'll be 800 beri please."

"800! Anne, you gotta be kiddin' me!" Walter bats pretty green eyes her way, flipping his hair to the side as if to be charming. "How about 450? For your favorite customer?"

Anne rolled her eyes. "Walter, that's a better deal than anybody else is gonna give you. All the other sellers would charge you 1,200 and you know it." She extends her little hand expectingly. "Money."

The fifteen year old grumbled at her as he forked over the proper amount of cash and Anne gladly lets him snatch up his newest weapons.

"By the way," He starts, tucking his knife into a belt loop and his pistol in an inside pocket, "Who's the kid?"

"M'brother."

The brunette balks. "Brother? When you get yourself one of those? He looks pretty old-or young, or whatever, but Annie, you didn't tell me? I'm hurt!" Walter lurched forward, presumably to snatch Roger off of her to give her poor brother a hug.

Luckily, Roger was a feisty one.

That kid sank his teeth right into Walters outstretched hand, and Anne relished the amazing sound of his shrieking. He was her best customer, sure, but also her most annoying.

Anne followed up by kicking him the the shin. "Keep yer grimy hands of m'brother!"

Roger laughed at the look of sudden pain on Walter's face.

Anne was also suddenly very concerned about her brother's health- "Roger, ya don't know where this boy's been! He could've had all kinds of dirt and sick on 'im!

"Annie-!" Walter protested as she dangerously raised an eyebrow. He stared at her a second then pointed down the alley. "Imma leave now..."

"Good choice." Anne praised as he turned, head bowed and downtrodden as he dragged his feet all the way out of sight.

With a long, suffering sigh, Anne sat back down on her milk crate. "Roger, it's gonna be a long day if that was our only sale."

"Hmm." He said. "Annie, sausage."

"Roger, no."

She said nothing more when he kicked her in the ribs again.

As Anne, predicted, it was a long day, but there were still some upsides.

Hacker Joe was on the run from his land shark again, and stopped by to order seven knives for 2,500 beri. Six Finger Ryuunosuke armed himself with a rifle with only the explanation that he was late paying his Ope* dealer-and Anne promptly told him he hadn't bought the ridiculously over overpriced gun (3,000 beri) from her. She didn't feel bad for upping the price from 700 at all. If she was gonna risk being involved with stuff like that, she'd better get her money's worth. Mora Martha bought a very nice wakizashi for "recreation" at the reasonable price of 1,500 beri. Considering all the trouble Anne had went through to get it, (essentially she had had to rob a sleeping mercenary) it was, in fact, very well priced.

Anne inspected her money pouch, and was fairly satisfied with her profits. Roger grappled with her hair so he could sneak a peak over her head, and as soon as he wiggled his money toes in the direction of her pouch she had it stuffed inside her dress.

"Roger, if I let you play with this, you will, without doubt, drop it and send all my money flying."

He didn't seem to hear a word she said; all he did was stare wide eyed at a beri she had left on the cart.

"Treasureee-" He cried, attempting to jump off Anne's shoulders.

Anne squeaked, holding onto his knees and this action, ultimately led to the both of them falling flat on their faces. Roger sniffles, as any regular three year old would do upon falling, and Anne scowled as she clutched at her bleeding nose. They both scrambled to their feet, Anne lunging forward just in time to grab Roger's arm before he could take off.

She dragged the pouting toddler back to the milk cart, and set him in her lap.

"Nice try." She muttered at the squirming three year old.

Roger grumbled at her, not at all pleased.

Like Anne cared if he was pleased or not, she was there to keep him safe.

She absentmindedly petted his soft black hair while he fidgeted. Anne watched people pass her by, and occasionally listened.

A particular conversation between two men-pirates or nasty sailors by the looks of it-drinking foul smelling whiskey caught her interest.

One of the men was short and stocky, with greying hair and an unkept beard and spoke with a slight lisp on his tongue as he said, "Beni, did you hear about that sthunt thosthe Marinesth plan on doing?"

The man who was Beni-average looking, if a little dirty-hiccuped and pointed at his companion. "Yeh, I 'eard. Somethin' about wantin' ta show the East whose boss. 'Cause people here are stubborn. The North and the South and the West're complacent and shit but the East," A glint flashes on his eye as he leans foward, his glass raised, "The East Blue just doesn't know when ta lie down and say uncle."

Anne felt shivers crawl up her spine, and her grip on Roger got just a little bit tighter as she enveloped him in a tense embrace. He whined at her, but she fussed at him to stay quiet.

The two men kept on talking, but left the conversation about that particular subject alone for the rest of their chatting.

Anne had never felt so disturbed about anything-and she had seen plenty, done plenty. She hated the feeling in her chest and closed up shop faster than she could ever remember doing before. The cart was covered, back in its proper spot, and hidden in the shadows before you could say, "Wait-".

The curly black haired little girl carried Roger on her back, just like before, took a short detour for a cloak, and made quick work of reaching the dock.

The ferry was slightly late. They didn't have much business at 4:00 in the afternoon, after all, but Anne made it on board without being seen all the same.

When they get home, Anne says nothing about the words spoken by the two men. They scare her-and nothing scares her-and she doesn't even know if what they said was true, so why worry everyone else?

Life continues.

Until it doesn't

There comes a day Anne sorely regrets, with all her being, the decision she made that day.

If only she had told someone.

If only.

"But those regrets, those if onlys were just that. If only. I can't change what I decided, I can't change what happened that day. The choice was mine, and I unfortunately made a poor, stupid choice. One that my family, with their lives, would pay in full.

That was so long ago, and I have healed. I do not regret any longer, and though I feel guilt, it doesn't hold me back. Trust when I say I have made mistakes, and the one I am going to tell you about is merely the first.

I have made so many mistakes and will continue to make more-that's just the way things are meant to be, I suppose.

Imperfect and heartbreaking, with brief interludes of happiness."

I really don't know if you folks like, or even care about these little quotations at the end but I'd really like your opinion on anything you think could be better in some way.

Thanks for reading, and if you could, drop in a review if convenient.

Over and Out,

L & D