A/N: Hello, WheelofArgos here with part 3 of Roger's courting! I'm really excited for this one. By the way, I've also created a headcanon for Bogard just as I did with Tsuru. Can any of you spot it?

Roger's courting was… flattering, as Tsuru would say. Not much changed (though Roger had gotten a bit out of hand at the beginning, his "I've been thinking about this for twenty years, I suppose I lost track of today" once Garp set him straight was very flattering), but at the same time it felt like everything had. They battled, they talked, and Garp returned to her ship but every soft smile, courter's kiss, and endless slew of compliments – many of which would have sounded like shallow lies if they weren't from Roger, the man was never anything but sincere – was for her, and that made her feel things. Even Roger's sharp smile, the one she had known since they first met, made her breath jump!

Two months felt timeless, but they passed and Garp was just as confused.

Roger liked her, he made that clear as day, but she couldn't understand why. After more than thirty years in the Navy, she'd dealt with people lusting after her, but never once had anyone sincerely liked her in that way. It just didn't happen, especially when there were other women to choose from. So why was Roger the exception?

"Something on your mind, Garp?" the man in question asked, sitting down opposite her after setting down the extra wood he'd gathered for the fire. The trees of this island liked to burn fast, making it hard to survive during the harsh winters, so the only people that came here were hunters looking to find game or fugitive pirates.

And since Garp was never one to hold onto questions, she asked. "How?"

"How what?" Roger parroted, unsure what she meant.

"How come you like me, Roger?" Garp kept her eyes on Roger's, reading the truth they always told. "I've never been seen as a woman, so how can you? And even then, how come you like me?"

Roger sighed, disappointed but Garp knew it wasn't at her. "Well, I'd like to know how someone so confidant has so little confidence about herself, but that's not what you're asking." He glanced down, cradling his chin as he thought and giving off a little hum like thinking was a difficult task. Garp understood, they both relied so much on instinct that thinking didn't come as naturally. "You are a woman, not sure how others can see differently, so that kinda rolls into your other question. 'How come I like you?' hmmm, you don't pull your punches. I could say I like your strength, or your ferocity, or how you laugh with the laughter of a hundred people, but those aren't real reasons to love someone."

Garp felt her breath catch at the change in verb, at how effortlessly Roger said it, like it always had been proper and he'd been using 'like' solely for her sake. The fire danced rapidly, brighter from the fuel's high consumption rate, flickering on Roger and pulsing warmth on her. The moon hid tonight, so the night sky was empty save for the few stars they could see through the light of the flames. Bugs droned, birds chirped, and leaves rustled but it all drowned out under the thump-thump-thump of her heartbeat.

Roger looked at her, eyes clear of nothing but the truth. "It's cause you're you, Garp. You've always been you and you're always going to be you, and every moment I learn a little more about you, I fall in love all over again. I can't imagine loving another woman as much as I love you. That's it, love's that simple; it's everything else that's complicated."

Garp sat there for a few moments, letting her brain repeat Roger's words over and over again. That… there wasn't much she could say about that. As he said, it was so simple. It explained everything about the last few months, maybe even the last twenty years, and Garp realized that she might even understand it a little. Not all of it, but some, more than before.

Garp could hardly remember what it was like when she didn't know Roger liked her.

. . .

Bogard was a man of few words. He preferred to observe first, and only spoke when he deemed it necessary. A lot could be said in silence and knowing how to listen was one of the reasons he could keep up with his commander, for whom such voices came naturally.

Bogard watched the vice admiral head off for the denser parts of the island. She was always one to work alone, to take on every danger and burden like the weight of the world wasn't heavy at all. It was a constant source of fond frustration, that each burden he'd taken from his commander's shoulders, however small or simple, was pried from her hands (except the paperwork, she'd handed that off easily). But he'd watched her lately, seen the brightness in her eyes that made her stand taller and smile fuller. She was still burdened but that wasn't all she carried, and Bogard couldn't care less about the circumstances if this was what they gave his commander.

Plus, it was amusing to picture how Fleet Admiral Sengoku would react if he ever knew.

During the early days of his service under Garp, when he was still the naïve fool that trusted the World Government over the vice admiral, he noticed how the now Pirate King looked at Garp and only at Garp, and how his crew were equal parts terrified and resigned in the sense of 'here we go again' (the small apprentices were particularly bad at hiding those emotions). He'd drawn a picture that was exactly the sort of intel his then superiors would have wanted to know but he'd hesitated over how much was speculation. Now, with his trust and loyalty properly aligned and very few the wiser, Bogard was grateful for his hesitation. This wasn't something for the World Government to stick its nose in.

Bogard envied the vice admiral sometimes, how she kept dauntless faith that the Navy was good despite seeing and circumventing the black and red in its code. When she'd broken his blinders, only his trust in her, the trust she'd rightfully earned, kept him from hanging up his coat. Bogard believed it too, when she stopped by training grounds and beat up, I mean trained, new recruits, beautifully sincere in their untested justice, or when the Hound only stayed a day at port because the local base had no need for the Hero of the Marines. But Garp easily kept that belief even when their ship had to stay weeks at port for a new commander to arrive or the news coo delivered papers spewing lies they both know weren't true (too many times, amidst blaming pirates, the casualties slip by without mention). Many called it foolish, but Bogard would never be among them.

Garp was a woman who could change the world – she already had – and the current situation had always been within Bogard's expectations. Though he was sure his commanding officer would find some way to surprise him.

. . .

"Vice Admiral Garp, thank the seas you're here!" Such a fervent greeting was a rarity for Garp. Sure, the new recruits had a base standard of hero worship, but promotion to a leadership position always seemed to double with losing that blind awe. That was fair, though, because it was those in leadership positions who had to deal with the destruction after the woman left. Being welcomed into base with such enthusiasm felt weird.

"What's the issue, captain?" she asked. The only exception was when Garp's presence solved a bigger problem than she left.

"A few hours ago, a large part of the town was demolished," the captain reported. "Witnesses say the one causing the damage was the Pirate King. It's since quieted down, but with the rescue and reconstruction we don't have the resources or manpower to enact a search. We would be honored if you'd assist us in neutralizing this threat, sir!"

"Sure thing! Senny would have my head if I didn't," Garp agreed. There was really no other answer she could give, but she didn't mind. She had some questions for Roger.

The man had gone months without detection by anyone but herself and Bogard, why would he throw that all away for something as obvious as destroying a port? Garp knew there had to be a reason, even if that reason was as stupid as Roger being a trouble magnet. She was more certain than ever that he wouldn't do such a thing unprovoked. Doesn't mean she wasn't annoyed at the man; their dynamic had just started to even out in the last couple months, but with such a witnessed sighting she could no longer follow orders so indirectly. Meeting up would be even harder for the next few weeks, once she pounded Roger's head into the ground for being stupid and helped him with whatever required him to destroy a port.

"Fan out!" she ordered her men. "Search the town and the rest of the island. If you find any of Roger's crew, send a report then attempt to stall ONLY if you're certain you won't be completely decimated. If you find Roger, report to me immediately. DO NOT attempt to fight him. Am I clear?!"

"Yes, sir!" was their response, an affirmative not even Tsuru had gotten them to drop. Garp didn't mind, she quite liked the enthusiasm they said it with.

Not ten minutes later, one of her seamen ran up and reported a small crater on the outside of town. She ordered Seaman Cortis, he really had a good eye, to take her there and found a familiar impact, the trace of landing from a powerful jump. Looking at the nearby tree line, she spotted no other signs of recent entry, meaning Roger had only landed to make another jump. Two dents in the crater told he went farther into the trees.

"Rejoin the others," she ordered her soldier. "Sweep the town and coast for the rest of the crew. Leave the King to me." Garp knew they wouldn't find any of the Roger no Kaizoku, Bogard certainty knew as well, but her men were better off outside the strike zone. Either she would end up helping Roger – and though Garp trusted her men to follow her order, that trust didn't extend to thinking she or Bogard were the officers all of them reported to first – or the man would be enraged and anyone other than herself being there could end badly. Seaman Cortis went off with a salute and Garp entered the forest.

Given the lack of a trail, she used her ears, listening for the movement of animals to tell her where Roger landed. Even in the Grand Line, wildlife tended to run away from something falling from the sky.

She found him in a creek, shins getting soaked as he gently scrubbed the face of a blue-headed child, the redhead rinsing his hands and arms even as he kept one side leaning into Roger's waist.

"Hello there, Garp," Roger greeted. She could hear the amusement in his voice even as he kept his eyes on his hand, continuing the ministrations on his apprentice's face, every few swipes thoroughly rinsing the rag in the creek water. The clean skin looked red, irritated, likely by the unnatural whiteness and colors that decorated the skin Roger had yet to get to. Both boys whipped their heads to her with surprise and fear, not unfamiliar to the marine, keeping an eye on her even as Roger gently guided the blue one's (Buffy? Bugle? Doug? She knows Roger's crew often called the child Blue) head back to him to continue cleaning. The red one (Shanks, that one was easy to remember cause it sound like a piece of meat) had stopped washing his arms, one hand awkwardly hovering by his hip where Garp remembered a sword usually rested.

Why had Roger destroyed a port? Why had he run away with his apprentices? Why was the blue one's skin irritated, seemingly from his own makeup, and Shanks' missing his sword? Garp's eyes narrowed as the picture started to form. Looks like she'd have to smoke out this island's underground as well.

"The brats?" she asked. Roger's haki, which he had been keeping a very tight lid on, spiked. Not a lot, but enough that Garp, Shanks, and definitely the blue one felt it, given that he flinched then looked guilty about it. That one had always struck her as haki-sensitive. The spike cut off as quick as it came and Roger stroked the child's hair, careful to avoid his face, before returning to his cleaning. Garp had the offhand thought of 'If only the Government could see him now…'

"Found 'em sitting in the bilge of some insects I squashed," he explained. Garp held back a sigh because even though this whole thing would have Senny hot on her (33)s, she would've done the same thing. "Had to of been there a few days at least."

"Two weeks," the red brat muttered. "Could see light from a tiny hole neartha ceiling."

Garp wished her ship had arrived a few hours earlier, because punching a corpse wouldn't make her feel better. Davy Jones' barnacled bones, there was a reason she never went to Sabaody! She loved being a marine, truly, but some people just made her blood boil.

Roger rinsed the rag really well before wiping the blue brat's face one last time. Clear of makeup and other obstruction, she saw that nearly the kid's entire face was red, with the spots around his eyes and the corners of his mouth nearly inflamed. She couldn't tell if his nose was any worse off but with how the rest of his face was, it couldn't be much better. He didn't appear to have any other injuries (neither did the other brat, which was good for Garp's need to punch something) but the just-cleaned-up makeup showed they hadn't gotten enough water to spare on wiping it away, despite how it must have been hurting the brat to have it on so long.

"Wait here," she said, turning back the way she came. Kenbunshoku let her reach her ship without running into any of her men. Given that the cook on shift on Hound never left the kitchen, Jessica didn't know what was happening on land and thought nothing of gathering some highly nutritional snacks and water for her commanding officer, though she did raise an eyebrow at Garp's request for a bottle of extra virgin olive oil. But she handed it over with a pointed look that said Garp better accept her next galley rule (not that she would've refused. Garp may have commanded the ship, but she held little power in the kitchens) and Garp was back on her way.

Right before she reentered the forest, Bogard shaved next to her, a silent request for orders in the slight tilt of his head.

"Need ya to look for the remains of a ring," she responded.

"Which kind?" Bogard asked, though by her mood he already knew.

"The filthiest." Garp thought about Shanks' hovering hand and how neither she nor Roger were a safer option to stay with than on their own, despite where that had landed them. "Check the shops for any pawning the red brat's sword. Wouldn't be strange if you bought another." Bogard nodded and disappeared from her side as quick as he came.

When she returned, all three brats, grown or not, were still there, though their pouts showed the little ones had certainly tried to make Roger move. Garp found it adorable, because the distance the three could've covered in the time she'd been gone wasn't even close to how far they'd need to be to escape from her. She'd been a hunter first, and a haki user second.

She threw the food and water at the little brats, which they quickly devoured after cautiously checking them like they would explode. Garp scoffed, because she would never put them much work into killing someone.

"Helped Tsuru when we got stuck in Alabasta," she said in explanation as she handed the oil over to Roger. "Thanks," he said, though she could see the words on his face. When the blue brat finished scarfing down the food, chugging water to keep from choking, Roger spread the oil on his cheeks and handed him the bottle. Garp ignored the astonished looks the brats kept sending her, though the red brat's eyes got narrower with determination. Soon enough, he marched up to her and planted himself like he was facing a storm (he wasn't wrong).

"Why aren't you arresting us?" he demanded. The other brat squawked, pulling back his fellow apprentice and whispering to him in a whisper that wasn't quiet enough, "Why are you asking that? She probably just forgot and now she's going to remember and do you want her to punch you?!" With all that self-preservation, that brat was either going to die early of a heart attack or live to be a hundred.

"What are ya talking about?" Garp twisted her pinkie in her ear, already bored with the question that had such an obvious answer.

"We're pirates!" the red brat shouted in frustration before the blue brat could clap his hand over his mouth.

"No, you ain't," she retorted. "You may've sailed with some but I'll bet you've done nothing more than a little pilfering and self-defense." She caught Roger nodding with a giant grin in the corner of her eye. "I've let people go for more, (2)ll the Government's let people go for more."

"Then what about Captain?!" he demanded, fighting off Blue's hand, though Garp could tell that brat was listening just as attentively.

"Eh, you see a pirate here?" she questioned, making the boys pause and look at her with confusion and that 'are you crazy' look, which rude. "All I see's a dad looking out for his kids."

Garp long knew that people defined 'pirate' differently, just as she defined what was 'normal' and 'obvious' differently. The Government and marine higher-ups defined it as a loose word more synonymous to 'criminal' than anything else. Others, those that deserved to rot behind bars, used it to define their greed, a path to attain everything they desire regardless of the consequences. Some defined it objectively, as a tool. These were either those who justified their dreams to excuse their crimes or those who felt forced into it in the depths of desperation. The former deserved justice alone, the latter mercy after facing justice. And then there were those like Roger who defined it closer to 'traveler' and sought piracy because they sought freedom. To Garp, these people were not the pirates that the marines protected against, at least not most of the time. Roger still had many crimes he would answer for one day, but today, according to the laws of the marines, his actions were not those of a pirate.

Besides, Garp had seen Senny when he caught up with his son and knew herself what it was like to be a mom. Roger was a dad to these little ones. It was a heartwarming thing, what Roger and his two apprentices, plus Rayleigh (where was that man, why was he not looking out for the kids?), had managed to build aboard a pirate ship, so Garp stepped back so as not to break it as she had her own.

She watched as Roger cleaned and talked to his apprentices until their clothes were the only sign of the ordeal they'd had. She watched as Bogard dropped of the red brat's sword, Gryphon he called it, along with a nice set of throwing knives for the blue brat (her second's foresight never ceased to amaze her). She watched as Roger led them east of the town, to the apothecary of an old woman Roger had already befriended who agreed to look out for the boys until the fervor died down and they could sail on. She watched as Roger said goodbye to his apprentices, the tears they didn't bother to hide as they gripped his coat, and the reluctance with which Roger let them go, like he'd never see them again.

Roger went back to the creek, arms hanging uselessly now that they had nothing to do. The sun was just beginning to slip below the tree line, painting the woods with golden beams of light. He turned to Garp and waited for her to speak.

"They're in danger because you disbanded the crew," she stated.

"Yes," Roger agreed. "But not as much as they would've been."

"What are you talking about?!" Garp demanded. Really, they should've talked about this long before. They had grown much closer the past few months, shared a lot, but she hadn't asked why he disbanded the crew he would give his life for.

"The crew talked," he replied. "And decided they'd rather give the Government many targets instead of one big one, split up who comes after them. Big part of that was hope Shanks and Buggy could slip through."

"Your crew wanted to disband?"

"No," Roger said with a small smile. "But there wasn't much of a choice."

"Why not?" The Roger no Kaizoku had sailed for over twenty years, challenging the Grand Line twice and facing admirals and Garp herself more times than either of them could count. They had never been concerned with who came after them.

"I'm dying, Garp."

Silence, as Garp realized those words came from Roger's mouth, said with his own tongue, his full knowledge and intention.

"What?"

"I'm sick. It's incurable. Got diagnosed little over three years ago then entered the Grand Line again 'cause it was then or never. Picked up Crocus at his lighthouse 'cause he could help but he could only prolong it and said I wouldn't have more than four years. I disbanded the crew so they could scatter before I couldn't fight for them."

He said this with the sound of a thousand rehearsals, in his head and with imagined audience. But the delivery was far different, spilling out as if he couldn't contain it any longer. It was too raw to be anything but the truth.

"You're… dying," Garp repeated, unable to doubt Roger's sincerity even by adding a question mark. It was hard to imagine, with how solid a frame he cut, but she remembered all the odd feelings she had pushed off the last few months, the ones that whispered of something wrong or of pain even when Roger had looked perfectly healthy. That's what they had been saying, what she had been ignoring. Roger was dying…

"You're dying and you decide to court me?!"

Roger looked stunned, like he hadn't anticipated her question.

"It's been about a year since you disbanded your crew and you look fine so you've got to have a few months left at least. Why didn't you spend that time with them?! You could've kept those boys safe!"

Roger's surprise melted into a warm grin. "We conquered the Grand Line, reached the last island," he said. "Our adventure was over. It was time for my nakama to find their next journey. Had I kept sailing with them, it would have been harder for all of us when I had to go." His grin shifted to concern. "Rayleigh said he'd stay with them till Paradise, not sure what happened to him, but the boys are strong. They'll make it."

"That sounds like something you'd say, Roger," she admitted.

"Should I be flattered or offended?" he raised an eyebrow in question. She shrugged in response which made him laugh, which made her laugh. When their laughter died down, Garp found she still didn't understand.

"Still don't know why you're trying to woo me. I didn't even notice your feelings, you had to tell me straight out. You didn't even know if I'd say yes. Seems awfully risky for a man with not much time."

"The same could be said about the rest of our lives," he retorted. "Especially for people like us. I said I would've regretted not at least trying; now, I know how large that regret would've been." He suddenly looked as nervous as that night he asked to court her, except now she could see his face completely in the light of the setting sun. "By the way, does that mean yes?"

Garp's brain rewound, stopping at 'You didn't even know if I'd say yes'. She definitely said that, and she could see how Roger heard that, but had she meant it like that? She looked at the man in front of her, the joyously hopeful expression that he utterly failed at tamping down, his arms which could slice mountains and gently wipe a child's face, his moustache he'd grown after she'd taunted him by saying he looked like a pretty boy with nothing on his face, those silver eyes that were almost always on her. She remembered the hundreds of fights that had become their dance, the parties they'd snatch when no one else was watching, the past few months, and Tsuru's words.

Garp didn't know what to say, but she knew what to do.

"Fight me," she said, echoing two months ago as she took off her jacket. Roger's eyes slid to her bare arms and Garp felt her cheeks warm.

"You do realize you doing that turns me on?" he questioned not so innocently. Forget about being warm, her entire face exploded. Roger had been very forthright about liking her but, well, that doesn't mean she was prepared for that comment.

"Rogeeer," she hissed through gritted teeth and the man chuckled, taking off his own coat. Garp refused to acknowledge the sudden empathy she had for Roger's reaction. She refocused when he sunk into his own stance, teasing grin sharpening.

Once more, they fought with simple, controlled movements, talking without words. But this time, she listened. She noticed the extra tense he fought with, the energy he had to put into simply moving. She felt the slight tremors her hits pushed into him when he blocked, when before he was a stone wall. She saw the smile he bore, excited and wild, that never faltered once throughout their battle. They stopped, her fist poised to crush his collarbone and lower throat and his sword positioned to pierce her stomach, and she wondered for how long the thought of Roger being in pain, dying, made her heart heavy and chest tight.

"Do you have an answer?" Roger asked, infinitely patient for her even with finite time.

Words had never been Garp's specialty, so she pulled him forward by his shirt and kissed a dying man.

That last phrase had been in my head for the majority of writing this chapter. That was a long time to anticipate writing a single line. Beginnings and endings are hands down my favorite part of writing. My brain just goes *chef's kiss* at the amazingness of them.