Chapter 17

The next morning, Law waked up long before his normal time, that was 4 AM. From the evening point of view 11 AM seemed terribly far, to say nothing of 2 PM, and thus he'd decided to visit his little patient as soon as after his morning surgeries. Of course, time for that wouldn't occur by itself; he had to start the said surgeries earlier, which required earlier wake up as well. He couldn't resist the impression that the more often he would see Rosapelo, and in shorter intervals, the faster the boy's recovery would be; it seemed only logical to increase his working pace. Irrationally, he thought he was glad that Bepo was still out; his friend would undoubtedly be of a different opinion about Law increasing the amount of work at the cost of his night sleep. All the more reasons to get Rosapelo on his feet soon, that was before Bepo's return.

It was half past eight and the bright day outside, when Law vigorously entered his patient's room. He was glad to see that the boy wasn't asleep; a nurse, the same that yesterday, was changing his drip, which he didn't objected to. Just like before, he was half-lying, half-sitting on the bed, unmoving and staring at some point ahead of him. Law greeted them both - only Mirva greeted him back - then raised one arm; he was holding a wall clock he'd just fetched from the hospital storage room.

"I came last evening, but you were already sleeping, Pelo," he said, approaching the wall opposite the boy. "You probably didn't remember I would come at six...? I thought you needed a clock to discern the time passing."

The clock was pretty ordinary: it had a round white face, black hands and distinct numbers; it was perfect for a patient having troubles with orientation to time. No particular measures were required to install it - it had a magnet that was attracted to the metal elements in the wall - although Law had no doubt he would handle a nail and a hammer, if needed. However, this option was safer, since hooks and pegs should be avoided in psychiatry.

When he turned around, he saw Rosapelo stare at the clock, but then his gaze moved to the side, to Law. The fear that the night might have ruined what they'd managed to achieve the previous day - a substantial shortening in the boy's response time - vanished. Quite the contrary, it seemed that actually some progress had happened: yesterday, it'd taken the boy much longer to respond to a stimulus, to Law.

"Now you're going to have a better sense of when I should come," Law said cheerfully, sitting down on the chair. "And I'll try to visit you at least three times per day."

Rosapelo's head turned in his direction, and Law had yet another reason to be happy: the movement was much smoother and freer than yesterday, when it'd seemed that the mechanism in the boy's neck had consisted mostly of the rusted cogwheels. It still wasn't pleasant to look at Rosapelo's face, but Law forced himself to turn off his 'medical look' and remain oblivious to the unnatural paleness or emaciation. He wondered if he should activate the Ope Ope no Mi, but it seemed pointless to follow the boy's physiological functions when he could see his reactions with the naked eye, so in the end he decided against it.

"Do you remember what we spoke of yesterday?" he started. "I asked you what should I do to make you feel better. Is there anything I could do for you? I really wish to know. Did you think of it? I'm serious: I'll make whatever you want if it's only in my powers. You just have to tell me."

Rosapelo was looking at him with his blue eyes, blinking regularly. He didn't seem to want or intend to speak. However, Law thought his gaze was no longer so empty it had been yesterday; he'd rather say that the boy's stare was intent and attentive, even though there was no emotion on his face whatsoever. Judging from the previous experience, Rosapelo was seeing and hearing Law - but was he also comprehending the speech? It remained unclear; yet, based on his reactions, Law suspected he was.

"You don't have to reply with words if you don't like... or can't," Law assured him. "But I know that you don't find my being here... unpleasant... so I guess you may want something from me, right?"

Rosapelo said nothing, and Law once again resisted the temptation to activate his Devil Fruit. However, he knew that the Ope Ope no Mi couldn't do anything; what he needed were patience and his own contribution. Taking small steps, he would undoubtedly reach his goal... and, to be frank, he was under the impression those small steps were actually giant leaps.

"Maybe we can try what I suggested yesterday? You'll try to answer with blinking? One blink is 'yes', no blink is 'no', two blinks is 'don't know'. You're able to move your head, so as a doctor I'm perfectly certain you will succeed, don't you think? It would be really great if we could communicate, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed for you, see?" He raised both hands so that the boy could see them indeed. "Pelo? Shall we start?"

He was staring at Rosapelo's eyes so intensely that it seemed to him his own ones were round like balls... but it didn't matter at all, for the moment he finished talking, the boy blinked markedly. Law felt his pulse quicken and enthusiasm grow. Of course, he wasn't entirely sure if the blink was intentional or regular, but it was easy to check... and to test the boy's orientation at the same time.

"You are Rosapelo, right? I know, I know, you don't like to be called that."

Blink.

"Do you remember I'm Law?

Blink.

"Do you remember I'm a doctor?"

Blink.

"Do you remember you're in my hospital?"

Blink.

Law smiled widely, feeling relieved, excited and happy. Now it was unquestionable that he'd managed to make a mutual contact with Rosapelo, the one that enabled them to communicate. The boy was still lying lump on the bed, as if he'd lost all ability to move, making no gesture and no grimace, and he could appear a living dead for someone else, but Law was already aware that he was a man whose brain was working and who simply couldn't communicate in a normal way.

"You're doing great, Pelo," he said, still smiling, and then glanced at the nurse, who was staring at them with excitement. "You can't imagine how glad I am that we can finally understand each other! So, shall we continue?"

Blink.

"What time of year is now? Summer?"

Nothing.

"Is it cold outside?"

Blink.

"You're right, it's still winter. How much is five times six? Thirty?"

Blink.

"Is it my right hand?" Law raised his left one.

Nothing.

"Is it evening now?"

Nothing.

"Do you remember I was here yesterday?"

Blink.

"Are we alone here?"

No reaction, and then two blinks.

Apparently, the boy was still oblivious to anyone but Law... On the other hand, he had replied he didn't know, so maybe he was aware of other people, to some extent...? Sometimes, especially after a shock, it happened that people experienced an apparent dissociation on the level of senses and consciousness: for example, they were perfectly certain they'd lost their sight, yet moved normally, avoiding the obstacles on their path. It could be that Rosapelo's mind worked like that now.

"There is sitting Mirva, a nurse. She was here yesterday, too," Law pointed his hand at the woman, but Rosapelo didn't move nor take his eyes off him. The only course was to continue.

"Are you in pain?"

Nothing.

Law smiled again. It seemed that Rosapelo was oriented to time, place and himself, his short-term memory worked nicely, and there were no serious deficits in his cognition, if it could be assessed through a few general questions. It would be good to know for sure, but Law decided to leave it at this. Further examination of the boy's mental state would require to involve the topics he'd rather avoid.

"Those were some stupid questions, I know," he said. "Well, maybe except for the last one. I'm glad you're not hurting anywhere. I didn't ask them because I thought you didn't know the answers." He turned to look at the clock. "I still have a few minutes. At eight, I must be somewhere else..."

He noticed Rosapelo followed his eyes, and it made him happy; the boy started to see other things in his surroundings, too, which was yet another step forward. Law congratulated himself on the idea of bringing the clock here.

"Yes, I have other patients at eight," he repeated. "Besides, I'm sure you're going to get tired blinking, so the break will be okay. I'll be back at eleven... half past eleven at the latest. But now, as we still have a little while... Would you like to tell me what I can do for you?"

Rosapelo looked at him intently.

"Right, it's hard to answer such a question..." Law admitted. "Would you like me to give you something?"

Nothing.

"Would you like me to take you somewhere?"

Nothing... and then two blinks... and then Rosapelo's lips twitched - so lightly it could be easily missed. Then the boy turned his head to the window. Law asked himself what it could mean - the very first grimace Rosapelo had made in many, many days - but he could only be sure it wasn't an expression of any positive emotions. It seemed as if Rosapelo hadn't been certain of his own answer and felt frustrated because of that... Law wondered frantically how should he interpret it... and quickly decided that the boy probably wanted - and didn't want - to go to where his mother was, wherever she might be. If his memory worked just fine, he must have known she was dead... Law remembered that the woman's body was in the morgue in Roger Bay; there was no room for store it in the Corazon Memorial Hospital because people never died here...

However, he decided it was too early to mention that, and thus he only said, "If you want to go somewhere, you must tell me," wondering if it was a cowardice on his part. "I'll take you there, I promise," he declared nonetheless and then rose. "It's five to eight, Pelo, I should go now. Is there anything you still want to say to me?"

The boy turned his head in his direction again. Law smiled at him; his heart was beating fast, as if he was waiting for the answer, this time a verbal one. Rosapelo, however, was staring at him without emotion, just like before.

"I'll come after eleven... three hours from now," Law reminded... and then, unexpectedly, he asked, "Do you want me to come?" for it suddenly seemed very important.

Blink.

Law smiled wider. "Then, I'll come," he declared. "Take care. See you soon, Pelo!"

On his way to the operating theatre, Law couldn't but be delighted by the fact it all went so well. In just two days, an incredible improvement had happened in the boy's condition; only yesterday, it'd required a lot of effort to make him react, and today Law could already communicate with him...! Of course, the greatest credit went to Clione and his observation skills, but the realisation that Law had his share, too... no, that without him nothing of that could be possible, was almost intoxicating. Apparently, Law constantly needed to feel it: that he could affect other people's health...

This time, he forgot to hide his good mood and entered the operating room, wearing a wide smile that his two assistants noticed at once.

"Oh, why are you in such a good mood today, Boss?" Shachi asked and added quickly, "Not that I complain."

"My patient is recovering, that's why," Law muttered in reply.

"That's very, very good," Penguin commented, patting him in his back. "But..." He and Shachi exchanged looks. "What's strange about it...?"

Law felt like sighing. "He's a special patient whom I'm treating without using the Ope Ope no Mi," he explained patiently.

Now his assistants looked clearly alarmed, as if Law had said something that was obviously at odds with the laws of nature, and were speechless for a longer while.

"Um... The battery has run out?" Shachi asked finally.

"Moron. What battery? Do you think my Devil Fruit has a limited period of function or something? He's a psychiatric patient," Law replied, but it seemed that his answer only deepened his assistants' confusion, as they exchanged their looks again.

Then Shachi shrugged. "Spring is coming. People start thinking weird stuff," he decided.

"But it's nice that you finally acknowledge psychiatry as a medical field, Boss, and decided to try your hand at it," Penguin praised him, although for some reason he sounded ironic. "Good luck," he added in a supporting manner, which only increased Law's impression he was being made fun of.

"Mind your own business, would you?" he grunted. "Besides, I didn't come here to talk. At eleven, I must be back on Seven, so let's get started."

Today, he operated on a middle-aged archaeologist, poisoned by some nasty organic substance. Law had no idea what it was, probably an unknown compound that had remained hidden in the earth's crust since prehistorical times until the explorers had dug to it. And one might think that searching for historical traces should be safe, especially now that it was no longer punishable by death to study the particular periods of the world history, he thought ironically. He hoped that site had been closed and declared off-limits; it was enough he to treat the whole group of the archaeologists that had worked there.

Then, he cured a young woman with encephalopathy caused by the congenital liver disease. It was a miracle she'd arrived in Raftel in time. The disease was incurable, and encephalopathy... well, at this stage, it couldn't be reversed with any conventional method. Law wondered why the doctors hadn't referred the woman to the Corazon Memorial Hospital earlier; it must have been obvious her condition would only deteriorate, leading to her premature death. It could be that the disease had been just diagnosed, if the symptoms had manifested late... In any case, she'd been really lucky. Law repaired all damage in her brain and other organs and completely removed the disease from her organism.

The last patient was the severe case of chronic obstructive pulmonary disease with heart failure... that was, severe for the patients, not for Law. He was a man in his sixties in the end stage; he couldn't function without an oxygen tank, and even with it he'd barely managed. Law repaired his lungs and bronchi, and could only hope that Chopper's lecture would repair the patient's attitude as well, after his life had been miraculously extended. When it was about people willingly destructing their health with the bad lifestyle, Law's empathy experienced an emergency shutdown... but if he cared about all those, um... problematic individuals, to say it in a diplomatic manner, he would quickly go crazy. Fortunately, he was here only to cure.

The surgeries went smoothly, and it was ten to eleven that Law was changing to his normal clothes. However, as he went to the lift to go up to psychiatry, he felt hungry. True, he'd got up earlier today, so his stomach, accustomed to eating at concrete intervals, was demanding food already. The prospect of eating no sooner than one hour from now was exceptionally unpleasant, and after a short debate with himself - it took as long as waiting for the lift to come - he decided to take his lunch to Seven. In principle, eating in the patients' presence was out of question, but in Rosapelo's case the patient-doctor relationship was much more casual. If Law brought food with him, maybe he would be able to persuade the boy into eating something? If he was correct, Rosapelo had been on a drip for almost two weeks...

He grabbed a salad, two onigiri and a bottle of mineral water from the canteen, realising he hadn't had a normal lunch for days. All the more reasons make Rosapelo recover; now, he was spending his every free moment on psychiatry. And on his own will, he thought, rolling his eyes.

In the hall of the seventh floor he run into Clione, who gave the content of his hands a suggestive look. "Where do you think you're going with that buffet?"

"The patient you ordered the poultice of me, is taking my all free time, so I've no possibility to eat normal lunches in the canteen," Law replied with a sneer.

"In that case, I promise to take you for a decent lunch once you cured him," Clione said. "Or even for a dinner to the All Baratie."

"I'll pass," Law mumbled. "You're going to hit on me again."

"I beg your pardon," the psychiatrist retorted with faked indignation. "We decided we were done with it... and should I remind you at whose request? For my part, I intend to keep my end of the deal," he declared flatly. "Although I bought a very nice dress the other day, and it would be great to try it on..." he muttered under his breath and stared at the ceiling non-committally.

Law ignored him, but he had a disturbing impression that they just couldn't go on without such subtexts, after all. It was as if, having known each other twenty years, two friend had suddenly started to call each other different names... But, he remembered, he'd drawn that line because he'd felt he hadn't been fair to Clione. He couldn't give up on his decision just two days later, only because old habits still came naturally to him...

"In any case, today I'm eating in Rosapelo's room," he stated. "Can't I?"

"Sure you can. And if you managed to persuade him into eating, too, it would be great," Clione replied with a smile.

"That's what I thought myself," Law assured him eagerly, for he didn't want to appear as someone who placed his own comfort over his patient's welfare.

Mercifully, the psychiatrist didn't comment that, only said, "I heard you got into contact with him...? You're able to communicate with him, right?"

"He answers me with blinking."

"After you left, Mirva... the nurse tried to 'talk' with him that way," Clione informed, "and I, too, but he didn't react at all. No, he didn't even pay attention to us. But he kept glancing at the clock. It seems you're still the only person he wants to be in contact with. So, unfortunately, you're going to spend a bit longer here," he added in with compassion.

"You know, I think we're talking about just a few days," Law replied. "He gets out of that stupor pretty fast."

The psychiatrist patted him on his back. "All thanks to you," he said warmly. "Maybe that experience will change a bit your attitude towards the psychiatric patients..."

"Hey, now you're talking like Penguin."

"Really?" Clione asked in surprise. "It must be the first time..." he muttered.

"Do I treat your patients badly?" Law asked, offended.

"Where did you get that idea? Of course you don't! Only when you look at them, you have that expression like you wished they shouldn't even exist," the psychiatrist replied with a radiant smile.

"What? I certainly don't!"

"But don't worry," Clione said in a comforting manner. "Half of people wouldn't even assume that the world's greatest doctor could think that way, so they come to the conclusion they must have seen it wrong..."

Law frowned. "And the other half?" he asked.

"Well, the other half is undoubtedly of the opinion that the world's greatest doctor has every right to be an arrogant and conceited git who cares about his patients less than the last year's snow."

"I hate snow," Law replied glumly. "Besides, I'm devastated by your opinion, and I want you to know it. And speaking seriously... I have no problem coming here. The truth is," he lowered his voice, "and you know it as much as I do, that two weeks ago I behaved towards him like a piece of shit, and I have a nasty feeling I might have contributed to his condition. Now that I already snapped out of it, I want to do everything I can to reverse it and help him. So it's not like I force myself to visit him, okay?" he stressed out, for he thought it was important.

The psychiatrist nodded. "Okay. That's good to know. Thanks for telling me."

"Then, let's not waste more time chattering in the corridor... I'm hungry."

Clione smiled wryly and opened the door of the ward. "Think about that dinner in the All Baratie."

"I will," Law muttered. "One thing more. Try to make contact with him. I'm sure you're going to succeed sooner or later. I think he's aware of other people and his surroundings, and he's going to start acting accordingly at some point."

"Leave it to us. We'll be trying," the psychiatrist promised, stopping in front of the nurse station. "Thanks."

Law nodded and went to Rosapelo's room, where he found another nurse; Mirva must have left for a lunch break. The moment he entered, he saw the pair of blue eyes staring at him. Rosapelo's time of response had shortened again.

"Hi again," he said, approaching the bed and taking 'his' chair on the boy's right. Rosapelo's gaze followed his every move. "I brought myself a meal. You don't mind if I eat...?" He put his lunch on the table. "Actually..." On impulse, he shifted one onigiri on the bed cover, next to the boy's palm. "Maybe you'd like to eat with me?" he suggested.

Rosapelo didn't move; he was just staring blankly at Law. The snack didn't seem to interest him, but Law hadn't really expected it, not yet. In fact, milk soup would be a better idea..

"It would be good if you started to eat. You know, I'd never be able to starve for two weeks... I feel sick at the very thought," he said, opening the salad box. "What do we have here today? A tuna salad, not bad... Do you like fish, Pelo?

Blink.

"That's good. The fish are healthy... well, most of them. What else do you like?" He started to list different kinds of food and got an affirmative in every case. "No way. You really like everything?" Blink. "Even umeboshi?" No reaction. "But you know what umeboshi is?" Blink. "Wow, I hate umeboshi, too. We're quite a match..."

He occupied himself with salad, drinking water from the bottle.

"Maybe I could make you some tea, Doctor?" the nurse offered. Her name was Calla, according to a tag.

"I won't say no to green tea," Law muttered. "Thanks."

Calla got up and left, while Law went on with his meal and conversation. "You know, Pelo, we have the best restaurant in the world, here on Raftel. It's the All Baratie, have you heard about it? No? But you've heard about the Pirate King, haven't you? You see, the head chef of the All Baratie, Sanji, used to be the personal cook of the Pirate King and has been renowned already since. His dishes are heaven in mouth, I'm sure you haven't ever eaten anything like that. I hadn't ever eaten anything like that..." He spared a moment to tell about the culinary wonders that the former cook of the Straw Hats could prepare, and about the very common dishes that Sanji could turn into something else. "If you like, we can have a dinner there, once you recover. What do you think?"

No reaction, which meant a negative... Law felt disappointed, although he understood he shouldn't have expected anything else.

"You don't want?" he muttered, putting the empty box on the table, and added without thinking, "You can't stand me that much?"

Again, no reaction.

Law frowned. "Now I have no idea..." he admitted before asking in a lower voice, "Are you still bothered by what I told you the other day? Even though I've been trying to convince you it's not how I really think...?"

No reaction. Well, he'd asked two questions, so no wonder he hadn't got any answer.

"Okay, I got confused myself, sorry..." he mumbled. "I'll make it easier. To begin with, do you even want to talk about it, Pelo?"

Blink.

Law smiled lightly at the funny sensation in his chest. It was a good start. "I'm glad. Then, let's start from the most basic things... Are you scared of me?" he asked.

Rosapelo didn't blink, and Law was amazed at how relieved he was.

"Thanks..." he muttered. "Maybe it sounds stupid, but I really wasn't sure of that. And do you..."

He stopped. The question stuck in his throat. He pressed his lips together and averted Rosapelo's eyes... only to look at the boy again the next moment. It seemed to him that a wrinkle glimpsed on Rosapelo's forehead, but it happened so fast he couldn't be sure. He grabbed a bottle and drank its content.

The boy was still giving him an intent look, and Law was certain he was waiting for the question. He scolded himself in thought. What was he doing? He should maintain and deepen the contact with Rosapelo; sitting in silence was pointless, and besides... The longer he delayed it, the harder it would be to resume talking. He already knew he wanted to learn the answer; he couldn't be a coward and avoid asking the question.

"Pelo, do you hate me?" he forced himself to say it and then spent three seconds in a freezing fear that he would get an affirmative.

Yet, Rosapelo didn't blink this time, either. Law slowly let the air out of his lungs. The feeling of relief welled up in his chest... but the next moment it was frozen by a nasty suspicion that the boy wasn't being honest. His fingers clutched at the fabric of his trousers as he tried to understand that paradox.

Did he really hate himself so much as to expect only hatred of others? Did he consider his mistakes to be too big to ever be forgiven? Did he really think he didn't deserve anything but dislike from Rosapelo?

But even if it was the truth, one he feared and sentenced himself for... he realised he didn't want it. He didn't want Rosapelo to hate him. Maybe he was a hypocrite. Maybe he'd just forgotten about that feeling: being an object of hatred. Wasn't it why he'd opened this hospital and become a miracle-doctor, in the first place: to obscure the belief he deserved only contempt...?

One thought stopped him on that spiral of self-accusations that could take him all the way down: it wasn't fair to Rosapelo to attribute Law's own feelings to the boy. Even if he was a twisted man himself, he wasn't allowed to assume that everyone else was too.

"Really, Pelo?" he whispered, staring at the blue eyes. "You don't hate me?"

A blink. An affirmative.

What else could he do if not believe it? It was not like he wanted to go on knowing that the boy hated him. He tried to smile, but he was aware it'd turned out pretty weak.

"You'll have to say it in words one day," he muttered and rubbed his face with both hands.

It was when Mirva entered the room, holding a mug with a familiar scent coming from it. The personnel commonly used a specific kind of green tea - a powdered one to be poured with a very hot water - although the canteen served several kinds of tea. Law took the mug and drank a bit. Rosapelo didn't avert his eyes, and they spent a moment just staring at each other.

Had the boy forgiven him? Just like that? But Law had hurt him, and when Rosapelo had needed support, not hate, on top of that... Had it required so little for him to decide that what had happened was the matter of the past? Whichever it was, Law knew he should be happy... he should humbly accept what he was being given, even though there was that sensation in his chest he couldn't really figure out. Once again, he came to the conclusion he didn't want to be an object of hatred, not for Rosapelo. To be hated by Rosapelo seemed awfully upsetting...

'I didn't want you to hate me.' Those words suddenly came to his mind, clenching his heart. He opened his eyes wider, then pressed his lips in a thin line and put the mug on the table, for he feared to break it, as his hands started trembling.

Was that... Was that how Cora-san had felt all that time they'd spent together? The situation had been completely different, he told himself immediately, completely different... but what did it matter? Contrary to Rosapelo, Law had showed his dislike constantly. He'd really hated him, he really hadn't wanted to stay with him... What if Cora-san had felt guilty about having taken him for that trip and forced him to go through the hospital hell...? Maybe he'd felt guilty about having withheld the truth about himself, too? And Law, behaving the way he had, had made it clear he'd hated him so much... Cora-san had spent half a year with a kid whose animosity he could be certain of - and he hadn't given up on helping him regardless.

Law remembered that smile, that reaction to Law having called him 'Cora-san' for the first time. He remembered the night preceding it, when he'd heard something he shouldn't have heard and what had made him believe that there'd been still someone in the world who'd cared about him and who'd considered him a human. Those words had melted the ice around his heart, reminding him of his humanity he'd thought he'd already thrown away... Cora-san had felt for him, and it had been enough for Law to forgive him everything, although he'd known he'd stopped hating him already before, sometime over the course of those six months of their journey.

Nevertheless, he suspected that Cora-san had remained uncertain until the very end... hadn't believed that Law had no longer hated him... and yet he'd never turned back from his path. He'd decided to save Law without thinking of his own welfare and despite what Law might think of him. If only Law had told him how he'd really felt... If only Law had managed to response to that confession... then Cora-san wouldn't have left believing that-...

"Dr Law...?" Mirva's gentle voice broke his reverie.

He tore his hand from his eyes and stared at her before looking at Rosapelo. He shook his head. "Sorry, I remembered something..." he muttered, trying to shake off that sudden distraction and come back to the present.

He moved to the edge of the chair and put his elbows on his knees. His chest felt heavy under the unpleasant weight - it was one of those moments he felt like the most wretched person in the world and couldn't understand what had driven Cora-san to do what he'd done - but he tried to pay no attention to it. His own feelings were of no importance here... and yet he asked once more, "Say it with words... will you, Pelo?" although he had no idea if it would change anything.

The boy didn't reply... but at least he didn't decline, and Law decided there was still hope. However, he had to change the topic... the mood... He hadn't come here to sink in self-analysis, only to help his patient. He glanced at the clock: it was a quarter to twelve.

"I still have fifteen minutes," he said, looking at Rosapelo again. "What should we speak about? We talked that it would be nice to have a dinner in the All Baratie... Ah, we still have onigiri. I'm going to eat mine, and you? It's there," he added in a casual manner, pointing at the rice ball in foil, lying on the bed cover.

In his case, dejection had never been a reason to give up eating, although his condition was far from the boy's depression, too... Besides, he really liked onigiri. He took his own snack from the table, unwrapped it and smelled.

"I think it's tuna again, I'm really lucky today..."

He took one bite, and then another. Rosapelo was observing his consumption with intent blue eyes, and Law hoped the sight would stimulate his appetite a bit, for even 'a bit' would make a huge and meaningful difference.

"Onigiri is one of my absolutely favourite dishes," he announced and drank some tea. He started at the rice ball in his fingers. "You know, I don't think there's many things even more perfect than it... Raftel's onigiri are really great. We get a regular delivery of Wano rice, and the fish... Well, since the All Blue is round the corner, you can trust the quality. You really should eat... or, at least, try," he encouraged the boy and bit his snack again to soon finish it.

Rosapelo's hand twitched on the cover, making Law's heart skip a beat. He didn't show it, only licked the rice grains from his fingers and drank tea again. Over the mug, he observed the boy's arm slowly move to the side and touch onigiri. Rosapelo looked down on the snack and tried to grab it, but it seemed he was too weak.

Law reached towards him and, as the boy didn't react, bent his elbow, put the onigiri in his palm and held it up, so that Rosapelo could see it.

"It seems that you're pretty weak after disease. The more reason that you started eating," he said in a serious voice. "Do you remember how long have you been staying here, Pelo? Two weeks. It's high time that you start recovering, don't you think?"

The boy turned his face to the window and tried to break his arm free, although it came out merely as a weak twitch. Law let his hand fall on the cover again, and put onigiri in the same place.

"It would be good if you started eating," he repeated. "If you don't, you'll just become weaker and weaker. Soon, you won't be able to even more your neck... or open your eyes. Maybe..." He frowned when an unexpected idea occurred to him. "Maybe I could feed you the next time...?"

Rosapelo looked at him again, and this time Law thought there was some surprise, maybe even outrage in his gaze... but, of course, he probably imagined it, once more attributing his own reactions to the boy... He smiled, although he was pretty much nervous.

"Two o'clock. Two hours from now," he said, mustering his most cheerful tone. "Milk soup would be good. I'd really like to put you off that drip already... And once you're stronger, you'll be able to eat onigiri, it's a good plan, don't you think?"

Rosapelo probably didn't think, but it could also be that the lack of blinking resulted from his bewilderment, Law had no idea. Himself, he was still surprised by his own words, although, he quickly decided, there was nothing stupid to them. The boy really needed a normal food. Law was the only person in contact with him, so why not try? Did he have anything to lose?

"Okay, I'm off now," he said, getting up, somewhat relieved to be able to run away as Rosapelo wouldn't stop piercing him with his gaze. "I'll be back at two. Mirva, could you arrange the meal?"

"Of course," the nurse assured him, and her eyes were glittering.

Law had no doubt she wanted to see him feeding Rosapelo. He sighed inwardly, leaving the room. Well, at the very most, the bowl would land on his head... Only, he realised the next moment, if something like that happened, it would be a good thing. Unfortunately, the main problem was that the boy was too weak.

The vision of what was awaiting him at 2 PM made him pretty much distracted - feeding an ill boy filled him with much more apprehension than any medical procedure - and when a surgical intern presented him a case, he managed to answer completely beside the point, provoking quite a dismay in the present doctors. Only the familiar psychiatric resident kept his wits, for he whispered in a theatrical voice from the back row, "Director, Director...! He wasn't asking about colonic polypectomy, only tonsillectomy...!"

Law focused his eyes on him, recalling his own speech and the depicted access route to the organ, and felt like blushing.

"Thank you, Dr Antero," he muttered. "I'm glad that you pay attention also to the surgical cases, too."

"I must admit that surgery was my other option when deciding about my residency," the doctor revealed proudly, and Law felt shiver running down his spine.

"I think that you made a good choice, Doctor," he said with moderate praise.

Personally, he was of the opinion that surgeons and psychiatrists were two extremes in medicine, and he couldn't imagine any sensible connection between those two groups. He had no idea why a psychiatric resident participated in those consultations, in the first place, since it was obvious he wouldn't be able to learn anything from Law. He probably came to spy for Clione... or was driven by another, equally strange motivation. One could never know, when the psychiatrists were in question.

"In any case, I'm grateful for correcting me. And I apologise to everyone for having let my mind drift. A patient's case is, um, occupying my thought quite much," he explained, coming to the conclusion he was being honest. "Resuming the topic... Dr Bortelli, colorectal polyps can be removed by..."

He suspected that scene would become a hospital anecdote that at least half of the personnel would never believe in, but he didn't care about it as much as he should. After all, just like Clione had said today, he was the greatest doctor in the world, and for that single thing he could be forgiven everything. At two o'clock he was back on the Seven, but not so enthusiastic as before. Still, he'd made a decision and didn't mean to turn away... although he feared that feeding the boy might end in something much worse than embarrassing himself before his colleagues.

In Rosapelo's room, he found a bowl with milk soup that smelled like... well, like milk soup. It was on the table, being completely ignored by the patient, who once more focused his attention solely on Law. Onigiri was when it had been left.

"I'm back, Pelo," Law said, sitting on the chair and doing his best to hide his nervousness, that again neared the accepted limit.

They should deal with it quickly... He glanced at Mirva, who was sitting on the other side of bed and observing the two of them with a supporting smile. He suppressed a sigh. He couldn't actually tell her to leave...

He looked at the boy. "Then? Shall we start your meal?" he asked with every intention to sound cheerful.

Rosapelo didn't move nor did his eyelashes; he was still staring at Law with gaze being interpreted as an absolute refusal. Despite that, praying in his thought that his hands didn't tremble, Law took the bowl from the table and spooned a portion of soup. The bowl was warm but not hot, so he decided the temperature was just right. He focused his eyes on the boy.

"You know, I have a fondness to milk soup," he said, hoping to defuse the atmosphere. "When I was eight, I fell ill with mononucleosis. It's a nasty infectious disease that attacks the tonsils, amongst others. My throat was so sore I couldn't eat at all for several days. I couldn't even drink, and breathing itself was painful. When the therapy started to work and the pain diminished, milk soup was the first meal I could swallow down. Believe me, that moment it tasted like heaven..." he muttered. "Now it's your turn."

He moved the spoon to the boy's lips, but Rosapelo turned his head to the window. Law suppressed another sigh. It seemed it wouldn't work... He placed the bowl onto his lap and put the spoon in.

"Pelo... I'm not going to feed you by force," he said quietly. "But I'd be really happy if you ate. When I told you that you will soon become too weak to even move your head, it wasn't a lie. We doctors don't lie about such things," he emphasised. "I suppose it's all the same to you, but I... I really want you to recover. It's not right when a kid like you..." He stopped, as yet another memory came to his mind. "It's too sad..." he said dully, as if he were repeating the words he'd heard long ago.

It iwas/i too sad. He didn't want to yield to that sadness or give up without the fight... But what could he do? How could he influence that boy... how restore his will to live? Could words be enough? Were there the words to make Rosapelo want to live again? Ah, they probably were... only that Trafalgar Law wasn't the right person to say them, for it was not him the boy needed.

Still - he forced himself to keep thinking - he was the only person that Rosapelo came in contact with, consciously and willingly. Whatever drove the boy, Law couldn't grasp, but it didn't change the fact that he was the only man to make a difference. He mustn't give up. He'd achieved so much in just two days...!

"Pelo, do you remember what I told you before?" he tried again. "That I would dance of joy if you felt better? That too was true. I want more than anything that you recover. It pains me to see you ill," he said honestly, in a serious voice. "Yesterday, I mentioned to you about that lethal disease I went down with when I was a bit younger than you are now... That time, someone I'd never expect it of, said exactly those words, 'It's too sad when you speak of dying...' He showed his sympathy for me."

His fingers grabbed the bowl tighter. He'd never told anyone of it... but now seemed a right time. Rosapelo didn't need his experience as a doctor but as a man. Law could help him not by who he was, but by what he'd been given in the similar situation. Now was the right moment to share it.

"Those words changed me... helped me... They made me feel I wasn't alone in the world... that there was someone who cared about me. You're not alone in the world, either, because... because I care about you." He became silent for a while; his ears were humming. "I know it's not me who you need, but... you do listen to me, see me and answer me. You haven't given up, haven't gone away. You haven't thrown me out of your world. I think that what I say means something to you... right? That's why... I'm not going to feed you by force... but maybe you could eat some of this? Won't you do it for me...? Pelo...?"

The teenager was still looking at the window, as if he were admiring the scenery, but Law was strangely certain that the boy, just like himself, could barely see the shimmer on the waves and the gulls flying over the sea. His heart was beating fast as he waited for Rosapelo's response, any reaction... and the more time passed, the smaller his hope was turning, replaced by cold disappointment. After all, his words couldn't do anything... Cora-san's words could change the world of the small boy, but his own didn't have such power. It was a bitter realisation, but could he have expected anything else...? Oh, but he had, he'd really expected it - if he hadn't, he wouldn't feel so down now - but there was no help for the obvious things... He wasn't Cora-san; he was only Trafalgar Law.

"I'm sorry I insisted," he said quietly, trying to hide his feelings. Rosapelo didn't need his bitterness, and Law had long since decided to never direct any negative emotions at him. "We'll do it when you feel like, yourself," he added and lifted the bowl from his lap to put it on the table.

The same moment Rosapelo turned his head again and looked at him. Then his gaze moved down to the bowl that Law was still holding in his hands before taking the eye contact again.

Law gulped when a sudden emotion clenched his heart. "You..." He cleared his throat. "You want to eat...?" he asked in a low voice, barely believing what he was seeing.

Blink.

Law was staring in the blue eyes, suddenly unable to move or say anything. He was under the impression that everything had disappeared, only that thin, pale face of the boy with great penetrating eyes existed. He thought that never before had he been so aware of the other person's existence... and its importance to himself. Thousands of ideas flooded his mind, but something was stronger then they: a feeling that welled up in him, close to happiness.

It hadn't happened for thirteen years that he'd felt this way because of his patient's recovery. Maybe medicine wasn't there to give people happiness. Maybe one could experience it only doing other things.

"Dr Law...?"

It was the second time today that Mirva's voice brought him down to earth. He focused his gaze on Rosapelo's intense, blue eyes. All sadness, dejection and disappointment was gone, and that nasty weight finally lifted up from his chest. He felt light at heart. He smiled and pressed the spoon to the boy's pale lips; his hand was trembling only slightly.

When they were finished - the boy had eaten almost everything - Law commented in his style, "I think that we did a good job, for a first pass," and it seemed to him that Rosapelo's eyes said he thought exactly the same.