However, when they landed on another island the next day, Law felt terrible. The fact that he and Corazon had had the first civil conversation upset him to no end, and above all he felt embarrassed upon remembering how much he'd bared his soul to that big moron. He was such an idiot...
Had he really believed that sweet talk Corazon had offered him? More than anyone, Law knew there wasn't such a thing like unselfish desire to help. Everybody took care of their own business and looked after their own benefit. Corazon hadn't even denied that the reason behind his actions was Law's real name. And Law, like a total fool, had been taken by the man's supposed compassion… that he'd actually imagined himself. Could he be even more naive? It was so completely, so utterly unlike him that he felt awfully mortified.
Thus he was mad at himself - but, of course, at Corazon, too, for having tricking him so skilfully. Actually, Law probably needed to revise his opinion of the man. Apparently, Donquixote Rosinante wasn't such a twit everyone thought him to be; quite the contrary, he was probably smarter and more cunning than anyone could imagine. He was Doflamingo's brother, after all, and Doflamingo was as morally corrupt as possible. Deceive, lie and manipulation must have been as natural to Corazon as breathing itself. That he played a saint only made that fallacious image perfect.
Law should be soft in the head in order to want to associate with someone of his kind. Out of them two, he preferred Doflamingo, who'd never hidden who he was. Thus it would be the definite end of his and Corazon short - too long anyway - trip. Law would return to his brother and reveal the whole truth... and once Doflamingo would have dealt with Corazon, not even feathers would be left of him.
He drove away the unneeded thought that since that very first night Corazon would always wrap him in that damn feather cloak for sleep.
And so, when they stopped by the gate of the next hospital, Law, who hadn't said a word for the whole day, forced himself to look at his enforced carer and made an attempt to, at least slightly, relax that gloomy expression he'd been wearing since morning; Corazon probably had understood it as Law's dejection before the another meeting with a doctor.
"Don't come with me, wait here," he said, trying to not sound demanding. "It will be easier for me... And, yeah, there's no need to destroy another hospital," saying it, he mustered something akin to a smile. Even if it seemed unnatural, it was understandable in this situation. Corazon couldn't expect a terminally ill kid to smile happily, right?
The giant man regarded him with a look Law couldn't interpret, which only added to his nervousness. Well, he just had to believe Corazon would let him go alone, or the whole plan would be thwarted right away. Yet, he was certain that no matter how clever Corazon was under the coat of his apparent imbecility, Trafalgar Law could still outsmart him. Nevertheless, his heart was beating fast as he awaited the answer and time dragged on.
Finally, Corazon nodded, and Law suppressed a sigh of relief. "In that case, I'll stay here... But I'll come running to you at the first sign something is wrong," his accidental carer announced, and his words filled Law with some tickling emotion... something Law didn't need at all.
He turned around, annoyed, and walked to the entrance without looking back. Nothing wrong will happen, for Law didn't plan to show himself before any doctor, only intended to go straight to the back door of the hospital. Corazon might as well stand in the front gate till hell froze over... Well, Law needed just one hour.
He focused on the task. He knew it was his last chance. If he wasted it, Corazon would never let him out of his sight again, not for a single moment, Law was absolutely certain of it. His escape needed to succeed now. So far so good. When he wished so, Law could melt into the background, making so that the people's eyes slipped over him instead of stopping. In other times, he could give impression of being exactly where he should. Now, he moved through the corridors, passing by the staff members in their white coats... a sight that, beside resentment, evoked another emotion, harder to describe and long-forgotten...
But Law didn't observe the doctors and nurses; his eyes fixed ahead, he was walking to the opposite side of the building. Every hospital had at least two exits, and in just a few minutes Law found himself on the backyard, indeed. Actually, it was more a park, with the patients walking slowly up and down - some alone, some in a company, and others in the wheelchairs, pushed by the nurses. It was a calm and safe place, filled with assurance that there was no danger and nothing bad would happen. It was a perfect spot for leaving unnoticed.
However, when Law took a few steps, his determination started to fade. For some reason, this scenery made him stop. Greenness of the trees and bushes was soothing, whiteness of the coats was so in place, the staff's gentle voices didn't drown out the bird-singing, and the flowers in the neat beds were comforting. Law was standing amongst that landscape, as if it had pulled him inside, and forgot his goal altogether. That emotion from a while back, its nature difficult to understand, overtook him now, clinging to his mind. His chest ached as if what was in front of his eyes now was something he thought he'd lost for ever. He didn't know this place, yet it suddenly seemed so familiar he didn't feel like leaving here at all.
He twitched and returned to the moment when just a few metres away a stoop-shouldered old lady sank to her knees. Before he realised it, he was already next to her, supporting her weak body. The next second, a nurse appeared by the woman's side. Together, they helped the patient to the nearest bench, and when the two women thanked Law for his help, he stared at them as if he couldn't comprehend their speech, suddenly terribly confused by his chaotic emotions.
What was he doing here? Why was he here? Where was here? Why were those people he didn't know talking to him and thanking him? He'd had another plans... but what plans? Why did everything here seem so real, so normal, so right...? Why it was that he actually felt like laughing...?
He took one step back, raising his head. He saw a doctor, called by the nurse to examine the old lady. His words barely reached Law; however, upon the nurse gesture, the doctor focused his eyes on him. He had calm, nice face, and his eyes were filled with knowledge and experience. His voice was firm, his words were credible, and his moves were deliberated.
"Young man, are you a patient here?" he asked.
Law shook his head.
"That vitiligo... It is a genetic defect, isn't it?"
Law froze... and then, nearly unconsciously, shook his head again. When he thought about it later, he still didn't know - he really didn't - what made him confess to that man he didn't know and who radiated such an air of understanding and competence.
"It's Amber Lead Syndrome," he whispered, looking the doctor in the eye.
A folder that the nurse had been holding fell on the ground when the woman covered her mouth with both hands, yet she didn't manage to contain her cry. The doctor moved two metres back, his face twisted with fear. Only the elder woman was sitting on the bench without moving, and regaining her strength.
Law didn't wait for more. With his hands pressed to his ears - he didn't want to hear those screams around him, screams that could pierce a person's heart - he ran away. Instinctively, the way he'd come from, he was retracing his steps and forgetting all about his plans. They had vanished from his mind as if they'd never been there, pushed away by despair, regret and fear. He was running to the main hall, aware he'd once done it already... as chaotically as that time, fleeing from pain and suffering... as pointlessly as that time, yet unable to stop, unable to react any other way.
"Law...! Hey, Law! Wait...!"
He lowered his head even more and bolted outside, and then ran through the gate, ignoring everything and wishing only to vanish off the face of the earth. He didn't want to feel any more.
The next moment the world turned upside down in a furious cacophony of horns, screeches and cursing. Law felt he was rolling over - but not alone, only closed in the grip of the strong arms. Dull bump and sharp crack he heard then, told him that one car hit the target - although Corazon, like always, didn't even make a sound.
When the world seemed to calm down, he opened his eyes. The sky was like before. The black feather got into his nose. Corazon was leaning over him, his gaze filled only with insane anxiety. Law stared at his face, so close his own, and felt empty.
"Law, you all right?! Did you hurt yourself?! Say something, are you in pain...?! Hey, Law!" he heard the pressing questions.
He shook his head, unable to give any other reaction, and averted his eyes.
"Really?!" Corazon pressed him more.
"Really," Law snarled and glared at the giant man with an instinctive anger he didn't even feel. "Get off me...!"
Corazon sat up but kept looking at him. People had already gathered around, although Law more sensed them than actually saw. Then, a man jumped before that crowd - a driver - and started to call the two of them all the names under the sun.
Law gave him an impassive look the same moment Corazon got up and straightened his nearly three metre tall figure. Neither of them said a word, but the man's shoulder fell visibly, and he pulled in his horns right away. He only added, "You better not do it again!", got into his car and quickly drove away. The bystanders must have remembered they too had something else to do, and soon the pavement became empty. Even the dog, sniffing around for a moment, lost its interest and followed its owner.
Law felt that, despite being fully conscious, he was in the state of numbness. He knew it; it was his defence mechanism in the situation of a real shock. He couldn't feel anger, pain or sadness. He felt nothing at all and couldn't even think properly. Reality moved around him, and he subjected himself to it supinely; it would last until some trigger made his mind start working again. For now, he was simply staring ahead, at the same time registering that everything was fine with his body. At the very most, he'd scraped his elbow and bruised his heel.
He looked at Corazon, who was standing next to him and holding his right arm with his left hand. It might be Law's imagination, but he thought he could see the man's face twist momentarily. He remembered that crack he'd heard when the car had hit them...
Before he realised it, he was putting himself on tiptoe and palpating Corazon's arm. Just as he'd suspected, both bones of the forearm were broken, though their owner was standing without a word and without showing there was anything wrong with him. Any other human would scream from pain, but Donquixote Rosinante, just like his brother, wasn't a normal human, so his silence wasn't that strange.
Law looked around until he saw the right sign board. The medical shops were always situated near the hospitals.
"Stay here," he said impassively and, before Corazon managed to react, ran to the shop.
He bought two gauze bandage rolls and a sling; he had money he'd 'earned' in the Family. He was quickly back; Corazon was standing where he'd left him.
"Come. What are you waiting for?" Law said when Corazon kept staring at him without a word, and then turned around and started walking in the direction they'd come from... not so long ago, yet it seemed like the previous life.
He didn't turn to see whether the man followed him, for - even though he didn't hear his steps - he was sure of it. When they left the city, he found a few sticks that would do as a splint. Actually, they should go to the hospital... but nothing could make him to enter that building ever again. Amongst the numbness, there was a first conscious thought, a single emotion, one resentment: it wasn't a good hospital, and those people there shouldn't be allowed to treat anyone - but he let it slide from his mind and didn't pay attention to it.
Using the bandage and the twigs, he easily immobilised Corazon's broken arm. He didn't say a word, and his 'patient' remained silent as well, until it was done.
"Are you a doctor?" Corazon asked, and Law thought he'd never heard as stupid question as this one.
"Any fool can put a bandage on," he replied.
"You're a doctor," Corazon said nonetheless, and there was some absurd satisfaction in his voice.
"Of course I'm not. Have you ever seen a twelve-years-old doctor?"
"I see now."
"You're stupid."
They kept sitting on the road side for a moment - the sun was shining pleasantly, the bees were buzzing in the grass, and the stream was humming in the distance - and then Law felt obliged to state, "You have to wear it for at least six weeks. Of course, you're forbidden from using that arm, too," he stressed. "It should be enough for the fracture to heal completely."
"Shorter."
"Six weeks," Law insisted with a sudden anger.
"No, I just heal faster," Corazon explained. "I'll be in top form before you realise."
Law refrained from the remark that it wouldn't change much since Corazon had two left hands, but one sigh did escape him. As for the healing, however... He wasn't going to argue. As far as he'd observed, his carer indeed possessed inhuman endurance and durability, and it seemed nothing could harm him. Law knew that better than anyone; two years ago he'd pierced the man with a blade and hadn't done him any real harm. For some reason, the memory seemed unpleasant now, although this emotion too, like everything else, was damped.
"Thank you," Corazon said, lifting his dressed arm, and there was smile to his words.
Law didn't reply, didn't even look at him. He rolled the remaining bandage - he registered in his mind he should buy more, for, with Corazon's lifestyle, there was no change that the ligature lasted longer than one day - and shoved it into his pocket.
"Are you really all right?" Corazon asked.
Law shrugged. He was still feeling that numbness that reduced his reactions to minimum.
"You're a good kid," Corazon muttered... and then, unexpectedly, put his left hand on Law's head.
"I'm not a kid," Law replied automatically, shaking that hand off. Corazon's remark, however, started to arouse something in him... and it made him add, "My childhood ended some years ago. And still too late, taking into account what I got through as a kid," he said with bitterness he didn't want to feel, and pulled his knees up.
"No matter what we experienced, we can't do anything about it. Our wounds made us what we are now," Corazon offered another winged piece of wisdom that he occasionally happened to say and that Law every time considered utterly stupid.
Still, he glanced briefly at the man. Corazon was staring at the sky with a moronic smile. Law suppressed another sigh. Recently, he dangerously often kept forgetting that Corazon was a nut.
His companion took out the cigarette pack out of the pocket; after some trouble managed to shove one into his mouth. What was the real feat here, he lit it without putting himself on fire - as if the ligature made him be extra careful, Law thought unwittingly and then averted his eyes, angry with himself. That thought was absurd... and unneeded.
Corazon blew out the smoke. "I'm glad you're fine," he said.
Law clutched his fingers at the fabric of his pants. His eyes fixed at some point ahead, he hoped he could revert to that state from just a moment ago. Thinking nothing and feeling nothing was much better... but now his mind was already working, and his emotions seemed sharper and more acute after that hiatus, and he couldn't do anything about it. Suddenly, he felt very tired, exhausted even. He had no strength to put up barriers, and knew he was risking harm... yet, at the same time, he felt there was no danger at all. He pressed his face against his knees, gladly welcoming darkness under his eyelids.
Why everything Corazon was saying sounded so honest? Why was it so hard to hear a false note in Donquixote Rosinante's voice? Was he really such a good actor? Could he deceive even someone as toughened by life as Law?
Law didn't know the answer... but he asked himself if he really wanted to know it.
He hadn't thanked him. He wouldn't be able to utter the words of gratitude in the next ten years. He didn't want to be grateful to Corazon for anything, anything. That was why he'd only dressed his injury - to repay him, to get even. He wasn't even sure whether what Corazon had done, had any sense. He remembered that feeling - that last feeling that he remembered so strongly - when he'd blindly run forward: that wish that everything ended once and for all.
Corazon hadn't let it happen - and got injured in the process. Even if Law didn't know whether that sacrifice was needed, he'd felt obliged to compensate for it.
The words, 'You're a good kid," rang in his ears again. For a moment, it was hard to depreciate them and brush away like something nonsensical.