The rights to One Piece belong to Eiichiro Oda, and a list of other producers/publishers/rich people that doesn't include this humble hobby writer.

This story takes place at the beginning of the Drum Arc, in which Nami falls mysteriously ill and the Going Merry sails in search of a doctor. This was inspired by my disappointment that Sanji and Nami didn't have a moment together during Nami's illness. Once again the POV is Sanji's. Comments and criticisms always welcome! © February 2006

Delirium

Cooking is more than my responsibility, or my vocation. It's my lifeblood. Experimenting with the exotic ingredients or rare fish we find in the Grand Line, crafting a work of art out of layers of cake and icing, or exploring the range of even the most common of foods… creating the extraordinary is my challenge and my joy.

But today, there is no joy to be found in my haven. In fact, my mind is nowhere near my work as my fingers robotically dice leafy herbs against the wooden cutting board. For a moment, I wonder if I'd carelessly cut myself… if I did, I didn't feel anything.

For the first time in my life, cooking is merely a chore. Something to occupy my hands, even if I can't bring it to occupy my mind.

Regardless of the task at hand, my mind drifts into the morbid quarters of my fire-haired nymph.

It has only been a few hours since the unspeakable happened; when my darling Nami-san collapsed on the main deck, and we discovered that it wasn't simple exhaustion or stress that had been slowly wearing her down.

When Vivi first diagnosed the deadly fever, my first reaction was, in my opinion, perfectly natural: I'd scrambled around Nami's bedroom, screaming and sobbing hysterically. How dare a mundane disease attack my precious Nami-san? Surely no mere earthly illness could harm my charming goddess!

The sight of her lying on her bed, cheeks red as cherries and her chest heaving with labored breaths, left me completely unhinged. It threw me into a rather embarrassing panic that I still haven't quite been able to shake.

She's never seemed so... mortal.

"Sanji?"

The sudden noise snaps me from my thoughts. "Vivi-chan!"

She waves hesitantly, nodding to the oven. "I… I thought I smelled something… uh… burning."

It takes a moment for her words to sink in. I take a deep breath, finally registering the aroma that has no doubt been lingering for several minutes. Dammit, my croissants!

With an undignified yelp I leap to the oven, drawing it open to inspect the damage. Thankfully I have the presence of mind to pull on an oven mitt before I extract the… well-done dinner rolls.

At least they're salvageable. I'm quick to remove the two croissants that had taken the least damage, and set them aside as I dump the rest into a breadbasket.

No sooner do I rescue my carbohydrates than I realize the broth I should have been stirring has also gone without my attention. Cursing under my breath, I remove the boiling pot from the fire, sprinkling in the freshly-diced herbs that should have been added at least ten minutes ago.

"Sanji, is there anything I can do to help?"

My face flushes in embarrassment as I glance at the princess. I had completely lost my composure… again. "There's no need, Vivi-chan; I can handle it."

She hovers at the entrance, her eyes never leaving me as I arrange the plates for dinner. Under any other circumstance, I would thrill at having the undivided attention of such a lovely lady. But now, her scrutiny unnerves me.

"Sanji, I need to get topside to help with the navigation. These waters are dangerous, and without Nami to guide us…"

She leaves the rest unsaid, but the thought is clear.

Without Nami, we're lost. I couldn't agree more.

"Anyway," she continues after a pause, "Nami insists that she's fine by herself, but I'd feel much more comfortable if someone sat with her. Her condition is… well, it's getting worse."

My grip tightens on the silverware, the pressure warping perfectly innocent spoons slightly out of shape.

"Once your finished here, can you keep an eye on her?"

My eyes widen in surprise. "Me?"

"Yes, you." Despite the circumstances, she manages a slight grin. "So long as you promise not to panic again."

My most confident grin emerges. "Moi? Panic? Never!" I immediately turn to the cabinet, selecting the nicest bowl on the ship. "I'll take care of Nami-san! She is in excellent hands!"

But Vivi doesn't leave. She watches me, her eyes troubled. "Please Sanji, I'm serious. Nami is very… delicate now. Even if she refuses to admit it. The worst thing we can do right now is aggravate her."

Vivi's warning quickly sobers my fleeting happiness, and I imagine what she could mean. Nami-san is the picture of feminine grace and beauty… but I have never considered her delicate. My Nami-san is no flower… she is a diamond. Brilliant, lovely, resilient, and strong.

I take a sobering breath, and nod to the princess. "You go ahead; make sure we're not sailing in circles. I'll tend to Nami-san."

Her smile is wan as she meets my gaze. "Thank you."

The princess disappears as quietly as she entered, leaving me alone with a less-than-exquisite dinner and my thoughts.

"She'll be fine," I insist, repeating the mantra that has run constantly through my mind since this nightmare began. "No simple fever will stop my Nami-swan's great voyage!"

Still, I can't ignore the way my hands shake as I pour a ladle of broth into a bowl.

"Oh Nami-san! May I come in?"

It is habit, and a deep reverence for a lady's privacy, that makes me wait outside her door. I'm not surprised to receive no answer, but nonetheless our tradition gives me a small measure of comfort. How many times have I stood outside her door, a freshly-baked offering in my hands and an enraptured smile on my face?

After nearly an entire minute, I'm satisfied that her silence is de facto permission. The stairs creak eerily as I descend, and despite my best efforts to remain cheerful, dread pools in my stomach like ice water as I get my first good look at her.

She lies perfectly still, a damp cloth resting on her brow and thick blankets covering her up to her chin. Her hair is spread out in a fiery, sweat-soaked halo around her head. Her face is so pallid, she seems ghostly; save for the pools of red that sit on her cheeks.

She tosses in her sleep, her eyes squeezed tightly and her lip shuddering as if she is trying to speak.

I watch her fitful slumber only a few moments before I simply can't stand it any longer. "Nami-san? Nami?"

Whispered pleas rapidly grow louder, and finally I reach out to shake her shoulder. The heat that spreads into my hand is disturbing, but at least she finally opens her eyes.

"Who's… there?"

…what?

I stand in a daze, more shocked than if she had stood up and slapped me. The room is lit well enough for her to clearly see, and I'm still within arm's reach. How can she not recognize me?

I can feel my heart thundering in my chest. Are the gods cruel enough to wipe her memory clean? What if the fever has already damaged her brilliant mind?

But… I mustn't panic. I promised Vivi-chan, and hysterics will not do my Nami-san any good.

Painfully swallowing my concern, I drench my voice in saccharine. "It is Sanji, of course. Your devoted servant is here to see to your every comfort, Nami-swan!"

Her eyes flutter, and I hold my breath for a few agonizing moments as I wait for some sign of recognition.

"Sanji… what… are you doing here?" Her usually strong, commanding voice is only an airy sigh.

"It's dinner time, Nami-san. I brought you a serving of my world-famous consommé! Guaranteed to warm you with all my tender affections!"

Eagerly I present a tray with a generous serving of the broth, the two croissants that had thankfully survived my clumsy baking, glass of ice water, spoon, napkin, and even a small white blossom as decoration.

Yet my presentation goes unnoticed. "Thank you, Sanji. You can... just leave it on the table."

It is impossible to miss the hitch in her voice, or the way she turns her head away from me as she speaks.

Dumfounded, I stare at the back of her head. Why is she so quick to dismiss me? Vivi spent hours here, as did Luffy. Was she asleep the whole time, or does she just prefer their company?

It's hard not to feel a stab of hurt. "If you wouldn't mind, Nami-san, I'd really like to know what you think about it."

Another heavy breath. "I'm sure it's delicious, but I'm not hungry."

I refuse to be deterred. "Perhaps Nami-san would like something else, then? Fish, beef, rice... you wish is my command."

"Sanji, you don't need to fawn over me," she rasps, still not facing me.

I blink stupidly at her words. Surely she's joking!

I reply with a completely straight face, "But I always fawn over you."

"Then maybe you should stop!"

There is a surprising amount of venom in her thread-bare voice. I continue staring at her, at a loss for words.

She shudders suddenly, and then carefully lifts her head from her pillow, her hand rising quickly to catch the sweat-soaked cloth on her brow. "Sanji, believe me, I'm fine!" A fragile smile accompanies her pleading words. "Luffy and the others need you much more than I do. You and Vivi are the only sane people on this ship."

My eyes seek hers, but she drops her gaze almost immediately. "Please don't worry about me."

I watch, mesmerized, as her arm begins to tremble with the effort to keep her upright. The smile she offers me is frail… as forced as the cold anger she'd expressed as we faced her in Arlong Park, when she refused our help.

Finally, this makes some sense.

I take a steadying breath, forcing myself to resist the plea in her eyes. On any other day I would do her bidding joyously… but not this time.

I reach my hand to her bare shoulder. Once again, the contact between her heated skin and my cool palm is jarring. "Nami-san, you don't always have to be strong."

She blinks at me in surprise, her eyes sliding to where my hand still rests. But I make no move to back away, or release her. "What are you talking about?"

I don't think she sees it. Perhaps it's simply her nature. Since childhood, she carried the fate of an entire village on her shoulders. And even now, she guides our mismatched crew from challenge to challenge, keeping us in line and on track. Ever since I met her, Nami-san had been the very vision of stubborn strength.

Usually, I try to win her attention with rapturous praise of her beauty. But there's more that I admire about my fiery nymph, and now is as good a time as any to share my thoughts.

"You're one of the strongest, most capable people I know," I admit, grinning as I gently set extra pillows behind Nami's back to ease the strain of sitting upright. "You're also the most charmingly stubborn woman to grace my humble life."

"Sanji!" she protests, but she sinks into the feathery cushion nonetheless.

I study her face, noting the frustration pool in her eyes like thunderclouds, and I'm strongly tempted to kiss her pouting lips. Of course, there's no doubt that, sick or not, she'd pummel me for it. "You must know by now that you're with friends who love you. There's no need to always stand strong. You can trust us."

She continues to glare silently at me as I retrieve the tray of food. "Now, you may not be hungry, but I recommend you have some consommé, at least. We must keep you hydrated… and I assure you that the taste will make you forget your lack of appetite!"

Stormy eyes stare at my foolishly grinning face, and then turn to the bowl of broth. Then, with a sigh, she draws her hands from beneath the covers. "I'll eat what I can," she murmurs.

Suddenly ecstatic that I finally got my fiercely willful goddess to see reason, I dip a spoon into the bowl, and lean toward her.

She stares at the offered spoon, adorably cross-eyed, for two full seconds before rolling her eyes. "I'll feed myself, thank you very much."

"As my charming lady wishes!" I set up a tray on her lap, and watch as she takes her first slow taste.

"Well?" I ask the moment she draws the spoon from her lips. "How is it?"

Her nose wrinkles slightly, and it feels like my heart drops to my feet. "It's… a little cold."

"What!" Jumping out of my seat, I lean over to take the bowl.

"Sanji, it's fine," she murmurs.

"Absolutely not. My Nami-san will not endure cold consommé! I will-"

"You'll sit down and keep me company while I enjoy my dinner." Her voice is still soft, but her tone brooks no argument. "It's very good, Sanji-kun. Thank you."

And as usual, her praise makes me forget everything else. "I have other recipes for soups… you'll love my clear mushroom soup! Or perhaps some ginger-spiced chicken broth! All I need is some ginger…"

I continue my banter, rattling off various recipes, but I'm not nearly as mindless as I sometimes get when absorbed in culinary planning. I watch as she continues to eat, the spoon moving slower with every bite, as if it was literally growing heavier with each passing moment.

When her eyes begin to flutter, I reach out and gently catch her hand. "I'm so glad that you've enjoyed your meal, Nami-san! You've made all my efforts worthwhile."

After removing the tray, I brace her weight in my arm as I rearrange the pillows.

"Perhaps you'd like to rest now," I whisper as I adjust the blankets. "And as you sleep, we're getting closer and closer to a doctor that can cure you. We will absolutely succeed."

Her eyes are completely closed, and her breaths have become more regular. She's still terribly pale, but at least she looks mostly peaceful.

I watch her sleep for a few moments, until I am finally seized by compulsive desire to touch my goddess. I lean closer, planting a soft kiss on her forehead.

My heart leaps to my throat as those deep brown eyes open just as I'm moving away. "Sanji…?"

Suddenly terrified, I throw myself back into my chair, chuckling uneasily. "I… uh..."

"What are you thinking?" she growls as best she could. "I could be contagious! Do you want to get sick, too?"

My fear evaporates, even in the face of her anger. In fact, privately I'm thrilled to see that she's not offended, rather she fears for my own health. "I'm not afraid," I insist, smiling softly. "I'll take any risk to stay at your side."

And to emphasize my point, I gently touch her cheek.

She stares at me for a long time. Maybe the fever has taken the edge off her anger, or perhaps she's simply too tired to sustain it... but she doesn't try to pull away from my touch, or slap my hand.

Finally, her eyes become too heavy, and she sighs softly. "You're such an idiot."

She sinks back into the depths of sleep, but her lips retain the barest grin… and that grin lights up my entire world.