As fate would have it – sarcastically speaking – she hurtled like a fallen angel back into his life. It was a little strange, when he took the time to think about it, but not as much as it first appeared. Samira was intended to cross paths with him, which was funny, because he never believed in destiny before.
And yet, something powerful was at work here; something that wanted him to meet her.
That's why he thought she was an angel; no two people just casually found one another after deviating paths. He was meant to be far away from this place, and she was meant … well to be a figment of his imagination. His crew thought he was drunk – thanks to a certain loud mouthed woman he wanted to rope up and use as Sea King bait.
Which came as a shock to them whenever Shachi brought her on board; she was not a delusion caused by his intoxicated mind. She was real – out cold, but real. The cheeky man wanted to rub this fact deep into their unintelligent faces, but he could wait. His angel was in serious need of medical attention.
She had a broken arm – the skin was swollen and the bone was close to breaking through. Shachi figured she landed roughly when she hit the water. It made him nervous to think that she may have slammed into the rock face on the way down. Although the drop wasn't fatal, approximately 20 meters above the water – if Shachi had to guess – a height such this was still powerful enough to shatter bone. Her condition might be worse than he originally thought, and with little time to take her to the doctor on the island, a dicey idea came to mind.
"Captain … the Captain. Someone go and call for him," he cried out in haste. Shachi honestly didn't care who; he simply wanted it done.
Bepo – who was on deck – went to retrieve him, uttering a noise of concern beneath his breath as he descended into the mechanical bowels of the Polar Tang. Everyone else – Penguin included – stood and watched; as to why, it was obvious.
Law was repulsed by the notion of helping people. The exception, of course, was his crew and those who benefited him by doing so – Monkey D. Luffy for example.
Relying on his connection with Law – as a member of his crew – he hoped that the doctor would mend her broken bones; no favor included.
But just in case, he had something to sweeten the pot.
Her wanted poster was hidden in the lining of his suit. He kept it because Ikkaku never would have believed him otherwise; she denied it despite the proof and thus the rumor of him being drunk was made. Oh how sweet the rights to boast would be, if only again would Samira open her sad eyes. Her smile was all he wanted, but that depended on his Captain.
Her life was literally in Law's hands.
Which is why he felt nervous as said man walked out onto the deck – Bepo followed closely behind him. He met his Captain's tired stare, determined to put up as much of a fight as he could, but Law didn't seem like he was in the mood to deal with this right now. Knowing that he'd fail to reason with the man, Shachi bit his bottom lip between his teeth.
"It's all my fault this happened. I got her involved with the bounty hunters in town," he explained. His fingers brushed her damp wet hair from her troubled face. She was warm; a fever, he assumed.
Law grunted; his crew was bad about getting into trouble. It was not his problem what became of the girl, but Shachi seemed to be terribly concerned about her safety. It annoyed Law; his crewmate probably would not let her go without seeing her well.
"Jean … how soon can we leave this island?"
Law kept his stern gaze on the girl. He failed to notice the troubled look his red haired crewmate gave.
A mountain of a man quietly answered him. "Right now; on your order, Captain."
"Then let's make haste. Get ready to submerge."
His crew – everyone but Shachi – quickly began to prepare, withdrawing into the sub. Law himself wanted to go back to his studies, but stopped short of doing so and looked over his shoulder. He felt like chores were a suitable enough punishment for dragging him into this mess.
"We'll talk about your punishment later," he stated with a grin. "For now, take her to operating room so I can have a look at her."
Shachi nodded with a frown – punishments when given by his Captain were the worst; weeks' worth of hard labor – and lifted her into his arms. She was a tiny thing compared to him, which made him coo in delight as he followed his crew into the sub.
The door was sealed behind him; the sun replaced by the dim flicker of lamp light as he navigated through the narrow corridors. Reaching the medical room, Law was already there, wearing a pair of white surgical gloves.
He motioned to a bed made with clean sheets and let Shachi place the girl down. She was quickly hooked up to a series of machines – an IV and pulse oximeter; including many others. Her shallow heart rate alerted Law, but to figure out why, he needed to strip her of the clothing that restricted his view.
"Put on a pair of gloves and open her cloak," he ordered his crewmate.
He wants me actually stay and help? As much as Shachi wanted to know why he didn't want to miss the chance to see his angel without her cloak on. He was not a pervert – Ikkaku would say otherwise – and no harm came from looking. So without thinking too much into it, he did as his Captain had asked.
"What's her name?"
Shachi glanced at the tired man in shock before he realized that Law was recording her information down. He wasn't sure what he was thinking; perhaps small talk to lighten the mood.
"Amunet Samira," he answered with a brief smile. Foreign as her name was, it was no less beautiful. "She is … an outsider I believe. When I knocked her over in the bar she hissed something at me in a language that I had never heard before."
"She's bilingual then?"
Nodding in agreement, Shachi laughed softly. "Yeah, and not bad with a baton either. She knocked a bounty hunter completely out before I came to her rescue."
Not just another pretty face. Law cautioned himself; she was attractive, of course, but the hunters were after her for some reason – he'd find out sooner or later, he'd be sure of that.
"How did you meet her? I want to understand how she came to be on my sub."
"At the bar; I met her there," Shachi answered. His face exploded with embarrassed heat as he recalled the way she looked at him so hatefully in that moment. He'd been awestruck. "I dropped my newspaper and her bounty poster was amongst the others."
Bounty poster? Law glanced down at the girl. This frail looking thing? He hadn't the time to look through the new batch he got from Uri earlier, which annoyed him, because had he known that she was trouble, he would have demanded she be removed from his sub immediately. He pinched the bridge of his nose and forced himself to continue listening to the story – sometimes his eagerness to plan ahead landed him an even bigger headache when life threw a kink at him.
"… I like blew her mind with my style of martial arts – she was so amazed that her eyes lit up – but she insisted we part ways; places to go is what she said. I lost track of her after that and returned to my duties," the prattling red head explained. He sighed in pity and took her limp hand in his. "But then she fell off the cliff side. I heard Penguin yell when it happened and before I even understood what I was doing, I leapt into the water. Imagine my surprise when I pulled her from the depths; it was like fate."
Law wasn't sure fate was the word to describe it; dumb luck was more like it. The girl couldn't have known his crew had moved the Polar Tang from the port once they were stocked up on supplies. Her timing was impeccable. One minute later and they would have submerged; Amunet Samira would have drowned.
One little thing still eluded him, however. Shachi had to have worked on her when he pulled her from the water; she was breathing and the machines showed that her pulse was there, but something was keeping her from regaining consciousness. Law wasn't sure just what had happened to her, but he had a hunch that she was still awake before she hit the water. Her body was much too tense for a person who was supposed to be unconscious.
As a doctor, Law had to know why, even if he had to disassemble her body to find out. He tapped her chart against the machine next to him and gestured for Shachi to remove her cloak – it was not good for her to still be wrapped up in it.
"Let us make haste. She may be in a lot worse shape than either one of us had first thought."
Shachi nodded in agreement. He quickly unfastened the press-stud beneath her chin and opened up the thick, ruined fabric. The ink on her waist was nearly exposed; he was truly eager to see it.
Only, what he saw was far more than he originally expected. A rocking body with a cute tattoo was one thing, but this; this was a gold mine.
"Is … is that––
Law could not believe his eyes. Shimmering jewels; her clothing was decorated with them. There were so many, he surmised that his crew might be able to live comfortably on them for a while. Even her wrists and ankles were adorned with gold and silver bangles.
"Can we … I mean … should we take them?"
Law grinned; of course they should.
"Later; ignore them for now. I'll have Ikkaku collect them once we're done," he ordered. Her safety came first; payment later. It was the least he could do.
Furthermore, her tattoos interested him. Law traced a gloved finger across a series of blue dots and lines that covered her left wrist down to her knuckles. He had never seen markings like this before; they were unique.
"What do you think it means?"
Law narrowed his eyes. "This particular method looks ancient; indigenous even. Frankly, I'm not sure."
What captivated him the most was the other tattoo; a serpent coiled freely around her waist.
It was different than the previous one; not as unique, but more of an attention grabber. The drawing was very detailed, all down to the very last scale. Many of them were hatched with a wide black edge so that the scales aligned to form broken V-shapes of uneven length. This led him to believe that the scarlet eyed snake was meant to be painted as a warning for those who saw it; a warning to keep away from this girl.
The idea of something so innocent being so fatal unsettled Law. He figured the only way to insure the safety of his crew was to lock her away until he knew she would not be a threat.
"What's this thing?"
Law glanced at the long, thin object his crewmate was holding. It appeared to be a dart attached to a transparent base that was shaped like the head of a frog. Inside the base was a mucus like substance that until tested he didn't want Shachi to tamper with.
"Where did you find that? And be sure not to pierce your skin with it; the liquid could be poisonous."
Shachi went pale and set the object into a small metal dish. "I pulled it from her leg."
Did someone try to kill her with poison? It made no sense to the concerned red head. The disclaimer on her bounty poster suggested that whoever was looking for her wanted her alive. Why do it? Why attempt to kill her? So much belly was involved; more than enough to keep a small crew comfortable for months.
"I don't understand," Shachi groaned. She was more valuable alive then dead.
Strangely enough, neither did Law. He was clever, but this girl was an mystery. What secrets did she hide?
"Leave us," the Captain ordered. "Return to your duties, and when I'm done you can move her to my room. She's too much of a threat to allow unsupervised."
Puckering out his bottom lip, Shachi agreed with a nod. He saw her first – she kissed his cheek – but he understood the concerns of his somber captain. The crew and it's safety came first. Yet, her safety was all he could think about.
He just hoped Samira wasn't beyond help.
Waking suddenly, her eyes moved frantically around the room. It was unfamiliar to her; nothing was how she remembered it.
Samira tried lifting up, but her body felt weak. Therefore, she rested into the mattress of the comfy bed and found her bearings. What did she know? She knew that demons from her past resurfaced and tried to drag her back to hell with them – metaphorically speaking. They almost succeeded, but her strange power saved her.
But then how did I get here? Where was here? From her position on the bed – if she glanced to the right – she could see a metal desk; barren with the exception of a stack of thick books on its glossy surface. There were no pictures on the walls, nor any keepsakes to articulate the interests of the person whose bedroom she was inhabiting, but she could tell that whoever they were – he or she – kept the room clean and private.
To be honest, it was more like an office than a bedroom.
Someone's bedroom, she thought. As startling as this was to her, Samira had figured out the where to her question. But how? Did the owner of this room find her? All she could remember was falling; that and whatever illness became of her before she passed out. Strange. The illness was gone.
But then why did her body feel so heavy and weak? I could almost go back to sleep. This bed is wonderful. Samira sighed in bliss and closed her tired eyes. Maybe she would; just for a little while anyway. She still needed to figure out who saved her and where they had taken her.
Before she drifted off to sleep, the door across the room opened with a loud creak and someone came in. Samira kept her eyes shut, but she could hear them move around, like they were familiar with the layout – probably the owner of the room, she speculated. Once they left, she peaked across the room and noticed a tray on top of the desk; a tray that wasn't there before. A bowl of something warm sat on top of it.
Her stomach felt empty. When was the last time she had eaten? Samira couldn't remember. She was hungry, though. All thoughts of sleep had left her.
Trying again, she all but threw herself in the floor to get up. She was able to pull the covers back and move into a sitting position with her feet on the floor, but something caught her eye and stopped her progress. She was dressed in a fresh set of clothing; a basic colorless shirt and a pair of cotton sweatpants. Where was her previous set? Even the bangles around her wrists and ankles were missing.
They wouldn't have taken them … or would they have? None of that mattered right now. Baby steps.
Samira pushed herself onto her feet and moved slowly over to the desk; her legs were shaky and numb. She managed to make it, but figured that eating at the desk would be a lot easier than moving the tray back to the bed – that was a risk she did not want to take. Resting in a plush swivel chair, she began to down the warm broth.
Before she finished, and without warning, the door swung open again. A gasp of shock escaped from her as she was caught off guard and in mid swallow. Samira choked on the broth, covering her mouth so not to spit it out and onto the desk. It took her a minute, but she was able to catch her breath and shoot a frustrated glare at the person who dared to sneak up on her.
He was a slim man; one of tall stature, dressed in a yellow hoodie with black sleeves that he kept rolled up. Several tribal styled tattoos decorated his arms, but what concerned Samira the most was the emblem printed on his chest. It looked familiar to her; not this design – with its six T-shaped protrusions – but something close to it. She couldn't quite remember were she had seen it before, but something about it brought dread to her.
A pirate … that's what he is. That was the reason her bangles were missing; he stole them.
Samira cursed in her native language and spat at him. Whatever he wanted from her, couldn't have been good.
"That's not a polite way to thank someone who just saved your life," he said in a casual tone.
She snorted in appall. "Not without a price. I have sympathy for the souls who fall victim to your good will; unconscious or not."
A smile lifted his lips. "I never claimed to be a generous man, Amunet-ya. You just had the terrible luck of falling into my care."
He knows my name. The alarmed expression on her face made his smile grow.
Law sat on the edge of his bed and gave her a quick glance over. She looked better, although her eyes were clouded with exhaustion and fear.
"That is your name, right? Amunet Samira; at least your bounty poster says it is."
"It tells the truth," she confirmed. Toying with the edge of her top, Samira tried to figure out a way to evade the questions she knew he was going to ask. He may have saved her, but somethings were better left unsaid.
"Do I get to know the name of the man who saved my life?"
Yes, her mood corrected, but only because she knew that she was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Pirates rarely ever listened to sense, or took well to being yelled at. He saw her bounty poster, so he knew just how important she was. Maybe she could use that to her advantage.
"Trafalgar Law," he answered curtly. "But it wasn't me who saved you; not solely. A crewmate of mine, Shachi was. He fished you from the ocean and brought you aboard my sub."
Sub … what the hell is that? And did he say that Shachi was the one who saved me? Her eyes widened in admiration; beldi al-shajaan (my brave).
"I am thrilled to hear that; he is a good man. Mester (mister) Trafalgar, was it? If you would allow it, I'd like to thank him properly."
Law sighed in displeasure. She was good at changing the topic when it suited her; it annoyed him. He'd definitely have to keep her on track if he wanted to learn more about her. It felt strange for him to admit this, but something about Samira interested him. Her eyes held a sense of understanding in them – tragedy that he was all too familiar with.
"Another time perhaps," Law replied as he stood up. "Use my room until you get better. The next island is about a five day sail from here."
Samira brushed her bristly white hair behind her ear – she really needed a warm bath. "What then? What do you and your crew plan to do with me once we arrive?"
"Turn you in," he said with a controlled smile. "But until then, enjoy your stay aboard my sub, Amunet-ya. I look forward to collecting your bounty money."
Her face paled. Every nerve in her body was screaming for her to act; escape before it was too late. She could use her power, but with little knowledge of the crew's whereabouts, she might end up killing a few. A controlled blast was out of the question. What could she really do? Maybe she could get him to sympathize with her.
"You don't understand," she said with a gloomy sigh. "I can't go back, and I can't explain why, but if he finds me, everyone is as good as dead."
As good as dead? And who is he? Law was confused. He shed a little light on the mystery of why someone put out a bounty poster for her, but at least a hundred more questions came to mind. Just who the hell was she? What trouble did Shachi bring aboard his sub?
"Get some rest, Amunet-ya."
With this, he left her to her thoughts. A smile grew on his face as he ambled down the empty corridor towards the galley. She was a mystery indeed. A possible danger to his crew and to him, but either way, he was going to make a lot of belly off her.
"Lost her, you said?"
Mariposa pressed her lips together. Her tiny wings fluttered in anticipation, but she doubted she'd get a slap on the hand for her resent mess up.
Again she failed to capture the brat. Stupid … so very stupid.
"She used her power on us. Mr. Toad got the worst end of it, but he managed to paralyze her with one of his Froggie Darts before she fled into the woods," she explained softly.
A soft hum filled the line. The baby transponder snail mocked this gesture; it's black painted lips pressed into a thin line.
"I fail to see how you two lost her then? You do understand that she is a valuable asset to us? The buyers have been asking for another demonstration of her power, and we have nothing to show them."
The small woman frowned. It wasn't her fault the brat escaped. Arsenio was supposed to capture her; she was only meant to spread her scales in case she fled again, so they could easily track her.
"Are you having trouble hearing me, Mari? I believe a question was asked."
"No sir. We lost her the moment she was picked up by a crew of pirates in a yellow submarine. My scales can not be tracked beneath the ocean, so I am having trouble confirming a location," she chirped in fear. This man caused her skin to crawl.
The transponder snail hummed again. "A yellow submarine, you said?"
Again she fluttered her wings in anticipation. "Yes sir. Do you know of it?"
"Only in rumors," the deep and calm voice said with a sigh. "It is navigated by a crew whose captain is famous in the north; a man named Trafalgar Law. He is a dangerous and crafty pirate. It is unfortunate that the asset landed in his care."
Law; she wasn't familiar with the name. "On a brighter note, I know which port this Trafalgar will be anchoring in next. In two days' time Mr. Toad and I can intercept them and take back the asset."
"That is not necessary," her boss stated. "Use the Eternal Pose and return back to the Isle. I have another job for you. Arsenio will be fine on his own. Tell him not to fail me this time. Do I make myself clear?"
She agreed with a nod. "Yes sir; crystal clear."
The line immediately went dead, and the transponder snail went back to sleep. Mariposa bit her bottom lip – warm tears fell down her rosy cheeks.
I can't afford to bomb this mission. I don't want to go back to that factory and end up a slave to that man again. Not like those weak fools and their sad excuse for a princess.
She took a deep calming breath. Now was not the time to cry. She had an important job to do. Her freedom depended on it.