Author's note: This chapter is cool and all but I'm really excited for the next one. It's probably my favorite of this work.

DA - district attorney
ADA - assistant district attorney


Rosinante was tired of attorneys.

As an FBI agent, he had his fair share of encounters with them. He worked with the DA and defense attorneys regularly when he first joined the Bureau. In fact, there was once a time where he used to like attorneys and called some of them friends.

But now that he was coming out of witness protection after thirteen years for the sole purpose of being the star witness in his brother's trial?

He was sick of them.

Vultures. Every last one of them. Defense attorneys and the DA included.

"I really think you should take this seriously, Rosinante. Even if everything goes according to plan and Doflamingo is shoved away in Impel Down, there's a pretty good chance that some of his subordinates will come after you," Kuzan, the lead prosecutor, explained.

Rosinante ground his third cigarette into the ashtray and looked across the conference table.

They were at the office downtown and from Rosinante's understanding, just about every single attorney and associate was working on Doffy's case.

At least it seemed that way with the frantic air in the office.

Even in the isolated conference room with the bare walls, old furniture, and damaged ceiling, he still felt that palpable, frantic energy everywhere.

"They'll try to come after me no matter what I do," Rosinante replied. "It doesn't matter if I'm physically there or if I'm on video. When they find out I'm alive, they'll come for me. It is what it is. The least I can do is show up and try to make sure my brother is locked away for good."

He reclined further into his chair and rubbed his sternum with the back of his thumb.

He already wanted to smoke again but refrained when Sengoku shot him a look from over the top of his glasses.

Instead of lighting up, Rosinante folded his hands in his lap and clenched them just in case they started shaking.

"Rosi," Sengoku said. Rosinante looked at him through his bangs and pursed his lips together.

"Hm?"

"I think you should listen to Kuzan," he said. "All of the other key witnesses have already testified. You're the only one left and because of your situation, no one will hold it against you if you aren't physically there. We have all the paperwork ready and the judge has already issued the protective order."

Rosinante could feel one of his brows arch.

The lawyers couldn't seem to agree on whether or not they wanted him there in the court room to deliver his testimony. Some said no way in hell, that it was too dangerous and the benefits weren't worth it. Especially not when they would have to go over the criminal acts Rosinante performed while in the Family. And there was no shortage there.

But the others, like the DA Akainu, said his physical presence was absolutely required and that his sheer existence would be enough to shake the jury. That it would be enough to force a conviction and so much more.

Rosinante, along with everyone else, knew where he personally fell on that particular debate. Of course he wanted to be there in person. Because honestly, why else would he be there, sitting in the conference room, getting grilled by attorney after attorney?

His eyes flashed to a quiet, young man a few seats down from Kuzan. He had blond hair, a scar over his left eye, and dressed even better than the senior associates and the ADA. Rosinante had seen him at just about every single meeting and nodded in acknowledgment when the young man's eyes met his.

"What do you think?" Rosinante asked.

The young man blinked and looked over both his left and right shoulder before he pointed to himself.

"Me?"

"Mhm."

"Oh. I'm… I'm just a second year. You really shouldn't w—"

Rosinante cut him off before he could doubt himself any further.

"You've been at every single one of my meetings. You've asked good questions. You've taken thorough notes. You've masked your reactions beautifully. I can tell that you've seen everything and no one can convince me otherwise. Reading people like you is what I'm good at. Hell, I'd wager that you've got a better grasp of how truly evil my brother is than anyone else in this room. So let's hear it, Kid. I want to know what you think," Rosinante said as easily as breathing.

He heard the sounds of Kuzan and Sengoku sighing, but neither of them interjected. They both knew better than to try and change Rosinante's mind once he made it up. Because like it or not, he was still as stubborn as his brother.

"Well," the young man started. He adjusted his blue collar and squared his shoulders with impeccable posture. "Personally, I think your physical presence in court would be best. After yesterday's testimonies, I think that seeing you there in the flesh would have a profound impact on the jury. I'm a little worried that they didn't fully process Dr. Trafalgar's testimony because he was exempt from having to discuss the events of Minion Island. So it makes sense if you're there to…"

Rosinante didn't hear the rest of his words. They all buzzed into incoherent babbling the instant that name left the young associate's mouth.

Trafalgar.

He swallowed back the dryness in his throat.

"Dr. Trafalgar?" he croaked.

"…Trafalgar Law," the associate said very, very softly. Like he only just then realized the weight of his words. Like he only just then realized his error.

Rosinante didn't know that Law was involved in this. He didn't know that Law was being forced to relive those awful memories in front of an entire goddamn courtroom. He didn't know. He didn't—

"Rosi," Sengoku said.

Rosinante's eyes flashed to Sengoku's dark ones.

"Why?" he asked softer than a whisper.

Thankfully, Sengoku understood his question and answered right away.

"Doflamingo's attorney subpoenaed him, so now he's involved," Sengoku replied. His voice was even, the same way it had been when Rosinante met him all those years ago as a filthy, crying child that was drenched in rainwater.

But that didn't make it any easier to process.

"Oh," he said.

His hands trembled so badly that not even clenching them helped and a sharp sting tugged at the back of his sternum and around his ribs.

He could see Sengoku in his peripheral vision, watching him. His face, his shoulders, his hands. Watching everything.

"Let's take a break," Sengoku said suddenly.

There was a pause. And then another.

Then one more.

"Rosi," Sengoku's voice was at his ear and hand was on his shoulder. "It's time for a smoke."

Rosinante exhaled and pushed himself away from the table.

Yes. Yes, a cigarette would be perfect.

He didn't even wait until they were outside and lit the damn thing on the way out of the office.

Sweet, beautiful tobacco and nicotine coated his tongue and lungs and Rosinante closed his eyes to savor it.

His hands still quaked but once they stood outside in the muggy air and he could freely breathe in the stench of the city and bitterness of the cigarette, they trembled a little less.

"I think that giving your testimony via video is the best—"

"How is he?" Rosinante cut Sengoku off before the lecture could begin.

A taxi whizzed by them and the smell of gasoline flooded his nostrils.

"Who?" Sengoku asked.

Rosinante gave a hollow laugh. It rang in his own ears but echoed uselessly off the buildings and was smothered by the city's chaotic noise before it could ever reach Sengoku.

"Law," Rosinante said. His eyes met Sengoku's as a silent dare to play stupid and act like he had no idea.

Sengoku crossed his arms over his hulking chest. The corner of his lips tugged downward just as another taxi drove by.

"You know we can't do this," Sengoku said. "He's a surgeon these days and a hostile witness for your brother. That's all the information I can give you."

Rosinante took such a harsh, long drag from the cigarette that the smoke actually almost burned his lungs on the way down, not unlike the way it had when he first picked up the habit.

Fucking hell. Thirteen years and Rosinante still desperately ached to know about the angry little boy he'd been willing to die for. Thirteen miserable years of witness protection and he still was given almost nothing to work with.

"Does he know I'm alive?" Rosinante asked. Surely, that had to be something Sengoku could give him.

Sengoku gave an exhausted sigh and adjusted his circular glasses in a way that would have made the sunlight glint off of them had it not been hidden by the clouds.

"No. It's to my understanding that he believes your testimony is an old video from before the incident," he answered.

Rosinante laughed.

It was a harsh, cold sound that littered the air between them with white smoke. It was a sound that Rosinante knew he picked up from his brother but he couldn't find it in him to care.

"You don't want me to testify in person because Law believes that I'm dead and you're all worried about what his reaction could do to the case," he said.

Sengoku adjusted his glasses again but he didn't look away.

"Come on. Say it. I'm almost forty years old. I can take it," Rosinante urged.

He took one final drag of the cigarette and threw the filter onto the concrete sidewalk and ground his foot into it until the damn thing frayed at the edges.

"That's only one reason," Sengoku admitted.

Rosinante snorted, "because you all know Law would turn hostile for you if he found out that I was actually alive all these years and you kept that knowledge from him."

Sengoku took his time responding. He always did when something hit particularly close to home and Rosinante knew it.

It was why he shook his head and painfully pressed his back against the brick building, waiting for a response that would likely only upset him more.

"Fine. That is a concern everyone has. But you should think about the boy, Rosi. You should think about what that information could do to him," Sengoku said.

Rosinante's eyes flashed to Sengoku's in a fraction of a second.

"Thinking about that boy is the only thing I do," he said, voice low.

"And thinking about you is the only thing I do, you damn brat," Sengoku retorted. He reached forward and swatted Rosinante on the side of his head the same way Garp had done that morning. "If you thought you lost me in some traumatic incident from your childhood and if it took you over a decade to accept my death, then I would be very hesitant to come back into your life. It's hell to lose someone you love once. I can only imagine what twice would be like."

Rosinante's mouth felt dry again and the bitterness from the already smoked cigarette did not help.

Sengoku's words struck home and that sharp tug reappeared in his sternum.

It burned worse than the embers of his cigarette. Burned worse than the freezing snows of Minion Island.

The thought never even crossed his mind.

Not once.

"Thirteen years is a long time, Rosi. It's a lifetime for some," Sengoku said. His voice had a softer edge, something warm and paternal.

"I—" his throat closed up.

Then there was a raindrop on his cheek. Another on his forehead. More on his shoulder.

It was followed by a rumble of thunder and suddenly more rain fell from the sky and Sengoku's hand was on his elbow, ushering him back inside the office before they could be soaked to the core.

He thought that Sengoku maybe said his name. Maybe asked if he was listening or if he was still there.

Rosinante couldn't hear him though.

He could only hear the sound of rain against the windows.


15 years ago

Rosinante sat on the makeshift porch of the clubhouse. Muffled laughter, music, and chaos could be heard from behind the closed doors but he made no movement to join in.

Those were Doffy's followers and "friends."

Not his.

It was raining again and exhaustion pulled behind his eyes.

He was so tired.

He took a swig of bourbon straight from the bottle and stared ahead as the rain created puddles in the asphalt and dirt around the clubhouse. Raindrops kept falling on his face and shoulders, sneaking in through the awning's cracks.

He didn't care. He was too tired to give a shit.

The bourbon didn't help either. All it did was fuel his exhaustion and irritate him. The issue wasn't whether or not he was tired. Oh no. That would have been too easy.

The issue was the fucking rain.

His fingers tightened around the bottleneck and he held it to his lips and took several gulps until he was coughing and gagging on the burn of alcohol from trying to chug too much at once.

Sleep. He just wanted to fucking sleep.

He had a job first thing in the morning and he needed to rest. It was a simple enough job. It was the usual act of Rosinante being the muscle and laying out one of Doffy's underworld partners after they tried to pull one over on him.

But Rosinante wouldn't be very intimidating if he was asleep on his feet.

He held the bourbon to lips again and welcomed the sweet burn as it ran down his—

Something sharp tore through his back.

No. That wasn't right.

Not through.

Something sharp tore into his back, pushing deeper and deeper until all Rosinante could do was suck in air through his teeth and grunt in pain as shock overwhelmed him.

He felt breathless and he looked over his shoulder with knuckles clenched, ready to beat whoever the fuck stabbed him within an inch of their pathetic life.

Only when he turned around, all he could see were black feathers and little figure with a white hat.

His stomach dropped.

"Law! Y-You! Cora! The blood law! THE BLOOD LAW! I-I have to tell Young Master!" a shrill voice filled Rosinante's ears and he grunted again and saw the other little brat, Buffalo, standing in the threshold of the clubhouse's doorway.

Shit!

What the fuck was Law thinking?

Rosinante made a move to grab Law's shoulders, to get his attention so they could put together a story that would protect him.

Only when Rosinante turned, Law was gone and all that remained was a little knife.

Damn brat. He was going to get himself killed.

Rosinante huffed in frustration and staggered to the upstairs bathroom. He tried to clean the wound as best as he could and tried to formulate some semblance of a story that would explain the injury to his brother.

It was in just the right spot on his back that he couldn't quite reach it, so he was stuck standing in front of the mirror without a shirt, back turned and head craned over his shoulder so he could at least see it.

Goddamn brat just had to stab him in the one place he couldn't properly reach, didn't he?

Rosinante cursed.

It wasn't that deep but it still stung and it didn't help that he could hardly reach it.

There was a jiggle of the doorknob and Rosinante ignored it until the jiggling continued and continued and continued.

"Door's locked, Jackass! Go somewhere else," Rosinante barked.

It was probably Trebol. He always had a way of showing up when he was least wanted.

He could feel his patience running thin.

"Rosi, open this goddamn door before I break it down," a low voice hissed.

At the sound of his true name, Rosinante's blood went cold.

"Fuck," he hissed to himself, throwing the gauze and bandages into the cracked porcelain sink and walking across the stained tile floor to open the door.

Doffy stood there in all his glory. Pink sunglasses, black dress shirt, and pink tie.

He did not smile.

"What—"

Rosinante failed to get his words out because Doffy stepped into the bathroom and kicked the door shut behind him, forcing Rosinante to take a step back when they stood almost chest to chest.

"Let me see," Doffy said.

Rosinante tried to argue that he was fine but it was to no avail. Doffy's hand anchored itself onto his bicep and pulled hard enough that he was forced to turn around. Forced to show his blind side to the one person he feared most in life.

He could see his brother's face in the filthy bathroom mirror. It was an unreadable mask as he examined the wound in Rosinante's back.

"Doffy, it's fine. I just need to clea—"

"Who did this?" Doffy asked.

Rosinante bit down on the inside of his cheek and looked over his shoulder.

"Some no-name thug wanting a fight to get into the Family," he said quickly, praying like hell that his brother couldn't somehow see his pulse jump.

Doffy was silent.

"Where is he now?"

Rosinante swallowed.

"I took care of it."

Doffy was quiet again.

It was always terrifying when his brother was quiet, gave him the chills when it happened.

Doffy left his place from where he stood behind Rosinante and his shoes clicked against the tile as he walked over to the sink where the medical supplies were thrown. Rosinante suppressed that sigh on the top of his lungs and took a step forward to tell his brother he was fine and didn't need help, but he tripped over his discarded shirt and went spiraling towards the floor.

He groaned from where he landed, tile cooling his skin and wound screaming in agitation.

"You're a fucking mess," Doffy said with an impatient huff.

His brother's hand curled around his bicep again and with hardly any effort at all, lifted him from the floor. Doffy then forced him forward until his hips were flush against the sink and Rosinante was trapped.

They were both massive figures, each standing at heights that shouldn't have been possible but somehow were. Whenever Rosinante tripped over himself, it would take at least two (sometimes three) people to haul him up because he was just so big. Even Sengoku had only been able to help him up alone when he was younger.

But Doffy stood at his same height, maybe even just a hair taller and had no trouble at all plucking him off the ground as if he weighed nothing.

And Rosinante would be lying if he said his brother's strength didn't wrack him with nervous fear.

"Don't move," Doffy ordered.

He didn't.

He braced himself against the sink as Doffy cleaned and bandaged the wound. His touch wasn't particularly gentle, but it wasn't rough either. If anything, Rosinante thought there was some sort of residual, underlying fondness in his brother's touch, though he would never say that out loud.

Rosinante's eyes flickered between the mirror, his brother's form, and his own scarred hands that braced his weight against the sink.

The bathroom light was weak, only illuminated by old fashioned bulbs on the mirror that bathed the room in a soft yellow hue.

It was the perfect lighting to see the dust specks float around his hands and face.

"Buffalo said Law was there when you were stabbed. He made it sound like the little brat was the one who hurt you," Doffy hummed.

He tugged hard on the bandage that wrapped around his torso and Rosinante winced at the gesture.

"Yeah," Rosinante confirmed. He gripped harder at the sink and gritted his teeth, wishing for a cigarette. "He was there. Although, I don't know why Buffalo would say that. But it was raining pretty badly, so maybe it played tricks on his eyes."

Doffy finished bandaging the wound and when he stepped back, Rosinante finally released the sigh that sat on the top of his lungs and put his back to the mirror.

"Is that why you were outside so late?" Doffy asked. He plunged his hands into his pockets and stared at Rosinante with that same unreadable mask.

Rosinante's lips pursed into a thin line.

"You never could sleep when it rained," Doffy muttered with an irritated sort of scoff.

For a second time that night, Rosinante bit down on the inside of his cheek and bit down hard.

"No. I still can't," was all he said.

He imagined his brother rolling his eyes behind those rose-tinted glasses, but then that growing tension between them snapped with the lightness of Doffy's next words.

"I figured Buffalo was full of shit. Law would never be able to land a hit on you with how sick he is."

The dust specks circled around Doffy's head like a sort of halo.

Rosinante leaned against the sink, pressing his lower back into the cool porcelain when he could feel the tiny burn from the bandaged wound.

"What's he sick with anyway?" Rosinante asked off-handedly. He knew Law had some sort of disease. Some type of hindrance that made his body weak when his mind was sharper than cut glass.

He just didn't know what.

"Amber Lead Syndrome," Doffy said casually, as if it was as simple as saying 'the sky is blue' or 'the sun rises in the East and sets in the West.'

"I'm sorry?" Rosinante repeated. He could feel his eyes widen in disbelief, ears ringing in the silence.

Doffy shrugged and then had the audacity to smirk.

"He's from Flevance. Somehow got away before the soldiers could kill him. That's why he's such an angry little brat."

How in the hell…

Rosinante's heart stuttered.

He didn't… He didn't know.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Kind of a waste if you ask me," Doffy said. He laughed as he slowly morphed back into his usually flamboyant persona.

"We've got enough resources and contacts. Can't we find a cure?" Rosinante asked curiously.

Doffy laughed harder and waved his hand, dust specks flying around at the movement.

"The hell are you talking about, Corazón? The Amber Lead created a toxic chemical buildup in his system. There's no cure. He means it when he says he'll be dead in a few years."

Rosinante's head swam.

No wonder Law wanted to join the Family. Why not? Why not inflict as much destruction as possible after coming from that horrible place? And why not inflict that destruction via an instrument as volatile and dangerous as the Donquixote Family? Why the hell not when he was only going to live a few more years?

Rosinante remembered a similar anger that filled himself at a young age. He remembered being so angry and sad after what happened to his family.

He remembered the mob. The arrows. The fire.

He remembered the rain.

But Rosinante had found Sengoku. And Law… Law had found Doffy.

Poor thing. Poor, sad, pathetic thing.

"What the hell do you keep staring at?" Doffy asked after a long beat of silence.

Rosinante's response was immediate and he looked right into those rose-tinted glasses as he said it.

"The dust specks."

He could see his brother's shoulders pull taut and veins protrude in his neck. He could see his jaw lock. He could see his mouth form a tight line.

And for a moment, Rosinante thought his brother might strike him.

"Go to bed, Corazón. You have a job in the morning," was all he said.

Doffy left after that in a flourish of impatience and Rosinante lingered in the bathroom for longer than he probably should have.

He reached down to the floor and picked up his discarded shirt, rubbing the soft material between his fingers.

There was a bloodstain and a small hole from where Law's knife punctured him. Rosinante let out a sad sigh, heart going out to the boy and then left the bathroom.

When he got to his room, he collapsed on the thin mattress and closed his eyes.

The rain finally stopped.

He fell asleep before it could start again and dreamt of sunlight and wisps of blonde hair.


Author's note:

I didn't mention this in chapter 1 or 2 so I'll mention it here.

I update AT LEAST once a week on Saturday/Sunday nights. Ideally, I'll update twice a week but that depends on my disaster of a schedule. So yeah! In case you're new here, please know that when I say I update at least once a week that I legitimately MEAN that. So you never have to worry about me disappearing (;

Drop any and all feedback with a comment please and thank you! Y'all have been so kind and supportive and wonderful! I'm honestly blown away at the positive feedback thank you so so so sooo much!

And HUGE THANKS to Honestlyxx and Guest for your super sweet reviews! They are beyond appreciated(: