EEARRRRTHHHHQUAKEE! -at the time I was writing this. I was wondering whether I should have ditched the house with my laptop or not. Then I asked myself whether 500 dollars was worth endangering my life. My answer: Hell yeah! Ain't leaving without my lifeline. :[ Screw you earthquake. Then I realized I totally forgot about my hamster. Ouch, that hurts my conscious. Sorry Spiderhamster!

Once again, thanks to these lovely reviewers: Liz, Demeter13909, Shima Namida, mimi. This chapter is dedicated to you folks!

Liz: I thank you profusely! It makes me blush to hear that my writing has improved! And I do admit that Lori's head is a little scrambled and jumbled, you can blame it all on me since that was my first fanfiction story and I never really had much experience before that. Haha, I really liked the kid's pirate scene also, it was fun to write (and act out). :D And yes, Diana Jones' writing style does influence my writing. It's really very fun and light, you should definitely check it out.

Shima Namida: Your reviews keep me going! Really, everyone else should thank you that I even bother to update, that, or review more. LOL. You'll find your answer as to who is behind that door in this chapter! ;D

mimi: I look forward to that too! And Letha's unfortunate...condition will be explained as the story goes along. :]

Disclaimer: One Piece is Mister Oda's property, which is protected by turrets of machine guns and crazy raving fans inflicted with rabbies. Like me. Teehee!


Without bothering to look out the side window, Letha opened the door hesitantly... before swinging it open to see her guest. She blinked her eyes wide for a second, and without further ado... promptly fainted. Her eyes rolled up to the back of her head. Her legs wobbled with indecisive strength, and she collapsed in front of the doorway before anybody could ask "How do you do?"

Half a second later.

"Bepo! What the hell did you do to her?" Shachi proclaimed in shock, staring at the old lady that lay in a heap at the door.

"I told you it was better if I did it." Penguin said, patting the gaping white polar bear on the back. "No offense Bepo, but even I would want to faint if the first thing I see is you this early in the morning. It's not your fault." He shook his head pitying the bear.

Already a dark cloudy air was circling the poor bear as he stepped aside and apologized to his captain in a gormless sounding voice. "I'm sorry Captain! I killed her by accident. I didn't mean to." He lowered his head in shame.

Shachi and Penguin both facepalmed.

Law simply stepped past Bepo and proceeded to take the old woman's vitals. "She only fainted Bepo. That's one less death on your conscience." He turned to give his furry friend a faint smirk.

Bepo perked up immediately. "Ai!"

Law stood and ordered Shachi and Penguin to bring the old woman inside and settle her somewhere. They saluted and hefted the lady by the shoulders and legs to a couch they found in the living room. Bepo, holding Law's nodachi, was ordered to stand watch outside (for fear the frail lady would wake up only to faint again if she saw the polar bear), while the rest of the boiler suit clad crew lounged along the road in front of the flower shop.

Law stepped silently around the little room that was the front parlor, his dark shoes making hollow thumps on the wooden boards. His presence seemed to make the room smaller than usual. The pirate was certainly misplaced in the dainty parlor.

Law was surprised (yes, Law can be surprised) to find an old woman opening the door. He had been slightly sure that the woman they had passed by yesterday was the owner of the flower shop. He hadn't mentioned it to any of his crew, but he had seen the figure of the young woman standing at the cliff close to the shop when they had first sailed to the spring island in their submarine, which had ascended to open waters as they drew closer to Primavera. He watched the figure with interest, wondering whether she was planning to jump or not, and then she had turned and disappeared into the trees. However his curiosity wasn't really peaked until the market vendor had directed him to the flower shop on the cliff. He realized he made the quick assumption the girl he'd seen was the owner. And he was quite miffed to find he had done so, it wasn't a proper hypothesis made from cold hard facts and carefully planned experiments. He should have known better, as a doctor with the mind of a scientist.

His dark gray eyes swept across the black register on the counter in front of him, briefly over the spotless oak floors, over the few potted plants lining the beige walls, past the old grandfather clock that chimed 6 o'clock, and then lay to rest on a small picture frame that hung beside it.

He stepped closer to the photo and analyzed the picture for a second, his eyes flickering to one point of the picture while a dark glimmer shown in his eyes, before turning to explore a bit more of the house. Maybe his assumptions weren't so misplaced after all. It seemed as if there was no one else in the house beside the old woman that had fainted. There was also no sign of the dark haired young woman from yesterday. Perhaps she had only been a frequent customer that was turned away when she saw the 'Closed' sign as well. Or maybe, she was simply hiding in the quiet house.

Law adjusted his white, black-spotted fur hat and smiled a small one.

No matter, there was no escape from the 'Surgeon of Death.' He had to admit he was a little fond of the nickname the marines had given him. To show his appreciation, he had even gone as far as to live up to their expectations whenever he happened to meet any fortunate marines in his path. The title suited him perfectly.

In the quiet room, with only the grandfather clock's pendulum making any noises, the pirate captain spotted some stairs that led to the second floor of the household. He strode over to the bottom of the stairs to peer up curiously, pondering whether it was possible that the rest of the gardens were somehow on the second floor of the shop. Just as he was about to go up to quell his curiosity, he spotted another set of stairs beside him that must have led down to the basement.

Law squinted into the dark stairway and was faced with even more curiosity as to what was behind that door at the bottom of the stairs. He could smell a faint touch of herbs, and quickly deduced if there was anywhere in the house that had any amount of plants, it would be the basement. Though he was doubtful about how that worked out.

However just when he changed his course to the basement, he heard a soft groan coming from the living room. He changed his mind once again and decided it was about time he met the owner of this strange little flower shop.


Letha found herself blinking open her eyes once again, yet to stare at the beige ceiling of her living room instead of her bedroom. She groaned softly, feeling slightly disorientated and definitely feeling the decidedly horrid aches in her back that she wished she could do without. Unfortunately for her, it came with the 'being old' package, so there was nothing she could do about it. Not really, at least.

Letha tried to recall what had happened that caused her to find herself laying in her living room sofa. She remembered walking to the door... and there was that incessant knocking. She opened the door. And then-

There was a giant stuffed polar bear in a freaking neon orange jumpsuit!

But that wasn't what made her blackout. No. It was- it was, oh Roger. The stuffed bear tilted his head.

And in that second that Letha had looked into his beady black (admittedly adorable) eyes she realized with a sudden terror:

That was a real polar bear, not a stuffed animal. A polar bear. Wearing an orange jumpsuit. At her doorstep. She was going to be eaten before she could plant her daffodils. She was going to be breakfast for a... Roger knows where that polar bear came from. She was going to die by polar bear, not old age. Polar bear! The audacity of the moment was too much for Letha's aged heart.

For the second time that week, her meager life had flashed before her eyes, but instead of 'Holy crap' running through her head, it was 'Polar bear, polar bear, polar bear. Polar bear!" And then she had passed out to be bear fodder.

...Except, she wasn't. She was alive. She was whole and she was alive and- lovely day, she had the chance to finish planting her daffodils.

Letha was up in a minute. She ignored the two men a yard away from her that was trying to get her to sit back down and protesting that she really should be resting. She didn't have time for that. She speeded off towards the kitchen to her right (and really if any law abiding officers had seen her they would have given her a ticket), which was connected to the living room as well as the front parlor, and went out the back door to the garden. Only dimly did she hear the men behind her arguing about whose fault it was, and then talking to someone else saying "The old coot suddenly just upped and left Captain. I think she hit herself on the head when she fainted."

But Letha had ignored them. She had daffodils to plant. And there was no way in Impel Down was she going to let some polar bear get in the way of her daffodils. No. She'd brandish her shovel if she had to. She'd go apeshit on that polar bear if she needed to. For now, Letha settled down at her garden and began planting her yellow daffodils bunch-by-bunch in the trenches.

She breathed out a relieved sigh as her hands automatically took over. Finally. The sight of her flowers made her feel much better, as if there wasn't a thing in the world she had to worry about. No polar bears. No devil fruit inducing curses. No Peter Willis. No mother. No nothing.

She patted the soil around the bundle of daffodils and moved on to the next patch. She could smell her roses, and briefly sought out the burgundy and yellow roses. Ahh, she could remember. She had tried to breed pink roses, but alas it had turned out burgundy. A much different color than the blush color she was going for. It was a shame, but she didn't have the heart to pull them out since she had taken so much care to grow them. Next to her roses, Letha smiled softly at her lovely, sky blue forget-me-nots. Her favorite type of flower. She had taken so much care to nurture them, taking comfort in its meaning. If only her name had meant remembrance instead of forgettable. Maybe then she would be noticed more often. Maybe then...

By the time she was done with her daydream, she had found she was already finished planting the daffodils. That was one more thing Letha could cross off her list. She cracked the joints in her shoulders and neck. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"Are you done there, Madam?" A slightly familiar low, cool voice said then.

Letha stiffened, the serenity of the moment ruined, and she turned around sharply to look up at a tall, amused, stranger. Behind him, were the two men that she had seen shortly before she left to plant her daffodils. However she paid no mind to them, only on the stranger looking down on her crouched form.

He was slim, wearing a yellow hoodie with rolled up black sleeves as well as faded jeans spotted by... dirt? No, it was merely the design. He crossed his arms over his chest in an almost laid-back manner, showing tribal tattoos along his arms and the letters 'D. E. A. T. H.' were inked over the fingers of his left hands. It brought shivers down her spine.

The stranger wore a white fur hat, that had spots along the rim of his hat that matched with his jeans. He wore an easy smile on his face which sported a handsome goatee- and his eyes, his eyes were an unreadable gray that was faintly shadowed by the rim of his hat. Letha could make out darker shadows under his eyes.

For a short moment, Letha wondered where she heard his voice before, and then remembered that she came across it last night as she was walking home. This man was looking for somebody. And that somebody...?

The man made no comment, seemingly content to let her evaluate him. But Letha had already finished. She knew at the sight of him. He was a dangerous man.

If the grinning Jolly Roger on the front of his hoodie- only slightly obscured by his arms- wasn't enough to warn her, his eyes were. People with unreadable eyes were often to be weary of. She knew who he was, just as she knew who Jewelry Bonney was. The newspapers were there for a reason after all. This was the Grand Line, and pirates were no rare commodity.

She gulped then, breaking the silent trance she was in.

He was a pirate. Surgeon of Death, Trafalgar Law.

And he was standing in front of her, as if she was nothing more but a garden bug he could readily step on. Just like how Bonney did. That witch. Though it was her own fault she tripped and spilled clam ch- Nevermind. She had enough of pirates making her life harder than it was.

She narrowed her gray-blue eyes at the pirate, earning her an amused flicker in his eyes before it settled back to being indecipherable.

She stood up from her squatting position to face him dead on and with a look of defiance, said with an air of contempt "Pirate. What manner of business do you have here in my home?"


A/N: I never finished that bowl of grits. ]:

Gosh, the doc manager thing is pissing me off with it's disappearing dividing lines. If it seems like the perspective switch was a bit jarring, that probably means there was a dividing line that had disappeared because doc manager is a douche. Sorry!

Once again...

Daffodils have several meanings such as joy, happiness (if several) or misery (if single), as well as rebirth, eternal life and regard. But the one I want you to focus on is the daffodil meaning 'new beginnings.'

Burgundy roses: Unconscious beauty

Yellow roses: Joy, gladness, friendship, delight, the promise of a new beginning

Forget-me-nots: Remembrance, true love

AND LASTLY, because I forgot to add it in the last chapter...

Poppies in general: Eternal sleep, remembrance, dreams, imagination, oblivion


Imagine the cutest thing you've ever seen in your life showing you dish sized puppy eyes saying "Review pleeasseee?" XD