Ch.4

The slap of water against him made him wince. He went deaf for a while and he sunk into the churning abyss, then the sound of his own heart beat pulsed in his ears. He opened his eyes, ignoring the pain as water stung them, wanting to know just how far down he'd sunk. He saw the black silhouette of the Merry against the navy of the sea, but it seemed to be forever away, adrift in an ocean he'd never sail across again. He'd have tried swimming to the surface if he had any feeling in his limbs, but they'd gone numb from the cold and pain.

He watched sadly as the last of the bubbled fizzing off his clothes disappeared towards the surface. He just kept getting deeper and deeper. His lungs were screaming for air and pressure was pushing against him from all sides. It was a wonder he was still alive.

He was fine with dying here. He couldn't think of a better place to end it all, surrounded by the fish he loved to prepare and serve. He just wondered how everyone-especially Zozo, - would react to his death. Would it hurt more than when they'd thought Zoro had died, or would it barely affect them? Would they collect his body when the storm passed, or would they just leave him to rot on the bottom of the ocean?

Whatever they did, he didn't care.

He opened his mouth and let the last of his held breath out. Water rushed in to take its pace and he sunk a few more fatal inches. He closed his eyes to the distant ship, knowing that he'd never open them again.

His consciousness was starting to fade when something caught hold of his shirt and pulled him up through the water. He resigned to opening his eyes one last time, ready to kick any carnivorous fish that had taken him as a meal. Instead, a human face swam into view. He was pulled into their chest before he could identify them, but it was obvious who it was once he felt the hard muscles pushed against his hands and the strong arms wrapped around him. He fingered a long scar.

'Zoro...'

His arms automatically went around the swordsman and locked together tightly, pulling Sanji even closer to him. Zoro either didn't care or didn't notice as he tugged on a rope that tied around his waist. They shot up out of the depths, instantly rising into lighter blue water with each pull of the rope. Lighter and higher they got until they finally broke the surface with a violent splash. Sanji immediately gasped in the fresh air that surrounded him, breathing hard even as the two were pulled out of the sea.

The storm had calmed down to a light ran while he had been under, and the moon poked out from behind a cloud. They were pulled onto the ship by mysterious hands. Sanji didn't want to let Zoro go; he felt safe lying against his chest, but felt it was inappropriate to hold on any longer. He rolled out of the swordsman's grasp, still trying to catch his breath.

"Thank God you're safe," a soft, shaking, feminine voice said above him.

Zoro laughed from where he lay beside Sanji, also breathless. ""Yeah, now we're even, Ero-cook."

"Are you okay?" came an inquiry from the mouth of Usopp. Sanji shook his head, still finding it difficult to breath.

"Are you going to die?" questioned Luffy, poking his head. At that, Sanji rose to his knees, coughing out what seemed like gallons of water as someone rubbed his back. His lung weren't the only things full of water; his brain seemed to be waterlogged, too. He couldn't sort out one thought from another in the jumbled sea. Random images swam behind his eyelids, but we couldn't make sense of any of them.

He looked up and saw a worried, slightly tanned face looking back at him, serious eyes and knitted brow, wet green hair and mouth forming silent words. The face got a bit closer, then faded from sight to be replaced by endless darkness.

~~~ZsZsZsZs~~~

Opening his eyes, the first thing he saw was a wooden ceiling, cloaked in early morning light. It took a moment or two for his memories to return, but when they finally did, he spent some time sorting out those random images he'd seen before, and reliving each moment in turn, trying to comprehend the weirdness of it all. Ignoring Nami, staring at Zoro, content with drowning, not even trying to save himself.

But Zoro had saved him. Zoro had risked his own life in the storming waves, when he could've easily ignored the drowning cook. He had absolutely no reason to help Sanji. Besides, with his wounds, he shouldn't have gotten in the water. Sanji was sure Nami would've told him that and tried to stop him at all costs. So why...?

He turned his head left and right, taking in the shapeless blobs of his sleeping nakama and their snores. What time had it been when he'd passed out, and what time was it now?

He pushed his blanket off and sat up, clutching the sides of the hammock carefully so it didn't tip him out. He swung his legs around to the floor and stood up. The chill of pre-Autumn air struck at him from all sides. He looked down, finding someone had stripped him of his suit and left only his boxers behind. He looked around wildly, hoping his clothes were somewhere in the room, and finally found them hanging by the window. There were dry, except his shoes and jacket, and cold, due to the chill of the day. He slipped them on regardless, glad beyond words he wouldn't have to walk around in his underwear.

As he was buttoning up his shirt, he had to wonder who had taken his suit. Nami defiantly would've suggested getting him out of his wet clothes so he didn't catch his death, but had she stripped him, too? If not, who? Luffy and Usopp would have firmly refused, but what about Zoro? So willing to save him, so willing to hold him...So willing to strip him?

He didn't mean to, but he conjured up an image. Zoro's hands were on his hips, sliding his pants off, sucking at his neck while Sanji's head was tipped back in pleasure, mouth open in a gasp, fingers clawing at Zoro's shoulders, hips grinding against the swordsman's erec-

Oh, god, he was a pervert. What was wrong with him? Preventing illness did not give him the right to imagine gay thing! Especially when his and Zoro were doing said gay things! She shook his head, willing the picture away. It disappeared for a second, the popped back into his mind, more life like and vivid than before. This time, Zoro smiled down at Sanji panting, hand going lower and lower down the cook's stomach until- Ugh, no! He didn't like Zoro! He didn't want Zoro! He-

He'd saved Zoro.

He'd felt his life was over when Zoro had died.

He was the happiest he'd been in years when he saw Zoro was still alive.

He brutally killed the marine who'd take Zoro's life without a second thought.

He'd cried when Zoro died.

Did all this mean that, maybe, he did like Zoro? Did he care more than was necessary when it came to the marimo? Did he- No. he could never. He wasn't gay. He was just thinking about it too much. He'd just cook the crew a big breakfast, make himself a cup of nice, hot coffee, then sit down and question his sanity.

~~~ZsZsZsZs~~~

Maybe he'd thought saving Sanji would snap the cook out of his depression and make him that love sick, easily agitated, shit-cook again. But maybe, he'd thought wrong. The following morning, Zoro discovered that Sanji was pulling himself even further away from the crew. A breakfast was already prepared when he woke up, a note telling the crew to leave the dishes, that he'd get them later. No sign of the chef. Breakfast was a quiet affair, the only sounds coming from the group being the clang of forks against plates, the thunk of glasses being set on the table, the sound of chewing a swallowing. Even Luffy was unusually quiet. By the air that surrounded them, it was obvious they were all worried around their curly-browed friend.

This breakfast went by slower than any meal they'd ever eaten on the Merry, due to the sober mood everyone was in. Usopp didn't try telling them about his story-book heroics, Luffy wasn't stealing food (okay, he was, but everyone just let him) and, because there was no yelling at the table, Nami wasn't shouting for peace.

Zoro couldn't stand the silence. The only quiet meals he'd ever eaten were the ones where he'd been alone. Every time else, he was surrounded by his dojo mates or nakama, or chatting away to Jonny and Yosuku. It was almost like being dead again.

But what he hated more than the silence was the lack of their fiery-headed cook, since he was the reason they were all being so quiet in the first place. Maybe you could say Zoro missed him, but the marimo doubted that was true. He just-...Okay, so he missed the bastard. Not like he'd ever tell anybody.

Finishing his breakfast shortly after Luffy, he stood, looking up at the crow's nest as he wiped his mouth with his hand. He couldn't be sure if Sanji was up there or not- He was standing too close, and the angle was horrible- but if he was, Zoro couldn't exactly go beat the depression out of him. He was in no condition to climb since his wounds were still healing. He hated being injured. Whatever. He'd just get some booze and settle in for his morning nap.

The only alcohol Sanji kept in his kitchen was wine, and Zoro knew from experience that from the time the cook had kicked his ass out of there that it wasn't for just anyone to drink, especially a moss-headed bastard like him. He past the galley without regard, going to the storage room below deck where they kept cannon balls, treasure, crates of food that were to big to keep in the kitchen, miscellaneous junk and, of course, booze.

He clomped down the stairs with his usual stoic air, his form loose as he did so. He stiffened when he saw a light emanating from behind one especially large food crate. A cloud of smoke hung in the air above it. Ignoring the box of whiskey bottles beside him, he quietly made his way towards the crate. He had a feeling he already knew what-who-lay behind it, but he wanted to be certain.

And there sat Sanji, leaning against the box, his back to Zoro. His right hand was wrapped loosely around a coffee mug, his left combing into his hair, a forgotten cigarette between his fingers. His face was his knees. His shoes and jacket were no where in sight, and his tie untied. His shouldered shook with silent sobs.

"Hey," Zoro said.

The cook whipped around with a small gasp. Zoro almost started in surprise. Sanji's eyes were red, puffy and bloodshot, tears shining on his cheeks. His bottom lip looked as though someone had relentlessly chewed on it. Obviously, he'd been crying.

When Sanji got over his shock, he looked away and wiped his eyes. "What are you doing here? He asked. His voice was unwelcoming and strained.

"Came down to get some booze, but I found something much more interesting," he said in his old taunting voice, hoping it would bring forth the old Sanji. The cook glared at him, but that was all. Zoro met the other's gaze until the blonde finally looked away.

What the hell was he supposed to do now? He shifted his weight from foot to foot, feeling awkward. What the hell did you do when you walked in on someone crying?

"So, um...what's wrong?" he asked, his voice sounding as awkward as he felt. He was no good with emotions!

By the shadow that crossed Sanji's face, it was apparent Zoro was the last one he wanted to talk to. He shook his head.

No good with emotions what so fucking ever. Wincing slighting as the remnants of his wounds stretched, he sat down beside the cook. He was close enough so that is either of it wanted, they could touch, but not so close it would make Sanji feel smothered. "I know this doesn't sound very realistic coming from me," Zoro began, hoping Sanji's flinch was a good sign. "But whatever it is, you can tell me."

Sanji shook his head and buried his face in his arms, which he'd folded on his knees.

Zoro mentally whistled. To upset the poor cook this much, it must've been something pretty big, pretty depressing. He just which he knew what it was, because for some reason, he wanted to help. For some reason, he hated seeing Sanji so sad.

Silence stretched on for a few long-lasting seconds. Not sure what else to do, Zoro raised his hand to squeeze Sanji's shoulder but to his astonishment, before he could do so, Sanji leaned over to him, grabbing his shirt and stifling a sob in his course, off-white cloth. Zoro stared at him for a moment, too surprised to do anything else. He pat the cooks back hesitantly, paused when he saw it had no effect, then wrapped his arms fully around him and pulled Sanji into his chest.

"Calm down. What's wrong?"

Sanji muttered something undecipherable, burying his face further into Zoro's shirt.

"What?" the swordsman questioned gently, rubbing his back slowly and comfortingly.

Sanji took a deep breath, quieted his sobs, slipped free of Zoro's arms, and told him everything.