Corazon's arm was back at normal in just two weeks. If Law hadn't been as mentally exhausted as he was, he would've undoubtedly found it fascinating. Maybe even, although chances were minimal, it would've encouraged him to do some research or, at least, taking interest in Donquixote Rosinante's physiology. However, after two weeks he was first and foremost grateful to all biological factors that had formed that monster's body for such a fast recovery. In normal people, forearm fracture would heal for six weeks... Law wouldn't stand one month more with Corazon. No, he wouldn't stay even one day more. Even. One. Day. More.

For reasons unclear to himself, he'd decided to postpone his escape until the time Corazon recuperated. He suspected he simply hadn't wanted to leave his patient without care, although that thought was completely absurd. Corazon was perfectly capable of taking care of himself - after all, despite his clumsiness, he'd survived that twenty-something years - and then his condition could make Law's chance of successful escape grow slightly. Law was a total fool, having given his plans up, yet the inner objection he'd felt upon the thought of turning away and leaving had been stronger than any reasoning.

That whole time, they hadn't left the island, for Law had categorically refused to board a boat with someone who had a bone fracture, to say nothing of sailing anywhere. He'd spent two weeks with Corazon, tending to him like the best nurse. He'd prepared meals, helped the man with personal hygiene and changed the dressings. At least that last he'd done well, although, to tell the truth, Law did all things well if he only applied himself to it. Now, he would perform his tasks steadfastly and talk little, though he had made efforts to speak in a civilised way. He'd been displeased with the situation in general, but determined to carry it through, anyway.

After two weeks, he was truly proud of himself for not having killed Corazon. He was under the idiotic impression that these last days had been far greater trial with far greater impact on his personality than all those nightmares he'd lived through before. He and Corazon were complete opposites. Sure, it should've been clear to him right at the beginning - after all, Corazon was a lunatic, or at least wasn't normal, while Law trusted his sanity more than anything - but it was only now, having been forced to such close coexistence with that madman, that he had become convinced that they had been the worst matched pair in the world.

He would at least fifty times per day regret his decision to tend to Corazon. He should have left him with that fractured arm and run away, never bothering himself with the man's welfare. He would've had freedom and peace... But he hadn't, and Corazon apparently had considered it as a proof that their relationship had taken a turn for better. He would laugh like a total moron more often than before, he would chatter all the time and wouldn't stop trying to draw Law into conversation. Beyond doubt, he hadn't behaved like someone suffering from a bone fracture. A sick person should be distressed and depressed, yet Corazon had acted as if a great happiness happened upon him.

How many times had Law wanted to swipe him round that stupid head...! How many times had he wanted to strangle him with his own coat...! How many times had he wanted to quit and leave, and run away, so that he needn't hear that laughter and prattle ever again…! For Amber Lead, Corazon treated him as if Law had been his best pal... while Law wouldn't stop inwardly wishing him a very painful death...! Each time, however, he would miraculously contain his anger - he had no idea where that strength came from - and patiently stick to the duty he'd committed himself to, not showing his dislike any more than before. Yes, he was a crown idiot.

However, when two weeks had passed and Corazon had taken off the sling - to demonstrate his full recovery, he lifted Law up with his right arm and even shook him several times in the air - Law told himself, 'Enough', and decided to put an end to this farce. Corazon presented him with the perfect occasion himself, saying that they would have a party (actually, he'd been talking about it for days) to both celebrate his recovery and honour Doctor Law. Law said he was tired, and so Corazon went for shopping alone, humming to himself. Apparently, he'd managed to forget completely that Law had never wanted to stay with him. Or, misinterpreting his 'doctor's' behaviour, he'd decided that escaping was a thing of the past and Law had relinquished that plan long ago? How could anyone be that naive? As far as he was concerned, Law was absolutely positive that, if they were forced to spend more time together, they would really kill each other one day. Corazon would kill him accidentally - hit him, crush him or burn him - while Law would do it deliberately. The two of them were like fire and water, like day and night, like two completely different species that simply couldn't co-exist.

Law didn't waste time; once he'd made sure that Corazon was far enough, he dashed to the shore. The ground was moving under his feet; feeling of freedom gave him wings. He could go where he wanted - but now freedom meant 'someplace without Corazon'. Soon, he would be out of Donquixote Rosinante's reach, and it filled him with such a relief he felt like laughing. He would never have to look at that ugly face with that idiotic smile again... He would no longer be intoxicated with cigarette smoke nor put at risk of dying in a fire... He would never hear that moronic voice calling, 'Law... Hey, Law...!' He wouldn't sleep under the feather mantle... He wouldn't be patted on the head in a gesture of comfort...

He clenched his fists and focused on what was before him. First, the escape needed to be successful, and it was what he should concentrate on now. He was going to push the boat in the water, then row a bit to find the stronger current and then lower a sail. He would sail with the wind to the next island; the map of the area had been long recorded in his head. There, he would board a random ship and disappear. He didn't bother himself with what would come later; the crucial part was to leave here. He ran and ran, looking back over his shoulder from time to time. He knew from the experience that Corazon could move noiselessly, and he really didn't want to be caught without warning again. However, his carer-persecutor was nowhere to be seen, while the cry of the seagulls became even stronger and the ground more sandy. The air smelled of salt, too, but Law didn't need those signs to know that the shore was close. Finally, he burst out of the dwarf pines grove and found himself on the beach. His sense of direction hadn't failed him this time, either; the boat was lying on the sand no more than fifty meters away.

Without wasting a second, he launched it and grabbed an oar. The sense of triumph flooded him. He escaped Corazon! He was free! He didn't intend to lose his focus - not until the island disappeared from his sight - but he realised Corazon wouldn't catch him at sea. Even if he'd always managed to track him down - and was really good at it, damn him - Law believed his skills and was certain he would be able to hide well enough. Even Corazon, no matter how proficient, wouldn't find him. The world was big - big enough for the two of them to never meet again. Donquixote Rosinante would have to procure someone else with 'D'...

"Laaaaaw! Hey, Laaaw!"

He pressed his lips with annoyance that, however, quickly lost to the feeling of victory, and the next moment he was smiling with satisfaction. He kept rowing but was already at least fifty meters away from the shore. Unless Corazon couldn't run on water, Law was perfectly safe and out of his reach.

"Laaaw!" now Corazon's voice was louder, and Law's head turned back.

Corazon's tall figure emerged from behind the pines and moved in long leaps towards the waterline. Despite the distance, Law could still see the sand being tossed in the air by the man's big feet. He squeezed the oar tighter and then looked ahead again, where his freedom was. Even if he had just one more year of life left, he wanted to live it like he wanted. It was his life, and no-one, no-one, had any right to decide for him. Not the World Government. Nor the doctors. Nor Corazon.

"Laaaw!" Corazon called again, and Law thought unconsciously that if the man really wanted to stop him, then he definitely lacked any invention.

Mad at himself, he pulled the oar too strong, making the boat rock dangerously.

"LAW!"

His heart racing, he calmed the sway of the boat - not that there was any danger, even if he fell out - and then looked back again... and almost screamed. Corazon was standing knee-deep in the water... no, he was walking across the waves towards him. For one moment, Law was frozen by the thought that maybe Donquixote Rosinante hadn't really eaten a Devil Fruit and his abilities had a different source. Why, he hadn't used them after that single time back then...! And one short display... it was too little to be certain...! Maybe Corazon hadn't told him the truth, after all...? Well, it fitted since he was a great cheat... Why had Law not thought about it before?

Then, however, he noticed that the giant man's moves slowed down, and when the water reached to his waist, he came completely to a stop. "Law...!" he called again, and now even his voice wasn't as loud.

No, water affected him without a doubt, just like it would anyone possessing the abilities of a Devil Fruit. Law shouldn't have panicked... Ah, he hadn't; he'd been just surprised... and now he was regaining his calm again. He pulled the oar back and stood up to look at his persecutor, now immobilized by the power of the sea. At land, Corazon would have reach him in just a few seconds, but here, at sea, it was Law who had the upper hand. That several dozen metres defined his freedom.

Strangely enough, now that they were to part, he no longer felt that hatred that had accompanied him for last two-three weeks, maybe even one hour ago... Standing in the boat and regarding from the safe distance the man, who'd tried to turn his world upside down, and knowing it was a real end to their short adventure, he felt detached from the situation. Donquixote Rosinante Corazon seemed a stranger - someone that Law had no feelings about.

"It's our goodbye!" he called. "We won't see each other again. You can't reach me. I have my own life. We won't meet again!" he repeated... and then something made him add, "Take care."

Corazon moved, jerked towards him, but to no avail; water held him tight. He was no longer smiling... and now he seemed just a normal man under his spooky make-up.

"Law...!" he called, but Law no longer knew if he really heard his voice or merely imagined it.

He lowered the sail; the wind filled it and pushed the boat onto the open sea. Law was still standing and looking at Corazon's receding face. He was free, he could do what he wanted and decide for himself again... Why, then, did he feel so tired instead of triumphant? Where was his satisfaction from a while before...? He was free...! Corazon no longer kept him, had no power over him... Then why, instead of rejoicing at it, did his memory remind him how he'd been wrapped in the warm feather, saved from the danger, given so convincing words of support, faith and hope, and gratitude - words he hadn't heard since long...?

He turned away with anger and sat down by the rudder. He'd done perfectly fine without such sentiments for years. Three weeks was too short time to change anything. He would return to the world he'd been forced to leave – return to his existence: cold and rational determination. He didn't need what Corazon tried to impose on him.

Impose?

He glanced over his shoulder again... right in time to see Corazon force his big frame to move forward - and disappear under the water. Law's heart, that had been racing in his chest for a longer while, nearly stopped... but he turned from that sight. Then, that was how that fool planned to end up? Good, very good. He'd done that himself, right? He'd entered the sea deliberately, crazy idiot. He'd known the risk. Fine, great even. One problem less, no doubt. Law would never... never...

He would never see Corazon again.

He felt as if he'd been underwater himself, suffocating, unable to breathe - and it was the last think he'd felt and thought, for the next moment his whole mind was taken by cool, calm and resolved sense of goal along with the plan how to reach it, guiding his action. He took in the sail and grabbed the oar, moving the boat to the spot his kidnapper had disappeared from. He took a coil of rope and jumped in the water. Corazon's big frame was lying on the shallow bottom. Law tied the rope around his chest and pulled out to the beach. For the next weeks and months, he would rack his brains and wonder how he'd managed to move that inert body of a man who was several times bigger and heavier than himself - but this very moment he didn't even thought he might fail.

Corazon's lungs filled with air at once. He coughed a few times, and that was all. He hadn't even swallowed any water. Knowing him, he could probably hold his breath longer than a normal man... but Law was far from musing over that now. He was sitting on the beach next to the lying man, suddenly devoid of any energy. He was staring at the boat drifting on the open sea, and feeling above all terror.

Corazon finally sat up - his breath already even - and spent a moment staring silently in the same direction. Then, in a tone completely incommensurate with the situation, he said, "We lost the boat."

Law hunched even more. He pressed his face to his knees and withdrew his head into his shoulders. He was under the impression he would start to shake any moment, and he wished he could fall into the familiar state of numbness when he wouldn't need to feel nor think of anything.

"Law... You all right?" now there was anxiety to Corazon's words.

He didn't reply, but by no means was he all right. For the first time in his life, he felt he couldn't trust himself, and it struck him with fear he hadn't known before.

When Corazon wouldn't stop nagging him about his well-being, Law forced himself to assure him everything was fine, otherwise Rosinante, whose voice echoed inside his skull, would never shut up. When the man took him on his back and started walking towards their lodgings - there was no need to start a fire, for their clothes were quickly drying in the sunlight - he didn't utter a word of protest. His face buried in the wet feathers, he was reaching the conclusion that he needed to end it once and for all, for he was heading towards the catastrophe, and greater than any person might bring upon him.

If anything relieved him that moment, it was Corazon not thanking him for having saved his life. He was certain he would fall to pieces if he heard something like that.