So,

this is the official beginning!

I wanted to write this fic since reading the Dress Rosa arc for the very first time (which happened like 6 years ago^^' so it's about time I guess) so I'm really glad we're finally here. This is the first time I'm crossposting the English and the German version at the same time (so for my German folks, you can find it at Fanfiktion . de called 'ein Leben wert') and I'm really excited about this story.
For once our dear strawhats will only play a minor role (but don't worry, they as well as Doffy will show up) and give the stage to some other characters ;-)

So, I hope you guys will have a lot of fun and see you every friday/saturday, because that's when I will update the next chapter^^

Greetings

Chapter 1 - Stranger

He woke up with a silent sigh. A deep satisfaction rested within him, as if he had dreamed something beautiful – not that he could remember – and yet he did not want to open his eyes and start the day.

So he lay there and enjoyed this relaxation. The bed under him was soft, the blanket covering his chest was warm, a gentle light illuminated the darkness even through his eyelids, and a tender breeze brought him the pleasant rustling of trees, chirping of birds, and the slight whisper of waves not far away.

Rarely had he escaped sleep so comfortable, usually a loud boom or a whispering worry had awakened him from restless dreams, but it was precisely this thought that made him alert. Why was it different this time?

He opened his eyes clumsily. Above him was a simple white ceiling, supported by wide wooden beams, to his right was an open, wide window above the bed in which he lay, which offered a view of gently swaying leaves in the wind, breaking the rays of the sun.

To his left was a simply furnished room, the floor made of the same wood as the ceiling beams, window frame, and the closed door opposite of the window. Next to it stood a narrow desk, on which books and all sorts of odds and ends piled up. The floor as well was covered with scattered books, single sheets of paper that led like a track between the desk and the bed to an open door frame, where he could see the outlines of a small kitchen.

Slowly, he sat up. This place was unfamiliar to him, even the smell of summer, wood, and sanitizer he could not really connect. Confused, he rubbed his head; he tried to remember the previous day or the last thing he had done, but he just didn't know.

Behind the closed door, he could hear muffled voices and hurried steps or the scraping of a chair, almost quieter than the rustling of the leaves to his right.

It had been cold, he recalled, colder than now, winter, and then he remembered again. He remembered the island Minion, with heavy snow. He knew he had gone there, he and... Law!

He quickly threw the blanket to the side and got up, but as if someone had pulled away the carpet under his feet, he lost his balance and fell back on the bed. In front of his eyes danced colorful dots and he felt disordered, his body was exhausted, as if he had run a lot, ran too much. Maybe he should give up smoking, for the sake of his lungs ...damn it, now he also craved for nicotine.

He rose again, this time more careful, and held on to the bedside. His legs were shaking, and breathing was still difficult for him. What had just happened? But more importantly, where was Law and was he alright? Had he made it? Had he gotten the Op-Op fruit and given it to Law? Was Law still alive?

He didn't know how long he had been in that bed, and even more so he didn't know how much time had passed since he had visited Minion, but the fear overwhelmed him, the fear that he had lost him, had not been able protect him.

Once again, his legs gave way, but this time he fell to his knees in front of the bed, unable to catch himself in time, and tried to calm his trembling breath. It was the wrong place and the wrong time to be overwhelmed by irrational fear. He had to get up and leave this room, only this way he could find out if his worst fear had come true.

Suddenly he heard approaching steps and the voice of a man before the door in front of him was opened.

"... home. This afternoon are only two appointments left, which I can do after lunch on my own with..." The man in the doctor's coat stopped in the door frame and stared at him with big eyes and open mouth, as if he had forgotten that he was just in the middle of a conversation.

"If you say so," a woman's voice answered from the hallway behind the man. "Then I'll do the early shift tomorrow, so sleep in for once. See you, and be nice to Mrs. Paipai."

The departing steps were followed by the closing of a door and suddenly it was quiet, while the man in the door frame was still staring at him, his whole jaw trembled by now.

"Finally," the doctor whispered after a second, and the relief in his voice was unmistakable, "you woke up."

He had no idea who the stranger was, who approached him with cautious steps as if trying to calm a frightened animal. He tried to stand up, but his legs still didn't want to obey him, and he stumbled forward, into the arms of the stranger, who grabbed him but still slid to the ground with him.

"Careful, careful!" the other whispered hastily, while he noticed the doctor's eye-catching tattoos on hands and forearms as the older held him, not letting go of him.

"Who...?" He fell silent as they both crouched on the ground and he saw the other's face up close, stared into these strangely familiar grey eyes, which still stared at him glassy. Although he did not know this man, he was somehow no stranger to him, the wild black hair, those deep eyes, this scent.

He was surprised when the other raised his hand and reached out for him. He wanted to back off, but something made him pause. The stranger in front of him trembled, his breath unsteady, and tears ran down his face, crying like a small child.

"Cora-san," the man whispered, and although it was impossible, although it couldn't be at all, Rosinante recognized the other.

"Can it be?" He whispered, allowing the other to touch him. "Is it you, Law?"

"Yes, Cora-san, it's me," the other sobbed, and the next moment he lay in Rosinante's arms and wept like the little kid he was supposed to be.

He didn't understand, he just didn't understand. The man in his arms was at least as old as him, a grownup man, but Law was only thirteen years old, innocent thirteen years old.

But the trembling of the unfamiliar body, the breaking of the sobbing voice, the tears of these familiar eyes, all of this told him that despite all the impossibility this man could be none other than his little Law.

"Law," he whispered, pulling the other even closer as he couldn't stop the tears. He didn't understand what had happened, but Law was alive, his skin seemed to have returned to a normal, healthy color - apart from the tattoos, of course - and he was an adult, he was an adult.

Maybe, maybe it had something to do with the Op-Op fruit. Perhaps the healing had caused an aging process. He didn't know, he really didn't know, but for a little moment he didn't care, he just didn't care. Law was alive, that was all that mattered.

He could feel Law clutching his body, as if to make sure Rosinante was really there, not just a phantom of his imagination. Law reached for his chest, his arms, his shoulders, his hair.

His weeping eyes looked up to Rosinante, and a soft smile spread over this strangely familiar face. Now he could see it very clearly, it was undoubtedly Law.

He was fine, he was alive, and Rosinante noticed how he found it difficult not to reciprocate this trembling smile, almost unintentionally his mouth reflected the other's and suddenly Law pulled him close and pressed their lips against each other.

Rosinante froze.

He had no idea what was happening. Law – his sweet, little, dear Law – suddenly stood before him as a grown man, crying in his arms and now... now that?

He could feel the foreign lips rubbing against his, could feel the hand in his hair above his neck, which was so desperately clinging, felt the hand on his chest, just above his wildly pounding heart.

Law then suddenly opened his eyes and turned away, freed himself from Rosinante's arms, and shied away from him.

"I... I... I'm sorry," he whispered without even looking at Rosinante. "I didn't want to... I didn't want to attack you like that... I'm just... only..."

Obviously, he lacked the words; not that Rosinante was doing better in any way. He no longer understood anything. It was all like an abstruse dream, far from any reality. But those hands right now, those tears, those lips, all this was real.

Without ever finishing his sentence, the other stared at him and Rosinante had the urgent feeling that he was supposed to say something – anything - to fill the strange silence.

"It's alright," Rosinante muttered, without really knowing what he meant by that. "I just don't understand... What's going on here...?"

The opening of a distant door interrupted him, and hurried steps came down the hallway.

"Doctor Trafalgar, where are you? Lunch break is over and... oh, you've finally woken up?"

In the door frame, behind the grownup Law – who quickly straightened up and tried to cover the traces of his tears – stood a lady, bend by age, who looked at Rosinante with a slight smile, before quickly turning to Law.

"Do you want me to cancel the appointments, Doctor?"

"No, no." Law shook his head without looking at her or Rosinante. "Mr. Maumau can only come in today and there might be emergencies; I'm on call today."

With each word, he sounded calmer and more relaxed, as if he were back in control, as if he were again master of his feelings.

"Do me a favor and give me another five minutes, Mrs. Paipai. When Mr. Maumau comes in, take him to the examination room and check if he has taken his medication. I'll come for the examination, but I need a moment."

The old woman nodded swiftly. "Of course, I take care of it."

She stepped out and closed the door behind her.

For a moment, they were both quiet, while Rosinante looked at the man in front of him. He had grown up - really tall by the way - and his voice was deep, he sounded like a grown man and his appearance... "like a real doctor."

Grey eyes rushed towards him and a slight blush swept over Law's cheeks.

"I am a real doctor," he finally said.

"You're running a practice?" Rosinante asked the least important question he could ask, but the only one that just came to his mind.

Slowly, Law nodded as if he, too, was expecting another question.

"Just a small one. Doctor Tantan died in an accident last year and her daughter is still a student. The islands here have no one else, therefore..." he replied to the question, which was not really of interest to any of them.

"And that's why you decided to help them?"

Law shrugged. "I'm a doctor and the people here need one. I came here just by chance a few months ago. Besides, it is calm and..." Again, the other did not finish his sentence and bit his lower lip.

Rosinante, on the other hand, couldn't hold back his tears when he realized that his little Law - his little, upset, angry Law - helped people simply for the reason they needed help.

"I'm happy about that," he whispered, trying to get up again. This time he did a little better, but even now his legs were still shaking.

"Careful," Law immediately remarked, pulling him back to bed by his arm. "You should rest. You've just woken up."

Rosinante couldn't resist a quiet giggle while he was pushed onto the bed. Now they were almost at eye level while the other in front of him folded his arms.

"You really sound like a real doctor."

"I am a real doctor," repeated the other, now more composed than before. "I know you have many questions, and I will answer them all, but I now have patients waiting for me and you have to rest. Tonight, we're going to talk about everything, okay?"

Nothing was okay, because Rosinante actually had a lot of questions, but he decided that it was probably better to comply for the moment, so he nodded and tried to smile, but it was hard for him.

"Of course. Take care of your patients first. I'm not going to run away."

The other muttered something approving but raised his eyebrows as if to question that statement before going to the door. The hand already on the handle, Law paused.

"And, uhm, maybe just stay in bed. You don't need to do anything, to touch anything or whatever, it's best to just stay in bed."

"What? Why?"

The other looked at him only briefly suspiciously over his shoulder.

"You're just back. I'd like to avoid losing yours right away because you accidentally light yourself up or fall down some hill."

Did Rosinante imagine it or had his little grownup Law just smiled for a moment before he had closed the door behind him?

Now that he was gone, nothing remained but all the questions Rosinante had just been too stupid to ask. His head was still cramped with countless questions and they only seemed to add up.

Why was Law suddenly grown up? How had he become healthy? Where were they? How long had Rosinante been unconscious? What about his brother?

Oh..., more memories appeared in front of his inner eye. He had made it, back then, he had brought the Op-Op fruit to Law and then... and then there had been his brother, and Law in the box and... and...

Confused, he ripped open the simple shirt he was wearing, looking at his chest, which was littered with small, fine, and large, rough scars of the past years and struggles. Yet the wounds – or at least the scars – he had expected were missing. Nothing of his skin reminded that his brother had shot him.

It was impossible. Rosiante was sure that he...that he had died. Shaking his head, he let go of his shirt and rubbed through his face and hair. Another thing that was impossible, that just couldn't be.

How could he wait now for the man who was his little Law to come back and answer his questions? He would like to jump up and rush after the other.

But he remembered the look, those weeping grey eyes, the trembling lips, the plea not to put himself in danger, and he realized that he might be the one here who didn't understand anything and had thousands of questions, but he didn't know what price his little Law had to pay to be able to answer him. He had no idea what Law had gone through.

Slowly, he sank back to bed - couldn't even remember jumping up - and touched his lips with two fingers.

Law had kissed him, no small peck on the cheek, no accidental brushing each other's lips while hugging each other. It had been a deliberate kiss, but Law was still a child, his little Law, wasn't he?

Uneasy, Rosinante looked at the closed door. Who was the other really?