Captain Bellemere suppressed a mild grin as all the men under her command erupted into cheers at the announcement of their new assignment: taking down a rogue insurgent group in East Blue.
"We'll follow you anywhere, Captain!"
"Bellemere-san is the best!"
"Those good-for-nothing pirates won't know what hit them!"
With a wave of her gloved hand, the scarlet-haired woman cut off further adulation, and dismissed them to their barracks. The Marine squadron of H-7 filed out one by one; she watched them go, mentally tagging each one with a name. They were good friends, and good soldiers–if not a bit doting at times. Though they gave her the respect due to her rank, there were a few who were clearly infatuated with their attractive, young superior officer. Bellemere had to admit to herself that her flirtatious ways did not do anything to dispel their affections.
Once alone, she allowed herself the luxury of a wide yawn, gathering her belongings and preparing to depart for her own private barracks. The next morning would be an early one; she and her division would be meeting with a couple bounty hunters who had the dibs on the rebel group's location. The Navy had doled out a hefty sum to get the information, and Bellemere was prepared to take extreme measures if money was not enough of a motivator.
"They absolutely adore you, don't they?"
The voice made her jump, staggering backwards a few paces in surprise.
"Rocinante!"
The blonde stepped out from the corner–where he'd apparently been waiting this entire time, unnoticed–and approached, arms folded across his chest. It'd been months, almost a year, since she'd seen him last, and she was not pleased to see that he had changed. He'd sprouted another six inches, for one thing, as if his previous height of nine feet wasn't enough. Looking up at his face made her neck hurt. There was something else, also–an alteration in his face and demeanor, an unfamiliar hardness. His eyes were muted and somber, almost mournful.
"Where have you been?" she demanded. "Ever since we were assigned our separate divisions, I haven't seen or heard anything about you."
"I wasn't assigned a division. Well, not exactly." He licked his lips, shifting his position awkwardly. "Can we talk outside? It's a little…confining in here."
She noted that he had to slouch in order to prevent his head from hitting the low ceiling. "Sure."
—
"So, what's up?" Glowing cigarette poised between her lips, Bellemere handed the lighter to Roci, who dropped it and fumbled for several seconds before finally grasping it once more. In the process of lighting his cigarette, he somehow managed to set the sleeve of his jacket on fire. Bellemere's cry of alarm caused him to spring to his feet and strip off his outer layer, smothering the flame before it spread. "Happens all the time." he said casually, seating himself beside her. Eyebrows raised, she took the opportunity provided by his short-sleeved shirt to admire his well-cut figure; he definitely hadn't been that muscled half a year ago. Were those scars?
There was silence as they rested beneath the brooding half-moon, exhaling smoke into the dank night air.
"I've been promoted again." Roci said at last.
"Really?" Bellemere's voice spiked upwards, and her lips peaked into a grin. "What are you now? Rear admiral?"
"No, no." he laughed. "Lieutenant Colonel."
"I figured you'd pass me up one of these days. Not that I'm jealous or anything."
"I don't see any reason to be. You've got a nice division, from what I can tell."
"Yeah, they're great guys. Real sweet." She paused, thinking over the words they had exchanged inside. "What did you mean when you said you were never assigned a division?"
Roci took a thoughtful drag on his cigarette. "There's only so much I can tell you, since you're a lower-ranking officer. No offense."
She nodded gracefully. "None taken."
"But the whole 'division' nonsense–that was just a cover story, so people wouldn't ask questions. I've been involved in heavy reconnaissance work for months now."
"You mean patrolling? Communications?" She couldn't understand why it had to be such a huge secret.
"No. Infiltration, stealth, information recovery. Not all situations call for an entire battalion. Sometimes it just requires one or two people to get the job done." He looked uncomfortable. "I probably shouldn't be telling you even this much."
"Hey, it's alright. My lips are sealed." She gestured with one finger. "Go on."
He cleared his throat. "I can't tell you what I do, exactly, or who I'm involved with. But…" There was a heaviness in his voice; his cigarette slowly burnt down to a stub, forgotten. Standing up, he dropped the dying embers and scrubbed them into the ground with his boot heel. Bellemere remained sitting, legs crossed, her line of sight barely reaching his waist. Her gaze landed on his arms again; the pale moonlight revealed odd, milky abrasions in his skin, starting from his wrists and disappearing up into his shirtsleeves. They were scars, she realized. Just as she opened her mouth to ask about them, he turned to face her, drawing a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolding it.
"HQ issued new wanted posters this morning."
She took the paper and smoothed it out. Donquixote Doflamingo, the poster read. Ah, she remembered this one. He'd rocketed to infamy following the escape of Golden-Lion Shiki. Other than a few events here and there that caught her attention, she hadn't kept track of his movements, but he'd been one of those names that had always remained in the back of her mind as a possible threat. Her eyes lingered momentarily on the pirate's bounty, incredibly high for a rookie that young. With a frown, she glanced up. "He has your last name. Is he…?"
Rocinante nodded. "He's my brother."
She stared at the poster, unseeing, as her mind tried to absorb this revelation. It had been under her nose all this time–but she had never expected two people with such totally opposite values and backgrounds to be related. "There'd better be a fantastic explanation behind this. Were you two separated at birth or something? How did you end up being a Marine, while he's a pirate?"
"It's a long story, but I really don't have the time to tell it at the moment. The reason I came to talk to you is that I've decided to go after him."
She folded up the poster and handed it to him. "Why now?"
"He's started recruiting children. I've been personally following his movements over the last several months, and judging by recent sightings, he's got at least twenty kids in his pirate crew, all under the age of thirteen." His words were laced with unbridled disgust. "God knows how he found them all, but from the looks of it, he's training them to be his little soldiers." Rocinante sat down, interlacing his knuckles and clenching them tightly. "I've got to stop him."
Bellemere bit her lip, tapping the ashes from her cigarette.
"If I were to infiltrate his crew," he continued, "I'll have the advantage over any other Marine because I'm related to Doflamingo by blood. He'll trust me. I could scare away those kids, feed information to the Navy about the crew's movements, and maybe bring their entire operation to a halt. I could make a difference, Bellemere."
"Roci…" she trailed off. "Just because you're his brother doesn't mean you're personally responsible for his actions."
"Yes, I am." he insisted, brows knitted in agitation. "Now that I know I can help better than anyone else, I can't ignore the situation and do nothing. If I walk away now and wait for someone else to step in, that's not justice. That's indifference."
She sighed, closing her eyes wearily. "I understand. I hate the thought of children being used like that, too. But you're risking too much on the assumption that he'll trust you. If he has even the slightest doubt at the beginning, this whole plan will fall apart. How long has it been since the two of you saw each other?"
"About eleven years."
"You'd better have one heck of an alibi."
Rocinante nodded grimly. "That's the hard part."
They were silent for a while; the passage of time was almost tangible as they waited in the dark. Now that Roci had said his fill, he slipped back to his normal, unassuming self, more partial to listening rather than speaking. Then, something occurred to her.
"What if you were a mute?" she suggested.
He cocked an eyebrow.
"If you made it clear from the start that you couldn't speak, then fewer questions would be asked. You could express yourself through writing instead."
His eyes lit up. "I could play the fool. The silent, clumsy nobody, the last person anyone would suspect."
"Exactly!"
"Well, that's brilliant. I'm all of those already."
The two of them burst into laughter, sharing in a rare moment of innocent amusement.
"When do you leave?" Her question dimmed the mood considerably; Rocinante sobered.
"Sengoku-san has cleared the mission; it's just a matter of pinning down Doflamingo's location and setting up a meeting."
"And it's all improvisation from there."
"For the most part, yes." He got to his feet, picking up his singed coat and draping it over one arm. "I need to get back to HQ and finalize the last few details."
"Right." She wouldn't tell him she was already sick with worry.
"Thank you for hearing me out. I didn't want to leave without letting you know."
On the verge of walking away, he suddenly changed his mind in mid-step, turning around and enveloping her in the hug she'd been waiting for all night. His arms wrapped around her shoulders, firm yet gentle and welcoming. Warm.
"I missed you." she whispered, leaning in and accepting his embrace.
"Mm. I missed you, too. It got pretty boring without you raising hell every five minutes." His soft, reminiscent chuckle tickled the top of her ears; tingles rippled down her spine as his fingers entwined themselves into her ponytail. "Promise me you'll stay safe?" she asked, quietly.
"I'll do my best."
The overwhelming dread gnawing at her stomach refused to settle; watching him walk away and disappear into the twilight left her cold and hollow. She couldn't shake the notion that she'd gotten him back only to lose him all over again.
