(I made a change in chapter one about his name, so go re-read it before you read this chapter.)
(And yeah, I know this is totally OOC, but I'm writing the story based on the OnePiece fandom head canon that Law was a slave before he became a pirate, and was "bought/rescued" by Doflamingo.)
(Based on the criminal cases I've worked on involving human trafficking and sex slaves, this is all pretty much what I've seen. My job pays well, but it SUCKS.)
...
The morning dawned with a thick grey blanket of clouds in the chilly sky. It looked like rain and the blossom-scented air now hung heavy with the tang of rain. He had gotten little sleep last night though he had only ever slept in a bed after a master was finished using his body. The girl had been crying and making small sounds of protests in her sleep. When she finally collapsed into exhausted quiet, he had also drifted into the world of nightmares.
All night, he dreamed of his first master–the father of the woman who was getting married and had sold him–taking him without preparation. No words could accurately describe the tearing pain when taken from behind. The fat girth of a grown man's cock pushing into his not-yet-pubescent body tore him apart. Then, thrusting and pounding, groaning so loudly in his ear, slimy tongue tracing his jawline and the column of his throat. Finally, there was hot liquid filling his body and then dribbling down his parted thighs.
He had felt sick and used for days after that, though his master gave him little time to think about what had happened. Each night, he fucked him and, sometimes during the day, the master cornered him and forced his cock down his throat. At night, he dreamed of the occurrences again and again, as frequently as he had been taken.
Finally, the night came to an end.
He got out of bed, neatly smoothed down the sheets, changed back into his worn clothing, and folded the pajamas up on the pillows as he had found them. Then, he went to the bathroom, relieved himself, and timidly splashed some cold water on his face.
He barely recognized his battered reflection in the mirror. The bruises around his eyes were a touch lighter and the thick bloody split in his lip was beginning to heal at the edges, but the rest of his face was his usual beaten countenance.
Then, he quietly peeked out the door.
The aroma of coffee bathed the inside of his nose and he could hear rattling popping cooking noises coming from the kitchen.
For a moment, he hesitated.
The girl had not told him to leave his room nor had she told him to stay inside it. She might have company over even so early and his appearance might anger her and her guests. He would hate to start the day being beaten or whipped or end the week by starving.
Finally, he stepped from the room, quietly shut the door, and crept silently down the hall to peek into the kitchen.
The girl was there.
She was sitting in a wheelchair with her back to him. Her shoulders were narrow and shiny, as if they had been polished, and trembled faintly. She was wearing a dark purple tank top, a grey and white tyedye skirt, and the brace on her leg with a single high white sock beneath it. Her other leg was bare or shoes or socks.
He watched the arch of her long thin pale arms as she cooked something on the stove. There appeared to be no one else in the house.
With a momentary lapse in judgment and spike of bravery, he stepped into the kitchen with her.
"Good morning," she said without turning around. "I was wondering when you'd come in. You've been standing there for quite some time."
His heart began to pound against his ribcage, knocking loudly and impossibly fast.
Suddenly, she said, "Please forgive my appearance this morning. My leg is feeling particularly weak and painful today. I don't often use the wheelchair, but I do when it's completely necessary."
He wasn't sure what to say or even if he should speak.
"My name is Topaz, by the way," she continued. "I meant to say so last night." She turned in her wheelchair and his eyes crashed to the floor.
"What's yours?" She asked sweetly.
"I don't have one," he whispered.
"What?" A distressed sound emerged from her throat. "You… have no name…?"
"If it pleases you, master," he whispered.
"It does not please me."
He bit the corner of his lip hard between his teeth and tasted blood. The tear in his lip had opened again and he quickly licked his lips to catch the blood. He felt a single drop roll down his chin and tried to catch it in his cupped hands, but it slipped through his fingers and splattered on the floor.
Topaz turned her wheelchair and he felt her eyes on his bloodied hands. An apology was burning on his tongue as she rolled across the floor to stop in front of him.
"Oh God," she whispered and took his hands in her own. "It's not your fault. That's not what I meant. It's alright."
He shivered and the tremor wracked his hands in hers.
"It's okay," she murmured. "It's alright. How about nicknames? Do you have any nicknames?"
He shook his head.
"Well, what does everyone call you?"
He wet his lips, tasting blood, and hesitated. "…Brat," he whispered, "and fuck-toy…"
Topaz rubbed his icy skin between her palms. "Does anyone ever call you anything… nice?" she asked quietly.
He shook his head again and squeezed his eyes shut.
"Would you… like a name?" she whispered.
His eyes fluttered open of their own accord and he stared at their hands. His crimson blood was smeared across her white skin and his flesh looked like cracked parchment against her rosy tone. He wet his lips again. The bleeding had stopped, but his lips were crackly and itchy with dried blood. Then, hesitantly, he nodded.
Instantly, his mind was flooded with names she might give him. All horrible wretched rotten names… Dog, animal, slave, worthless brat…
But she said none of these or anything worse.
Gently, she rubbed the scars on his wrists and then said quietly, "How about Trafalgar?"
Trafalgar…
"It's a Cape Town, and a name for a battle that occurred in the 1800's," she continued. "I rather enjoy history, and I've always been fond of that particular battle. But...if you'd like something shorter..." She grew silent, making little 'hmm'-ing sounds.
"How about Law?"
He weakly shook his head, but the words that emerged from his mouth spoke another idea. "If it pleases you, master," he whispered.
She squeezed his hands. "It's your name. It only matters if you like it," she murmured. "So, do you like it?"
He swallowed and then hesitantly nodded.
Trafalgar Law…
He had a name now. It was his name, his own, his only possession, all his. He found himself wanting to protect it from anyone who wanted to take it from him. There was a special something about having something that's all your own when you've never had anything of your own before.
"Okay, then, Law," Topaz said and she sounded like she was smiling. "Let's have some breakfast."
He jerkily nodded and she released his hands, rotating her wheelchair and going back to what was cooking on the stove. He stepped up behind her and gently laid the pads of his fingertips on the handles of her chair. Then, realizing what he was doing, he snapped his hands back to his sides.
...
For a long moment, they stood quietly in the kitchen while Topaz cooked whatever she was cooking in the pan.
"Would you get down some plates, please? Second cupboard from the sink," she said suddenly.
He nodded, got the plates, and set them down neatly at her elbow next to the stove.
"I'm making omelets," Topaz said and suddenly swooped the omelet onto one of the plates. Then, she cracked three more eggs, whipped them in a bowl with some milk, and then poured them into the hot pan. "Push the toast down, please."
He moved and pushed down the button. Then, he returned to her side.
When the toast popped, she asked him to splash some butter on it. Then, she finished the omelet and slid it onto a plate. "Alright," she murmured. "Let's eat. Grab the plate of toast please." She put the omelets on her lap, carefully arranging the plates so the food didn't slide off, and wheeled herself to the kitchen table. She set out the plates, nudged the chair that she normally sat in aside, and wheeled her chair into the empty space. "Have a seat, Law."
A little shiver ran down his spine at the sound of his name. His name. He found he rather liked the sound of it.
He sat next to her, set the plate of toast down, and she pushed a plate in front of him.
"Dig in," she said and cut a big bite from her omelet.
Starving, he bit into the omelet. It was all meat and cheese–sausage and ham and cheddar cheese and neatly chopped Roma tomatoes. He hadn't eaten so much of anything in his entire life. He was used to his stomach growling emptily and his body weak from hunger. Again, within moments, he had cleaned his plate.
"Have some toast," Topaz murmured and placed a tower of three pieces on his plate. The final piece she left on the plate.
He dug in, crunching noisily. Hot butter ran down his chin and he quickly wiped his skin on his shirt.
Then, contentedly full, he sat back and watched her long-fingered hands as she delicately ate. Her hands were trembling, shaking. Then, he noticed her gnawed fingers were bloodied and raw. She had torn the flesh from around her nails, leaving them swollen and bloody.
He looked down at his own hands, scarred and equally wounded.
He thought of her leg, wrapped in that metal brace, and her limping hobbling walk.
He wondered what had happened to her, but he would never ask.
He was a slave and she was a master. No matter how kind she was, there was a rift between them.
He could never speak to her without invitation.
He could never look at her.
He could never know the color of her eyes.
He could never touch her unless ordered.
Yet, at the slightest provocation, she could have his body, his life, his blood, and his flesh.
After all, like his name, he was her possession.
...
"Let's get you cleaned up," Topaz said and the words sent a stab of sudden fear down his spine. She wheeled herself back from the table. "Could you put the plates in the sink for me, please?"
Law stacked the plates, carried them gingerly, and set them quietly in the sink.
"I'm sure you saw the bathroom attached to your bedroom. There're some towels under the sink and a toothbrush, toothpaste, a comb, and other toiletries in one of the drawers. You'll have to look around for anything else you need. Everything is in there somewhere. Shampoo, conditioner, and a razor are already in the shower," she paused. Maybe she was smiling at him. "If you need anything else, please don't hesitate to ask me, okay?"
He nodded and started to walk down the hall.
"Law?"
He froze, half turning to face her.
"Nothing, never mind. Please, just let me know if you need anything."
The bathroom was painted pale cream and tiled all in pale golden yellow. The vanity was swirling gold and green marble with shiny golden faucets. The single big window was decorated with stained glass and framed by white lace curtains, the shower curtain bore the sunny visage of a burgeoning garden, and there was a blown glass vase of yellow and pink tulips. It was peaceful, beautiful.
"Do you like it?"
Her voice startled him. He hadn't heard her chair on the hardwood floor rolling up behind him.
"We could change anything you want in this room. These are your rooms, after all. I want you to feel comfortable here," she murmured and sounded for the entire world that she meant everything she said.
He nodded.
She rolled into the bathroom behind him, reached through the shower curtain, and started the water. "I… I really do wish you'd say something…"
"I'm sorry, master," he said instantly.
She sighed heavily. "After you get cleaned up, we're going to the mall to do some shopping. We're meeting up with a few of my friends, so please don't put those clothes back on. I'll bring you some clothes and leave them on your bed for you, alright?"
"Yes, master," he said quietly.
She sighed again and rolled herself carefully backwards. "Okay then, get cleaned up," she said finally and left. He heard his door close quietly.
He stripped out of his slave garb, wincing as a rip slithered through the threadbare shirt, and cautiously ventured a hand beneath the spray. Shock had him snatching his hand back immediately. The water was warm! Water was never a warm comfortable temperature. It was either scalding hot or icy cold, but she had set the temperature herself so there could be no mistake.
Puzzled, he got out a fluffy towel and stepped into the shower. The water swirled down the drain thick with dirt and dried blood. He scrubbed his fingers through his hair and over his face. His lips split open again and the warm water burned the wounds on is wrists. Groaning in pain, he scoured the rest of his skin ferociously. Then, he washed his skin with the soft sweet-smelling soap and worked the shampoo into a rich lather in his hair. Content that he was clean enough to appease his new master, he shut off the water and stepped out.
He dried off without looking at his skeleton reflection in the mirror, wrapped the towel around his waist, and stepped out into the bedroom. A small stack of clothing was waiting for him next to the pillows. Feeling vulnerable in his nudity, he dressed quickly in the jeans and pulled the t-shirt down over his head without a care for the wet state of his hair. The shirt hung off his frame and the waistband of the jeans just barely caught on the sharp bones of his hips. He pushed his feet back into his worn shoes, returned to the bathroom to comb his wet hair and brush his teeth.
As clean as he had ever been, he hung his towel neatly over the shower rod, folded his filthy clothes up and placed them on the vanity, and left the room.
Topaz was in the kitchen, sitting in her wheelchair and talking quietly to someone he couldn't see. As it was, he could only see the curve of her shoulder and part of the back of her chair, but he could hear every word she was saying.
"He didn't have a name, Marina-chan." Topaz was saying in a rather distressed tone of voice.
"They normally don't. Ryou-kun didn't either when I first got him," another young feminine voice said and he heard a deep sigh.
"Please, tell me he'll get better with time, like Ryou-kun did."
"Your Law doesn't know it yet, but he has the best person to heal with. You're amazing, Topaz-chan. No one is better than you, except maybe me." There was a girlish giggle.
He heard Topaz begin to laugh as well. "Oh please, I have problems too!"
When the giggling quieted down, he heard Topaz say almost nervously, "Do you really think I can help him, Marina-chan?"
"Of course. Just give it time." They were quiet for a moment. "One more thing, Topaz, dear. What kind of slave is he?"
"He's a…he was..." Sakura seemed to be hesitating. "…a sex slave…"
"WHAT?" There was a lot of gasping and wheezing. "You bought a sex slave? Why?"
"I don't know! The auctioneer grabbed his face and his eyes were rolling back in his head. I just saw him standing up there on that platform with his face all bruised and his body all bloody and something in him just called to me. I just… wanted to help him… With all my heart, I just want to help him…"
"You have a great heart, baby. If anyone can help him, it's you."
"Thank you, Marina-chan. I really needed that," Topaz murmured.
Law leaned his forehead against the wall and sighed heavily. A shudder ran down his spine and then he felt the soft touch on his back. He practically leaped out of his skin in shock and terror.
There was a young man standing behind him. Like Law, he had scars lacing around and around his wrists and up his arms to disappear beneath the sleeves of his t-shirt. His body was trim and lean, but solidly muscled. His red-brown hair was long and almost raggedly cut and there was a white swath of bandages wrapped around his head, pushing his hair up in tufts and spikes. He had bright green eyes, vibrant, lively, not the eyes of a slave yet the scars displayed that he most certainly was or had been.
"Hey, you must be Law-san? Topaz-chan told us all about you," he said cheerfully and clasped his hands neatly behind his back. "How do the clothes fit? Topaz thought you were about my size and asked me to bring you over something decent."
Law tried to speak, but his voice came out a whisper, "These are yours…?"
Ryou nodded and grinned. "Yup." Then, his green eyes grew very serious. "So, what kind are you?"
"Sex."
Ryou lowered his eyes down Law body and back up again. "Aah," was all he said. "Marina-chan got me from the work house. A plantation, nice place, but one of the managers had issues. I was beaten to a bloody pulp when she got me."
Law murmured sympathetically. He knew how that was, being beaten blue and bloody and raw, having it hurt to breathe.
Ryou put a warm hand on his shoulder and Law flinched. Immediately, Ryou lowered his hands, but said quietly, "I know you won't believe me, but you have a wonderful master. Topaz is a beautiful, gentle person and she's been hurt badly by someone she loved and trusted so she will never hurt you."
Law stared at the floor, unable to allow his heart to rise up to meet the hope this young man was dangling before him.
"Alright," Ryou continued. "You've been hiding out long enough. I know Marina-chan wants to meet you."
"Yes," he whispered.
Then, he and Ryou went into the kitchen.
Topaz was sitting in her chair. She was wearing jeans with her brace fastened down over them and a sweater and purse in her lap. "Hello, Law," she said cheerfully. "You look nice all cleaned up."
"Thank you, master," he whispered.
"Ooh, Topaz-chan, he's so gorgeous." The girl's voice he assumed to belong to Marina was cheerful, bright, and held no trace of discrimination. Law surveyed her legs. They were bare and lightly tanned, strong and toned, and so long beneath her pleated green schoolgirl skirt. She wore dainty white tennis shoes on her feet and that was all he dared to look at.
"Hey," Ryou squawked.
"You're handsome, Ryou-kun," Marina said plainly, "but, he's so...hot, mmm, especially when he fills out and gets some meat on those bones?"
Ryuo grumbled.
Topaz said cheerfully, "Come on, Marina, quit picking on him. Let's go, everybody!"
Law watched her put her bloodied hands on the wheels of her chair and begin to roll herself towards the door. She bumped herself up over the threshold easily and then carefully stopped at the top of the front steps. She buoyed herself out of her chair, wobbled a bit on her injured leg, folded her wheelchair neatly, tucked it under her arm, and began the slow hobbling descent down the five steps. Marina rushed up behind her, yowling, and snatched the chair from Topaz's arm. She shoved the folded wheelchair at Ryou and put Topaz's arm around her shoulders.
At the bottom of the five steps, Ryou offered Topaz his hand. She declined, smiling and batting him away. "I'm fine, I'm fine!" she said cheerfully. "Marina, would you mind driving?"
"No, of course not," Marina said equally happily and helped her friend into the passenger seat.
Ryou was busily stowing the wheelchair in the trunk.
"Ryou-kun, could you get Law?" Sakura called. "And lock up?" Then, she lobbed the keys past Marina's head, out the driver's side window, and into Ryou's waiting hands.
Ryou bounded up the steps, stuck his head inside the house, and shouted, "Yo! Law-san, let's go!"
Law materialized in the doorway, looking pale and nervous and shifting uneasily from foot to foot.
Ryou smiled sympathetically. "It's alright, Law-san, it's alright." Then, he gently took the other man by the elbow, locked the house, led him to the car, and slipped into the backseat with him. "Alright, Marina-chan, put the pedal to the metal."
Staring at his hands where they lay folded in his lap, Law wondering thought about the fantastic familiarity the three of them bestowed upon each other. They were close, even Ryou, who was still a slave as far as Law knew.
Quietly, the car puttered along down the road. Marina, Topaz, and Ryou chatted amicably as they drove.
Law remained quiet and still as a statue until Topaz asked, "Law, are you alright? You're awfully quiet."
"Yes, Master."
Topaz heaved a deep sigh and Ryou leaned forward to whisper something in her ear. Topaz shook her head and whispered. Marina whispered something as well. Then, the quiet conference ended and they each sat back in their seats to resume their cheery conversation. This time it seemed choreographed strictly for his benefit.
Finally, they pulled into the densely packed parking lot of the mall. The cars were like hard candy, shiny and brightly colored. People bustled to and fro from vehicles of all shapes and sizes. There were slaves laden with bags trailing behind haughty looking masters. Parents laden with children and a slave-nurse bustling along beside them. Groups of teens in strange dress, some with slaves and some without. The people were as vibrant and different as anything Law had ever seen though he kept his eyes lowered to the pavement.
Ryou got Topaz's wheelchair out of the trunk, set it down, and opened it for her. Without anyone's help, Topaz limped from the car and jockeyed herself into the wheelchair. Then, she put her hands on the wheels and rolled slowly down the slope of the parking lot. Marina, Ryou, and Law trailed after her.
A car started to back out, not seeing Topaz in her chair.
Marina was trailing far behind Topaz, squabbling with Ryou. Law was between them and Topaz, absently following after his master. Since he was looking at the ground, he didn't see the car until Marina let out a scream.
"TOPAZ!" Marina screamed in panic and horror.
His eyes snapped up immediately and took in the reversing vehicle in an instant. Topaz saw it, too. Violating the rules of slavery, he took in the curve of her face and pale flawless porcelain skin and the light caramel shade of her hair. Then, he saw her mouth twist in a grimace of terror and she brought her hands up to her face as if that would shield her from the coming onslaught of the vehicle.
"Topaz!" Ryou shouted now. His feet pounded the pavement behind Law and then Law's body lurched into action.
The muscles in his legs bunched tight and he sprang at the back of her chair. His shoulder slammed into the handles, digging under his collarbone, and his weight propelled it forward so quickly that Topaz's teeth snapped together with an audible click. Her chair rocketed forward, out of harm's way, and Law slammed his face into the pavement.
Without so much as noticing them, the car continued backing up and may have backed right over Law's vulnerable legs if Ryou didn't jump onto the hood and shout at the driver. Marina barreled around the car, grabbed the handles of Topaz's wheelchair, and hauled her backwards. With Topaz close by and under her protection, Marina looped her arms around Law's battered body and dragged him back from the path of the car.
"Are you both alright?" she demanded.
Law's face was a mess of blood and Marina quickly cupped her hand over the wound. Topaz nodded weakly and put her bloody hands on the back of Law's neck, twisting her fingers gently in the soft hair.
"Jesus!" Ryou said and charged around the hood of the car to crouch with Marina. "Some old biddy. She's got coke bottle glasses so thick you can't see a fucking thing!"
"There's nothing we can do," Marina said. "God, that was scary."
Topaz gripped Law's shoulder. "Law, are you okay? Can you stand?"
He nodded weakly and put his hand to the bloodied side of his face, inadvertently laying his palm over Marina's. Instantly, he flinched and lowered his hand again from her warm skin.
"Ryou-kun, get me a hanky out of my purse please. I dropped it somewhere," Marina ordered.
"Right, okay," Ryou said and whirled to find her purse.
"Marina-chan, here." Topaz wobbled from her wheelchair and gripped the handles tightly to steady her shaking legs. "Let's get Law off the pavement."
"I agree," Marina said and hauled Law up under his arms.
He was unsteady on his feet and pressed his hand to the bloody side of his face. Marina muscled him into Topaz's wheelchair and then gripped the handles to prevent him from rolling backwards.
Topaz swayed on her feet and her braced leg trembled.
"Topaz," Marin said worriedly. "You look like you're about to drop." She looked from Law to Topaz to the wheelchair and back. "Maybe you could sit on his lap or something."
Topaz swayed again and nearly fell. Ryou barreled up behind her just in time to catch her by the shoulders and quickly swoop her legs up in his arms, bridal-style. Marina's purse hung from the crook of his elbow in an almost ladylike manner.
"Let's get you sat down, darlin'." Ryou said and gently set her down in Law's lap.
"Alright," Marina said and turned to Ryou. "I think we need to head back. Could you stay here and shop for some clothes for Law? They don't have to be perfect, just fit him for the most part. He's about your size."
"Yeah, sure, Marina-chan," Ryou said immediately. "No problem."
Marina hugged him and whispered, "That was even closer, right?"
He nodded against her shoulder and squeezed her very tightly. "We would have lost her that time if it wasn't for Law." he whispered.
"I think he'll be good for her," Marina whispered. "She needs a friend."
"And she for him," Ryuo murmured.
In the car, Marina thought of what had happened to Topaz. She thought of the images that still plagued her friend in her nightmares and the thoughts that relentlessly bounced through Marina's head at the horrors Topaz had suffered through and how the other girl hadn't even told her all of what had happened to her.
Topaz was a wonderful person, but she had been hurt so badly, too badly, horribly.
Law was a spectacularly broken young man and he had been torn apart by life itself.
They had both suffered so terribly, but maybe with each other they would have a chance to heal.