Falling Up

A Buggy reflections piece, taking place in the timeskip. Also slight Buggy/Galdino (Mr. 3) subtext.

Buggy woke in a cold sweat, staring at the ceiling uncomprehending for a moment. His wrists were light, his clothes were clean, his hair, too. The ship rocked softly, buoyed by the gentle waves of deep water. He raised his hands to the dim light of the predawn, reminding himself that he was free of that place. Free enough. There weren't enough good long soaks in the world to rid himself of it completely. There wasn't enough treasure to keep the nightmares from fringing in on his memory. Of boiling water. Of ice baths so cold his snot froze to his face. Of lice. Of needles being driven under the beds of his nails. Just once. But enough to make him confess to committing every murder from here to the New World if that would make them happy.

Goddamn but he was a hell of a mess. He got up, poured himself some water from the basin to the bowl and splashed himself with it. It was old fashioned but he didn't like the guys seeing him without his face on. Especially now. Especially those guys. How had that even happened. The scum of Impel Down under him. Scum even scummier than he was used to. Scum that Roger could send scuttling under rocks like the roaches they were just by his very presence. And yet scum he had to rely on. And not make a single mistake.

At least becoming a shichibukai was one way to keep himself above board. He dried his face and his hands before sitting at his mirror with the big yellow lights around. It wasn't a vanity no matter what anyone said about the matter and he made sure no one had said it twice. Well except for those guys who had proclaimed how manly he must be to even use such a thing in full knowledge of anyone else. They were scum and they were stupid scum. He couldn't tell if torture had made them that way or not. He wasn't even sure which way he preferred.

Buggy brushed his hair until it was glossy, glad they had a ground-rule policy to take a shower at least once a week to promote health and longevity or whatever he'd said that they lapped up like greedy dogs. He pulled it back into a simple ponytail for now and rummaged around for some foundation which they could shut the hell up about because makeup didn't just stay on by its damn self when there was a knock on the door. He froze, the old terror going through him like mud over ice.

Was it Cabaji or Mohji? Or was it one of them ready to slit his throat with a butter knife and start a mutiny that, by all rights, should happened a million times by now. Should he pretend to be sleeping? Would that make him more vulnerable or not? He could put his face on hurriedly and if they were going to kill him perhaps seeing him prepared would make them change their minds and send them into bubbles of joy of how he was always ready for anything, that Captain Buggy, or some shit like that. Or maybe he could say 'what the hell do you want?' in a gruff voice and achieve the same effect?

"Are you awake?"

Galdino.

Buggy let out a breath, cursing the man for scaring him like that. For some reason he trusted Galdino even more than he had Alvida. Then again, he supposed, you didn't share warmth with a man in a totally understandable circumstance in sub-zero temperatures which was nothing more than staying alive, and subsequently escaping prison, without trusting him a little. It didn't hurt that they were on the same ship literally and rhetorically and if Buggy went down, Galdino was going with him.

"Come in already," he grumbled, pulling on his gloves to cover the network of fine scars on his hands as the door opened and brush of cold air came in. They were entering a winter island. Maybe they could get some skiing done and Buggy could improve his skill without also busting his face. He saw in the well lit mirror that Galdino had bought a tray with him with two cups of tea on it, lightly steaming.

Well if it was room service he didn't mind if he did.

"Couldn't sleep either, huh?" he said as he sat at his small table, looking at the smudges under the man's eyes. Even his hair was droopy, the three listing to the side like a couple of low rounded hills.

"You think two years would have made a difference," Galdino said absently, stirring his tea before taking a sip.

"Two years is nothing. Ha. I could go another ten," Buggy said, but didn't put much effort into the old lie and Galdino at least had the grace to acknowledge it with a small grunt. Well who cared really. He sipped his tea and crossed one leg over the other, looking out into the sea.

"I flagged down a News Coo," Galdino said abruptly and Buggy looked at him, but the man was looking steadily away. Was it bad news? Just what he needed. He noticed the paper on the tray and the moment his eye fell on the damn page he saw something that made his lip curl with conflicting emotions. Straw Hats at Sabody. That kid at Sabody. Straw Hat Luffy. Rubber brat. Shank's protégée. What Buggy wouldn't have done once upon a time to snap him in half like the annoying ass rubber band that he was.

"He doesn't look a damn bit different," Buggy grumbled, flapping the paper with the back of his hand. "Look at that. I mean he's got to be, what? Twenty or something by now?" And didn't that make him feel old? "But he looks like he just turned fifteen. Age, damn you."

"I helped him," Galdino said absently. "I don't know why."

It was an old conversation that Buggy had thought they'd buried. But here it was again, and he couldn't help but parrot the reply, familiar on his tongue like meat chewed too long.

"I, for one, didn't mean to. Little bastard has got something going for him." A "D" probably, if you believed that nonsense. Which Buggy steadfastly didn't because he was going to change the world without an intial to his name and see how they liked that. Or...well if not change the world at least be disgustingly wealthy in one corner of it, even if it was a quieter life than he intended.

"I was actually concerned for him," Galdino said in a low voice. This was something new and Buggy felt a bolt of alarm at hearing it.

"That's a slippery slope, my friend," he said, jabbing a finger in the other man's direction. "We're not going to go down it. We were tricked into allying with him once, but he's still my enemy-and as long as we want-" to have the comparative protection of "to be shichibukai, he's going to be your enemy, too."

"I heard Bartholomew Kuma guarded their ship," Galdino said.

"I don't want to hear it," Buggy said, flicking the paper open and trying to bury himself in news other than that scrawny rubber kid. Horoscopes. That should be good.

"I heard from someone who heard from someone that Roronoa might be connected to Mihawk."

"People will say anything." Buggy flapped a hand and fixated on his sign. There it was.

Long seeded plans will come to fruition.

Yes!

But beware the gathering storm.

No…

A D brings the storm, hadn't he heard that? He closed the paper with a grunt and jabbed a finger into the tiny black and white picture of Luffy's- Straw Hat's face. He wouldn't help out again. He wouldn't let that brat interfere again. He'd helped him jump prison. He'd helped him with his brother. He'd even given him back his damn hat at great risk to himself- though that was mostly Shanks' fault, damn that red-hair to shitting pincushions in hell- but that was as far as he was going to get involved.

"I just...can't hate him anymore," Galdino said. Damning words, like the closing of a door.

"You have to try," Buggy said, clencing his free hand. "You can't let him get under your skin."

"It's too late," Galdino said softly, finally meeting Buggy's eyes, expression somber. The eyes of a man who has accepted defeat. "I want to see him succeed."

"Bah, you're just tired," Buggy said, flopping the paper back on the tray and attacking his tea with vigor. That was the problem. They were just tired. Both of them. Strange feelings were attributed to sudden change and the fact that they had about fifty happy murderous assholes tucked into the hold below their feet that they had go keep happy- since if you took away the happy part, only murderous would be left.

When he was done, he set the tea cup to the side and looked at Galdino's morose expression.

"Let's find some idiotic rookies to trash," Buggy said, feeling compelled to cheer the man up. "I'm sure you can beat some strategy into their thick heads before we get there."

"You think so?" Galdino said, brightening a bit. Now that was more like it.

"Sure. If-" anyone can do it, you can was hovering on his lips. But that sounded like he was on the edge of the very broad line that they had drawn in the sand and painted red and planted signal flares around and he was not about to step over it. "-they give you any trouble, just tell them I'll mess them up."

Only please if he had any luck at all in this universe, let them not give him trouble. Or if they did, let Galdino have the common sense to not say that because Buggy wasn't sure how much of a messing up he could actually give them. Galdino gave him a slant eyed look.

"I'll be sure to do that," he said with the driest of sarcasm and Buggy wanted to kiss him on the mouth for understanding but that was relief talking and he was going to sit back at his mirror and put his face on. Foundation out, applying liberally. The bell clanged from the galley, signaling that breakfast would be soon and he started to hear the groaning and good-natured rabble rousing of the men as they went about getting up. Soon they would be rowdy and boisterous and all crammed into a galley a bit too small for them still, with Buggy at the head, Galdino at his right, and Cabaji and Mohji pressed shoulder to shoulder on his left, eating with false cheer and laughing like frightened pigeons. Two years hadn't been enough for them either. Even Richie seemed a little on edge.

"Let's just hope we keep falling up," Galdino murmured, as if to himself. And Buggy agreed with him. It was terrifying but somehow no matter how often the ground was wrenched away from him, he always somehow managed to find himself on his feet again...Which would be fine if not for the sensation that the straw hat, that damn bloody hat that had tortured him on three generations, was nearby, ready to change the world and him with it-whether he liked it or not.