Angel Down Chapter 27: I Feel Fearless Now, an one piece fanfic

I Feel Fearless Now

Sanji should have been able to feel how cold the examination table was.

He should have been able to smell how many chemicals were saturating the air.

He should have been terrified at the row of injections lined up on the table next to him.

He should have looked around the room and known that very few of the instruments hung up on the walls would have benefitted a patient, or even cause them as little pain as possible.

He should have asked why a doctor had so many multi-colored tanks filled with what could only have been an alarming range of inhalants.

He should have questioned why the doctor had an apothecary at the back of the room instead of a cabinet of medically approved prescription drugs.

The Sanji who had grown to understand that the childhood he knew was imprisonment would have questioned.

The Sanji who had found strength in a city of vampire lovers would have fought.

The Sanji who had found the strength to escape would have known not to trust anyone even if he believed he couldn't trust himself.

It was arguable that that Sanji was gone.

He should have been able to hear the obvious excitement in the doctor's voice when the man talked so flippantly about everything that had transpired with Sanji—what had been done to him and what he'd done. The high voice from the doctor that flitted about the room like he'd been the biologist to find a real live mermaid should have been the biggest warning sign, but it barely drifted into Sanji's ears.

Sanji wasn't on the examination table.

Just one stale image of Zoro, dead under him, by his hands—bloody, broken, gone—sat in his mind like a cement weight on the feet of a sinking corpse.

"It's going to be all right, Sanji."

Sanji sniffed, trying to smother how much pain he was in. Marks on his body bubbled and seared like acid before the newly stretched skin pulled together over the deeper gouges, saving the less pressing openings in his body for last. But those ones hurt too.

The doctor sat beside him on the bed where Sanji had pulled his knees into his chest and was trying to convince himself out of feeling. They told him he was special. They told him he was strong. They told him he was like no other person. He had started wondering if he had superpowers a couple years ago when he saw one of the doctors wearing a bandage and asked why he had it on so long. He must have superpowers. So he could use them to not feel when they had to do tests or give him medicine.

The doctor slid his arm around Sanji's shoulder and pulled him into his chest, rubbing his shoulder gently. Sanji didn't want to say anything, but the spot where the doctor was pressing on still hurt from the shots yesterday. They told him that he was sick and he needed medicine to get better. But the shots hurt too. And they made his belly feel worse.

The doctor smelled like asphyxiation. Sanji knew what that was because one time when he was sick, he'd needed medicine and it made his lungs burn and his throat fill so he couldn't breathe. He'd woken up a while later feeling like his throat was coated in gauze. They told him he was allergic to the medicine. But they told him he was strong and he didn't let the medicine beat him. He was strong, and he could use his superpowers not to feel this pain.

He shifted and the metal cuff around his ankle clanked, pulling on the line of metal links connecting him to the bedframe. He was used to the sound, but he still didn't like it. It was heavy and cold, and it cut into his skin sometimes when he slept and made his sheets bloody. They were stiff already, and with blood dried and crusted on them it felt like he had dirt in his bed.

"Can I take this off?" Sanji asked quietly, his voice choked and barely loud enough to reach the doctor's ears. He'd asked before and the answer was always no, but he really didn't like it.

Sanji wiped his nose, smearing the residue onto his white pants. The doctor eyed the wet spot for a long time, as if he was thinking, and then shook his head. "No. Remember you started sleepwalking? We don't want you to get lost. You could end up outside the hospital."

Sanji lowered his head into his knees and took a deep breath. He asked his superpowers to hurry.

The doctor squeezed his shoulder—by accident where it hurt again—and gave him a little shake that Sanji thought was supposed to be encouraging. But he leaned to the side and tucked his head under the doctor's arm. He liked this doctor. This was the black-haired doctor. They were all "doctor," but this one hugged him after he had to have shots or swallow medicine. Some of it tasted so awful he threw up while trying to swallow and they made his belly hurt so much he cried.

"Why am I so sick?" he sucked in another shaky breathe. "I hate it. I want to be better."

The doctor gave him another light jostle. "Hey now, we're going to get you healthy. But you have to be strong, ok?"

Sanji nodded after a moment. Doctors took care of people. Doctors fixed people. This was a hospital and people came here to get better.

"You're special, Sanji. You're too strong for this sickness to beat you."

Sanji nodded. He knew it was true. He had superpowers. Nothing was going to get him.

"It's going to be all right."

A high-pitched voice made Sanji blink, and he wavered a bit, raising his head to see where the voice had come from. The white walls around him were strange, and the green… table?... underneath him was even stranger.

Zoro's deep green eyes stared vacantly back into his, asking him silently why he'd done it, why he hadn't been strong enough.

Zoro's eyes asked him if he loved him.

Sanji thought he must not if he could have killed him so easily.

"Good morning, Sanji."

Sanji turned his head into the pillow to scrub his eyes, and then pushed himself up in bed, flinching when the swelling in his arms where he'd needed to have all of those shots yesterday ached, but he felt good.

He felt really good.

"I feel better!" he crowed happily, turning to look at the doctor that had come to wake him. It was a new doctor, with long brown hair. "I feel better today!"

She smiled warmly at him and went over to the bedside table to hand him his glass of water. "That's great! I'm so glad Sanji. We're going to have you better in no time."

She sat on the end of the bed while Sanji drank the water, wincing against the protesting soreness in his arms, but he had superpowers. He knew he did. This pain was nothing.

"I'm the new doctor that was called in. They need help figuring out what's making you feel so bad all of the time. Would it be ok if I helped them to try and make you better?"

Sanji nodded, a smile pulling at his cheeks. Maybe this would be the doctor to fix him!

"Sanji," the doctor said. "Because you're feeling so good today, I'd like to run a couple of tests. Some are blood tests, so we can try to see if there is a virus or a bacterium in your body making you sick. The other tests look at your skin to see if we can see anything strange."

Sanji lowered the glass of water slowly, a slight shake in his hands starting to rise. He swallowed, begging his eyes not to start crying.

"More shots?" he asked meekly, pleading for it not to be true.

She gave him a nod, smiling sadly for him. "Just a couple, I promise."

Tears filled his eyes and spilled over down his cheeks. "My arms hurt," he whispered.

She pulled him in close and hugged him tight. This doctor hugged him too. He thought he would like this doctor.

"I'm sorry, buddy. But we have to. We're going to get you better."

"…But I always don't feel good after shots. Shots make me throw up. One time they made lights hurt my eyes—and one time they made my insides burn!" he cried.

"That's the sickness, buddy," she told him. "I know it's not easy. But you're doing great. And I'm going to stay right by your side the whole time. Ok?"

Sanji nodded after a moment and hugged her back. He was going to need extra hugs today.

"Your scarring is amaz—well, just the amount of abuse you had to handle for you skin—with such a high healing rate—is… is terrifying. We're so sorry for everything you've been put through. It's horrible when people who call themselves doctors don't have the patient's best interests in mind."

Sanji blinked. …Scarring? Sorry?

"This is cruel beyond anything I've ever seen, and frankly unprofessional and grandiose. Any true medical personnel would be ashamed to put their name on this work—err, would be ashamed to be associated with these types of practices."

One powerful, iridescent blue eye drifted up from the tile floor to find the tall man in front of him with long black hair and dressed in light pink scrubs.

…Cruel?

It was cruel.

He knew it was cruel.

Where was he?

Who was this man standing in front of him?

Where was Zoro—

Zoro's mesmerizing, hunter green eyes were like glass marbles fixed permanently straight ahead, matching the heavy limpness of his limbs draped across Sanji's lap.

The doctor held his arm as he limped back to his room, his other hand pressed against the wall to help him keep his balance. She had gloves on to keep the numerous gashes where they'd taken his skin samples from staining her skin or clothes, but he was leaving a trail of blood behind him on the floor. They always told him that it was ok, that someone else was going to clean it up. His head hurt, and the spots on his temples where he'd been shocked were burned so badly he could smell his hair smoking. They'd never done anything like that to him.

Was the sickness in his brain?

But that didn't make any sense.

They'd never looked at his brain before, and he had been in the hospital as long as he could remember.

The doctor pulled on his arm suddenly, trying to take him in another direction, but it was away from his room and he wanted to lie down so badly. He pressed the bare soles of his feet into the cold floor and held his ground, stopping her short. He was only eleven years old, but he knew he was stronger than her. He had superpowers. He'd realized over many years of seeing the doctors act and perform so differently from him that he and they were nothing alike aside from their human appearances. He was stronger, and faster, and he knew he could hear and see more than they could. He could hear them whisper about him even if he was too far away for them to know he was there. Sometimes they did it after tests or giving him his medication when they thought he was asleep. Sometimes he heard them say weird things… weird, cruel things.

The prickling skitter he always felt up the back of his shoulder when something was coming startled him, enough to let the doctor pull him another couple of steps, but he held fast when he realized she was trying to get him away from the squeaking wheels of one of the tables from the doctor's office. Sanji strained to see it. He so rarely saw other children here, though he knew the doctors took care of a lot of sick children. They told him this was a special hospital that worked on very special children who needed help. When he crossed paths with other kids they would usually smile to each other, maybe ask if the other one was feeling better, or tell each other that they were strong and special and going to get better.

He looked for the table, barely noticing the doctor yanking on his arm and trying to drag him down the hallway. She was calling for him, but he didn't care. He never got to see other kids and he wanted to and his head hurt so he didn't want to listen to her—

The table was wheeled around the corner and pushed slowly past him, a thin, white cloth draped over its contents, but the sheet was backlit, and Sanji was able to see the face of a little girl, maybe about four years old. She was the little girl who threw up blood a couple doors down from him, the only little girl that age currently in the hospital; he'd loved seeing her in the hallways, which was more often than the other kids because their rooms were so close.

"…Is she dead?" he asked quietly as the table rolled by, squeaking rhythmically as it disappeared from sight, but he could hear the squeaking long after it had left. Probably long after the doctor could hear it.

"…Yes," the doctor holding onto him admitted, loosening her grip on his arm. "She died just a little while ago."

"What happened?"

"…There… was something wrong with her stomach."

Bullshit.

The thought surprised him. He'd only heard the doctors whisper words like that when they thought he wasn't there, it was a bad word and not allowed, and he wasn't sure why it had crossed his mind.

But that little girl had been fine yesterday evening. He'd heard her out in the hall as they brought her back to her room, saying that she felt so much better and that she was going to go home soon.

Something—a smell—was distracting him. It was hanging in the back of his nose, rusty and salty. It smelled like the IV he was given every day to help replenish his blood because his body didn't produce enough.

"What was her name?"

"…What?"

Sanji turned to the doctor, his feet firm on the ground. "What was her name?"

The doctor looked at him, caught off guard, blank.

She didn't know.

"I—I wasn't on her case. I wasn't her doctor. I can find out for you."

Sanji wasn't listening.

His head hurt.

The cuts and removed skin pinched and stabbed and burned as his body healed them. They'd never needed to cut pieces of skin off before, why did they have to now? Why didn't they care how much it hurt?

The salty heat burned in his nostrils. It was… demanding him.

And he couldn't understand why they'd hurt his head when his head had never been the problem. They'd always looked at his body for the cause of his sickness.

Even as he thought that he looked down to the pool of blood collecting under his feet, taking in the numerous injuries that would only take time to heal. Hadn't they already taken more than enough skin and blood samples? Over the past years?

They had. He knew in his heart that they had more than enough of his body.

"What did you do to her?"

"…What—?"

"What did you do to her?" Sanji turned to stare at her, unblinking, daring her not to answer.

They had no reason to hurt his head.

They had no reason to cut up his body.

There was no reason for that little girl to be dead.

The doctor looked scared.

Sanji sniffed the air around him, trying to zero in on where the mouth-watering, salty, rusty smell was coming from, swiveling back and forth until his eyes finally came to rest on the doctor and her eyes widened in horror. She took a shaky step back from him.

It was her. She was the delicious smell.

A smile started to pull at the corners of his lips but he squashed the feeling, staring straight into her muddy, bland eyes, filled with fear.

She was scared of him.

She didn't smell like the other children here.

She smelled like asphyxiation.

But buried deep under that smell was the smell of blood.

Only it smelled implausibly delicious.

Was this what was in his IV? Normally they gave him the IV on a schedule, but… Sanji glanced down again at the blood pooling under his feet, taking over the floor slowly, inch by inch, encroaching on her toes and making her back away.

He didn't have enough blood.

That was it.

His eyes found the terrified doctor's again.

He could smell her blood.

He wanted it.

"Sanji."

He took a step forward.

"Sanji, we're going back to your room."

He took another step.

"Sanji."

He needed it.

A scream exploded from her mouth as Sanji lunged for her—he could see the blood pulsing under the weak veins at her neck—he needed it—he was so hungry—"Code red—!" when an alarm sounded over their heads, red light downing the hallway in the color of blood.

"Break in!" a doctor yelled over the intercom, and the doctor with Sanji looked up to the ceiling in shock. Someone had broken in? Oh god, they'd been found out.

She looked back to Sanji, but the little boy was gone, a bloody line of footprints leading past her down the hall. She hadn't even seen him run past her.

Sanji saw the emergency exit door in front of him. He'd never even seen the outside of the hospital, but he didn't care. His body ached and stung and his lungs could barely handle the strain of running from yesterday's inhaler that they'd given him that had nearly suffocated him. He could still smell the woman's blood behind him and his body screamed for him to go back—he was so hungry!—but he knew that if he turned around he might be caught. And he wasn't coming back.

They wouldn't take any more of him.

He didn't belong to them anymore.

Sanji felt fearless now.

Sanji blinked as something was handed to him and took it automatically, raising what he realized was a glass of water to his lips and drinking slowly.

Where was he?

The man in front of him had long black hair and pink scrubs. He was grinning, and Sanji couldn't figure out why.

"Sometimes when people like you get close to others—intimately speaking, that is—it makes their instincts long for the person in ways only their primal instincts can understand."

Sanji furrowed his brows, finishing the water and lowering the glass slowly.

"You have to have them, and for you, that means their blood."

Have who?

Zoro's dead eyes met Sanji's and Sanji felt his blood turn to stone in his veins, ceasing his every movement, his breath halting in his throat as he sank back out of the room and into his younger body.

Caesar watched the young man's eyes go blank again. He was almost the most suggestive patient Caesar had ever seen. He grinned and took the glass from Sanji's limp hand, setting it on the table. That particular serum would sink in over the next couple hours, taking much longer than the last one they gave to Sanji, which was much better for long term mental adjustment and made communicating with the subject much easier.

Caesar leaned over and waved a hand in front of Sanji's face, trying to catch some form of attention. He doubted Blackleg could even hear him now, but the serum should be starting to help with suggestion, so he gave it a shot.

"We're going to make you stronger, Sanji, so others like you won't have to suffer. So they won't have to do to their loved ones what you did to Roronoa."

Caesar leaned in again, as close as he could be to Sanji's ear and still watch his expression for any micro-shifts.

"Do you want to do that? Will you be willing to work with me? Be my partner in research? Help provide what we need to keep your viral status in check?"

Sanji was still for so long that Caesar started to scowl, annoyed that he'd have to wait longer to talk to the NSPH, and then Sanji nodded, slowly and stiffly. Caesar grinned and slipped his arm around Sanji's shoulder.

"Thank you, Sanji. You're very brave. You will be the hero for others like you, the reason they can sleep calmly at night, without having to fear that they will hurt the ones they care about ever again."

Sanji didn't move.

"It's going to be all right, Sanji."

"It's going to be all right, Sanji."

Sanji sniffed, trying to smother how much pain he was in. Marks on his body bubbled and seared like acid before the newly stretched skin pulled together over the deeper gouges, saving the less pressing cavities in his body for last. But those ones hurt too.

"Can he hear you?"

Caesar turned to acknowledge Doflamingo before looking back at Sanji. He snapped his fingers in front of Sanji's nose, eliciting no reaction, and then turned back to the man in the pink feather coat.

"Enough to take suggestions." He seemed pleased with himself. "He's deep in his own mind. Our setup worked quite nicely. The trigger seems to be Roronoa at the moment—even just a mention of him. Easy to understand when Blackleg was the one who slaughtered the poor bastard. But in this constant aroused state of fight or flight, he's zeroed in on anything having to do with Roronoa or the reason he's dead—being the NSPH virus. His mind can hear us." He gave Doflamingo a shrewd look. "Just ask him nicely."

Doflamingo grinned. "Good. Because we have an agreement to fulfill with Teach before we begin with the real testing."

-oOo-

Zoro shifted in the stiff sheets of what he was slowly realizing was one of Law's outpatient rooms in the hospital. He was waking up slower than he liked—coming to slowly was always a good way to end up dead in a fight—and the room was blurry, but he was with it enough to know that there wasn't much to see in the room anyways and he closed his eyes, taking the extra moment out of danger to let his brain put all of the pieces together slowly.

He was expecting pain—searing headache, throbbing wounds healing, pain medications in his body that would make him brain swim… but there was nothing.

And all the same, there was strangely so much more.

Zoro opened his eyes, letting them come into focus slowly on their own, taking in everything that the world was feeding him.

And it was feeding him everything.

Zoro's head was moving on its own accord as his eyes begged to drink in everything. The heat from the blaring white light above him was sending off delicate waves, letting him track the temperature as it ghosted its way around the room. Colors he'd never seen before clung in spattered patterns on things that weren't supposed to have more than one color. Machines that were heated by their processing gave off splotches of warm or cold light that mixed in with the machine's actual color. His own skin and clothes were a patchwork of colors and the patterns in his skin refracted light like an illuminated computer program.

He could hear entire conversations taking place from through the closed door and all the way down the hallway, but beyond that, the room was alive with the buzz of electronic workings and electromagnetic particles tinkling like bells as they bounced to and from objects, creating little pixie echoes as they danced.

Zoro pulled back from the suddenly overwhelming sensory overload and focused on the mostly-white bed sheet over his legs, which only had a couple new colors added to them. He took in a slow breath, trying to keep his heart rate—which he could now hear and feel with alarming clarity; he wouldn't be able to use ignorance as an excuse anymore when Chopper was grilling him on why he was so injured if he could feel how hard his heart was working—to a slow patter.

He looked down at himself, surprised to find his body almost entirely void of bandages. Sanji tore into him like a tiger into its prey, there should have been some mark left—his brain told him, even though he knew that wouldn't be how his body worked anymore. If he looked close enough, he could see nearly healed scars that looked years old. It was like the fight had never happened.

Zoro closed his eyes for a moment to suck in another, slower breath, cringing when he could hear his lungs whoosh with the new windstorm inside them. He couldn't get his brain to believe what was happening, even though his logic was supplying him with everything he needed as proof.

It worked. He'd fought back enough. Sanji didn't kill him.

Zoro reached out and snatched the glass of water off the side table near his arm—with too much speed and precision—and poured the water out into the bucket by the bed. The bucket probably left there by Chopper just in case the shock of everything made him lose whatever wasn't in his stomach. As it was, Zoro thanked Chopper idly and chucked the glass at the bottom of the bucket where it shattered in the water, filling the room with the sound of crystals ringing together in a symphony instead of the cacophony he normally would have heard. Even the sound of the shards against the bucket added a reverberating beat. Jesus, this was how NSPH lived? How did they keep from going crazy? How did they keep from pitying humans for their obliviousness?

Zoro reached down into the bucket—amazed at how new and rejuvenated and rested his muscles, joints, skin… really everything felt—and selected a large shard from the pool of glass. He sat up and looked at the inside of his arm for a minute, taking in the strange light refraction before he slipped the glass into his arm.

The pain was still there, but he could feel the difference in the fingers holding the shard when he was cutting through skin, and then vein, and then flesh, and then tendon. He stopped before he could feel what resistance bone would give him. Zoro pulled the glass out of his arm and stared blankly at the fingers holding it, marveling at the incredible range of touch he felt.

A cactus suddenly bolted across his shoulders and Zoro shivered heartily, tracking the footsteps getting closer—six foot three inches, firm and controlled step, click of small heels—Law. He watched the blood flow from the puncture in his arm and drip onto the bed, wondering if he cut too deep, and then realizing what a silly question that was.

The door clacked open—Zoro followed the sound range all the way from Law's hand finding the door knob to the swish of wind against the wall as the door came close to touching it to the tiny echo of Law's boot heels against the far wall and machinery—and Law strolled in, not at all concerned if he was drawn by the sound of glass breaking.

"How are you feeling?" Law asked, plucking the glass from Zoro's hand and tossing it into the trash as he reached down to empty the bucket and remove the temptation for Zoro. Zoro watched silently, tracking the pain of his skin bubbling and stretching as it stitched his arm back together—first tendon, then flesh, then vein, then skin. To say the sensation was uncomfortable would be a boldfaced lie, and he could actually see the color changes in his skin as it heated and cooled at amazingly rapid rates to heal itself.

"You've been out for two days," Law said, finding a seat lazily on the edge of the bed. "Just enough time for everything to heal. Sanji did a number on you."

Law waited, patient as Zoro lost interest in his arm and slowly turned to make eye contact. Law didn't look surprised at all by his current state of… inhumanness. Zoro was concentrating on the sound of Law's voice in awe as his ears registered so many more sounds than normal. Every minute change in Law's voice was no longer a cryptic secret to be deciphered, just a clear indication to what he was feeling. It was like Zoro's brain was a translator, sent to make him understand the world.

"…Did you do it on purpose?"

Zoro's eyes dropped back to the sheets. No, he didn't do it on purpose. He wasn't even sure it would work, really. Sanji was so hungry—Zoro had never seen an NSPH like that beyond superior. He could have just as easily been killed.

"…Given the alternative to dying…" he started, and then trailed off. Law seemed to understand his expression and didn't press him further. "Did they bring Sanji back?"

Law gave him a grim look and Zoro paused in confusion, freezing when he realized why Law would have been looking at him like that. Zoro could feel his body heat up, feel the senses he was marveling over before fade away into nothingness so he could zero in on Law like a predator. He could feel his fangs grow and stab into his lips as roiling fury filled his blood, swallowing the terror he'd felt moments ago whole.

"Where is he?" His voice was so obviously a growl. He sounds like an animal.

"…He wouldn't leave with Nami after he thought he'd killed you." Law was so blunt, enjoying watching the new changes in Zoro so much it was painfully obvious that Sanji was not a cause for any concern to him. Zoro wondered idly if his eyes were solid black, like Sanji's or Killer's when they were livid.

"We think Doflamingo has him to create him army," Law continued. "They have to rebuild their research from scratch, so it's going to take them some time."

Zoro flung the covers off, ignoring the vibrant rush of air he could track across his body, and thought to test his newfound strength and speed by bolting for the door when Law's hand clamped down on a pressure point in his shoulder and stopped him dead in his tracks like an off switch.

"Sit," Law commanded without much of an argument in his voice. "You are now the lucky winner of a full-blown NSPH, or negligible senescent porphyric humanoid, viral infection, which as of yet has no cure. As your doctor, and your father, we are going to discuss the changes that will take place in your body and in your daily life and what this means for charging in and rescuing Sanji. Understand?"

Zoro nodded, the only movement he could really manage, and sat once Law had lessened his grip a little. Zoro swallowed, feeling that spot in his shoulder flare and try to heal the injury that hadn't occurred but had still made his body stop, finally quelling once the cell accepted there was no damage.

"Also, and I can't believe you haven't noticed it yet. Although… with improved vision everything is probably so different anyways," Law reached out to point at something on Zoro's face, only for the finger that was much too far away to make contact suddenly struck Zoro right in the cheek. Zoro flinched back violently, faster than he'd ever moved before, blinking in confusion. Law made a bored face and reached into the the pocket on his jacket, tossing Zoro his pen. Zoro's hand flashed up to catch it and missed horribly, the pen flying past his fingers by inches and clattering loudly to the floor.

…What the fuck? "Did… I hit my head?" Why wouldn't it have healed?

Law shook his head, looking into the compact mirror he'd taken from another pocket before he passed it to Zoro, holding it this time until Zoro took it.

It dawned on him half a moment before he looked into the mirror what he was going to see.

"It looks like experimenting was done on it. There's a lot of chemical residue that shouldn't be there and isn't anywhere else on your body," Law shut off the ophthalmoscope and laid it on the table. "It might take you longer to heal because of that. We won't decide anything until we look at the progress in a couple of days."

"Why would they experiment on his eye and not his… internal organs, or something?" Chopper asked, clambering up on the table to look for himself. Sanji didn't even bother pulling away, still shell-shocked and staring off blankly.

Law shrugged. "Could be they were testing how much he could be damaged and still heal from. They could have chosen his eye because it's an organ central to hunting, and therefore survival for vampires. It like the heart or lungs, it would take precedent over other things like broken limbs, but losing it won't kill him; he's also got two of them. We don't have to remove it though, your body will keep it from rotting and hurting the rest of you, so there's still a chance that the healing process might start."

Sanji didn't answer, arms hanging limply on the table and good eye now closed as he tried to keep himself calm. He was gnawing on that spot on his lip now.

"…Can… I get some cigarettes?" he ground out through clenched teeth, hands tightening into fists.

The déjà vu in this universe was disgusting.

Zoro's left eye was shut tight, a thick scar running through both eyelids and straight down his face, from his forehead almost to his lips. Ugh, now he had to learn how to fight with only half of his line of sight. Although…

Law leaned down, quirking his head to look up into Zoro's expression of concentration. "What's on your mind?"

"…It looks cool."

Law blinked, and then—realizing that Zoro was in fact enjoying his partial-loss of vision—rolled his eyes. "You're a dumbass."

"…So… how does half of the training sound?"

"Nope," Law said easily, standing and moving to the door. "Luckily for you, there are a lot of people who'd like to throw shit at you."

Zoro's pursed his lips, not liking what Law was implying. And then he realized what Law was actually implying, and a look of terror crossed his face as Law pulled the door open.

Maybe now's a good time to try out my speed—!

Zoro had the covers back and was halfway out of the bed, not at all ready to deal with everyone charging into the room and congratulating him on not dying—

He could feel Killer coming from a mile away. He had no idea how he knew it—sensed it—knew it—but something deep in his blood hummed happily at the feeling of another—how could his body know that it was another?—NSPH, rapidly closing the distance between them.

Killer appeared like a bullet in front of him, colliding with his chest with an exuberant shriek and sending them sprawling off of the bed as he clamped onto Zoro's torso. All of the air in Zoro's lungs stayed behind him on the bed as he fell—flung—flew backwards. Killer's head connected with his chin, snapping his head back and Zoro swore he bit off a chunk of his tongue from the impact.

"What the fuck—!" he bellowed once his lungs worked again, Killer gripping him tighter and squeezing the remaining air from his body with a harsh choking sound, and then everyone else was on top of him.

Nami and Usopp each clamped themselves onto the sides of his head, effectively pinning him to the ground as Franky clapped him on the back strong enough to break bones had he still been human—ooh, what a weird thought that was. Brook was twirling in the corner with Chopper in his arms, who was fighting desperately as he sobbed to get in on the mass Zoro hug, but where was—?

And speak of the devil, Zoro watched—literally in slow motion with his new vision and processing speed, unable to do anything but grimace—as Luffy launched himself over the bed, hung there in the air above all of them right as Chopper broke free of Brook's hold and joined Killer in the death clamp of Zoro's internal organs, and then dropped like a stone, coming down with the force of a bowling ball on all of them. In the back of his mind, Zoro cursed Law to hell and back for letting them treat a patient like this.

The mass Zoro hug erupted with limbs as Luffy capped it, shouting how happy he was that Zoro was alive and reiterating all the meals he'd eaten over the last two days and how he'd missed Zoro at them and how it was so nice to be home and how they were so worried he would die and how they had to go get Sanji now that he was better and was he done with his training?!

The last note made everyone—but Luffy, who was clearly very excited to finally get a move on to rescuing Sanji—still, and slowly untangle themselves to climb back and let Zoro breathe, although just about everyone managed to put a foot or hand into a painful place on his body as they stood.

When it was just Killer left holding him, and not looking like he was about to move, Zoro rolled his eyes and heaved them both up onto the bed, placing his thirteen year old brother on the bed beside him so Killer could curl up against him like a mutated, vicious, fanged cat. With hair that needed a damn cut.

"Your hair's too long," Zoro remarked, yanking on the shortest fringe. It was touching Killer's shoulders. Killer just hugged him tighter.

"It's going to touch the floor soon," Zoro tried again.

"Good," Killer goaded happily.

Zoro looked up to everyone grinning around him, unsure what to say or do—and then his eyes fell on Robin.

Robin was back.

Zoro's face split into a full-blown grin and Robin stepped forward with a chuckle, sitting on the end of his bed.

"Hey, Ro."

"Hi, Zoro."

Her smile was so good to see.

"Sorry I was a little late."

Zoro shrugged, too happy to see her to give a shit. He looked around the room again, thrilled, and strangely proud of the people before him—the ones he'd known as children, as babies, who had become the warriors they were today. Every one of them was ready to go get Sanji back.

"Your eye looks like it hurts."

Zoro shook his head. "…I was sloppy."

"EYE WAS SLOPPY! Get it?!" Usopp cackled, falling back against the wall behind him until Nami took a swing at him.

"It's not permanent," Law spoke up. "Most of the damage is superficial, but we've already seen that eyes seem to be particularly hard for the NSPH virus to heal, because it's delicate equipment or because it really isn't as crucial to heal—at least according to your new NSPH genes—as long as you have another eye. Part of why you can't go right away is that you need bit of rehab before you go gallivanting off. No sense in fighting people you can't hit."

Zoro gritted his teeth, feeling his fangs pull against his gums as they lengthened every so slightly. "…How long will it take?"

Law shrugged.

"…Do we have the time?"

Law shrugged again. "We're going to have to."

"We're here to help you with rehab!" Killer crowed suddenly, popping up and grabbing a bag that he had dropped by Zoro's bed, pulling out his scythes. Behind him, Kid hoisted his own backpack—no doubt filled with a whole slough of projectiles—over his shoulder with a maniacal grin, eyes dark and scary. And then, like he'd set off a chain reaction, everyone in the room armed themselves with their respective choice of weaponry—be that object or fists. Zoro looked around with a nervous deadpan, finally settling on Robin's dangerously happy smile last.

"We figured since you're all vampire-y now, we could do an expedited rehab training!" Luffy whooped, leaping up onto the bed and jostling everyone on it harshly. Robin didn't stop smiling for a single moment. Yikes.

"You know, what with your increased healing speed," Killer slipped his scythes on, knocking them into place with a sharp, mechanical clack, whirling them right under Zoro's nose to prove a point.

…Uh oh.

"Everyone out, I need to talk to my kid for a minute," Law said suddenly, looking down at his watch. "Five minutes before you have to be in the arena. No holds barred on Zoro."

Various feet stampeded or walked from the room, everyone cackling with excitement as they left Zoro alone with his family. Zoro still hadn't lost the look of dread on his face.

"…You looked like you wanted to ask something," Law said once the room had been quiet for a solid moment.

Zoro looked down at the sheets uncomfortably, not really sure how to breech this subject. "Why didn't anyone try to break Sanji out while I was unconscious?" He'd been lying here for two days, two days that Sanji could have gone through horrible experiments, pain, medical procedures, transportation… Sanji had been with them for so long now, and that meant even more with his cockamamie crew… they'd all been so ready to rescue him before—

"No one wanted to."

Zoro blinked, not understanding. "No one…" he couldn't even get the words to fall off of his tongue. That didn't make any sense.

Kid gave him a flat look. "He killed you, you dumbfuck."

That made Zoro flinch.

"If he hadn't been venomous you'd be six feet under right now, and it's damn lucky you are alive even though he is venomous. And like hell I'm risking my ass for that pain in the ass," Kid scoffs. "I thought breaking Killer out was a responsibility and a half. Blondie's more trouble than he's worth."

"Eustass, he may very well be our son-in-law soon."

"Doesn't make him not a pain in the ass. And since when do we do marriage bullshit?"

Law chose to ignore Kid's last remark. "Shanks wouldn't let them," he told Zoro. "If you couldn't handle Sanji, it's not likely that anyone else would have made any real progress. Luffy offered, but Shanks told him no too. He can't stop them though now that you're up. The only reason they agreed to wait is because you were going to wake up soon, and Shanks feels better with them having another NSPH on their side. That being said, I think you're an idiot for walking into what's most definitely going to be a worse and harder situation to rescue Sanji. That being said, I don't expect you to not try and rescue him. That being said, as this is now a multiple-attempt operation"—Law sounded seriously annoyed when he said that—"if they capture you too and Kid and I have to come get you, I will remove your limbs and you will be our invalid child due to sad, unfortunate events of you being a dumbfuck and getting yourself into more shit than you can handle and we'll just be forced to take care of you for the rest of your immobile life."

Zoro nodded after a moment, knowing the threat was mostly empty but understanding that if he got caught, he'd be the next NSPH in experimentation for three hundred years, probably right next to Sanji's side.

His moment of fear was short-lived though as Killer suddenly took a jab at his good eye—his one eye, he'd have to get used to that—and Zoro's hand snapped up with surprising speed—pleasingly surprising speed— to snag the blade out of the air. A demonic grin spread across his face as he looked at Killer, suddenly realizing what his reflexes meant, and he reached for his brother. Normally, Killer would have been vanished without him even seeing it, but now, even with Killer moving at his fastest speed, Zoro's hand had no trouble clotheslining him and yanking him in close as Killer yelped. Zoro leaned in, grinning like the devil, digging his fingers into every ticklish spot on Killer's body. The younger boy flailed, barking like a caught animal and trying to land any hit he could on Zoro's person, but Zoro had his arms pinned down.

"You know this means you can never pull shit and escape again from me again, right?"

The realization dawned on Killer and he gave another playful shriek, trying to yank away and finally lunging for Zoro with his fangs. Zoro yelped, pulling back out of habit and kicking himself for doing so automatically as Killer danced away, facing Zoro with his scythes up once he was off the bed.

"I have to teach you how to use your new weapons," he said slyly.

Zoro sighed, resigning himself to an arena full of hurt for the next… ugh, at least a day—he shuddered. "Where are my swords?"

Killer shook his head, a shit-eating grin plastered to his face. "You already know how to swing a sword."

Zoro's expression went flat. No shit. "What do you expect me to use? I need my swords. I'm not walking in to fight everyone without swords."

"Yes you are."

"Brat—"

"Don't need 'em," Killer said happily, his voice singsongy, like he knew a secret Zoro didn't. "You've got new weapons."

Zoro's eyes widened as he realized what Killer was talking about.

No. Hell no. Oh hell. Fucking. No. He was not going to go fight everyone with no weapons—

"You'll learn depth perception just the same," Law cut in. "You can use your new sense of sight to see without an eye using reflections, dust particles, air movement, heat changes; smell to tell who's closer to and farther from you; obviously your ears… There's a chance you'll learn faster if you don't have your swords."

"TO KEEP FROM GETTING KILLED?! GEE, YA THINK?!"

Kid chuckled from the other side of the room and Zoro blanched. "WHO'S BULLSHIT IDEA WAS THIS?!"

Killer flashed Zoro a grin, fangs extended almost to his lips, and he ran a tongue across all four of them, beckoning Zoro forward with one claw.

"Whip 'em out," Killer whispered, his eyes black, owning his name more and more every day. Zoro swallowed, unable to help but notice the similarity in smiles and stance between his brother and his crazy-ass fathers.

He was going to die.

Zoro groaned, rubbing his face with his hands vigorously before he calmed his mind and stood abruptly. Killer bounded from the room with a victorious battle cry.

This was for Sanji.

I'm coming for you, you stupid, shit-cook.

He would do this for Sanji.

Zoro looked down at his hands, drawing on the vicious need to hurt anyone who touched the cook, letting the anger and power leach into his body, and his claws started to pull away from the tips of his fingers, thickening and sharpening as they stretched. He let his mouth drop open slightly to keep from cutting himself on his fangs.

He would gladly do this for Sanji.

Zoro sucked in one more slow breath before stalking towards the door, reaching it much faster than he was used to, Law and Kid trailing behind him as he marched toward the chaos sounding from the arena. Every single person—or NSPH—was in there ready and willing to kill to set Sanji free.

Wait for me, curly-brow.

Zoro felt fearless now.

-oOo-

"He isn't ready! He's been here barely two days and has only been agreeable to a couple of things I've suggested to him. The serum is still taking hold in his mind because it's made for long-term use and can't bombard the brain or his body will learn how to reject it and filter it. He has so much potential for everything you're doing here and this could set him back—possibly for good!"

"I made a deal with Teach and our time to act is up," Doflamingo replied coolly, not at all perturbed or troubled by Caesar's sudden spike in concern. He needs access to the mainframe database to find the hacker he's looking for, and I have agreed to provide that access. Teach is the reason Blackleg is sitting in this office at all. Without his contact with CP9 and his manpower, we would not have this opportunity at all."

"So you're going to risk it all? For an underground hack who pretends like he's gotten to where he is by being good at what he does? He's a manipulator. He gets what he wants and then stabs people in the back. He's using you for this and you're letting him."

"I made a deal. I gave him my word in exchange for his. Regardless of his business ethics, I will continue to compose myself with good dealings—honest and fair to those who are good partners. He has delivered, and I, at least, am glad to have the product I ordered."

Caesar gritted his teeth, his eyes flicking to where the NSPH wealth of information was sitting on the other side of the room, eyes glazed over, lost somewhere in his own tormented mind. Sanji had not been cheap, and he understood that.

"We will complete our deal," Doflamingo continued, "and then he is yours. Does that sound adequate?"

"…Blackleg won't want to do this. He might not understand what he's doing, but his brain will still recognize Redleg's face."

"Might we be able to entice him at all?"

Caesar growled to himself, understanding the lack of question. "Maybe," he agreed after a moment. "But I want to take more samples before you send him off to this… sacrifice—"

"I'd actually like it if you were there."

"ME?! I don't do any physical altercations, that was clear when we first began working together—"

"Not to fight, just for Sanji. You would be there to manage his suggestions—I'd think only his doctor could manage him correctly—and to see anything that might aggregate to any sort of setback, possibly even working with him in the moment to keep him…" Doflamingo paused to look over at Sanji's blank form, "with us."

It was impossible to miss the twinge of pride bubbling up in Caesar's face as Doflamingo talked.

"…Fine, but I want extra guards for protection."

"That sounds reasonable. And Sanji?"

"…I'll see what I can do."

Caesar turned, striding over to his patient with an air of confidence in his step as if he had already coerced his victim into signing their own death wish. Doflamingo's devilish grin split his face, and he strode back out of the laboratory, set to allow his scientist to work.

"Sanji."

Nothing. Not even a flicker of recognition. Caesar debated raising the levels of the serum he was being fed for additional speed and a more aggressive alteration in his brain.

He leaned in to Sanji's ear. "I found something interesting about your condition, but I want to warn you before I tell you that this may be hard to hear."

He didn't pause long to wait to see if Sanji's catatonic appearance shifted at all.

"It seems that the NSPH virus has been manufactured. Governmental programs—which is what held you as a child—have been splicing together this monstrous virus to create weapons out of human subjects. We have found someone who can break into the computer system to remove the formula—delete it forever in using their linked computer network system—locate everywhere that is using the virus in the country and destroy every lab that ever did, is, or has held humans to use them for the NSPH virus. After that only Doflamingo would have access to the virus through you, and we would use that to develop a cure and remove the virus from every NSPH in existence. If we do that, there will be no more NSPH victims created ever again."

The only sound in the room came from the whirring of the machines. Sanji was so far gone that even the possibility of helping other escape his fate wasn't going to rouse him. So far so good; now for the next suggestion. If he reacted poorly, Caesar would administer more serum and try again in the next couple of hours.

"We need access to one person. One woman who is the key and can hack into the system and make this a reality. But we need to find her, and she's very good at not being found. There's an organization in the area that specializes in hiding people and we believe they've taken her into their… witness protection program, shall we say. If we get to her and make her help us, we could end all suffering for NSPH victims—no one would ever hurt like you do again. Think of all that the NSPH have been through—being used as tools, weapons, things, and it will continue if we don't stop it. …It's likely that we won't get the location of this person easily. We might have to cause a little damage, but it won't amount to the death of anyone. We need to make the boss tell us the location of Robin Nico. We need to extract the information from Zeff Redleg."

Sanji hadn't moved once. Caesar wasn't even sure his brain was registering what he was saying.

Caesar needed something more personal. A gift. Something returned to him, especially after his recent… loss.

…Hmm.

"…Sanji… what if I gave you your sight back?"

Sanji's blue eye, void of its usual vibrancy and iridescence, widened infinitesimally. Caesar let out a happy cackle, unable to contain himself. He'd found another trigger for Sanji!

"The… state you were in when the… incident with Roronoa happened, it accelerated your healing already; we just have to… trigger healing in your eye specifically and you'll be able to see again. But I'm going to need your help in return."

It was a long and smothering minute of stillness, but sure enough, Sanji's head tipped in an uncomfortable nod.

"Are you sure? We don't want you hurt more."

Sanji's second nod came after a shorter pause, but his eye hadn't reacted again and it hadn't lost the stagnant, blue thickness of a muddy pond.

"Have you forgotten how to speak? You can't say anything?"

Caesar sighed. It was like talking to a ghost who didn't quite understand what language was anymore.

"We leave for Baratie territory tomorrow; I'll fix your eye up for you and you'll be a ready warrior. It might hurt a little bit, but I assure you, you'll be grateful for the sight. With how strong you are with currently, imagine all that you could accomplish with better depth perception, better coordination, better locating… I'll try and make it hurt as little as possible."

"More shots?" he asked meekly, pleading for it not to be true.

She gave him a nod, smiling sadly for him. "Just a couple, I promise."

Tears filled his eyes and spilled over down his cheeks. "My arms hurt," he whispered.

She pulled him in close and hugged him tight. This doctor hugged him too. He thought he would like this doctor.

"I'm sorry, buddy. But we have to. We're going to get you better."

"…But I always don't feel good after shots. Shots make me throw up. One time they made lights hurt my eyes—and one time they made my insides burn!" he cried.

"That's the sickness, buddy," she told him. "I know it's not easy. But you're doing great. And I'm going to stay right by your side the whole time. Ok?"

"Are you ready to begin, Sanji?"

Sanji nodded, stronger this time, and with less hesitation, and Caesar let the smirk leak into his calculated expression. Sanji couldn't see him anyways. He turned and pulled a tool roll from the table behind him and set it on the bench next to Sanji's leg, spreading it across the table to reveal an alarming and grotesque assortment of sharp instruments. Had Sanji been aware of what had just been placed in front of him, he might not have stayed so still.

But Sanji wasn't sitting in the laboratory.

They wouldn't take any more of him.

He didn't belong to them anymore.

Sanji was fearless now.

-oOo-

"That was faster than I expected." Law sounded disappointed.

"Fuck you," Zoro spat, panting on the ground like he'd just run a marathon. Everyone around him was grinning and stretching having worked up a nice sweat all attacking him at once. He gritted his teeth, trying not to gasp in pain as his skin bubbled and stretched, crawling slowly over the plethora of open wounds lacing his body. Fuck them all. This shit hurt.

Killer sat down heavily next to him, holding out a bottle of water filled with thick, red liquid. The bottle was already forming condensation, chilled from being in the cooler. Zoro reached up and took it from him, thinking of all the times he'd gone to Killer's school—or wherever he was—to get him the blood he needed. Killer was probably the only one who really understood the pain of his body healing itself.

Idly Zoro wondered if Killer had brought this all on his own, knowing Zoro would hurt after the fight. "My turn?"

Killer nodded happily and Zoro grinned back, draining the bottle. He stood, rolling his tight muscles and joints as they did most of the work of relieving the stress for him.

Zoro looked around to each set of eyes in his crew, falling on Luffy's excited grin last, unable to keep from smiling back. He was ready to go. And the rest of them looked it too.

Zoro turned to Law, who gave him a nod of approval, clearly amazed medically that Zoro had been able to catch on to fighting with one eye but also disappointed that it had happened so fast and he hadn't been able to observe more.

Zoro turned to Luffy, giving his captain the lead and Luffy jammed both fists in the air, hooting happily.

"Our cook needs us! Let's go get him back!"

The crew erupted with approval, war cries and shrieks echoing around the arena and Zoro looked down to find Chopper holding out his swords for him.

-oOo-

"Yosh," Luffy said firmly, swathed in uncharacteristic black, wedging his hat firmly down on his head. In front of the van, the enormous restaurant—a cover for black market trade, covert operations, personnel disappearance, and the backbone of the operation that had eventually become synonymous with the name of the territory as it offered free food to those who could not afford it—loomed like a dark phantom as the sun began to illuminate the world around it. The van had been haphazardly spray painted black to match the surroundings of the night; no one was expecting it to survive enough for a return trip. Franky had parked it so as to join several other large vehicles placed cleverly out of sight in the shadows of the nearby buildings, quickly silencing the two men that stood on guard—one with the hood of the van, the other with his hands. They were a bit late, but everything still seemed quiet, so it looked like they hadn't missed the whole show. Robin had done some digging in one of Doflamingo's internet networks and found that rather than take the cook as far away as humanly possible, they had brought him home. For nothing good, everyone knew, and had scrambled to get to the northern territory as fast as they were able to. Shanks, concerned that it could possibly be a trap to draw them from home and leave the "Red Hair" territory unguarded, had asked Law and Kid to stay, but assuming it wasn't a trap and assuming that Doflamingo's men still didn't know that Robin had returned to them, their ambush should hold enough surprise to strike hard and fast.

Now all they had to do was get the cook out. Before he was made to hurt someone else he loved.

Zoro looked up at the shadowy sign—"The Baratie"—recognizing in the back of his mind that this was the first time he had seen Sanji's home—the place where the cook had learned his trade, where he'd learned to fight, where he'd found his humanity, where he'd found a family… All around him, various sensory information was flooding Zoro's brain—smells, sounds, lights, all of which were available to him and only him, but he was zeroed in on the cool, blue, ocean-like beacon.

Sanji was in there. He could feel it—sense it. His blood hummed at the thought of coming in contact with one of its own, just as it had with Killer. Less than one thousand feet, and he would take the cook in his arms and obliterate anyone who dared try to take the cook from him again.

Luffy looked each one of his crewmates in the eyes, gifting each one of them a knowing smile—a faith in them, a belief that they were anything and everything they needed to be to triumph in whatever the world threw at them—and then grabbed the door handle. They were all ready, dressed black as the night, weapons in hand, gaze set on the target in front of them.

Zoro breathed in the clear smell of steel and polish that his NSPH senses had given him the ability to nearly feel—letting it wash through his mouth, nose, body, and mind. He reached out for an infinitesimal moment to Kuina before he placed the brilliant white sword between his teeth, gripping the other two as they trilled excitedly in his hand and letting the energy skitter like electricity up his arms and into his core.

Luffy pushed the door open carefully, and like one coordinated entity the crew sprinted for the double doors below the Baratie sign.

Wait for me, Sanji.

Zoro was fearless now.

-oOo-

Hey everyone! I want to give a shout out to the magnificent Zosanlaw. This wonderful person drew me some fanart! GUYS! SHE DREW ME SOME FANART! How incredible is that? It can't be uploaded here but I've uploaded it on Ao3 where I also post work; go make "oohing" and "awing" sounds! Find Angel Down on Archive of Our Own, it will appear alongside this chapter!