Perennial Future

by Clio S.S

After Monkey D. Luffy claimed One Piece along with the title of the Pirate King, Trafalgar Law settled down on Raftel and became a full-time doctor. Once called the 'Surgeon of Death', he believes that his future is clearly determined. He wouldn't even guess that the fate prepares him a surprise... 30 chapters plus epilogue and bonus.

19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Only Bepo's absence made Law derogate slightly from his 'statutory day off'... well, aside from spending a whole day with Rosapelo, which was quite a derogation in and of itself; even if Bepo got to know, it would happen much later and his anger would be bearable. Law, indeed, decided to have twenty-four hours free, but not according to the calendar, only with a slight shift, that was starting from 7-8 AM. Earlier, Rosapelo would be sleeping anyway, contrary to Law, who by that time would be awake for many hours. That was why he decided to perform the morning surgeries normally, and then have twenty-four hours for himself and the boy.

Since so early in the morning, which was between three and seven, there were only doctors on duty at work and since Law used to move between the patients silently and stealthily like a ghost, there was a chance that the information about him working that day wouldn't reach his friends until it was too late. By that time, Law would hole up in the close unit on the seventh floor and show himself to no-one until the next morning. A good thing about psychiatry was that not only no-one could get out from there without permission, but also no unauthorised person could enter there, so Law was assured that no-one would find him. To be forced to use such measures still annoyed him - for it was really very absurd - but this time he didn't bother his head about it. He would have twenty-four hours free, and it was the most crucial argument he could present to the possible critics.

When he was done with the surgeries and appeared in Rosapelo's room half past eight, the boy was awake. Law was pleased to notice that breakfast had been prepared according to the menu they'd created yesterday.

"You're not eating?" he asked as a greeting, releasing the nurse, and then sat down on the chair he'd acquainted himself with already.

The boy raised his arms over the cover; his weakness was easy to notice.

"Right, you couldn't get it by yourself," Law realised. "But why didn't you ask the nurse to hand it to you?"

Something flashed in Rosapelo's eyes, and then the boy turned one hand up, so that Law could put one sandwich in it.

"You got pretty bold..." Law muttered. "You could say something, at least."

"Thank you."

Law smiled wryly. "I'm glad. I already thought you forgot how to speak again."

Rosapelo busied himself with the sandwich he was holding in both hands.

"Pelo, everyone already knows that you can speak," Law said. "I mean, everyone here. And that you're aware of other people's presence. We must have a deal. Today, I'm still going to assist you in eating if necessary, but starting tomorrow..." The boy's hands froze in the mid-air, when Rosapelo fixed his eyes on him. "Starting tomorrow you speak to others when I'm not here and you need something. Like be helped with eating."

The boy averted his eyes, he clearly didn't like the idea; Law, however, knew he had to be convinced. Fortunately, he considered himself as someone possessing the gift of persuasion.

"You did great when speaking to Clione yesterday," he continued, not that the boy had spoken a lot... but it was the thought that mattered. "Thanks to that I can spend a whole day with you today." He smiled wider. "In any case, I thought that if you managed to start or even finish eating before my visit, we would have more time at our disposal. We wouldn't have to be distracted with eating, don't you think?" he added in a tone of a subtle encouragement, even though it neared a conceit on his part. "The nurses will be more than happy to help you, you only have to ask them. It isn't too much, is it?"

"I don't want to talk," Rosapelo declared after a moment of thought.

"With the nurses?" Law shook his head. "You don't need to actually talk with them, just speak to them when you need something. People cannot read minds, that's why we have to say things aloud."

Now the boy gave him a totally disbelieving look, moving the sandwich away from his mouth. He said nothing, and that silence along with that look confused Law pretty much.

"What? It's true," Law went back to defence. "Have you ever met anyone capable of reading minds? I mean, surely there's a Devil Fruit for that, I don't know..."

"No, I just... heard it several times before."

Law blinked... and then stifled a snort. "Right, I bet it's a slogan in psychiatry. Damn, it seems I've been spending too much time with Clione and it caught on me," he muttered with a sneer and ran one hand through his hair. "Anytime soon, I'll start wearing a dress."

Rosapelo took interest in his sandwich again but wouldn't take his eyes off Law nonetheless, and Law suddenly realised that even more emotions could be seen on the boy's face. Rosapelo had started to show them yesterday, and even if they weren't very distinct, they could be clearly distinguished from that emptiness that had dominated his expression for two weeks. His skin was no longer as pale as before, and he'd turned into a more pleasant sight. Nevertheless, he was still so thin than his skin clung to his cheekbones and neck muscles. Law consoled himself with the thought that the boy would undoubtedly gain weight, now that he'd started to eat.

What also bode well was that Rosapelo ate the sandwich on his own and even drank a glass of milk; he was getting stronger. Law knew that the boy didn't suffer from any chronic illnesses, and thus his organism should recover fast, just like young people used to... What worried him, however, was that he had no idea if the boy wanted to recover, himself. Sure, he'd started to eat and emerged from the state bordering catatonia, but could it mean that he'd made the final decision of living, one he would stick to? Law had the vague impression that what also awaited Rosapelo was the psychological recovery, and that process would be much more difficult...

Law didn't know if he wanted to be a part of that process. He knew he'd gladly leave it to Clione and his team... He didn't believe he had enough empathy or patience to participate in that, nor did he consider himself as a proper man to incite the will to live in anyone - he, who'd survived and kept living only because of the surrogate goals. It would be the best if Rosapelo regained his psychological balance just like that, without a third party... but, as Law concluded, suppressing a sigh, one could as well wish for a star from the sky, and without having the old Admiral Fujitora at his disposal...

Maybe it was for those unpleasant thoughts that he'd fallen silent for a longer while now and, in the end, decided that maybe the idea of eating or feeding wasn't so stupid if they could focus on it. His insides were twisting at the thought he might talk with Rosapelo about the boy's tragedies... but, on the other hand, he realised that if the boy started to talk about it indeed, then he would have to hear him out, for he'd promised, and he wasn't such a bastard to break his promises. In that case, he could only muster his courage and prepare for the worst.

To such an extent he was mustering and preparing that once Rosapelo spoke after the prolonged silence, he almost jumped in his chair.

"Law-san...?"

"Yes?"

"When will I be able to... use the toilet?" the boy asked shyly, his eyes fixed on the cover.

Law blinked. He hadn't expected it... while he should have, taking into consideration that Rosapelo hadn't got up from the bed for two weeks. Now that the boy started to eat, he certainly must have the need to use the toilet. Law should be happy it was 'only about that'. Contrary to the psychological problems, this one could be easily solved. There wasn't even any need to undress the boy, for he was wearing only a short gown tied on his back.

"Can you sit on a lavatory?"

Rosapelo nodded, still staring at his own hands. "Yes, but..."

"No need to worry about anything else. Only, it'll be quick... ROOM."

Before the boy managed to ask about what would be quick, he found himself over the toilet in the adjacent bathroom, with Law standing next to him. He hadn't even cried of surprise, although that would mean a further progress in showing emotions. Law gently placed him on the lavatory, holding his shoulder to help the boy keep his balance. He'd removed the catheter, hoping that his patient would be able to spontaneously urinate after such a long pause. Well, also it this matter he had to hope for Rosapelo's young age.

The boy succeeded in relieving himself, which gladdened Law a lot. "You did great," he praised him. "What else? Would you like to bathe, since we're already here?"

Rosapelo, however, shook his head, so Law guessed the boy had spent his supply of energy for today.

"Then, back to the bed?"

An affirmative nod... and the next moment Rosapelo was sitting under the cover again, as if he hadn't gone anywhere. His face was, however, flushed, and he was breathing quickly after the effort he'd made. Law thought they should start to mobilise him - two weeks without moving would harm anyone, and a prolonged stay in bed was generally contraindicated with his weak bones... although, paradoxically, thanks to that the risk of Rosapelo getting hurt was minimal. In any case, any extensive rehabilitation was out of question now, since he was still very weak. Maybe later Law could teleport him again... For now, he could deactivate his Devil Fruit.

"That was quick," the boy said quietly.

"One of the numerous abilities of the Ope Ope no Mi," Law replied with a crooked smile. "It's not used only for treating people."

"I know," Rosapelo said even more quietly and lowered his head.

Law remembered it was really so, and cursed inwardly. Then, to turn the conversation from that topic, he said hurriedly, "Now that you no longer have a catheter, you'll probably experience some difficulties with urinating. Your bladder was on a break, so it can be that over the next few days the urine would just get out of you. If you could get up yourself, it would be easier, but I suppose you'll spend a little more in bed, so you should use this." He reached down and grabbed the urine bottle. "Using it is not the most pleasant thing in the world, but it's still better than staying in the wet bed," he stated in a crisp voice. "And for the bigger things we have bedpans... But I'm not saying anything new," he realised. "I bet you've made an acquaintance with them when you had a leg fracture...?"

Rosapelo nodded... and the silence fell again in the room. Law frantically wondered what he should say, but, before he thought of something lucid, his patients asked in the very same quiet voice, "Law-san... Why did you save me then?"

Law felt his skin started to crawl... but he knew speaking of that couldn't be avoided, no matter how much he wished that. He hadn't managed to delay it, so he could as well give up. His memory returned to the situation from two weeks earlier, when he'd brought the boy from the ice in the very last moment, preventing his death.

"Because I won't have anyone die here," he answered in a calm tone.

Rosapelo pulled his knees up; he was still staring at the cover. "Why?" he asked again.

"I'm a doctor and a director in this hospital, and it came into being in order to save lives," Law replied, and the boy hunched at that answer. "But I told you the other day that it wasn't about statistics or my pride. I would've acted the same way if it had happened in a different place, too."

"Why?"

Law suppressed his irritation. "Because I... believe in life," he said, although it was a half-lie, at least, yet he continued, "I believe that it's better to stay alive and find out that something good can happen again, and it undoubtedly will. The longer one lives, the more good things can happen to them. Kids... kids shouldn't kill themselves," he added in a lower voice.

Rosapelo's fingers clutched at on the linen. "Something good?" he whispered. "I don't deserve 'something good'."

Law clenched his teeth, and his chest ached him as a warning. He already had enough of this conversation... but he couldn't exactly get up and flee. Not after he'd promised the boy to spend the whole day with him. And not after he'd promised to always listen him out.

"That's not true," he said calmly.

Rosapelo raised his head and cast him a look that Law interpreted as 'What do you know?'. Then, however, the boy lowered his gaze again and said nothing. Law was under that terrible impression he just had to keep talking, for silence was an enemy. Yet, how could he convince Rosapelo? How could he make the boy to believe in himself, if this very moment the teenager apparently regarded himself damned and deserving to die...? Law knew that feeling, he knew it all too well... That time, long ago, no words could have convinced him he'd been wrong. That time, long ago, he would have laughed at anyone telling him he hadn't been such a bad person he'd considered himself to be.

Only, it hit him, Rosapelo wasn't a bad person, and certainly not as bad as he considered himself to be. That was how the two of them differed. Law had had all the reason to believe he'd been the one to blame, but Rosapelo wasn't at fault. For anything. And maybe it was this belief that gave him strength to continue with this conversation, for it was quite hard to face a kid who baselessly plunged into remorse and thought of himself that bad.

"Pelo, you told me yesterday that it's your fault your mom... your mom died. Why do you think so?" he asked in a composed voice.

The boy lowered his head even more. He remained silent, so Law had to go on.

"As far as I know, your mom died during the storm. I can't quite grasp how it should be your fault," he said firmly. "Even if you had the power to generate storms, I'm perfectly sure you wouldn't bring harm upon your mom. Am I wrong?"

Rosapelo hunched more and then slightly shook his head. "But..."

"But what?" Law asked patiently.

"She was coming here with me," the boy whispered. "Because I was ill, she wanted to bring me here. If I'd been healthy, it wouldn't have happened."

Law suppressed a sigh. "Pelo, as a doctor... As the best doctor in the world, let me tell you that the man can't be blamed for falling ill," he said with conviction, although he knew that some illnesses could be avoided with a healthy lifestyle; it didn't matter in this case.

"If I'd been more careful... I wouldn't have broken my arm again," Rosapelo whispered. "Then I wouldn't have needed to go to the hospital."

Law had no idea why the boy and his mother had boarded the ship to Raftel in that storm, in the first place. It had carried critically ill patients and the staff tending to them... and those whose health hadn't been at risk, but they'd forced the crew to take them. But Rosapelo's mother hadn't seem to be someone capable of it... rather, she'd boarded the ship by accident. That, however, was something that the boy didn't need to hear.

"Pelo, it's not your fault that you broke your arm," Law said with emphasis. "You didn't do it on purpose, right? Fractures usually happen by accident. As for your mom..." He took a deep breath. "Of course she wanted to take you to the hospital. It's natural for parents to care about their children. I can't imagine any mother just look at her child's suffering and not take them to a doctor. Your mom did as her heart told her, and it probably didn't even occur to her to do otherwise."

Rosapelo pressed his face to his knees and put his arms around his head.

"I didn't want her to die," he whispered in the linen.

"I know that. We all know that. Only..." Law clenched his fingers on the fabric of his trousers. "It already happened. We can't turn back the time, no matter how we'd like to."

The boy remained silent, and Law let him. He was mad at himself... he didn't know how to have this conversation. Whatever he said, it wouldn't really matter... and he felt terrible about it. Helpless. He wasn't accustomed to this feeling... In the Corazon Memorial Hospital, there was no place for helplessness, as there was no right for defeat. Now he realised that for the last thirteen years he'd been living in some kind of a bubble. Surrounded only by people's joy and defeating death over and over again, he'd forgotten that unhappiness existed in the world, too. Of course, it had been a conscious choice, to an extent: long ago, on a small island in the North Blue, he'd decided he would never again let anyone take away his freedom and control over his life. He'd decided that, conversely, he would be the one setting the terms and being in the control. Here, on Raftel, he'd got the chance to finally shape the reality according his own desire, to be a lord and a master, to never give in to hopelessness and suffering again... no, to never come in touch with them... or, if forced to, only at a safe distance.

Now that distance had been suddenly crossed when a boy with his tragedy had invaded his life, and Law couldn't do anything to cut himself off it - he just had to accept it, worked it over and win.

He blinked.

Yes, win. Even if he felt helpless now, it wasn't like he planned to give up. Besides... he'd promised Rosapelo he wouldn't turn his back on him. He'd promised it to himself, too. And Rosapelo, for some reason, had chosen him, Trafalgar Law, to stand by him in that moment of loss and despair. So Law had to be here, stay here as long as it took, until Rosapelo no longer needed him, until he got back on his feet, recovered, regained his inner strength and became ready to live on. Law couldn't surrender to hopelessness. Even if all he could was to accompany the boy through that pain - and repeat the words whose truth he didn't entirely trust - he had to believe that it mattered. Even though his nature wanted to fight, he had to accept that fight would happen on Rosapelo's terms.

The boy leaned back on the pillow again and turned his face to the window. "I thought it was just a dream," he whispered. "That mom was still alive. I wanted to believe it. I told myself I'd been sick and imagined all that... but deep inside I knew... I felt it was true. No dream could be so painful," he uttered. "Besides... Mom was always by my side when I was sick. And now she wasn't there, she didn't come even once... So I knew it wasn't a dream."

Law pressed his lips with a sudden, absurd feeling he should just vanish. Rosapelo might as well say, 'It's not you who should be here'. He didn't feel offended; no, he understood perfectly it would be fair. Of course Rosapelo didn't need him, a stranger; he wanted his own mother.

And that was why the only thing Law could say was, "I'm sorry for her. I wished she lived. I'm sorry we couldn't save her. If only..."

'If only the help had arrived one minute later. If only they had rescued her and brought to Raftel... I could have saved her.' He realised saying that was pointless. Such words wouldn't benefit anyone, they would only hurt Rosapelo even more.

"They told me that... when we were found, she was hugging me," the boy said quietly, and Law felt his racing heart leap in his chest.

"Then, she saved your life," he replied right away, revising his knowledge in his medical mind. They told him that the boy's mother had drown, but it could be wrong. It could be that she'd died hit by something heavy when she'd tried to protect her child. The blow had been strong enough to kill her and break the boy's fragile frame but not kill him, for her body had softened the shock. "When you came here, almost every bone in your body was in little pieces. All except your skull. Your head didn't suffer any injury, so probably your mom protected you. Until the very end, she tried to keep you from harm."

Rosapelo turned to him. There was that blank expression on his face again, that emptiness that had accompanied him for the last two weeks: that final defence against suffering that one couldn't defend against in any other way. Law wanted to smash that mask, for he knew that emptiness equalled death. To suffer meant to live.

"She loved you," he said calmly, solemnly, firmly, never taking his eyes off the boy.

Rosapelo's blue eyes filled with tears, and the boy pressed his eyelids shut and bit his lips, then pressed his both hands to his face. A silent sob shook his body. Law felt something break inside him, too... filling his chest with hot emotion that he considered as relief, at first. He put one hand on the boy's shoulder to offer him his support, and said no more.

He looked at the window and saw it was snowing. A shiver ran down his spine. He quickly averted his eyes from that sight, but his heart beat painfully, and suddenly he saw another island buried with snow, where someone who should have been a stranger had told him 'I love you' and given his life in the name of that life, for nothing.

"Your mom loved you," he uttered, forcing himself to return to reality. There was no place for his own tragedy here, especially when his and Rosapelo's cases were so different. He had to speak, had to convince the boy, had to pass those important things to him, even if he couldn't remedy his loss. His head was spinning, and his heart was beating so violently it hurt, but the words would just flow, coming from his very core that fully believed in that. "Every mother loves her child. She couldn't have done otherwise. She wished the best for you, even at the cost of her harm. I'm sure she didn't want to leave you. I know how important you were to her. I saw it myself, how she cared about you when you were here. I'm sure she wanted to stay with you... but when she had to make the choice between you and her, then she didn't even think about it. That's how parents are: they always put their children's good over their own," he spoke until his throat clenched and he stopped, unable to say any more.

Why did it all sound so familiar? Why did it sound like Cora-san, no matter how many times he repeated to himself it had been another case...? After all, Cora-san and him, they were two strangers... they'd had no obligations to each other... no bonds... Right?

He was under the impression he was trying to lie to himself, but it wasn't significant now, for no matter what reasons had driven Cora-san, one thing he and Rosapelo had in common: they'd lost someone they'd loved more than anything... For ever, they'd lost the most important - or maybe even the only important - person. And Law knew that he felt for the boy... but even stronger was that pain that was now clenching his heart and almost made it impossible to breathe. Yes, to suffer meant to live, he'd just told it himself, but...

His shoulders hunched when he lowered his head and cringed in the chair from that unbearable pain that seemed to be tearing him to pieces. That was why he'd forbid himself to ever recall Corazon and had decided to never bring forth the events from the cursed Minion. That was why he'd been avoiding situations that might remind him of that tragedy from a quarter of century ago and had never told anyone about it how his new life had started. He'd known that pain had been so strong it could destroy him... and felt mad at Rosapelo to have made him experience it... but that anger was completely out of place and quickly faded in suffering that obscured everything.

Some rational part of him knew he should collect himself, continue the conversation... but how could he do it when feeling as if his heart, lungs and throat had been pierced and even the Ope Ope no Mi couldn't make them function normally...? He could only sit down like that, leaning forwards and pressing one hand to his chest and the other to his face, biting his lips and keeping his eyelids shut. Wondering if the world would never be normal again. This very moment it seemed completely impossible.

He was paralysed but fully conscious, which was a curse, for his consciousness was prison of pain and couldn't break free. He'd always known his mind was his most precious treasure... and his greatest enemy. He couldn't turn off his thoughts... and now, for the first time in his life, it occurred to him that maybe he should have shared his past with others, instead of holding the events from Minion inside and never speak of them. If he had, then maybe over those twenty-six years he would have managed to somehow accept what had happened, to come to terms with it, to work through his despair and pain and finally integrate them with his psyche... instead of having cuf himself off from them and risk that when they struck again, they would do it with equally great power as in the beginning. But he hadn't had courage, not that time, nor later. The sole time when he'd reached to his memories and told that story to Sengoku-san thirteen years ago, it had shaken him so much that he'd closed them in the innermost part of his mind again. He'd concluded that if he hadn't managed to get used to his loss for the thirteen years, then it would never happen, and he'd given up on trying. And so another thirteen years passed... And nothing had changed, indeed...

Thirteen years from now... Would everything be the same, too? Did he really want it...? He didn't... but this very moment he couldn't quite imagine his future, for pain was still crushing his body, and suffering was flooding his mind. It overtook his all conscience. It convinced that everything was pointless... and that there was one definite way to solve all his problems... He knew it well, that voice whispering to him now that it was so easy to stop his heart from beating using the Ope Ope no Mi... He'd fought many fights with it, winning every one of them... but that voice would never disappear for good, it would always come back at some point, to persuade and tempt, and Law wasn't at all certain he wouldn't succumb to it one day...

One day? Why not today...?

"Good mor- My, what's happened here?" Clione's voice broke through the rush of blood in the ears as the psychiatrist approached Rosapelo's bed, clicking his heels.

Law's head snapped up, as he straightened up in the chair with a gasp. Lost in the lowest levels of his mind, he hadn't even heard Clione entering... and bringing him back to the world, to the reality, to life. To Rosapelo, who was still sitting with his knees up and face buried in his hands. He was no longer sobbing, but his whole figure expressed despair that might break him completely, and it was an unbearable sight.

Law pressed his lips... and then, in a sudden determination, he moved onto the bed edge and put his both hands on the boy's shoulders. They were trembling just a little.

"Pelo, listen to me," he said, paying no attention to Clione. "I know how you feel and what you think now. I really know... I really know those thoughts and feelings. As if the world ended, as if there were no joy happiness anymore, as if it were the best to just die. I know how it is when you feel the worst... the most wretched man in the world... when you suffer so much that death seems the only good solution. I promised to never bother you with my own past... but, after all, I want you to hear about it, for..." He hesitated. "For maybe it will make you feel better, even just a little," he finished quite awkwardly.

His heart was still aching, but it was working, beating fast and persistently, never giving up. He took a deep breath, without averting his eyes from Rosapelo, although what he could see was mostly the boy's hair. To tell the truth, what he had before his eyes was a scenery coated with silvery white and about to turn in hell. Whiteness couldn't be trusted, it always brought evil... except, perhaps, the white of a doctor's coat.

"As I told you yesterday, I come from the North Blue," he started to talk, quickly so that he wouldn't change his mind, and in a crisp voice, when he could still muster it. "I was born in Flevance, a small country that was called the White City. You don't need to know its location; it's no longer on any maps, as it was destroyed long before your birth. It was a beautiful place, and very rich, both because of a mineral that resembled silver that had been mined there... White Lead, also called Amber Lead." He gulped and forced himself to continue. Amber Lead couldn't hurt him. "It was in soil, in water, in plants, everywhere. Can you imagine that? Everything shone in white: houses, trees, fields... It was a magic scenery, one you could never forget... That's where I was born and spent my childhood. My parents were doctors and kept the country's biggest hospital. They had vast knowledge and were respected by everyone, but above all they were good people who wanted to help every suffering person. I also had a little sister, Lami..."

He realised his fingers were digging in Rosapelo's shoulder, although the boy made no sound, and released his grip, hard as it was, for it seemed to him that his body was so tense he could barely control it. Yet, he couldn't wonder about his own sensations, he just had to keep talking, as long as he was able.

"I had wonderful childhood and a great family, caring patents and lovely sister. I had friends, and I could study medicine, my real passion. That time, I believed that a doctor could overcome every misery and help anyone... My mother was such a warm and compassionate person, she always smiled, and the patients loved her, just like Lami and I... My father was an undefeated hero in my eyes, he was a doctor fully involved in his work and science, but also an optimistic and caring man. I admired him and wanted to be like him, work with him in the hospital and cure the ill ones, help those who needed my help. I was sure it would one day come true, but..."

He stopped. A sea of flame spread before his eyes, engulfing his dreams and his childhood... taking away everything along with his humanity. Turning him in a monster.

"When I was ten years old, everything ended," he went on, in a quiet voice. "I told you about it, didn't I? About my illness and what happened to my countrymen. People of Flevance started to fall ill one after another and then die. It was the fault of Amber Lead, that had been accumulating in the human bodies for a very long time, until it finally began to give symptoms. Everyone in Flevance was poisoned by it, everyone carried Amber Lead in their body and would fall ill and die sooner or later. That time, however, no-one really knew the cause of the symptoms, and most of the people decided it was some kind of lethal epidemic disease... a plague that couldn't be cured. That's why, instead of sending help, neighbouring countries sent their armies to... kill all the ill... kill all citizens of Flevance," he whispered.

He was able to talk about it because he'd managed to come to terms with that tragedy. No matter how cruel and unjust, he'd managed to work with it and integrate... accept it as a part of his history and his life. He'd managed to, deep inside, say goodbye to his parents and sister, to his friends from the home city. He couldn't help their death. Whatever he might have done that time, he couldn't have prevented it; he could only run away and try to survive on himself.

What also helped him in telling this story was that, after the revolution, the truth about the White City had been revealed to the public. People had learned that White Lead was toxic when raw. That the World Government had withheld the information and had allowed the ore to be mined. That the residents of Flevance could have been helped, but instead they'd been sentenced to death. It was Sengoku-san, who had started the process that had led to rehabilitation of the White City. And even though it couldn't help or compensate to anyone, at least history had been corrected and lies had been replaced by the truth. In the ruins of Flevance, a monument to the victims of Amber Lead and massacre had been erected, commemorating a country that had been destroyed by others... and Law, despite having never told anyone about his past and never returned to his homeland, was grateful for that.

"I managed to escape," he resumed talking, trying not to think of the whole string of nightmares he'd gone through before coming to Doflamingo, "but I knew I was terminally ill. I knew I had no longer than three years of life. When I was ten, I knew I would die within three years. There was no cure for me. My time had been counted, and my life had been circled with a thick line with only death beyond it. No man should know the time of their death, something like that deprives of hope and sense... In my case, knowing that turned me into a monster... All I wished for, in that short time I still had, was to hurt others, destroy and kill, I wanted to take revenge, repay for my misfortune, make others suffer like I had, everyone I could reach. That's why I joined a pirate crew... I joined a man who was a devil himself and whom I still consider as the most evil creature in the world. I joined him, for I wanted to be and I was almost like he, who desired only to destroy everything and make people suffer. In his evil, he seemed to me someone that I should follow, as if he could show me the way and give me a licence for mindless destruction."

Hot emotion of hatred filled his heart, and his breath quickened. For all those years that had passed, he still couldn't stop hating Doflamingo, and he guessed he would never stop. He also knew that, if not for Doflamingo, all that hatred would have focused on himself. He pressed his lips and resumed his story.

"I turned really bad. I don't know if a more villainous kid has ever existed. I was a part of the criminal group that cared little about human life, so you can imagine what I did... what I used to do. By twelve, I was evil to the core, and I knew that. Yes, I was a monster... I hope you will never meet one, Pelo. Monsters leaves only damage and wrong behind, for they are incapable of any warm feelings and can only hate. I hated the world, people, and, above all, myself, for I believed that I deserved only hatred. But..."

He paused. His throat clenched with pain, and the vocal cords were like paralysed, unable to produce a sound. He lowered his gaze and put his hands from Rosapelo's shoulders, hunching. Memory of what had happened later would always make him defenceless. Hatred gave strength to fight, at leat for a moment, but the good received... it disarmed and made every attempt at guarding oneself impossible. One could protest against the harm, but how could you resist the kindness...? One could only accept it. And even though this story was a story of victory, from a certain point of view, for him it had been the cause of his greatest despair... and even now, after all those years, a quarter of century later, he realised he wished to reverse it, undone it, prevent it from happening... if he only could. But he couldn't.

"I was a monster and would die as a monster," he resumed after a moment, when he could talk again, although he heard that his voice was trembling... He was trembling all over inside, and his heart was clenching with terrible pain, but there was some drop of sweetness in that pain, too. As if, through the tears, he could see someone smiling. "But then an angel appeared to save me," he whispered, his eyes fixed at his hands. "It was a very strange angel. He was wearing a black feathers cloak, smoked cigarettes one after another, stumbled over his own legs all the time, and had a freaky smile painted on his face. But the strangest thing about him was that he was a blood brother of the devil whose crew I had joined. The devil dressed up in bright plumes and pretended to be a nice guy. The angel had black wings and seemed to be a grim, scary freak... but in fact, he was the best man in the world."

His voice failed him again, and he spent a longer while swallowing down in order to have the grip on his throat released. He realised he wished to run away... but he forced himself to stay. He'd decided to tell the story to help Rosapelo, he reminded himself. He'd already started; he couldn't just stop in the middle, no matter how hard... how painful it was. Yes, he was doing it for Rosapelo, who... who, in the meantime, had raised his head and was staring at him with his reddened eyes, ready to lower his gaze any moment and plunge into despair again. Law wanted to smile at him... but if he moved a single muscle in his face, then... then...

He pressed his lips, then inhaled deeply and slowly breathed out. His heart was pulsating with a familiar pain, but it was under control... everything was under control. He could do it, could talk again.

"The angel took me from the devil and set off for a journey with me," he said quietly, almost in a whisper. "It wasn't a trip, though, only a hopeless pilgrimage through the hospitals in the North Blue in order to find a cure for the Amber Lead Syndrome. He wasn't bothered by the evil in me, he didn't care in the slightest about me being a monster who had forgotten how to be a human. He saw me only as a kid and took care of me like a kid, even though I didn't want it. I hated all people and him too, I even tried to kill him... He brushed it off as it didn't matter. He was determined to save me, and nothing could persuade him otherwise, even though only a miracle could save me. But you know what, Pelo? He created that miracle," he said with inspiration. "If nor for him, you and I would've never met, for I would've died at the age of thirteen far from here, in the North Blue..."

He looked at his hands again. His fingers were trembling, so he clenched his fists and put them on his lap. He glanced at Rosapelo, who was observing him and blinking occasionally, then fixed his eyes on the wall over the boy's head. Before his eyes, there was again the scenery of Minion buried in snow, an island that had become a place of end and beginning for him.

"I told you it was thanks to the Ope Ope no Mi that I'd managed to recover, to get rid of the death sentence and to prolong my life that should have end soon. It was my angel that got the Ope Ope no Mi for me with his bare hands. He snatched it from his devil-brother's very nose, and only to cure me, just like he'd decided. He didn't care about anything, the least about his own good, he only realised his plan to help me."

He lowered his head again and had to gulp down some more in order to be able to continue talking. He was astonished that his heart was still in one piece and beating strongly, for he was certain one could die of such pain.

"But you know what, Pelo? At that point, I no longer believed I could be saved," he confessed. "I was sure I would die... but I didn't care about it anymore. Even if my body couldn't be cured, then... at least my soul had been healed. See, during that journey on the seas of the North Blue, during those six months, as we futilely visited islands and hospitals, I found something good in place of hatred and destroying. I found someone who became important to me. Someone I got attached to... and loved... I, who had thought I would never want anyone again," he whispered. "And yet he became my all world, obscuring everything else. I only wished I could stay by his side until I die. He promised me... promised that once it was all over, we would run away together and no-one would find us. I don't know if I believed that... after all, I was about to die... but I do know I was happy when he said it."

He pressed one hand to his face and closed his eyes. Under his eyelids, he could still see the merciless snow falling, covering everything with hateful white like a shroud. Minion. The cursed island of death and life.

"But it couldn't have such an end," he went on, although now he had to force every word out. He kept his eyes closed. "For the angel really outwitted the devil, took away the Ope Ope no Mi and restored my life. Until the very end, he protected me with his wings, guarded me from the evil... from his brother. Until the very end, he thought only of me and cared about me, before dying at the monster's hand... He died with a smile, for he knew he saved me for ever. The man whom I'd admired brought me misery and despair... and the man whom I'd hated gave his life for me."

He pressed one hand to his chest, as if it could ease the pain bursting it from the inside. His head was spinning, the images were moving before his eyes like a film, only unsorted, chaotic, without chronology, occasionally flashing with a crazy, loving smile. He felt he would go mad any moment, and asked himself how he'd managed to retain his sanity for all those years... for he had, even if some wounds in his soul had never healed, and others had left scars that had twisted his psyche for ever.

"I almost went crazy," he said and was amazed he still could. "It seemed to me that the whole world had gone crazy and everything was not like it should be. The only thing that mattered was that I'd lost someone who'd become my family... someone I'd loved and hadn't wanted to lose, not him, even if everything else ceased to be. But suddenly he was no longer there, and I was all alone... with my new life... that didn't mean a thing to me... had no value," he confessed. "Pelo, that time on... That time, on that cursed island where all that happened, I wanted to die, for I knew it was my fault... It was I who'd brought death upon him. But, at the same time, I knew I had to live in order to not waste that gift I'd received from him." How dry, how dead those words sounded in his mouth... just like that moment when his childhood had definitely ended. "I knew I had to survive and live for him, too. Since he'd given everything to save me, it would mean to be disrespectful to him to reject the gift of life, forsake what he'd got for me. It was the one thing I couldn't do, no matter how I wished to die... And I did wish to die terribly," he added in a stifled whisper.

He lifted his eyelids and looked at Rosapelo, who looked back. His blue eyes were wide open and fixed on him.

"So, Pelo, I know exactly, exactly like you feel. I know how it is to lose the only one... the last beloved person in the world. I know how it is to blame oneself for their death. I know how it is to wish only for death," he said with emphasis. "And yet I survived... until this very day."

Rosapelo squinted, and his lips twitched.

"How...?" he asked so quietly that he could be barely heard.

And Law felt that under that gaze and that desperate question, and that begging that was also sympathetic, the last barriers that were still inside him fell down. He pressed his lips together, blinked a few times... and then he felt something wet on his cheeks... He quickly wiped his face and sniffed, but it didn't help; he couldn't stop the tears. He hadn't cried since Minion... he'd promised himself to never cry again... and now he couldn't stop...! He shut his eyes tight, hoping it to help him check himself, and then covered his face with one hand.

With some part of his mind - after all, even in the greatest shock he never lose the ability of logical thinking, not for long anyway - he realised he couldn't act like that... It wasn't even about an adult man snivelling like a kid before the eyes of a kid who needed strength and assurance, not weakness. He should convince Rosapelo that it was worth living, but he wouldn't do it showing him his own despair... showing him how he still suffered, even after a quarter of a century had passed...! No, it was the worst thing to do. He had to calm down at once... get himself under control. Damn it, he was Trafalgar Law, the director of the Co-

A new wave of pain pierced his chest... and suddenly he had a frightening impression he wouldn't be able to regain his balance, no matter how hard he tried. He'd always had a control, he had to have it...! The vision of being at others' mercy was a nightmare... and now, this very moment, it seemed to turn real...!

He felt a touch on his hair, and his head snapped up. Rosapelo's hand stopped in the mid-air and then was taken back, and the boy looked away. Law blinked, surprised. The thought he had to be consoled by a thirteen-year-old boy was so absurd he finally managed to collect himself... and then he corrected: Rosapelo had probably been scared by his outburst and tried to check out if he was all right. He took a few deep breaths. Tears finally stopped to flow.

"Sorry," he rushed to assure. "I'm fine. I'm sorry for scaring you, Pelo."

The boy glanced at him and knitted his brows, and something flashed in his eyes, something akin to... an offence? Law blinked... and then breathed deeply again. He had to resume the conversation, he couldn't stop it halfway through. Rosapelo asked how he'd managed to survive... Well, that was quite easy.

"I turned my life into a tribute to the man that had saved me," he replied. "Everything I've done since then was to express my gratitude... and make the best use of what he gave me. And make him live on... even for the people who never met him."

Rosapelo looked at him, frowning all the time, but Law only shook his head and closed his eyes. His throat clenched again. He didn't want to cry, yet he was aware that, if he answered that unspoken question, it would undoubtedly happen. That was why ha chose silence, despite knowing it was bad.

"Do you remember the name of this hospital?" Clione's voice was to be heard.

Law had completely forgotten about the psychiatrist. He twitched, opened his eyes and turned around to look at him. Clione was sitting in the nurse's chair. He seemed to be perfectly calm, but there was unusual tension about him, visible in his straightened back and fingers clutching at the fabric of his white coat. There was no emotion on his face, as it wasn't in the words he'd just spoken, and his gaze was fully focused and penetrating... but when one looked closer, they could see that, even though the make-up was intact, the slate-blue eyes were glistening unnaturally, as if he was close to tears himself. Clione wasn't someone to become easily moved - rather, Law saw him on the opposite pole of the spectrum - but he was capable of it just like any normal person, he just could hide it well.

"The Corazon... Memorial Hospital...?" Rosapelo said quietly, and Law turned to him again. "Your angel... was called Corazon?"

One nod was everything Law could afford; it took all his strength to prevent the new tears. To tell the truth, he was under the impression that a steamroller had run over him... and yet, he realised, he was still alive. The world hadn't ended, the reality hadn't collapsed... and the pain hadn't crushed him completely. He blinked in astonishment, staring at the blue eyes in front of him. He felt as if the clouds opened and a single ray of sunlight came out, reminding that hope died last. Only after a moment he understood it was... relief that didn't result from the fact he'd finished his story. Despite all suffering this conversation had brought him, now he really felt relieved.

And it seemed that Rosapelo, if only for a moment, had managed to forget about his own sorrow, his own tragedy... No, 'forget" wasn't a right word; he'd just managed to focus on something else. And if it really was so, then that honest confession wasn't pointless... and Law couldn't regret it... right?

He knew he didn't regret.

"You're the first man I've ever told about," he muttered without thinking. "Though that one over there," he waved his hand at Clione, suddenly remembering the talk the two of them had several months ago, "guessed everything long ago," he added ironically.

"Not everything," the head of the Seven corrected, which Law dismissed with another wave. "But, I'm not going to disturb you," Clione said the next moment and rose from the chair.

Instead of leaving, however, he stood by the bed for a longer while until Law felt annoyed and glared at him. "What...?" he grunted. "If you want to say something, then just say it."

The psychiatrist, however, only shook his head and kept staring at him, and now his gaze was only warm and compassionate. Then Clione squeezed his shoulder and ran away. Distractedly, Law wondered if it meant that he would be spared psychoanalysis from now on... and came to the ironic conclusion he would probably miss it.

He stared at the window. Snowstorm had ended already, although the white clouds over the grey sea didn't bode well in regard to the weather, but he didn't care. Snow couldn't hurt him, not now, nor before... and spring was close. And when he was looking at the coastal scenery of Raftel, he realised that with every passing second, with every breath and beat of heart, he was regaining his strength, even though he'd felt so weak not so long ago... even though he'd felt like a thirteen-year-old boy wronged by his fate, who couldn't console anyone, to say nothing of helping. Yet, it had passed, leaving him with the sense of victory. It was a strange victory, paid with tears and terrible suffering, but it was incontrovertible, for he'd survived. Just like that time, a quarter of century ago, he'd stayed alive - hadn't yielded either to the lethal disease or deep despair - now, too, he wouldn't let pain break him, obliterate him. He didn't need anything else to return to his familiar reality and continue his life as he had so far.

He turned his head and looked at Rosapelo again. The boy was sitting in the very same position as before, with his knees pulled up, ready to cover his face with his hands, ready to withdraw into himself any minute. His eyelids were swollen, and his conjunctives were red from crying, but he was no longer crying, only staring at Law intently. On the spur of the moment, Law put one hand on his head.

"I don't know if you wanted to listen to that... but thanks for listening anyway," he said in a low voice. "It wasn't a nice story, and I'm sorry if it made you uncomfortable," he added, but Rosapelo shook his head, which made Law suddenly smile. "You're a good kid," he muttered and tousled his hair before pulling back his hand and becoming serious again. "I didn't tell it to make you compare... to think, like, 'He had it worse than I, so I shouldn't be so down'. Nothing of this kind, don't you ever think that way. Your own misfortune can't be compared with someone else's... and mustn't be depreciated, either," he said in a firm tone. "I did it to make you know that there's someone who really understands you... who sympathises with you. I don't know if it helps you... after all, it can't change the past, and I suspect that you only wish you could change the past... give life back to your mom... But I think that knowing it, knowing that someone experienced something similar, could ease your sorrow just a bit. Knowing that you're not completely alone, like a different kind of a human, separated from the rest with the wall of misunderstanding. I understand you. And I'll stay with you as long as you need me," he declared, "if you want me to."

The boy blinked several times and then nodded. Law smiled again. Something tickled him in the chest, filling it with warmth. He realised it was the very first positive emotion in a longer while. Despite that, when he continued, there was some hesitance to his words.

"There's one more reason why I told you about it, Pelo... Maybe my story... and my person can show you that even after a tragedy... after a loss that's hard to accept... That even then you can live on... and enjoy your life, experience happiness... It may sounds completely impossible at this point... but look at me. I'm the best example that you may succeed," he said with emphasis. "I have my life here, I have this hospital, I have something I can be proud of and satisfied with. I never recall my past; instead, I focus on what is now and what is yet to come. That time, twenty-six years ago, I could and wanted to die... but instead I decided to live on, and..."

He stopped. He should say, 'And I don't regret it', but... He wasn't sure if it wouldn't be a base lie. It seemed to him he'd let quite many lies out of his mouth today, and if not lies, then at least not entirely honest and truthful confessions, and he didn't want to add yet another one.

"I've helped many, many people," he said instead. "I've managed to do something good for others. And I know I'm not finished yet. I know that I'll be curing and helping people as long as I live... I can't do much more... nor am I the best man in the world, Pelo, but if I can bring some good to this world... then I say myself it's enough. And if one day I manage to meet the man who saved me, again, then I wouldn't have to be ashamed for having wasted his gift. That's why..."

He lowered his head so that his eyes and Rosapelo's eyes were on the same level, and when he resumed talking, his voice was just a whisper.

"That's why you too, Pelo, shouldn't waste the gift you got from your mom. Even if now your life has no value to you and seems only a suffering... just think that your mom wanted to save you, wanted you to live at all cost. That was her greatest wish, and she did everything to realise it, there's no doubt about it."

He straightened his back and looked up - where else should he seek for Heavens if not up there...?

"I have no idea if we meet with our beloved ones after death... but if we do, I think we can't risk, only do our best to be able to face them with out heads up... without fear of being scolded. Only living on we can repay them... even if we somehow, involuntarily contributed to their death," he finished softly and then looked at the boy again.

Once more, Rosapelo's eyes filled with tears, and his lips curved in a silent complaint. He covered his face and cried silently... and Law told himself that crying was a progress, in order to not feel so helpless. He put one hand on the boy's shoulder to wordlessly support him now and wondered if the same could be told in his own case, too. He remembered that, having finished his story, he'd felt relieved, although earlier he'd been so certain he would feel worse. But, he asked himself, was it possible to feel even worse? Probably not. He couldn't imagine anything worse might happened to him after the tragedies he'd experienced, and his imagination had been always wild.

Still, he didn't have enough courage to believe that any recovery might still happen in him. Not at his age, not at this stage. Scars were to stay in his soul for ever, he couldn't remove them and replace with healthy tissue. The events from his past had shaped him, and there was no way to revert it. No, there was no hope for him... but things were different for Rosapelo. It was the boy he should focus on and help recover, both physically and psychologically, so that he could return on the right path of his life, hurt but not changed.

Finally, sobbing ceased to shake Rosapelo's body. The boy sniffed for the last time - Law thought he should provide him with the packet of soft tissues - and wiped his face with his hand. He stared at the cover for a longer while until he finally glanced briefly at Law before averting his gaze right away. His blue eyes were still glistening.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered.

"Hey, there's no need for that," Law replied, squeezing his arm lightly. "Cry as much as you wish. It will help you..."

"Law-san...?"

"Yes?"

"Are you really... going to stay?" Rosapelo asked in a choked whisper.

"That's what I promised to you," Law confirmed.

"Why?"

Law felt his lips twitch. "Are we going to have the festival of 'why', again...?" he threw, but as the boy hunched, he added quickly, "I want to help you... for I think you need someone to help you now." Someone I didn't have... Although I could have; I just didn't let them, he thought. "Will you let me, Pelo?"

The boy said nothing.

"But you do want me to stay?"

Now Rosapelo nodded, just like before.

"Why?" it was Law's turn to ask, although he hadn't planned it... but he knew it puzzled him, and once he started, it was hard to stop. "Why me, Pelo? Why did you want to speak... to contact only with me? Why not Clione or his staff...? I know that you didn't react to their voices at all, I checked it using the Ope Ope no Mi... only to mine."

The boy kept silent for a longer while, as if he was thinking of it. When he raised his head, there was a vertical wrinkle on his forehead. "I don't know," he finally said, and Law told himself it wasn't the right time to feel disappointed. "I just... I thought I knew... your voice...?"

Law blinked. So, he'd been right about it; he'd been printed in Rosapelo's memory to such an extent that even catatonia couldn't throw him out of the boy's psyche. He was mortified.

"You mean... That day, in my office, two weeks ago... I scared you so much that you got..." He stopped. He didn't want to say 'trauma', while it was this word he thought of.

Rosapelo gave him a hesitating look and then slowly shook his head. "You didn't scare me," he replied quietly.

"Phew, that's some relief," Law muttered in affectation, although, in fact, he was under terrible pressure.

Rosapelo straightened up in the bed. "I wasn't scared of you... never," he said as if he wished to clear some misunderstanding.

Law felt a pang in his heart. "I'm glad. There's no need to be scared of me," he assured and tried to smile, but it came out quite weak.

He couldn't shake off the embarrassment. He'd never forgiven himself having mistreated the boy two weeks ago... Now, however, he couldn't do anything about it, he just had to somehow compensate for it to him... Well, everything he planned to do from now on, was aimed at helping Rosapelo, so maybe at some point, in some time, he would manage to forget that guilty feeling that he had every time he recalled their confrontation. He had no choice but to believe it.

"In any case, I'll stay by your side like I promised," he repeated. "If you want my help, you'll have it, Pelo. You can count on it... And I will hope that you will accept it and... And recover." He breathed deeply, for it was difficult. "What I want the most, though, is that you could promise me you won't hurt yourself... Well, I'd like you to assure me you're going to live... but I realise you must make the decision yourself... not that Clione made it any easier," he added with a sneer.

Rosapelo stared at him again, his brows still knitted, and then turned to the window.

"But I eat," he muttered, clenching his fingers on the cover.

Law blinked. Was the boy saying that...?

"And I promised you that I won't do anything," Rosapelo added even more quietly.

"When?"

"Then, two weeks ago..."

"Two weeks...?" Now it was Law who frowned, but his perfect memory offered the right image immediately. "Oh."

He was staring at the boy's profile in blank astonishment. 'I'll let you go if you promise you won't do anything', he'd said, and Rosapelo had nodded. But... Law had meant only that moment, hadn't thought of anything else... and the boy had applied it to the whole future, too...? No, that was impossible, no normal person could understand it that way... but Rosapelo hadn't been of sound mind that time...? Had he really stuck to that promise, even though he couldn't see any sense to it, for why should he...? Law felt like moaning. Honestly, it was better to leave the psychiatric patients to Clione.

"In that case..." he spoke when he finally regained his speech and all puzzles were in their places. "I should've spared myself telling this story...?"

Rosapelo turned his head to look at him again. Under that serious stare of the blue eyes, Law frantically asked himself if he was the greatest fool in the world... or not yet.

"No," the boy finally spoke. "I feel better now... Thank you."

And Law thought that for the first time he could see something different from despair on his face: some dignity of a man who, despite uneven chances, had taken a fight and planned to give his best.

He felt so moved that he had to swallow down several times in order to contain himself. He didn't want to cry any more. Instead, he smiled at the boy, first shyly, then wider until the smile reached his eyes.

"That's good," he said simply. "I'm glad."