law: roseus et ater

There are certain things from back then that I'll never forget. The crinkle of newspaper. The thud of books. Feathers. Pink and black and pink and black.

Brimming ashtrays and broken bottles and smiles which never touched the eyes.

And that night. The first one.

I'll never forget that either.

xxx

Law saw the next few moments in flashes. One after the other like the weathered pages of an ancient book.

The edge of the shiv and the clink of screws beneath his feet. Corazón's body heaving forward as if a tree set to timber. Hot blood trickling down his wrists.

Corazón's red, red eyes were on him, the pupils shrunken and jaw clenched, a spark of pain within their centers that encased Law's hatred in impregnable ice. He was beyond the ire of possibly being left behind.

At that moment, Law blamed this man for every shred of agony he had ever known. This man whom he's only seen in the moonlight, whom he hasn't even said a word to yet. It's irrational and ugly and senseless, but so was gunning down schoolchildren and torching hospitals. So was reducing entire cities to embers over something as selfish as fear—as vile and empty EMPTY as a lie.

It had all still happened, hadn't it?

Corazón gasped faintly. He made almost no sound.

"You…what—"

Law wrenched the blade out, skidding back a few feet. Corazón's hand flattened against the seeping wound as he fell to a knee. Law's heart was ready to punch out of his chest. He felt weightless and dizzy. He knew nothing but fury.

At least until he heard that shout from behind him. Until he turned and saw Buffalo's eyes glance across the blood spreading from Corazón's side.

Then Law knew reality and the cold, cold weight of what he had just done.

"YOUNG MASTEEEERRRR!"

xxx

(Rosinante had no idea what was happening.

He'd managed to carry out an entire hit for Doffy, a secret rendezvous with Sengoku and a journey back to Spider Miles, all without incident. He smoked through a whole pack of cigarettes while preserving his coat. He hadn't even tripped today. Not even once.

Everything had gone so smoothly it'd been unnerving. He supposed it only meant the other shoe would drop soon enough.

And so it had and here he was.

Suddenly bleeding out in a junkyard. Suddenly stabbed through the torso by a…was it a toothbrush?

Again, Rosinante had no idea what was happening.

The only thing he could be certain of, however, was that he wasn't planning to watch his own brother murder a child before his eyes.

"YOUNG MASTEEEERRRR!"

Buffalo's voice carried into the distance like a siren, shattering the night's stillness. It was any youth's voice, high-pitched and young, on the edge of breaking for puberty. Yet it made all the hairs prickle down Rosinante's arms and legs. He turned to the nameless boy.

"Give me the knife," he said.

No reaction. He was white as paper and frozen where he stood. Rosinante cursed, leaned forward and snatched it out of the child's hand himself. In one deft beat, he threw it onto the ground and smashed it with his foot.

"Don't speak," he warned and that was about all he had time for, before he felt more than heard his brother approaching.

"Rosi?"

Sometimes, Doffy moved without a sound. Rosinante had no idea how he did that, considering how enormous he was, but it never stopped being frightening and this time was no exception. One second his brother wasn't here yet and the next he very much was.

Doffy's shadow engulfed the moon, the stars, the world. He was not smiling. Rosinante felt his wrath in the seething quiet, plunging down from above like a second layer of gravity.

"I'm alright," he hurried to soothe, "It's fine, Doffy. Just looks worse than it is. I'm alright, it's nothing."

His brother didn't reply. He stared at Rosinante for what felt like forever, before stalking towards him. Rosinante could see his own gruesome injury reflected in his shades.

Doffy's hand rested on his shoulder, curling like a talon. Nails dug into Rosinante's skin, but he couldn't feel them. He couldn't even feel the stab wound, so fast was the adrenaline chugging through his veins. Softly, he grinded his sole further into the remains of the knife, which had thankfully fallen on Doffy's blind side.

"Law," his brother said and the child went rigid as a board. Rosinante's thoughts scrambled over each other. The boy's name. It had to be.

Law.

Doffy turned and Rosinante was ready to grab the arm closest to him, a slew of half-constructed words on his lips (no, no, Doffy, let him go, leave him alone, please, please have you really no mercy in your soul—)

His brother's voice was hushed. "What happened here?")

xxx

(The wound was fresh. He could tell by the stain on Rosi's shirt, how the shade was still a rich and vivid crimson. The blood scent was heavy and new, but it sent the past rushing at Doflamingo like a nightmare. Someone had touched his little brother again.

It was a shame Buffalo had not seen what happened. He'd been barely coherent with what he had seen.

For that matter, Law couldn't seem to speak either. The rings beneath his eyes were even darker under the moon. His lips were chapped and colorless. Doflamingo supposed, at the crux of things, he was still only a child.

Tiny.

Helpless.

Wasting his time.

"You need to speak, boy," he said, soft as a hiss, "I know this can't be your fault, can it?"

Rosi stiffened beneath him and Law finally met his eyes. There was a tuft of black hair loose from his hat, pressed against the bridge of his nose. He was very afraid. Doflamingo could almost smell it, but his mind did not spiral towards anger just yet.

Rosi hadn't even met the child up until now. There was no reason to suspect him.

Even though…

He regarded Law's fists. Small, bony things barely the size of pebbles. They were curled tight and hanging stiff at his sides. It was because the boy did not hide them. Because he hadn't even seemed to notice them, that Doflamingo bothered to ask.

"…Your hands are covered in blood, Law. Just whose could that be?")

xxx

"It's mine, Doffy."

Law had only just started to process Doflamingo's question when Corazón answered for him. Blazing red eyes flicked to his own as Corazón reached up to hold Doflamingo by the wrist.

"…Law, was it? He was trying to slow the bleeding. I got attacked a few minutes before I landed on Spider Miles. One of the sailors on the ship I hitched a ride with wanted to turn pirate. Thought he could make an easy name by killing me. I only ran into this kid when I made it to base."

Instantly, Doflamingo wasn't looking at Law anymore. A slow, horrible smile cracked across his face as he regarded his brother.

"Oh, is that how it went? And where is this sailor now?"

"In the ground." Corazón didn't even blink. The brothers stared at each other and for a second, Law felt utterly insignificant and forgotten, as if a single rock dwarfed by mountains. He didn't understand, couldn't understand, why Corazón was covering for him.

But eventually and by degrees, Doflamingo's frame began to relax. The tension cooled and receded like the last flames of a dying fire. His smile disappeared and when he did speak again, his voice sounded almost normal. Almost like something Law could recognize.

"You should've just gotten treated. You didn't have to come all the way back here first."

"Well, you were getting impatient."

Doflamingo said nothing. The hand on Corazón's shoulder shifted down, fingers grazing the edge of the bloodstain. Doflamingo's expression didn't change, as smooth and distant as a mask, but the steely look in Corazón's eyes softened.

"I'm okay, alright? Really. Can we please just go? I need to dress this thing."

He nudged his brother back slightly and stood, still clutching the wound. There was another bout of silence, before Doflamingo finally nodded.

"Fine."

Corazón's relief was almost palpable. He limped past them both and headed towards the ship. He did not look at Law again.

Doflamingo turned as well, his huge coat sweeping and unsettling the dust.

"Come," he said simply, "You were studying to be a doctor, weren't you? Go check him over."

As if on the command alone, Law's legs jerked back into motion. He staggered once and almost tripped over a bundle of pipes, before trotting after them, trying to hide the shaking in his limbs.

He didn't waste his energy wondering how Doflamingo knew about his studies. In the way of a child, he would simply come to assume Doflamingo knew everything. That there were no secrets you could hide from him. That he had no blind spot to be taken advantage of.

None, he would realize, except one.

xxx

It was so ungodly quiet on board that night. Sometimes even now, I can hear the sea sloshing against that phantom hull. The tap of Doflamingo's footsteps on hollow floor.

And Cora-san, half in front of me, watching him vanish into the dark. It was how things invariably were with them—the silences, the constant watching. There were never any words.

One of them was always walking away.

xxx

("You'll need stitches."

The boy…Law deposited a kit on the flat metal table of the ship's sickbay. Rosinante cringed as a stool was dragged, screeching, from across the room. Law's hands moved with precision, unpacking swabs and spool and gauze, threading a needle with one gloved hand.

"Let me see," he said, and peeled Rosinante's shirt back without preamble.

The pain was beginning to surface in spurts and pinpricks. The blade had sunk in deeper than he'd thought—far deeper than such a scrawny arm should've been capable of—and the blood had taken longer than usual to clot.

Rosinante's breath stuttered as Law flushed the gash with saline, washing out the hotbed of dirt and bacteria.

"It's okay," Law murmured, perhaps automatically and Rosinante blinked. It felt surreal, being stabbed by the same child that was now packing his wound and offering him comfort. He still hadn't figured out what he'd done to warrant such an insane reaction in the first place.

But the questions could hold for now. Doffy's anger, no matter if concealed or averted, was not easy to forget and the kid had gone incredibly pale, as if he'd drained far more out of himself with the attack than Rosinante. It was kind of amazing he could even keep his hands steady as he sewed up the gash.

"The sutures can be taken out in about two weeks," he said, snipping the thread and applying antibiotic cream, "Make sure to change the bandages at least once a day."

He barely waited for Rosinante to nod, before clambering off the stool with the gauze. It was only after he'd turned back around again that he suddenly hesitated.

Rosinante's brow rose at the flash of awkward reluctance across Law's face. He had to take a minute to glance down at himself, before he realized the problem.

Then it was all he could do not to snort.

The wound was such that his entire torso needed wrapping, but given the size difference, Law would probably have to run circles around him just to reach the whole way. Awkward indeed.

"Give it here. I can do the rest on my own."

The skeptical look was uncalled for in his opinion, but Law handed the materials over easily enough. Rosinante thought he would've left him alone after that, but the kid remained where he was. He watched Rosinante work, gaze unflinching, almost glaring.

Three or four minutes passed before he suddenly asked, "Why did you help me?"

"Why did you stab me?"

Another pause. Rosinante rolled the bandages across his back.

"…I couldn't risk letting you convince Doflamingo."

"Of what?"

"Throwing me overboard."

Law's voice was without inflection. Rosinante glanced at him, eyes slightly wide.

"Why would I—"

"Because I'm a kid," the stillness in Law's face rippled for a faint second with accusation, "And you're his brother. He would've listened to you."

Rosinante nearly laughed. Doffy listening to him…he wasn't sure Doffy could hear him sometimes, let alone listen. He looked away.

"You have no idea what you're talking about. He does what he wants. He always has."

Not true. Not entirely true. Not even fair. Doffy had managed to see beyond himself before. Food for their mother. A body shielding his own. Desperate, childish requests on sixth birthdays granted for no reason other than Rosinante asking it of him.

But these were only a handful of memories, growing older and more brittle by the year. He had to cling to them, huddling close as if they could keep him warm at night.

Soft of him, as his brother would've said. Weak.

"So you won't try to force me out then?"

Rosinante sighed, gaze drifting back to Law. "…Why are you here, brat?"

"Because I asked to be."

"This isn't a game. If you want something like adventure or glory…"

"I didn't come for games."

The face was akin to a doll's, bone-white skin smeared with blood and dark grease. He could've blinked and saw Doffy at ten years old—the spitting image of his eyes. Those vacant windows of cut-glass, orange-tinted with flames.

Rosinante stiffened. He let Law believe it was because he cinched the bandages too tightly. With slightly fumbling hands, he finished knotting the ends, flexing a bit to make sure they held. Law offered his shirt without a word. It was like a quilt in his hand.

He really was so small. Rosinante felt his stomach dip.

He shrugged the shirt on with a stiff nod, forgoing the buttons to throw the black-feathered coat over his shoulders. All of a sudden, the room was stifling and full of ghosts. He needed to get out of here.

Too bad that was about when his strange luck with balance ran out for the day. He wasn't even sure what he'd tripped over, but suddenly the floor was slamming into his back, leaving him breathless and head spinning. A hissed curse was heard as one of his legs flailed into the stool, knocking it down with a crash.

Law's fuming, scowling features came into view. The eyes had some color in them again, even if mostly irritation and disbelief. Rosinante vaguely thought he preferred it. He would've preferred anything to the barren deadness of before.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" A small hand was on his chest, lifting his shirt again. "You'd better not have ripped something out already."

Rosinante groaned, lying there as the boy checked him over again. The stitches must've held, since there was no more cursing. Only a hard, angry sigh.

"I don't know if you're one of those weird pirates with a moral code," Law muttered, "But don't waste your energy. I'm not going to be here for long. Two…maybe three years at most."

Did he think it so easy? Rosinante shook his head. "If you're assuming you can leave the Family whenever you'd like—"

"I'll be dead."

The tone was cold and dull, as if its words held no consequence. Rosinante sat up. Law wasn't looking at him anymore though. His eyes stared through the porthole, at the winking river of stars beyond.

"It's not too obvious yet, so I haven't bothered telling anyone. Not even Doflamingo. Though he's probably guessed by now."

"You're not making any sense."

Law shrugged. Near imperceptibly, his head lowered. Rosinante, who was only too used to reading the subtlest of signs, noticed anyway.

"It's called Amber Lead Syndrome. Contracted from a mineral deep underground. Doesn't have a cure and never will. It'll kill me in time and then I'll be gone." The boy slid his hands into his pockets. "So you don't have to concern yourself with me. None of this has to mean anything."

Rosinante wasn't sure he was hearing correctly. "Wait, what? If you're sick then—"

"No."

"But—"

"Doesn't matter."

Rosinante stared. His face softened. "…Yes it does, kid."

"No, it really doesn't!" Law snapped, a sudden naked rage in his voice, "I'm not looking for your pity. I'm not asking for your help. I'm here becauseDoflamingo won't give me any of that shit. Because he doesn't care and neither should you. So just leave me alone."

And then he stormed from the sickbay without waiting for a reply. Fists bunched and footsteps padding down the corridor.

It was just as well. Rosinante hadn't known what to say.)

xxx

Some of the most futile words I've ever spent were on telling Cora-san not to care.

Because naturally he wouldn't have listened. Because by then he'd already made up his mind and was stubborn as hell if he wanted to be. Because he was Cora-san and of course he was going to care.

Of course he was.

It simply wasn't in his nature not to, even if it'd been the smarter way to go. Even if he'd been better off for it. That was one thing I believe Doflamingo and I could've agreed.

xxx

(Midnight was creeping in when Rosi joined him on deck. Doflamingo slunk from the rail, briskly making his way over.

"Are you alright?" he asked and inspected his brother, fingers itching to touch him and reassure himself. He'd been accosted with unsavory visits from the past since they'd set sail and already knew sleep wouldn't find him tonight.

"Yeah," Rosi squeezed his shoulder, glancing at the bottle in his hand, "How many have you had?"

Doflamingo shrugged. His tolerance was through the roof and he hadn't bothered counting. "What ship did you hitch a ride with?"

A sharp beat.

"I told you I already finished him."

"The ship hired him. Brought him on as crew. Let him walk near you, eat near you, sleep near you." Doflamingo's lips parted, many teeth glinting as wayward veins began to pulse. "Foolish of them. A proper example must be made."

The words made perfect sense to him then, through the rank fog of drink and bloodlust and vile memories. He didn't care if Rosi didn't tell him. He'd just find out for himself eventually.

"You'll risk the Marines on your ass again for something like an example?" Rosi said with half a sigh. The hand on his shoulder shifted, fingers rubbing gentle circles against the tense muscle in Doflamingo's back. "I can take care of myself, Doffy."

There was an assuaging note to Rosi's voice. The knot in Doflamingo's brow loosened ever so slightly.

"I know," he said, "You've changed so much. You're all grown up now. I am proud of you."

The touch ceased, almost flinching for a beat before returning. Doflamingo hoped his brother knew that he meant it then. He meant it as much as he could mean anything. Rosi's face was blank though, maybe determinedly so.

"…Then let this go, okay? The one responsible is gone. He won't hurt me again. Don't think about this anymore. Trust me."

Doflamingo was silent. Rosi stared into his eyes.

"Doffy, do you trust me?"

It took him a second, just one (but it was long and endless and he didn't know why it happened), before he nodded.

His brother smiled a little. Doflamingo barely noticed when Rosi slipped the wine bottle out of his grasp or steered them over to sit on a bench. A thumb brushed across the ridge of his spine, steadfast and firm. They sat there for a while, the two of them, and Doflamingo saw the shadows shrivel and crumble in his vision, as if banished.

Rosi tucked his legs up, crossing them.

"You really scared that kid."

For anyone else, the statement would've come out of nowhere. Doflamingo's mouth only twitched.

"I'm sure he's seen worse."

"…There's something about him. His eyes. What on earth happened to him, Doffy?"

The veiled shudder beneath Rosi's words was threadbare. He could be so transparent with his concern. Doflamingo didn't mock him though. That was just the type of person his brother was. How he'd always been.

"He was born in the White City," Doflamingo said, repeating Law's own words. It was all the answer he had needed then and it's the only one Rosi needed now. Pale realization dawned on his face.

"He told me he was dying. That he only had three years left."

Doflamingo blinked slowly.

"Longer than I thought."

"So you knew."

It wasn't a question. Rosi didn't sound angry or reproachful, just slightly resigned. Perhaps it was the odd mood Doflamingo was in, but he felt the need to explain.

"They exterminated the entire city because of Amber Lead. How couldn't I?"

His brother shook his head. "It's not that. Just…all those people, killed for something they couldn't even help. Condemned for a few words. God, it's horrible."

God, was it? Doflamingo turned to the sea. God had nothing to do with it. This much he knew. They had been gods too and what had they known then about horror or pain?

"Yes," he said, "Horrible."

He could feel Rosi's surprised gaze on him. They had never agreed about much.

"You'll save him, right Doffy?" his brother ventured after a moment, "Isn't there some way to save him?"

Maybe on any other day, Doflamingo would've laughed. Save him? Why was he obligated to save this miserable child when he was all but dead already? When Law didn't want it or need it and had such a respectable dream to pursue? How pointless. No one had saved them all those years ago, no one had saved him—

But Doflamingo was feeling weirdly sentimental tonight. At least as much as was possible. And he did enjoy Law, the sad little thing. So much potential. It would be…a waste if he died.

A true waste.

Doflamingo settled on that word and felt it seep and sink into his marrow. He would never, ever get any further than that word either, no matter if he'd wanted to.

And no matter if he'd tried.)

xxx

God, why do I recall the things I do about those years? I really couldn't tell you.

xxx

Doflamingo had known about the disease after all.

The whole damn crew had known after his rather blunt announcement at dinner the following night.

Jora leapt out of her chair, spilling her soup on Gladius, already squawking about contagion. She had Buffalo screaming too, flattening himself against the wall, while Baby Five's startled gaze swung to Law with such fearful question that he turned away on instinct.

Senor Pink kept eating. Lao G kept eating. Corazón kept eating in the way that was deliberately not meeting Law's gaze. No one shut up until Doflamingo finally slammed a fist against the table and made them all jump a mile high.

They sat in silence through his lecture to Jora on spreading misinformation and to Buffalo on how to treat family. When he finally did look at Law again, it was simply to ask if he was feeling lucky.

"What?"

"You're beyond medical help," he said plainly, "However, our group does specialize in black market trade. Devil Fruits with peculiar abilities pass through our hands all the time. There may be one in the next three years that has the power to heal you."

Law barely blinked. He felt no hope. He'd essentially forgotten how.

"No, there can't be. It doesn't have a cure."

Doflamingo chuckled, waving aside Diamante and Trebol when they both tried to start yelling.

"Heh, don't be so bleak. Fate is a fickle thing. As I'm sure you're quite aware by now."

Nails dug into Law's palms. A breath of fierce wonder was trying to come to life in his belly and it terrified him. He didn't notice Corazón put down his bowl. Didn't notice him staring.

"Y…You still shouldn't bother. I can't be saved."

"And what if you're wrong?"

"What if you are?" Law snapped and hated himself for how childish he sounded, for how his voice cracked at the end. His insolence was leveling plenty of death glares his way from the table, but he didn't care. They may as well have not been there at all. "What if you're wrong?"

Doflamingo merely smiled. It was the closest thing to remorse Law would ever see.

"Then at least you'll have a good time."

xxx

It had been loud on the Donquixote ship, people hurrying every which way, raucous laughter, lists of chores with no end. You learned your way. You got along however you could. It really was, in some respects, like a family.

I was…a little happy then. A little like I belonged. I think it's important to remember that.

Despite how much it fucking hurts me now. Despite the way things ended.