A/N: Let's take another glimpse into the first round left behind. *Bows*

"Get up."

Someone grabbed Nami's arm and tugged. She didn't know why. Unless her sense of time had been shot to hell, only an hour had passed since the ship left port. Hardly long enough to get anywhere.

"I said get up!"

Nami wondered what she could have done to warrant being scolded. Bound, disarmed and blinded by the bag over her head, the only resistance she might have offered would have been going limp. She didn't feel up to mustering even that small defiance.

They ripped the bag off her head once she got outside; her eye took a while to adjust to the sudden daylight. A quick look confirmed that they were in the middle of nowhere, West Blue. Why bother bringing her out on deck?

A second look answered her question— the middle of nowhere was the Navy's destination. She counted no fewer than a dozen rifles trained on her, along with at least half as many pistols. Behind them all stood a Vice-Admiral she didn't recognize, speaking into a transponder snail.

"… After escaping from her cell, the unidentified pirate criminal,"

Nami bristled. For all the trouble it brought her, she was proud to have been Luffy's navigator; denying that she'd been a Straw Hat only gave her one more reason to despise the Navy. Another petty act of cruelty on an already long list.

"Killed several marines before she was brought down. She did not survive."

Among the enlisted men and women, no one looked remotely surprised or anything short of resolved. Her death en route to prison had been planned, then, probably by someone with higher authority.

Nami dipped her head forward. She heard more than one restrained gasp, and the thought that she inspired such terror faintly amused her. They were wary for good reason, of course. Even without her preferred weapon, she hadn't been an easy capture. She tossed her head back, flipping her hair in the process.

At least, what hair she had.

The riflemen flinched at her appearance. Nami huffed a short breath. If they were going to kill her, they'd have to look directly at what their Fleet Admiral had done to her.

She'd worn her hair draped over the right side of her face for one reason: Because she couldn't grow hair on the right side of her head anymore. Nor could she see more than murky, colorless masses through her right eye. Stark, unhealthy whiteness covered almost half of her face.

Her exposed scar tissue prickled in the open air and sunlight.

"Nothing else to report."

The Vice-Admiral showed no reaction whatsoever. She suspected he'd been chosen by Akainu himself; that psychopath had employed just about every method possible to hunt her down. Why wouldn't he tell his men to falsify a report as an excuse to kill her a little sooner?

As often as she considered vengeance, Nami had only ever killed one marine. The Navy officially claimed that someone with a rubber body was the ideal countermeasure against her Climatact. Nami knew better. The marines had more insidious reasons to employ a bastardization of her Captain.

His build, his black hair— between one encounter and the next, he even gained the scar under his left eye. Everything about him seemed tailored specifically to haunt and torment her. As a fugitive, she constantly toed a precarious line between fatigue and adrenaline. In the midst of that quasi-delirious state, she'd catch a glimpse of a stretching arm and a flicker of an old instinct would tempt her with relief and feelings of security.

The illusion shattered within moments each time, leaving her with only disgust and an inherent sense of wrongness when she looked at him. He jumped to answer any order his superiors barked at him, and only ever regarded her like prey.

He'd been the absolute antithesis of her Captain.

Nami had known thrill, fury, sorrow and occasionally fear traveling with Luffy, but even before she trusted him, she had never considered that he might hurt her.

When she finally put her dagger through the specter's neck, Nami had cried until her throat felt like sandpaper. She hadn't wept out of relief or out of regret, merely from sheer exhaustion and a desperation to stave off the numbness she experienced later.

"Any last words?"

Nami almost snarled. Did they want her to beg? To apologize and repent in her last moments? Monsters dressed like men had nothing she would ever beg for, and she refused to be sorry for her life.

Instead, she put on a practiced smile.

"I was the richest woman in the world."

A declaration and an accusation all at once. The Navy, more than anyone, had forever stolen her spoils away.

Nami kept her eyes on the gunmen, her mind elsewhere.

'Jinbe. Robin. Franky. Usopp. Sanji-kun. Brook. Chopper. Zoro. Luffy.'

Tears gathered in her eyes as she breathed a final prayer unto the wind, hoping it would carry across the seas to someone who mattered, who would listen.

"I love you."

The last things she heard were the waves.

And gunfire.

Boom.