My beta was away again ))): forgive the typos! They'll get corrected as the week progresses.
It was the sunlight that woke him up. It trickled through the curtains until it fell in a single beam across his eyes and then just like that, Rosinante was up and moving.
He went through the motions. He showered, brushed his teeth, got dressed, had coffee. All of it was in some vain attempt to achieve a sense of normalcy as he mentally processed what the day had in store for him.
It was the day. The day he went to trial and testified against Doffy.
He felt sick to his stomach and it was a battle to get his coffee down, but he managed.
Then there was a knock on his front door and he jumped, dropping his coffee cup and watching it shatter on his floor.
He groaned and walked to the door, looked through the peephole, and pulled the door open.
"You look startled," Garp said.
"Because I am," he deadpanned.
Garp looked around Rosinante and found the shattered coffee cup right away and shrugged as he picked his nose.
"Sorry, but you're a klutz and I'm on a schedule. Deal with it later. Gotta get you to court."
Rosinante found he didn't have the strength to argue, so he ignored the shattered coffee cup and left the apartment, accompanied by Garp and two bodyguards.
Garp may or may not have tried to talk to him on the car ride there, but Rosinante wasn't paying attention. He was too busy sucking on cigarettes and trying to dispel the phantom pain that twinged in his chest and abdomen.
And then just like that, the car ride was over and they were walking into the courthouse. There were reporters on the steps and cameramen too. Rosinante looked at them in confusion but refrained from asking Garp about it, mainly because there were several guards suddenly around them, ushering him up the steps and into the safety of the courthouse.
"Holy shit," he cursed, looking over his shoulder at the glass doors they just walked through. "What the hell was that?"
"Eh. The reporters are like vultures and your brother's been putting on a show."
Of course he was. Doffy may have been a lot of things, but subtle was not one of them.
They walked through the courthouse until they reached a particular room where Sengoku was waiting outside for them. He wore a white suit and seemed even more on edge than yesterday at the hospital.
"You okay?" Rosinante asked.
Sengoku patted him on the back and said a casual, "I should be asking you that."
"You can ask me that when this is all over," he said with a small smile.
Sengoku let out a soft chuckle and nodded once at him before they entered the courtroom.
It looked like every other courtroom Rosinante had ever seen. The floors were a carpeted grey, the walls were a muted cream, the flags were behind the bench, and all of the furniture was made of wood.
It was beautifully fucking ordinary and Rosinante couldn't have appreciated it anymore if he tried.
But incidentally, that feeling lasted about all of ten seconds, because the next thing his eyes settled on was none other than his one and only, complete lunatic of a brother…
Doffy was there beside his defense attorney, wearing a crisp white suit, pink tie, and pink sunglasses. His blond hair was cropped shorter than Rosinante remembered and he looked stronger. More muscular. He was all smug and arrogant while he grinned from ear to ear, radiating a sense of self-importance that Rosinante could feel slam against his chest and threaten to knock the wind straight from his lungs. But the minute Rosinante walked in, Doffy's venomous smile began to dissolve and that aura of hubris was replaced with nothing short of silent fury.
It was all Rosinante could do to yank his gaze away from his brother and walk over to the seats that were one row behind the prosecutor's table. He sat down between Sengoku and Garp and closed his eyes. He inhaled deeply and felt an itch in his lungs and throat that signaled it was time for a cigarette. It took everything in his power to ignore it.
His stomach was in total shambles. It kept knotting and flipping and it was getting to the point where all he wanted were saltines and ginger ale to soothe it.
"You don't have to look at him," Garp said.
Rosinante rubbed a hand over his face and nodded.
He knew that, but it still felt like an impossible task.
The courtroom was packed. When Rosinante first arrived he'd been greeted with the sight of reporters, cameraman, and spectators. He figured it would be busy with how high profile the case was, but he had no idea to what extent, and the courtroom itself was no exception.
The room was bathed in an ugly yellow hue from the way the overhead lights mixed with the wood of the bench, tables, and chairs.
And it was the perfect light to see dust specks float through the air and settle on the table.
"Has it been like this every day?" Rosinante asked, lacing his fingers together and clenching them.
"Yep," Garp muttered. "It's a goddamn zoo."
"A mockery of the justice system," Sengoku added.
Rosinante didn't disagree, especially not with the way flashes were going off to get photographs of the proceeding.
Kuzan and Akainu then approached the table, and as Kuzan started to set out some files, Akainu walked right up to Rosinante and stared him dead on.
"Glad to see you here in the flesh," he said.
There was something about Akainu that rubbed Rosinante the wrong way. He understood the man's abrasive nature. As the DA, it was his job to be harsh and put criminals away.
But still. There was something extreme about him that curdled Rosinante's blood.
"I'm not," Kuzan said without turning his back. "He's in serious danger now."
"Didn't you hear about what happened to him the other day? It's a little late for that," Akainu retorted.
He may have been speaking to Kuzan, but he still stared Rosinante in the eye as he said it.
Rosinante worked his jaw and said a low, "I'm ready to do my part."
Akainu lingered a moment longer. He tensed his shoulders until his red suit tightened in protest. He tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes.
Then a grin stretched across his face and he turned around and took a seat at the table beside Kuzan.
Sengoku patted Rosinante on the arm and he released a tired sigh.
Damn it all. If only he could smoke inside the courtroom…
That phantom pain echoed in his chest again. It ripped through the skin around his heart and bit into the scar in his stomach. It torched his flesh and kissed his organs. It wreaked absolute havoc on him until he was sweating and silently praying to a god he didn't believe in to make it just stop.
"Rosi? Are you all right? You look sick," Sengoku said in a hushed voice.
"'m fine," he croaked.
Sengoku likely wanted to ask him more questions but it was too late because the judge entered the courtroom and they were all rising to their feet in respect.
Judge Kong was presiding over the case and he was a severe-looking man. His skin was deeply tanned, his muscles were painfully obvious beneath his black robe, his white hair was slicked back into spikes, and there was a nasty looking scar beneath his eye.
Rosinante couldn't get a read on him, but he had a feeling the man had a very distinct view of justice.
In almost no time at all, Kuzan got up and started presenting more of his case to the jurors. He spoke with an easy rhythm that exuded confidence but still made him sound humble. But truthfully, Rosinante wasn't really listening. He was too busy trying not to focus on the glow of pink that currently assaulted his peripheral vision.
But that too was short lived because before he knew it, he was approaching the stand and swearing to tell the truth about the ordeal.
His mouth was suddenly dry and hands twitched in his lap. His ears rang and Kuzan spoke, but he couldn't quite hear the words.
"I'm sorry. Could you please repeat the question?" Rosinante asked. His voice cracked and he winced, but Kuzan didn't seem bothered. If anything, he seemed to expect that sort of reaction.
"I understand this is very overwhelming, Mr. Donquixote. Take a moment to collect your thoughts while I ask the question," he said. Rosinante nodded and listened closer this time. "Let's start at the beginning. Why did you decide to go undercover and enter Doflamingo's crime family?"
The panic was rising again and Rosinante needed reassurance. He needed Sengoku to help him through this.
He hadn't meant to glance directly into the crowd of onlookers. He meant to look at Sengoku. He meant to look at the one person who could always pull him out of those god awful memories and away from a potential breakdown.
But instead, he found himself looking into the crowd and locking eyes with a man a few rows behind Sengoku.
Rosinante recognized him with ease. It was the doctor? The scary one from the hospital with the surgical cap covered in hearts. The one who looked like he was five seconds away from biting someone's head off. The same one who took one look at Rosinante and turned ash white, as if Rosinante was a ghost.
He had that same lost expression on his face and he looked like he might be sick the longer he stared at Rosinante. His face was pale and his lips were slightly parted. His dark eyes were wide and his shoulders were hunched forward.
What was he even doing there? Was he just another spectator who was interested in seeing the downfall of Donquixote Doflamingo?
Rosinante found that he couldn't look away though. That he couldn't break eye contact with the doctor whose name he didn't even know.
How could he? The man looked like he was one breath away from completely falling apart. One breath away from shattering into a million little pieces.
Maybe it was because he wanted to ignore Doffy. Maybe it was because he could hear his own heartbeat thump against his eardrums. Maybe it was because he himself felt like he was going to be sick. But Rosinante wanted to help him. Wanted to assure the doctor that things were fine.
He barely nodded his head forward, hardly even noticeable, but the doctor hesitated and then slowly nodded back. Rosinante then took in a deep breath. He let it fill his lungs, let it expand his stomach and chest. The doctor did the same and despite the distance between them, Rosinante could see the doctor's chest expand as he took in his own breath.
They exhaled in unison and it was enough for Rosinante. His head felt clearer and his shaking hands stilled.
It was just in time for him to formulate an answer to Kuzan's question and begin his testimony.
14 years ago
"You're drunk," Rosinante deadpanned.
Doffy laughed and rested his cheek against his hand. He was sprawled out on the couch in the card room with two women on either side of him. One of the women had dark hair and she was on his left, kissing his neck and biting his ear. The other one was a redhead, and she was on his right, occasionally holding a bottle of wine to his lips.
"And you're uptight," Doffy replied. "Sit down. Have a drink. I'll even share with you."
It wasn't the wine Doffy was referring to, but rather one of his women and Rosinante's lip curled.
"I don't have time for this," Rosinante said with an exasperated sigh. "I thought we were going to talk about the Ope-Ope fruit."
Doffy gave a dismissive wave of his hand and nodded at where Trebol and Diamante were at one of the round card tables. They appeared to be in the middle of a game of poker with two women Rosinante had never seen before.
"That can wait," Doffy said. "Right, Trebol?"
"That's right, Young Master!"
Rosinante rolled his eyes so hard that they might as well have been in the back of his skull. And right after Trebol spoke, both of the women who were all over Doffy started giggling and calling him Young Master and Rosinante was over it.
"Okay, well I'll be back whenever you sober up."
He pivoted on his heel to walk out of the card room and get away from Doffy, Trebol, Diamante, and the other Family members who were hanging out in there. It was getting late anyway and he wanted to check on Law before he went to bed. He fell into a coughing fit a few hours ago and never quite recovered from it. He could probably use some tea and—
"C'mon. Sit down, Corazón," Doffy said with an airy laugh.
His tone was light, so Rosinante wasn't perturbed. Doffy seemed relaxed and entertained enough that it didn't seem like a big deal. Rosinante had learned his brother's mannerisms well enough to know when he was generally in the clear to ignore him and when it was too dangerous to do so.
So yeah. He ignored Doffy and kept walking out of the card room without giving it much thought.
But then he heard the unmistakable sound of a gun clicking and every muscle in his body froze.
"I told you to sit down, Rosi."
The silence was deafening. There was no more giggling from the women. No more murmuring between Diamante and Trebol as they played their poker game. No more conversation amongst the other Family members.
Rosinante paused and craned his neck over his shoulder.
Doffy was still on the sofa, sprawled out with the women on either side of him, but only now he held a glinting, silver revolver and pointed it right at Rosinante's chest.
"What are you doing?" Rosinante asked. His voice was lower than it ever had been before. So much so that he hardly even recognized it.
"I'm tired of you acting like you don't have to listen to me. I don't care if you're my blood or not. You have to follow the rules just like everybody else," Doffy said. His voice was gruff and downright deadly.
Rosinante swallowed loud enough for his brother to hear and he very slowly turned around so he better faced Doffy.
"I'm tired, Doffy. I'm going to bed."
Doffy didn't lower the gun and he sneered, "no. You're going to sit the fuck down because I said so, Rosi."
Rosinante fingers curled into fists at his sides and he breathed harshly through his nose. It wasn't worth the fight. He was already too close to blowing his cover to risk upsetting his brother so much. He had to deal with it for a little bit longer. He had to suffer through the bullshit just long enough so he could find the Ope-Ope fruit for Law.
He didn't say anything as he took a seat on the couch his brother was on, seeing as it was the only open spot for him. The only thing that separated him from his brother was the brunette woman that had been kissing Doffy's neck and thank fuck for that because otherwise Rosinante really thought the two of them would have ended up in a brawl.
He produced a cigarette from the pocket of his feathered jacket and searched his other pockets for a lighter, silently fuming and desperately trying to calm down.
"Here, give my brother a light, would you?"
Rosinante wanted to snap that he didn't need a light from his brother or one of his hookers, but didn't get the chance because the brunette was suddenly in his personal space and lighting his cigarette.
As if nothing happened, things went back to the way they'd been only a few moments ago. Trebol and Diamante were playing poker again, the others were talking, and Doffy was drinking his wine and laughing.
Rosinante breathed in the smoke and promptly blew it back in the woman's face when he said a tight, "thanks."
It didn't seem to bother her because she fluttered her eyelashes and smiled.
"Absolutely. Anything else I can get you?"
Not unless she had the Ope-Ope fruit or a miraculous cure for a dying boy's disease.
"No," he said.
She pouted her lips and returned her attention to Doffy. Rosinante then closed his eyes and rested his head against the couch cushions and quietly smoked his cigarette. His thoughts were loud enough to drown out the incessant noise of the card room and at the very least, that was a small blessing in itself.
He would take them where he could find them.
He continued to smoke as a way to dispel the painful tension in his hands and shoulders. That had been too close. He pushed Doffy a bit too far and almost paid for it with his life.
Suddenly, there were hands on his chest, delicate ones that were undoing the buttons of his shirt with deft fingers. His eyes snapped open and he sat straight up, cigarette between his lips almost entirely forgotten.
"The hell are you doing?" Rosinante growled. His hand clamped around the wrist of the brunette woman and he glared at her harder than he had ever glared at any of the kids.
The woman's cheeks flushed but she didn't look intimidated. If anything, she looked a little bashful.
"Young Master wants me to help you relax," she said easily.
"I'm fine," he growled.
"You're wound tighter than a spring and you're disobedient because of it. Let her do her job," Doffy said. There was no trace of laughter or mirth in his brother's voice and there was a shiver up his spine.
Rosinante locked his jaw and glanced at Doffy.
Doffy looked back and there was one long moment where everything around them faded into a haze and the only clear thing in his vision was his older brother. Doffy, in all of his glory. Doffy, in his smothering, overwhelming presence.
Rosinante saw a brief flash. A passing second where his brother was younger and slightly less deadly. An instant where they were both children and Doffy held his hand as he cried when their mother died during that horrible thunderstorm.
But then it was gone and Doffy was a full-grown man and the leader of a crime family that wreaked havoc on anyone who crossed his path.
"Have a drink," Doffy said, thrusting his wine bottle out to Rosinante.
Against his better judgment, he reached for the bottle and his scarred fingers brushed against Doffy's callused ones.
He could feel the air crackle between them as he put the bottle to his lips and gulped down the sweet wine, feeling it trickle from his mouth and down his chin.
When he was done and pulled the bottle away, Doffy laughed and said an amused, "there you go, Corazón! Loosen up!"
Rosinante's lip curled at the taste of wine on his tongue and he held the bottle back out to Doffy. He took it back and Rosinante rested against the cushions again and closed his eyes. The wine must have been stronger than he realized because his head was already starting to spin. He could already feel the edge of his awareness blunting into something dull and foggy.
Those hands were on his chest again and making swift work of his shirt until he could feel the stale air of the card room kiss the front of his clammy torso. Those hands then moved away from his chest and up to his shoulders, squeezing and pressing into the knots he didn't even know were there.
The cigarette and wine dulled his irritation with the woman and he did his best to ignore her. Only a little bit longer and then he would be sure to make his exit now that Doffy was in a better mood.
But then he could feel the woman in his lap, her legs on either side of him so she straddled his hips, and her lips at his neck and he was snapped back into lucidity.
"What the hell do you think—"
"Relax, Corazón," she whispered against the shell of his ear. "Let me take care of you."
He most certainly would not, Doffy be damned.
She weighed almost nothing and lifted her off his lap with hardly any effort at all, and then he pushed himself up from the couch to try and leave yet again.
"Sit back down, Corazón, and let the whore—"
Blame it on the wine or his short temper or something else, but Rosinante snapped before his brother could finish his sentence.
"And let her what, Doffy? You already made me stay here while you sit there and drink yourself into fucking oblivion. What next? You going to hold a gun to my head and make me fuck her too?" he shouted.
The silence returned a second time, only it seemed so much louder than before.
"Corazón, you sit your ass back down and—"
Rosinante turned around and stalked out of the room. Doffy may have threatened him with a gun before but to do it a second time would be too much. He wouldn't actually do it because if he did, he would have to pull the trigger and Doffy wasn't ready for that.
At least that's what Rosinante hoped.
"Don't you fucking walk away from me, Rosinante!" Doffy's voice bounced off the walls and even shook some of the light fixtures.
But Rosinante was too far gone to turn back now. He rounded the corner of the hallway and took the stairs two at a time until he was headed for his bedroom. He would get to his room, smoke until his lungs were black with tar, and drink enough bourbon until he passed out and was dead to the world.
He could feel how fast his heart was beating and how flushed his chest was from the fury that coursed through his veins. It was a fury that was so similar to his brother's, that had it not been for the love and discipline that Sengoku instilled in him, he would have acted on it with the same nasty violence that Doffy did.
On the way to his room, he passed one of the empty ones and heard the voices of Buffalo and Baby 5.
He didn't bother listening to what they were talking about but caught the tail end of whatever it was Buffalo was saying.
"…have a real name you have to tell us! Or I'll tell Young Master that you stabbed Cora!"
Rosinante came to an abrupt halt, lingering outside the room.
"Yeah, we will!"
There was the sound of a very tired sigh and then, "Trafalgar D. Water Law."
Rosinante didn't hear the rest of the words that came from Law because it felt like someone just socked him in the diaphragm and instantly sobered him up.
Trafalgar D. Water Law…
D.
There were centuries of superstition and legend there. There was danger there for someone who grew up in Mariejois. There was an unholy, blasphemous tale there that he and Doffy were told as children. A sinister tale about how those who carried the name D. were the sworn enemies of the royal blood that hailed from Mariejois and so, so much more.
For as stupid as Rosinante believed the story to be, Doffy did not share his sentiments and he would never, ever let Law live to see another day if he knew.
Oh, Law… Why would he tell Buffalo and Baby 5 that? Did he have any idea of the kind of danger he was walking right into?
He acted on impulse and stormed right into the room the children were in, grabbed Law by the back of his shirt, and hauled him away.
"H-hey!" Law shouted. "What the hell are you doing, Corazón?"
Baby 5 and Buffalo gasped as Rosinante grabbed Law and left, but they didn't say anything to him.
"Corazón! Put me down, you dumbass clown!" Law snapped, thrashing around in his hold and spewing a set of curses that would impress even Garp.
But Rosinante didn't put him down until they were in Law's bedroom with the door securely shut behind them.
"Law, is it true? What you said to Baby 5 and Buffalo?" he asked right away, kneeling down so he was closer to the boy's eye level.
At this height, Rosinante could see the white splotches on Law's skin all too clearly, and they were already on his face now, slowly discoloring his already grey pallor.
"Huh? What are you talking about?" Law asked with his trademark scowl.
"That name," Rosinante pressed. He reached forward and rested his hands on Law's tiny shoulders and squeezed. "The secret name of D. Law, if it's true then we need to get you out of here right now. You're not safe around Doffy!"
Law's eyes widened and his mouth fell open.
"Corazón, what are you—"
There wasn't enough time for this. Rosinante wasn't able to sit down with the boy and answer all of his questions. He wasn't able to formulate a plan that would ensure his safety. The boy's true name was already bad enough, but telling Buffalo and Baby 5? It was too fucking much and too goddamn dangerous.
They needed to leave.
"Listen to me," Rosinante said softly. He relaxed his grip on Law's shoulders and looked him square in the eye. "I want you to pack a bag for a few days, okay? Once your bag is packed, I need you to meet me on the back porch. Understood?"
Law frowned and pursed his lips.
"What the hell, Corazón?"
Rosinante squeezed Law's shoulders again and said, "I need you to trust me, Law. Okay? If that's your true name, you're not safe here."
He was pissed. He was annoyed. He didn't want to listen to Rosinante.
And yet, Law rolled his eyes and nodded.
"…Fine."
Rosinante breathed a sigh of relief.
"Try not to let anyone see you."
Rosinante released Law and it wasn't until he watched the boy begin to pack did he feel like he could leave.
He all but ran to his room after, damn near tripping over his own two feet in the process, and flung the door open.
He rummaged through his few possessions, searching for a gun and some clothes and—
"We need to talk."
Rosinante froze, elbows deep in his dresser, and snapped his neck over to the door to see Doffy standing there, waiting.
Just waiting.
"I'm done talking," Rosinante said under his breath. He turned back to his dresser and was careful to seem nonchalant as he dug through it.
"Rosi."
Rosinante winced. If only he would stop with the nickname.
"Gonna hold a gun to my heart again?" Rosinante hissed. He knew he shouldn't have been so obvious with his frustration, but he was at his wits end.
"Don't be ridiculous," Doffy said.
Rosinante squeezed his eyes shut and bit down on the inside of his cheek. He couldn't do this. He couldn't lose his temper. Not with so much hanging in the balance.
"I think we both need time to cool off," Rosinante said.
"Or we need to address the elephant in the room," Doffy said right back.
That got his attention and not in a good way. What did that even mean? What was the elephant in the room? Doffy didn't know about him being an undercover cop… Right?
Rosinante faced his brother and leaned against his dresser. The wooden drawer dug into his lower back and he used the pain as his anchor.
"I'm sorry?"
Doffy stepped deeper into the room until he was only an arm's length away. His expression was a mask but Rosinante could see how flushed his brother's skin was and the way sweat beaded on his temples.
"You're not happy here," he said.
The tension in Rosinante's shoulders released and he rubbed his forehead as a way to mask that sense of relief. So he didn't know about Rosinante's identity. He didn't know about the Bureau. He simply thought that his younger brother wasn't happy.
And thank God because Rosinante could work with that. He could string something together to appease Doffy. Easy… But oddly enough, there was an undeniable urge to lie to Doffy and tell him that he was happy. He hated it, but he recognized the desire as a desperate need to please his older brother.
"I'm just tired of all the bloody work I do," he answered.
Doffy cocked his head to the side and plunged his hands into his pockets.
"I thought you liked being the muscle of the group."
Rosinante pressed his lower back harder into the dresser and said, "that was before. I'm exhausted now."
Silence.
They sized each other up and Rosinante's heart stuttered in his chest. Doffy was a monster. He knew that. He was a terrible man who needed to be stopped. He was a sick, twisted crime lord that thought himself above the law and above the human race.
But he was still Rosinante's older brother. Still the same person who used to tell him bedtime stories when the rain was too loud.
But then again, maybe all of that had been a lie too.
"Why didn't you say something sooner? I could have done something about it," Doffy said.
"I didn't want to disappoint you."
Doffy huffed and reached forward, curling a hand around the back of Rosinante's neck and pulling him forward until their foreheads touched and Rosinante could see the outline of his brother's irises behind those rose-tinted glasses.
"You're an idiot," Doffy said, hot breath invading Rosinante's air and filling his nostrils with the stench of wine.
"I know," he muttered back.
Doffy's hand tightened on the back of his neck until it was painful. And with their proximity, Rosinante could hear his brother swallow. It wasn't a nervous sound though. Rather, it was almost frustrated. Like he was trying to hold back his mounting rage.
"Doffy—"
"You're difficult. You're a pain in my ass. You're disobedient. And you're too goddamn soft," Doffy started, still tightening his grip. "But you're still my brother—my blood. And because of that, I'm going to give you one more chance, Rosi. I'll start giving you different jobs and find a replacement for what you do now. Can you live with that?"
Time felt a little slower. Felt like every second that passed was actually a minute.
"I can live with that," Rosinante said, voice far too hoarse for his own good.
Doffy relaxed his grip and slowly withdrew his hand as he took a step back.
"Good."
He still didn't leave though and Rosinante let the pain in his lower back keep him grounded in reality.
"Get some sleep. You look like shit and it finally stopped raining," Doffy grunted.
He left in a flurry of pink feathers after that and as soon as he was out of sight, Rosinante's knees went out from under him and he crashed to the floor, back pressed against the dresser and head spinning.
He rubbed his temples while his brain pulsed against his skull. He tried to take deep breaths but his lungs wouldn't expand quite right, so he found himself breathing quicker and quicker until he got lightheaded and started seeing black spots dance across his vision.
That was when it dawned on him that he was having a panic attack.
He used to get them as a child when Sengoku first found him. Used to hear the rain at night and cry and hyperventilate until he threw up. Used to beg Sengoku not to leave him for it and plead for forgiveness.
"Rosi, it's okay. It was just a panic attack. You're all right now," Sengoku assured, crouching down and mussing his unruly blond hair.
Rosinante's nerves jumped beneath his skin and he shook his head, tears fogging his vision until Sengoku was only a blurry figure with black hair and massive shoulders.
"I-I'm sorry! Please don't—" he hiccuped and wiped his eyes with his fists. "Please don't leave me! It w-won't happen again! I promise!"
"Why do you think I'm going to leave you, Rosi? I'm right here. You're safe now."
The memory made him flinch and grind his teeth so hard that he probably could have dislocated his jaw.
Rosinante held his breath and carefully curled and uncurled his fingers in and out of fists. Focused on the little movements there and on the dust specks around his desk lamp. Risked taking a slower, shallow breath until he could once again get his bearings.
He didn't have time for this. He had to get to Law and get him out of there.
Sure, he would have preferred to stay and use Doffy's intel to find the Ope-Ope fruit, but if Sengoku and the Bureau knew about it, then maybe he could rely on them instead. And hell, if Doffy ever found out about Law's true name, then it would be the end of the boy and Rosinante refused to let that happen.
So he took one more moment to steady himself and promptly got his shit together, both figuratively and literally.
He filled up a duffle with some clothes, cigarettes, some weapons and made a beeline for the back porch.
Law was already there, arms crossed and glaring at Rosinante, but he didn't care.
He nodded at Law and started towards his car, stomach all the way in his throat and heart slamming against his ribcage.
"C'mon, Law. We're leaving."
Next week's chapter will likely be 2-3 days late. So it'll probably come out on Tuesday or Wednesday. Depends on the craziness of my schedule (Or even a few days later since I'm traveling for job interviews)
Drop any and all feedback with a review please and thank you!
