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Caprice

Chapter XI


It was not hard to see why Marco had fainted. Lord Portgas himself was in shock by the undead appearing on Trafalgar's doorstep, violin in hand and bow poised to begin a new ditty.

Dr. Trafalgar, for all his credit, could not keep his hands off of this musician.

"Positively sublime," he kept muttering. "To see someone like you."

"Yohohoho! Miss Nami, may I see your undergarments? I have come all this way, just to see under your petticoat."

"What a deviant skeleton," Jean Bart mumbled. Throughout the night, he'd seldom spoken his thoughts, and everyone turned to him when they heard his deep, gravelly voice. Then they silently agreed.

"You're a louse!" Nami shouted in response.

The skeleton appeared slightly put-off by Nami's fury. "Is that a no?" he quietly questioned.

Robin escorted Nami from the room before she could break some bones.

"So, you are Brook?" Trafalgar asked with obvious interest. He had already offered to take the skeleton's coat, but had been refused. It was rare for Trafalgar to offer anything, much less in a manner of a servant.

"I am Brook! Travelling musician and Straw Hat pirate under the infamous Monkey D. Luffy!"

"Oh, he's infamous in this household alright," Trafalgar said with a snicker. Images of the half-dead man with a massive wound on his chest flew to mind. The blood had made a mess of his floors that day. It had taken days for Shachi to mop it all up and remove the stains. It had smelt good at the time though, Trafalgar had to admit.

As if recalling the exact same thing, Shachi sent a look of distain in the direction of a certain man before slinking away to the kitchen.

Dr. Trafalgar motioned for Brook to have a seat at his leisure. "If you don't mind, Brook, I would like to have a chat with you about your…intriguing condition. Can I get you tea?"

"Yohohoho, yes, tea with a spattering of milk would be most welcome. These bones get dry and brittle if I don't keep them moist!" Trafalgar slunk off, casting a look at a sofa where Lord Portgas had laid his servant down and was currently fawning over him. The man hadn't even the sense to check Marco's vitals, so the doctor quickly examined his friend's valet before going to request Shachi make a new kettle of tea. He wasn't about to become too much of a servant.

When the tea was finished, he brought it in and served it to the bony, curiously connected joints of the undead's hands, which in itself was an experience he decided he would write down in his notebook later. Then he sat next to the skeleton, who drank his tea sparingly.

"Ah, this is delicious. If I had a tongue, I would tell you it tastes superb, but alas, I have only – oh! Luffy, save me some of those pastries!"

Trafalgar sighed and tried for conversation, crossing his legs and folding his tanned hands in his lap. "Mr. Brook, if you will be so kind as to tell me the story of how you became like that. If it is not such a touchy topic, of course."

"Oh, there is no problem! Why, it's not a scary story at all. I detest scary stories. Well, my tale begins after my death, as all stories of the undead must begin." The skeleton made that high-pitched, garbling laugh once more. It reminded Trafalgar of a dying songbird. "No, actually I lived during the greatest Renaissance of them all – a musician then, too. I used to sail on the greatest carrack of the time and play a mean fiddle for the crew, but alas I ended my life on land in the graveyard of a crazy old witch. She was a good sort, a friend if ever there was one, and when I passed she dug me a good grave and dumped my body into it.

"Her name was Kureha. I believe she was a doctor. Very peculiar woman; Chopper says she was a great inspiration to him, and I gave him some of her old texts that I happened to carry with me after the…incident."

Brook twiddled his beyond emancipated fingers. "So I died. And when I died, I was given a good burial. But, see, the old graveyard where we lived and I died was surrounded by urchins lookin' to get a quick penny, so I didn't stay buried for long. Body snatchers, they were pretty quick at digging me up, but Kureha caught 'em and speared a few with knives before they could carry my body to an anatomist for experimentation. Then she did something quite odd that neither she nor I expected; she raised the dead. Old Absalom and I, we just came out of the ground quite alive and well, though by that point the maggots had done a number on me and him. Quick little buggers."

"Necromancy," Trafalgar stated, impossibly intrigued by the way the skeleton's jaw moved with the tinniest of clicks. "Now, I imagine the old witch has passed by this time in history. A shame, too, for I would've been interested in meeting her."

"Oh, I wouldn't be so certain. She isn't exactly an easy one to kill, you could say."

Trafalgar kept his thoughts to himself.

"So after frightening the daylights out of the body snatchers and hanging about with Kureha, I journeyed for some time, got lost in the Bermuda Triangle after getting on an accursed ship, and was just recently rescued by a certain intrepid Monkey." Said young man didn't pause in consuming pastries, and Brook looked over with alarm at the dwindling stack. "Hey, Luffy, leave some for me!"

"Quite an adventure, by any account," the doctor said in conclusion. That would be the last they spoke for the remainder of the night. He joined Lord Portgas in trying to revive his valet, but in the end they settled on harnessing the lord's horses together and lending him a carriage. Shachi was decided upon to be the driver, and would take them home and return in the morning. The carriage and equipment would be retrieved at Trafalgar's earliest convenience.

With Marco loaded up outside and the horses anxious and prancing, Lord Portgas found his brother. As was the norm with the two, their parting did not end with farewells.

"Don't do anything too idiotic," the elder brother cautioned.

"Ace, you do stupid stuff, too!" Luffy fired back, making Lord Portgas' neck bulge with indignation. "Besides, I have a crew to back me up now."

"A good crew, if a bit small," the lord replied, a hint of sadness threatening to creep into his tone. "Still, try to avoid having run-ins with the navy. I don't want to hear about you being pressed into service or worse."

Luffy scoffed. "As if they can take me alive. I won't surrender. Not now, not ever."

"You're going to get it then?"

"The One Piece? Yeah. Then you can rest peacefully without people harassing ya."

"He's going to be the King!" Everyone either laughed raucously or snickered at the drunkard that had shouted that. Lord Portgas could only beam cheerfully and depart before anyone could see the proud tears clinging to his eyelashes. He had a feeling, however, that Dr. Trafalgar knew his emotions when he thanked him for the party and his attentions to Marco's wellbeing.

He would try not to worry too much, he promised himself as the horses pulled against their harnesses, taking them away.

-oOo-

Lord Eustass watched the sun set from a window. It was nearly time. He called Killer to his side.

"I'm here, Master."

The lord had waited all day, in agony, for dusk to fall. He had conceived a plan yesterday, an idea that Killer had helped him to grow. When pressed, Killer had told him that sometimes the only way to be rid of an attraction was to completely destroy the source.

But he could not destroy Trafalgar. It would be impossible to bring himself to that brink of life and death with that man again. Killer had informed him that he was attached to the man he so loathed by the uncontrollable force of his demon nature.

In response, Lord Eustass devised a plot to obliterate Trafalgar without ever seeing his raccoon eyes gleaming at him from the cloak of darkness again. It was a simple plot, admittedly, but it would be effective.

Killer was to destroy Trafalgar on his orders.

The creature had agreed with some visible reservation to his plan, and had been bustling about the house in a whirlwind of activity to make the time pass more quickly. He would not leave in daylight, that the lord made clear, as doing so would possibly allow the doctor to combat him. Of course, Lord Eustass well knew that Trafalgar was just as effective at night as in the day, only the lord was betting on a hunch that the man would not be expecting to be ambushed in his home during the evening hours.

"Go. Kill him. The postmaster has informed me that he gets his mail on the outskirts of the Boin Forrest. A pheasant boy brings it to his doorstep every day. It should be no problem for you to find that scent and track it." He turned to regard his masked assassin. Underneath the metallic bars of the helmet, Killer pursed his thin lips.

"I understand your orders. But Master, would it seem too outlandish to ask whether or not a possible union is in order between the two of you? It is not…unheard of, especially not for beings of the night."

Lord Eustass stared at him in disbelief. How dare his servant ask him to toss aside his indescribable hate for the vampire and join hands with him? How utterly hideous the thought was. Yet he couldn't help but think having Trafalgar as his own personal slave, to use whenever the urge arose, would be beneficial to his health. However, the chances of such coming true were less likely than a benevolent and equal unification between the lord and the doctor. Those odds were nonexistent.

"That is a thought I mock! Ludicrous lunacy, that is what it is! He would sooner kill me, and I him. I only want to move quicker than he, for if I don't he'll come in the night once more and feast on my blood. Then where does that get me? Sucked dry and dead, that's what." Lord Eustass made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. "Vampires are parasitic killers. That is the lore surrounding them."

"Not necessarily," Killer muttered to himself as his lord spun around and started towards the nearest window. He often stopped to gaze out as if paranoid something was lurking just beyond his courtyard. Killer knew he was waiting, conscious or not, for the one his sights were knowingly and unknowingly set on.

"Get rid of him. Kill him and bring back his body. I'll display his head on my mantelshelf as a reminder of how I overcame this apparent weakness."

Though Killer did not fully approve of the nature of his orders, as he did not believe the outcome to be best for his lord, he would not question them. He could only try to obey them as best he could. "I won't disappoint you, Master," Killer said, disappearing into the shadows.

Lord Eustass heard a faint thump and knew Killer had exited the manor and begun his assignment. He sighed and leaned against a wall with his shoulders slumped forward. In the past few days he'd been so high-strung and explosive, and now he suffered exhaustion. He hadn't slept much. He hadn't eaten much. He was very much so a wreck.

It was all Trafalgar's fault, and it would end tonight.

He looked down at his body and groaned. Even the simplest of thoughts about the man conjured up a physical ache in his slacks. He was alone in his home with no servants and their prying eyes; for Killer had obliterated every single other being that wronged him in some way. He could do anything he wanted without having to hide himself away in his bedchamber.

He chose the path of sweet relief.

-oOo-

Slowly, Marco came to his senses. The constant shifting of his body was cause for alarm and he tensed, sleepily, registering encompassing warmth that brought him some degree of comfort. He felt grooming fingers run through his hair, soft and careful not to wake him.

He breathed deeply, sputtering a bit as his breath caught in his throat. It was enough to alert Lord Portgas to his valet's consciousness.

"Ah, you're finally awake. I was worried."

Marco blinked in the semi-darkness, aware of two lights on either side of him that were close yet distant. It took him a moment as he lay, undulating like a boat on rough seas, to come around to the idea that he was in a carriage with lanterns on the side, and that his head was currently cushioned by his lord's lap.

He was appalled by his lack of duty to his master and sat bolt upright.

Lord Portgas grabbed him, two strong arms wrapping around his chest. "It's okay! The skeleton man is far behind us now, don't worry. He was harmless. I'm so sorry, Marco. I never would have put you in that situation had I known something like that would scare you so badly…"

Marco calmed down in the lord's grip, partially because the lord did not allow him to move around and further panic himself, and partially because Lord Portgas always consoled him. His presence was, dare Marco admit it, becoming familiar and comforting. For so long Marco had been alone, sifting through the tenants that Lord Portgas had put up at the Gol estate from a distance, and he'd never formed friendly relationships with any of them.

Lord Portgas laid his head against Marco's shoulder, reminding him that their relationship was a bit more than friendly. His heart fluttered and his breath became shorter.

"My Lord…"

"It's Ace, remember?"

The name was so foreign. "Ace…"

"I won't put you through that again. It was inconsiderate of me to plunge you into a room of things you weren't familiar with."

"They were nice…people and creatures," Marco said, remembering how he got past the initial bout of discomfort with Miss Nico and actually had a civilized conversation with her. No bloodsucking or anything. More importantly, she regarded him as if he were her equal. Yet he didn't flounder at the gift of being more than a servant in her presence. Robin had made it feel natural. Then there was Chopper. He liked Chopper, too, even if he'd never met something, or rather someone, as unique as a talking reindeer.

The skeleton…he would pass on ever meeting again. All he could recall before his vision left him was glittering white teeth and black pits for eyes. A haunted figure out of Hell itself. The image made him shiver. He waggled his finger and discreetly crossed himself, the only movement he could make with the lord hugging him tight.

"I liked them," Marco continued. "I only wish I could have spoken more with your brother."

"You and me both," Lord Portgas said wistfully. "But Luffy was supposed to depart yesterday, and Dr. Trafalgar held him up for my sake. It was a crazy move. It's hard to stop Luffy in his tracks and make him go back the other way for…partings. You have to coerce him with edibles if you want any progress to be made."

Marco drew in a haggard breath. Lord Portgas' voice was so close to his ear and its calming heat was sweeping across his entire body. The darkness of the carriage in the middle of the night, lit only sparingly by the lanterns swinging about on the outside, gave Marco only a faint outline of his lord. He could see the shadows of his high cheekbones and the curve of a hesitant smile, but beyond that was darkness as the carriage's top held away the natural light of the moon.

One of Lord Portgas' hands fell to his thigh, and he covered the refined fingers with his more rugged ones, worried that the lord would…get too intimate.

Marco was not naïve. He knew what came after the tentative kisses. He knew a man like his lord would not be content with the same drab affections day after day. He knew there would be more expected of him.

He just didn't know if he could give any more without becoming repulsed.

The lord nuzzled his neck, and Marco knew lips had fallen on him, though he felt no moisture. No eagerness. Just a steady, reassuring presence.

"I wasn't scared, you know," Marco said. It was half the truth. He had his moments of apprehension. But after seeing how easily everyone accepted their fellow abnormal companions of the night it was hard to feel fear. He almost believed he could get used to Lord Portgas' quirky world. Almost.

"You seemed a bit unsure," the lord murmured circumspectly. "I am still berating myself for pushing you out of familiar surroundings so soon. So thoughtlessly."

"Please, don't trouble yourself. Besides, I do trust you. You are kind and fair. How could a man not trust that?"

The lord shrugged slightly at the hypothetical question, drawing his hand subtly away from Marco's thigh, out from under the faintly shaking hand of his valet. He couldn't keep his hand there without an overwhelming sense of guilt tearing at him. Then there was the matter of Marco trusting him so undoubtedly. It brought shame to the forefront of his thoughts, for he had seen Marco at his most prone, done sinful things in his attendance that he had not been made aware of.

"You place trust in people too easily," the lord stated.

Marco inhaled with a slight chuckle. "No, I don't think I do. I don't trust easily. You have earned my trust."

"You trust a demon, then. I fail to see how that does not sound foolish in your ears."

"I have yet to see evidence of these truely demonic characteristics of yours, my Lord Ace."

"Just Ace." He grinned, noting the humour that had entered Marco's tone. "You shall see the ugly side of me soon enough. I'm holding off for now."

Lord Portgas felt a sudden pressure in his side, and noted with giddiness that Marco was leaning against him. The flush that spread through his body, the pleasurable ardour of having Marco so near, left him in a state of light-headedness.

However, he did not miss the shrill cries of the horses or the abrupt jerk of the carriage as it came to a juddering stop.

Marco practically leapt from his arms. For the first time since waking, he wondered just how it was that he was sitting in a carriage alone with his lord. "Who's driving us?"

"Shachi, the boggart. Trafalgar's little helper. We've stopped; I'll get out and see what's wrong."

"No," Marco said decisively. It was the finite way he said it, so crass and severe, that arrested the lord. He halted all action. "It shall be me. Stay here, Ace."

Lord Portgas gave out a nervous little laugh, his breath having frozen in his lungs. Marco had never addressed him in such a commanding tone. In that moment, he saw for a fraction of a second in the semi-darkness a man who had in him the will for survival, fight that rivalled that of the most vicious and dogged of hounds. He saw someone fit for command. Had Marco been born under different circumstances…

He was unnerved and humbled, but he would not stand by and be protected like a damsel.

The lord pushed Marco down into his seat and leaned over to unlatch the door on his side. "No, I shall go outside and confer with Shachi. Can't you hear the horses shrieking? They are hysterical over something. We are still in the Boin Forrest – you don't know the kinds of creature that lurk around in here at nigh–"

His words stalled on his tongue as he saw something large and blond dart across the forest floor into sight, pause in view of his carriage window, and then continue on its way. He knew from the gasp behind him that Marco had seen the pale beast lit by moonlight as well.

He was not expecting to see a snarling boggart go roaring past.

"Shachi!?"

The lord scrambled out of the carriage, landing haphazardly on the loose dirt of the road. The horses were panicking and the carriage was listing to the right as Lord Portgas' black stallion made his strength known. Quickly, he took a gander at the forest, noting the backside of a small creature running away at top speed. Shachi was pursuing whatever it was that had upset the horses.

Lord Portgas went to the beasts and grabbed a hold of the bridal on the black. The horse tried to toss him off, but Lord Portgas held his head down before he hurt himself. He heard footsteps and sharp breaths and turned to see Marco was upon him.

"Get back inside the–"

"No, the horses might be hurt. Let me check them over."

Lord Portgas held the black's nose against his chest while Marco brushed a hand over the equine's hide. "Only sweat," he said at length. "No blood. Whatever that was, it didn't attack them. It looked like a fawn wolf."

"It did look rather blond, but I don't think it was a wolf. Shachi wouldn't bother with it if it was." They moved over to the palomino and Marco checked the mare over. The stallion was heaving and stomping a hoof against the hard earth, but the lord had managed to sooth his thrashing. He was just grateful that the stallion hadn't the usual reflex to rear. Perhaps the heaviness of the harness had curbed that desire to some extent.

"What do you think it was then? You would know better than I," Marco said. He finished checking the flanks of the palomino and gave the good results, that the other horse, too, was unscathed. "Was it a…a demon sort of thing?"

"I don't know. I'll drive us back home. Get into the carriage, I want to leave quick. It's not good to dawdle in the Boin Forest. That's how you get killed."

Marco wouldn't obey him. "If you won't let me drive, at least allow me to sit up front with you. A second pair of eyes would be most beneficial. We haven't a rifle or a bow. We have only our wits, or what's left of yours anyway."

Somehow, Lord Portgas cracked a smile under the moon as he swung up into the driver's seat. "You've lost your wits, then?"

Marco scrambled up after him, taking a seat that was too small to accommodate two fully-grown men. "You couldn't have expected me to keep them after such an exciting night."

Lord Portgas laughed lightly, very aware of the danger they were possibly in. Still, he appreciated Marco's daring humour in light of the situation. It was not raucous by any means nor was it subtle enough to be missed. He was glad to have Marco pressed against him in the cool night air. His company made the long, bumpy road back to the estate bearable and, dare he think it in the circumstances, enjoyable.

He was even more humbled when Marco chose of his own accord to drape a friendly arm across his shoulders, giving them more breathing room and yet bringing them closer together.

-oOo-

Very little remained in terms of food when Penguin flapped his way back to Trafalgar's hearth. The doctor had sent the bird off for the evening while the party had transpired, knowing that the Caladrius preferred quiet spaces and minimal company. Now he was back to rest on the top of the fireplace, warming his feathers by the fire.

Dr. Trafalgar regarded him with a smile, for the beautiful white bird was about the only thing in the room that was not a mess. The food, as mentioned, was nonexistent due to Zoro and Luffy's voracious appetites, yet gin and ale remained in various containers scattered throughout his home. Franky had wandered during the course of the evening and with him Usopp; minute traces of their adventures could be found anywhere Trafalgar had items of interest.

He sighed and reclined on a sofa, his shoulders stiff. He felt utterly satisfied by the outcome of the event, as everyone seemed to have a grand time. In majority they were, after all, pirates. He anticipated that they'd make the most of what could be their last time on land for months.

"Oh, Penguin, I am too kind to that fool of a friend, aren't I? Inviting his brother here to see him one last time. Well, more like enticing him with food and drink, but Ace understood the sentiment I believe." Trafalgar snorted a bit when Penguin chirped at him, a high-pitched call that he so rarely uttered. Only the most privileged were given the chance to hear it.

"His chest wound looked better. You remember Luffy. You nearly looked away from him and gave him the death sentence." Penguin chirped again, this one more endearing than the last. Trafalgar melted and felt pent-up stress roll off of him. All night he'd been tense, worried that someone would try and fight someone else in the vicinity of his fragile home. "That's right, Luffy's stronger than he looks. Emotionally, physically for sure, and in his own way perhaps even mentally. He does not give up and die."

Penguin began to preen his feathers and Trafalgar leaned back until he fell on the sofa, stomach up and eyes on his ceiling. He'd lit a multitude of candles and the little firefly lights cast bubbles across the wood above. In a strange way, the patterns reminded him of the sea with a slight breeze to ripple the water.

It was quite nostalgic.

Dr. Trafalgar sat silently for some time before looking over to Penguin again. The bird had his head tucked under a feather and his eyes were open, yet Trafalgar knew he'd fallen into rest. Penguin always slept with one leg positioned in such a way so as to catch himself should he begin to unexpectedly fall forward off the mantle.

Dr. Trafalgar got up and procured his cellar in the depths of his home. He had kept it locked when his company was over and took out a tiny silver key from a hiding place inside a wall to gain access. Once inside and down a short flight of stone steps, he took from his pocket a box of matches and lit a nearby lantern he kept for such occasions.

He swung the lantern around the small, chilly space to check that everything was in its proper place. He didn't truly need the light, but he liked the way his glass jars and other reflective paraphernalia lit up and winked at him.

The walls of the cellar were decorated with shelves upon which a menagerie of medical instruments sat next to jars containing various memorabilia from his travels, both on land and sea. In one jar he had the petrified body of a snake, the poison from which he'd used to make a purplish polish for the nails of Duchess Jewellery. He had decided at the last possible moment not to give it to her, for her banquets brought him much amusement and keeping her alive was of the utmost importance to his continuing studies of the human nature. She was the perfect example of a female willing to please an affluent man in any she could only to backstab him later.

She excited his curiosity, even though the wine she served at her parties was in no way pleasing.

He looked to the emancipated body of a small animal, its tiny organs on display and picked apart inside a fluid filled jar. Beside it, a heart had sunk to the bottom of its container, looking quite ruined as far as proportions went. He had no interest in dissections today, though there were rainy days when he would've picked things like that apart without hesitation.

Tonight he felt he needed a revision of his most oft used medication, so he reached for a bottle of clear, congealed liquid. He brought it in front of his face, examined it at several angles, and placed the glass bottle on a table where he took a seat. It was his workbench, and it was meticulously scoured clean after every use with his own sweat and blood. Not literally, of course. Nobody was allowed down here, and everything that needed cleaning was done with his own hands.

The doctor uncorked his bottle and drew out a line of his most favoured serum, studying it at length. It was an older brew, one that had sat on the shelf for upwards of a year, and as a result the precipitate had grown to encompass the majority of the bottle. He poked at it, upsetting his perfectly drawn line, and found that it really wasn't amusing him at all. He wished he had some organism to try it out on. Like a human body. Preferably one that was still breathing.

He pondered that for a while, coming to the conclusion that it likely wouldn't make much of a difference whether or not he had a hundred bodies down in his medical dungeon for experimentation. He knew all there was to know about the caprice serum and its effects on the human body. It now bored him. The only thing left was a certain cambion with a bad temper.

He felt himself grow excited and his lips curled with distaste. Thoughts of the man brought on mixed emotions. On one hand, he would love to toy around with Eustass Kidd. On the other, he really didn't want to involve himself further with the anger that the man so obviously held in reserve just for him. The idea of being dominated was off-putting.

Yet, he realized there could be ways he could dominate, too. Using the lord's weakness for his natural juices.

Trafalgar laughed at the lusty turn his normally systematic thoughts took and started up the steps, leaving his table to be cleaned at a later date. He didn't even cork the bottle of caprice serum. Somehow preserving it didn't feel important anymore.

Once in the kitchen he opened his cold storage and fished around for an ideal drink. Stored in separate jars he had pheasant blood, clergy blood, the blood of a reputable lord…all human blood in the end. He grabbed whatever was closest at hand and poured himself a glassful.

Then he put it on the table and simply stared at it.

"Disgusting," he muttered, catching the scent. It was the fact that he knew what was held in the glass would be mediocre at best that put him off the most. Then he sighed tiredly, because his stomach was aching with a need for sustenance and he didn't want to drink from the glass even though he knew he must. The strong scent made his nostrils itch and his lungs thought the smell repulsive.

After a long minute, he pinched his nostrils together to block off the unappetizing odour and downed the glass in a matter of gulps. The thick liquid almost came back up. Still, the repulsion could have been worse. He was getting better, albeit slowly. Drinking rum while the party went on may have helped him forget the taste of demon's blood.

It was disappointing to think that he was still ruined by one stupid decision he made to feast on Lord Eustass.

He blew out the candle he'd been carrying around with him and decided that it would be wise to get a morsel of rest. Bepo's paws scratching the floor in a room on the other side of the house didn't beckon to him, however. He enjoyed sleeping next to his bearish shapeshifter, or even on top of him, but tonight it was obvious Bepo was dreaming a particularly violent dream. He did not wish to be injured by either teeth or claws.

So he decided to retire to a room upstairs.

Glowing eyes caught him in the hall. For a split second, he thought the shadow with glimmering eyes was Shachi, but then he blinked and realized the form was crouched, appearing smaller than it really was. He blinked again. He was looking at a painting on his wall.

He spun on his heel. There was only silence save for his soft footsteps as he swung around. The eyes had vanished.

He stood there, pondering his sanity. He was likely malnourished from his recent blood abstinence. He hadn't slept a wink in a few days. From a medical standpoint, that had likely been a hallucination.

Still, he cautiously made his way back downstairs, his shoulders tense. Then he took up his nodachi. With a hand on the sheath and its blade pointed down, he tapped the floor. The sound resonated. He hit it against the wall next. The garbled sounds that returned to his ears brought him on even higher alert.

Something was lurking against the corner of a room.

"Come out!"

His command echoed throughout the manor. Bepo's snoring could still be heard, wheezing wuffs that told Trafalgar he was tracking something in his dream. The doctor almost laughed at his friend's lack of guard skills, but the sound of splintering wood made his breath hitch in his throat.

He turned to the sound with his blade drawn and was subsequently attacked from behind.

With a surprised grunt Trafalgar let himself be bowled over. He hit the ground and brought his blade in a spin, hitting something warm and fleshy with it. Something screamed in his ear and the weight on his back left him, scrambling away.

Whatever kind of demon it was, it made a low-pitched whimper. It would also be a dead demon by sunrise.

Law scrambled to his feet, drawing his blade up with him and putting it in the path of the creature that had foolishly chosen to assault him. His shoulder stung; he'd been bitten by fangs or impaled by razor sharp claws. He would have to remove his shirt to access the damage.

The sound which had previously caught his attention turned out to be his housekeeping demon back from his errand escorting Lord Portgas and his valet home. The little boggart howled and flung himself in front of Trafalgar, his teeth bared and his eyes a milky white.

Dr. Trafalgar scooted backwards until his body was flush with a wall. "Calm down, Shachi! I have already nicked him with my sword. Whatever it is, it is dying."

Shachi would not be placated. At length, Trafalgar realized that the growls and whines he was making was not born of repressed anger; rather it was animalistic communication. Shachi was talking to the beast. And what was more startling was the tortured cries the demon was making in response.

Trafalgar watched the exchange with curiosity. The blond demon, as that was about the extent of what he could see with the body writhing about in the shadows, never holding still long enough to be scrutinized, was answering his boggart.

Finally, Shachi turned around, agitation still prominent in his eyes and his lips peeled back into a snarl. "Master! I know him! He is an old ally of mine!"

Trafalgar could not stifle his shock. He let out a grunt and scrambled to his feet. Never before had Shachi paused when another came between him and his master. "He tried to kill me, Shachi," he reminded the demon with all the firmness of a rebuke.

Shachi let out a whimper that caught Trafalgar further off guard. "He is a nameless, homeless demon!"

The blonde creature stopped rubbing his wounded, burning shoulder against Trafalgar's wall long enough to shout, "I have a name and a master!"

"Oh? Who sent you then?" Trafalgar asked. He already knew the answer, and did not wait for his reply. "Think wisely before you speak! It was Lord Eustass, was it not?"

The creature made a garbled growl and Shachi cocked his head to the side to better listen. "Aye, it was he," Shachi confirmed nervously. "It was Lord Eustass."

Trafalgar grunted and hefted his sword off the ground. "Well then, I ought to kill him and end his misery."

Much to his surprise, Shachi would not clear his path. He stood firm, little whale-teeth glistening. "Wait, Master! He wishes to speak with you!"

"Then speak, boggart!" Trafalgar yelled, impatient. His shoulder stung and he knew his clothing was ruined by his own blood.

"Please! I wish to split allegiance," the demon rasped out. "You have impressed me greatly, and you have taken another of my kin in…"

"You won't live," the doctor said simply. "I have cut you with an accursed blade that is eating your flesh as we speak. Your arm, it is blistering, that much I can see under your cloth. Your face, you hide it behind a helmet, so I can not see if the curse has spread yet to that area."

"You are a doctor for demons," Shachi said, aghast. "There must be something!"

There was something, but Trafalgar needed a good reason to go down to his cellar and retrieve it. "Why should I save you only to riven your allegiance to Lord Eustass in order to include me in the contract? Such a bond never works. I think you are trying to save your own skin."

"I have realized something that my Master has not while coming here. You need my Master and he needs you," the demon answered, his voice growing higher in pitch as his flesh wound festered and pus leaked out onto the stone floor. "Because. Because I will serve you and him equally, as I can feel a union between the two of you will eventually come…"

"Now isn't that curious." Trafalgar paced the room, eying the demon from all angles. He had reason to believe it was a malevolent boggart trying to get the upper hand by drawing him close. He would not prance over only to be given a killing blow. "What makes you think Lord Eustass is thinking of this union? Especially when he so obviously sent you to annihilate me?"

"He is haunted by thoughts of you, and that is how I know he will eventually succumb to the more primitive part of his mind. He is simply confused at the moment. Had I killed you, perhaps he would have gone insane and died from a nameless torment. So I gave you ample opportunity to strike me down. For his sake. After all, a boggart obeys his master to the bitterest end, but he tries to avoid hurting his master if he can find a loophole in the orders given to him. So I had to try to kill, but at the same time give you the opportunity to destroy me, as that would be best for my Master."

Grudgingly, Trafalgar did recall how he's turned his back on the eyes in the dark and basically bared himself for attack. There had been ample opportunity for the boggart to kill him, and yet the creature had chosen a moment when Trafalgar was prepared to strike back. With this thought making his skin itch, Trafalgar turned his back on Shachi and the peculiar boggart who was clearly more intelligent than his rags made him out to be, and went down to his cellar to search his shelves for an salve he believed would reverse the mark of death he'd given with his blade.

Whether he was making a momentous mistake or not was yet to be seen.


A.N.: Merry Christmas everyone and thanks, as always, for all the support! :)