And, shockingly, she did feel safe. There was a calmness, a composure she hadn't expected. It wasn't that she no longer had memories, seeded with horror; it wasn't that the crew (or any men in general) no longer sent chills of alarm down her spine, activating cornered-animal feelings of fight or flight in the pit of her stomach…rather, it was that when these feelings arched over her heart, stretching out the clawed hands of fear to rip and catch, she felt protected. She felt she had a refuge. She knew she did; at times when such feelings became overwhelming, she moved to seek him out. He predicted though, and saw the struggles on her face, coming near and ready with open arms and a gentle voice whenever her knees began to weaken and shake. Nightmares were calmed, fears soothed, and Robin felt for the first time in her life, that there was no need to run.
After a time, three incredible nights went by: nights in which Robin slept through, not once awakened by clenching horror and memories too solid to escape alone. She slept. Beside her bed, leaning against the wall with legs stretched out and swords a finger's twitch away, Zoro slept too. He hadn't told her, of course; hadn't told anyone yet, though he might have had to talk to Chopper soon, but being Robin's only ally was exhausting work. When she'd needed him, she'd needed all of him, all he had to give. Unconsciously, she'd demanded his complete vigilance, his constant nearness, tender reassurances only, even when his own emotions were only frustration and fatigue. Tonight, though, and past nights, and future nights (he hoped), she slept. Thank the gods.
Zoro slept almost too deeply. He woke in a start, sure that he'd heard a gasp, an out-of-place creak on a ship on the open sea. He listened, focusing all his attention on the sounds that breathed life into his ship and shipmates. Hearing these, he listened for the extraneous: sounds that were not the rhythms of breathing he knew, shifting in various beds, far off sea birds, and lapping waves, wood adrift on the endless blue, breezes folding and tucking into the canvas sails.
There were no sounds that should not be there. He waited. Nothing. He smiled as he realized he must have been so on edge to hear Robin's single hitching breath in sleep, signaling her nightmares, that he had invented noises where none were. He looked at her. Her bruises were fading to a yellow green, casting a seasick hue over her face. It didn't matter. She was beautiful. The color change only stood to prove that her scars would fade. The swelling had receded. Her trembling soul was gaining strength again in the wind; she could hold conversations, she could self-talk back down to normalcy after startles; she could even brush against the arm or back of any of her fellows and not even need a deep, stabilizing breath. Zoro thought of the struggles and sacrifices. She was recovering, and if he'd had to go through it all again tenfold, he'd choose no other path; she was coming back to herself.
Tired and relaxed, a smile still on his lips, he leaned his head back against the warm wall of the Thousand Sunny, eyes on the rise and fall of her chest a few more moments before he dozed off, soundly, to a deep and much needed sleep.