Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece, but Kyra was my idea.

Two days after nearly being sold to a Supernova and the massacre that followed, Kyra sits in a shadowed corner of an unfamiliar bar, nursing her drink and trying to decide if she's hungry enough to risk ordering food here. Dives like this, you never know what meat they might be serving you. Her normal hangout has been closed down due to the mysterious disappearance of its owner - who just so happens to have been the same bartender that drugged her drink and got her sent to a human auction. Right now, whatever's left of him is digesting in the belly of a particularly hungry Sea King.

Opting against food after watching a waitress walk by with a platter of something terrifyingly reminiscent of vomit, the mage downs the last of her rum and raises the empty mug at the barkeep. The older man nods in acknowledgement before sending another of his girls over with a refill. The girl gets a thousand beri tip and a small smile before Kyra leans back into the shadows.

She has been attempting to lay low since the shit hit the fan at the auction house. With rumors of Admiral Kizaru and the Warlord Bartholomew Kuma both wreaking havoc up and down the island, the end of that first day had been spent in a mangrove tree deep in the lawless district. Kyra had watched from her hiding place as other mangroves were demolished by strange beams of golden light and multiple explosions constantly shook the ground. The chaos had continued until dusk fell, and she had spent the night catching catnaps while the smell of burnt wood and the sounds of clean-up crews bustling around had filled the air along with the bubbles the island is famous for.

Yesterday the tired and cranky sorceress had risked venturing to her dingy little apartment for her clothes and the substantial hoard of cash hidden under the floorboards. Nothing else was of any import to her, and all her other worldly possessions were left for her ass of a landlord to sell or trash at his discretion. The rest of that day had been spent at the docks, trying to pick up any news without being noticed at the same time.

Her efforts had gleaned quite a few interesting little tidbits. For example, the reason for the simultaneous presence of so many of the Supernovae was due to the upcoming execution of notorious pirate Fire Fist Ace, commander of the second division of the Whitebeard Pirates. Apparently fortune would have it that all eleven super rookies made it to Sabaody around the same time, and now even those that have already obtained a coating for their ships are waiting until after the execution before setting off again. In fact, the only two Supernovae currently not on this island are Straw Hat Luffy and Pirate Hunter Zoro.

The story has gone out that shortly after fleeing the human auction house, the Straw Hat Pirates were attacked by the latest prototype of the Navy's new weapon - the Pacifistas. After narrowly managing to defeat the mechanical menace, Straw Hat Luffy and his crew were set upon by Amiral Kirazu and the real Bartholomew Kuma. No eyewitnesses to the fight existed, but it was strongly rumored that the Straw Hats had been completely annihilated, not even a trace of them left on the island. Kyra takes a sip of her drink, eyes staring fixed and unseeing at the tabletop. She can't help but feel sorry for the Straw Hat Pirates; from what she's heard in the last few months they were a crew of misfits that had been running around sticking it to the World Government and liberating the common people all at the same time. They didn't deserve what had been done to them.

More importantly, her sneaky eavesdropping had not given Kyra any concrete updates on the whereabouts of Trafalgar Law or his crew, something that bothers her immensely. That strange ability, the look that ruthless pirate had given her, the way he spoke to her - Kyra would be much happier if she knew for sure just where exactly Law was skulking. She has no desire to run into him again - doubtless the Dark Doctor is most displeased with his involuntary naptime the other day. He'll probably be an even bigger pain in Kyra's ass if he shows up.

The thought has no sooner crossed her mind than the ill-humored god controlling her destiny decides to deposits a person in the booth across the table.

"Funny running into you here, Miss," the new arrival purrs.

Oh, dammit all to hell.

The Surgeon of Death sits across from her, his nodachi next to him leaned against the wall and that annoying little grin already plastered across his lips. Half a second later the same girl that brought Kyra her refill appears out of thin air next to the table; she sets a mug down in front of Law before vanishing again without a word. The drink is ignored for the moment as Law plants his elbows on the table and rests his chin upon his steepled fingers, all the while staring at Kyra with lazy eyes.

Kyra, on the other hand, is giving her unwanted companion the universal stank eye. "What the hell do you want?"

A nonchalant shrug is offered in reply. "I came in here for a drink. Just happened to see you hiding over here when I walked in and thought you might like some company. Hasn't anyone ever told you that it's a bad idea to drink alone?"

"You were alone, too," is the annoyed retort given.

He smirks at her as though she has just made his point for him. Irritated, the prickly young woman hunkers into the corner where her booth meets the wall, nearly hugging her grog to her chest as she does her best to ignore the man watching her like a hawk. Blue eyes dart quickly towards the bar, wondering if the owner would bother to lend a hand if one were requested.

"Don't bother, Miss. Mr. Barman isn't stupid enough to tangle with a Supernova."

Dammit. The cornered mage takes a large gulp of her grog, determined to finish it quickly and get the hell out of here. Something about this particular individual has little warning bells chiming faintly in the back of her head. Being around him like this is neither safe nor wise; getting away quickly seems like the best plan at the moment. Besides, annoying prick or not, Kyra doesn't kill pirates unless they try to kill her first.

Plus she's tired, hungry, and low on reserves of power - but Law certainly doesn't need to know that.

Slamming back the last of her drink, Kyra puts her mug back on the table and scoots her way out of the booth. Pausing only for a moment to fish the appropriate amount of beri from her pocket, she tosses the money down and books it for the door - all the time aware that Law is going to follow her as soon as he gets up from his seat. Hopefully she can lose him in a back alley somewhere.

Sure enough, about five steps out the door a black-sleeved arm is casually thrown over her shoulders. The ruthless bastard walks along next to her, much closer than is either polite or necessary; he's probably doing it just to grate on the exhausted mage's nerves. She considers trying to throw up a shield to push him away, but Kyra knows from experience that it won't work right now. With so little sleep the last few nights, way too much use of her powers in a very short period of time, and the fact that she hasn't eaten since yesterday, nothing short of a life threatening injury will be able to coax magic from within.

"So where are we going, Miss?"

Which means being stuck with the annoyance all but glued to her side.

"I'm going to find something to eat. You can go to hell."

"Wonderful idea. I haven't eaten yet either; where would you suggest we go?"

Fuck my life.

Trafalgar Law has often been called a ruthless, cold, evil man. This doesn't bother him, of course; he is a pirate. He is not Monkey D. Luffy or one of his crewmates, who go around saving people for the most inane reasons. He has killed; pillaged; tortured; and of course left the occasional ship of Marines or group of bounty hunters delightfully scrambled. He does what he wants when he wants with little thought to the consequences aside from assuring that his crew will not suffer overly much for his fun.

Fun makes the world go round for the Surgeon of Death, and the grouchy woman under his arm is going to provide barrels of entertainment once he gets her back to his submarine. It's on the tip of his tongue to ask the woman why she isn't throwing him away from her if she so objects to his presence, but Law remembers how she collapsed after killing all those Marines and how her dainty little hand had been shaking like a leaf right before she put him to sleep. He suspects from how tired the girl looks that she has not rested properly in at least a few days, and if she hasn't had somewhere safe to sleep then it stands to reason she has not had easy access to food either.

Law doesn't think the younger woman can get rid of him via her strange abilities, and the thought makes his grin broaden into a smile.

The woman rather abruptly tries to get out of close proximity with the Dark Doctor, stepping back and to the side in an effort to elude the long arm of Law. He smoothly moves to counter, this time dipping his arm around her back to rest on her opposite hip. The low growl immediately directed at him is easily felt through where the two are touching as Law's newest target vibrates with anger.

"Remove your hand before I break it off."

Law instantly retaliates to this order by pulling her closer, pleased when he doesn't explode or otherwise die in a grisly fashion. It would appear that he is correct in his assumption, and for the moment his unhappy companion is all bark and no bite.

"You're supposed to be taking me somewhere to eat, Miss," he reminds her, ignoring the look she sends him only because at the moment the threat in her eyes is empty. "You wouldn't want us to get separated, would you?"

"My name is Kyra, not Miss," the woman grumbles, pulling away as much as she can when her hip is being cradled rather tightly by tattooed fingers. "And I can think of little else at the moment that would give me more pleasure than getting as far away from you as this island would allow. Feel free at any time to wander off on your own and not come back."

Law grins to himself, immensely pleased to have gotten a name out of her so easily. Doesn't this young mystery know any better than to hand out pertinent information to someone such as himself? The surgeon makes a mental note to ensure that once she joins his crew the woman's name is given only to those he approves of.

After walking around for awhile - Law teasing the girl every few minutes and enjoying the way her spine grows stiffer and stiffer after each comment - the pair end up at a sushi bar. Law, not being a big fan of raw fish, merely orders a drink while the hungry ex-slave sets about demolishing a plate piled high. He is amused at her lack of table manners, wondering if this is a sign of poor upbringing or just a testament to how hungry the woman really is.

"So how exactly did you end up in that auction house, Miss Kyra?" he inquires lazily, watching through half-lidded eyes as she pauses with a bit of fish halfway to her mouth. The meat is discarded back onto her plate, exchanged for the drink sitting to the girl's left.

"I went for a drink at a bar and got drugged," she informs him bluntly after a long swallow, clanging her mug back to the table. "My turn: did you enjoy your nappy time?"

This question brings a prominent frown upon the Dark Doctor's visage. He had not been happy to wake up roughly three minutes after passing out with Bepo standing protectively over him, Straw Hat Luffy and his crew nowhere to be seen and Eustass Kidd likewise missing in action. In fact, the only live people anywhere near him had been his crew and the ex-pirate-captain Jambal, still chained in his explosive collar near the entrance of the auction house and forced to wait for his masters to come claim him. Actually, the addition of Jambal to the Heart Pirates was about the only good thing to happen that afternoon; soon after had found Law and his men fighting alongside the Kidd Pirates against those Pacifistas.

"That wasn't a very nice thing to do, Miss Kyra," the doctor says in his most quiet, deadly voice. "I don't appreciate people toying with me. It would not be in your best interest to do something like that again."

Those pretty blue eyes that remind him of the sea are once again spitting a combination of scorn and venom, but before she can say anything, there is heard the click of a gun hammer cocking back.

"Lookie here, boys. Our favorite little test subject got herself a boyfriend."

The Surgeon of Death twists in his chair to regard the speaker. A handful of low-level Marines sit at the table directly behind his chair, which had been empty when Law sat down several minutes ago. One of them, a rather large and burly fellow with food stains decorating the front of his uniform, has risen from his seat to point a gun at Law's head wearing a triumphant grin. The pirate suspects that fellow does not represent the consensus in his group on this being the wisest course of action, for the rest of them are darting fearful looks at one another. They look uncertain as to whether or not to follow his lead. No surprise, considering the demonstration he and Kidd put on earlier that week against the Pacifista. Though whether it is him they are worried about tangling with or his dinner companion is not clear, as many seem to be regarding her with a measure of trepidation.

Before the Supernova can rise to take care of this little annoyance, Miss Kyra is standing somewhat protectively in between him and the table of Marines. Law makes another mental note to tease her for defending someone she's been treating like a pain in the ass at a later time. For now he shifts around in a circle so that he is straddling the chair and folds his arms over the backrest with chin resting on top of them to watch the show unfold.

"Aww, ain't that cute?" the big soldier sneers. "Look how fast she moves to shield lover-boy, he must be a pirate!"

"Roscoe," another Marine at the table speaks warningly to his comrade, "don't do anything stupid. You know what she's like!"

"Peh!" the oaf called Roscoe spits. "She ain't gonna do nothing with Admiral Kizaru still hangin' around! How 'bout it, eh?" He waves his gun in what is clearly meant to be a threatening manner. "You want a taste of what those pirates got? Still jumping to save scum like him from justice, 769?"

Miss Kyra's back stiffens so fast that Law can hear several of her vertebrae pop in quick succession. Her deceptively dainty little hands ball into tight fists at her sides. She speaks, and her voice is so low that Law has to strain his ears to hear her.

"Thirty. Seconds," she hisses, words practically dripping with barely suppressed rage. "You have thirty seconds to get off your collective asses and out of my sight before your blood paints the walls. Starting now."

The one who spoke before rises and places a hand on Roscoe's shoulder. "Come on. Leave it. She's not worth the trouble."

The burly Marine only lets out a bark of laughter, before he pulls the trigger.

Law is on his feet instantly, hands poised to draw his nodachi and slice these men to pieces. Miss Kyra stumbles back, bumping into him and fisting a hand in the front of his hoodie to steady herself. A quick scan shows the blossoming flower of crimson on the left side of her chest, right over a lung. The doctor quickly wraps an arm around her waist to pull her behind him, but before anyone has the chance to move the girl makes a violent waving gesture towards the Navy personnel. The chortling Marine's head instantly rotates three hundred and sixty degrees - a full circle - snapping his spinal cord. He falls face first into his plate of food, dead as a doornail.

"Ten seconds," the murderess in Law's arms rasps out.

The table is empty of living Marines before the last syllable is heard. They take their fallen brother with them. Word will no doubt soon reach unfriendly ears regarding this incident. Now it's official: she has to come with him. But before he can advise her thus, Miss Kyra mutters something about the stupidity of her instincts before abruptly passing out, leaving the Heart Pirate captain standing there with an armful of woman, a head full of unanswered questions, and a wonderfully convenient reason to get his newest crew member back to his ship.

Somehow he just knows Miss Kyra is going to be a lot of fun when she comes to in the Dark Doctor's infirmary.

When Kyra wakes up, it is to disorientation and pain along with a resolute wish that she had just run from that ass of a Marine instead of using magic without proper rest, damn her backward instincts to hell. That, and a stomach that just might be trying to digest itself from hunger since being undernourished and sleep deprived had zapped a substantial chunk of her energy along with that spent during her little fit. Wonderful.

The twenty-something sorceress moans quietly, bringing a shaking hand up to prod at the ugly new scar on her chest. This brings a hiss, as the mark is extremely tender and the smallest poke is enough to send stars dancing in her vision. The exhalation in turn produces a hacking cough, which leads to another moan. Damn, she hurts all over. And this crappy little bed she's lying in doesn't do a damn thing comfort-wise; she may as well be lying on the floor for all the good it-

Wait. Why is she even in a bed? Where is she?

There is a small round window on the wall next to the bed. Kyra sits up, swaying slightly from vertigo, and looks out to view - water. Dark, featureless water in every direction as far as the eye can see. She looks back into the room, sees the bolts in the walls and the steel door. The mage then extends her senses outward, letting her magic brush through the walls of this place to get a sense of what she's dealing with. And she gets it, all right, even as she realizes that she's naked from the waist up and absentmindedly wraps the bed-sheet around her like a toga.

She is on a ship. A ship that can travel underwater. A ship that is currently traveling underwater. Kyra's trapped miles beneath the surface of the sea in an unfamiliar ship while half-naked and she has no idea how she got here.

Fuck.

Before she has time to properly panic, the steel door in the wall to her right is pulled open. Kyra slides unsteadily off the bed and tries not to wobble as Trafalgar Law strides into the room, his sword absent and that bear right behind him. Once they are both over the threshold of the doorway, the bear pulls the door shut.

"How are you feeling, Miss Kyra?"

Kyra wants to bolt. Fuck. He had taken advantage of her helplessness and brought her to his ship while she was unconscious. That bastard. She is never going to do him a favor again, instincts be damned.

At the moment said bastard is watching her try not to fall over with a smirk on his face. The bear's face is blank; Kyra can't read a damn thing from the furry features. In one... paw... it holds a satchel that bulges in odd places. Her hands, clenched in the remaining sheet of the bed behind her as they steady her balance, fist tightly. What do they want now?

More importantly, where the fuck is her shirt? Her other clothing is hidden in the higher branches of a mangrove tree, but she would really like a shirt right about now.

"Where's my shirt?" she demands, wincing as she does so. Her throat feels dry as sandpaper; talking is honestly physically painful.

Law seems to notice her discomfort. He lopes toward her, ignoring the way she flinches away from his hand as he places it over her throat. His smirk vanishes, to be replaced with a frown.

"Swallow for me."

Kyra eyes him uneasily. His hand is large, easily wrapping around her neck; she is not pleased with their current position. Hesitantly, she forces herself to swallow dry; maybe if she does he will take his hand away?

"Again."

Dammit.

Kyra tries to swallow again, just to get this over with and get him away from her, but her mouth and throat are now so dry as to make the act of swallowing impossible. Law nods once, his thumb stroking the skin on the side of her neck. Kyra jerks to the side, sliding away from him on unsteady legs and having to grab the side of the bed to keep from falling. Law apparently decides to ignore this; he turns his attention back to the bear standing silently by the door.

"Bepo, leave that here. I want you to go to the galley and tell Neil to warm up some of that soup from lunch. Bring a bowl of it and a pitcher of water back here."

"Yes, Captain."

Kyra flinches, staring at the bear as it drops the satchel and quickly exits the room. A walking, talking bear. How weird.

"Don't say anything to Bepo about the fact that he's a bear," Law breaks into her shock, moving towards the satchel with one hand in the pocket of his spotted jeans. "He's fairly sensitive about it. This has clothing in it for you; I didn't know what you like, so I had the boys pick up a few things. I had to cut your other top off to tend to your injuries. If you want something else you can grab it when we resurface; I took us down to ensure we weren't disturbed while I fixed you up."

Kyra says nothing, merely watches the captain as he walks back to the bed and sets the satchel on top of the pillow.

"Get out of that sheet. I want to look at the wound on your chest again to check the bleeding and the stitches."

Kyra goes pale in comprehension. Trafalgar Law, Surgeon of Death, Dark Doctor. Doctor. Oh, fuck. He's seen her half-naked. He'd stripped her and seen her naked and he would have seen her back. Oh, fuck. Fuck.

"Who - " she rasps, and then pauses to cough harshly. She can taste the faint, coppery tang of her own blood - no doubt left over from that bullet to the lung - and tries to force it down as she stifles her coughing in her shoulder. Wonderful, that's just what she needs: let the crazy doctor watch her cough up blood. As if he isn't already going to pester her with a hundred prying questions.

Regaining control of her annoying lungs, Kyra turns her head to the pirate captain and asks, "Who else was in here when you stripped me?"

"No one. No one comes into the infirmary except me unless they are hurt or ill." He doesn't ask why she wants to know, but from the sudden lack of a smirk she figures he is well aware of the reason.

Thank the gods for small mercies, anyway.

"Why am I on your ship?" she whispers; she would have preferred to scream it but her throat isn't really working properly at the moment.

Law takes a step towards her and Kyra immediately moves away, backing up on unsteady legs until her back hits the wall. She tenses, disliking the feeling of being cornered, and eyes Law with a look that is freakishly reminiscent of a mouse looking at the cat about to eat it.

Law is smirking again. "I'm not going to hurt you, Miss Kyra. I'm not in the habit of injuring my crew."

"I'm not part of your crew, you dumb fuck," she snaps in response. "I don't want to be part of your crew."

The smirk is getting bigger, and Law is edging closer every second. "You have quite the foul mouth for a young lady. Is that any way to speak to your new captain, Miss Kyra?"

"Dammit, just leave me alone!"

This time she really does scream, and the blood she coughs up a moment later is as impossible to hide as the look of shock on Trafalgar Law's handsome face. She spits a glob of bloody gunk onto the floor to keep from choking, wincing as she watches that blood soak into the metal floor and vanish. Fuck. Just... fuck.

"Now, that is something I've never seen before." Goddammit, now he sounds horribly interested. "Perhaps you can tell me if there is anything unusual your blood is going to be doing to my ship, Miss Kyra?"

"It'll eat a giant hole in the lower regeins and drown your precious crew," she invents wildly.

He apparently does not approve of this reply; his hand is immediately at her throat again, squeezing hard enough to bruise.

"Well, then, if you plan on living longer than it takes for me to break your neck I suggest you do something to prevent any damage to my submarine. I may be thankful to you for assisting me back there, but that doesn't mean I have a problem killing you to protect my crew. Or maybe you could just admit that you were lying to me and stop treating me like a fool." All of this is said in a calm, cool voice; it reminds Kyra of business colleagues chatting over lunch.

The pointer finger on her left hand twitches slightly, and immediately Trafalgar Law is throw across the room to smash into the opposite wall. He hits the floor on his feet, an absolutely lethal look on his face that Kyra would bet money is usually a presage to somebody dying.

When she speaks, Kyra's voice is low and dangerous. "Don't you fucking threaten me, or I'll tear your guts out of your body without having to touch you."

To prove her point, Kyra's pinky finger on her right hand wriggles three times before an audible crack reverberates through the room as Law's nose breaks. The Supernova quickly puts a hand to his shattered nose in an attempt to staunch the bleeding, all the while staring at Kyra with narrowed eyes.

Three more wriggles of her pinky, and Law's nose is once again flawless. Only the blood on his face and hand show that anything was ever wrong.

Absolute silence rings throughout the infirmary for five slow heartbeats.

"Don't fuck with me," Kyra whispers, already feeling the drain of using some of what little magic she has managed to rebuild. "Don't threaten me; don't touch me; and if you try to stop me from getting off this hunk of metal as soon as it resurfaces, I will strangle you with your own intestines. I refuse to be a part of your crew, I don't give a shit if you like that or not, and I will not stay here just because you say so."

The door opens again and Bepo walks in, a steaming bowl of soup and a jug in its paws. It pauses upon seeing its captain; its teeth flash in what Kyra is pretty sure is a snarl. She's hoping it won't jump at her; she'd really hate to have to kill the bear. It's just too...cute. Kyra has the sudden mad urge to go over and scratch the bear behind its ears; she squashes it before she puts herself in a position to get mauled.

"It's fine, Bepo." Law's voice is just as calm and cool as ever; a glance at his face reveals that same easygoing grin that annoys the hell out of her. "Just a little misunderstanding. Leave the soup over here."

The bear is slow to obey, eyeing Kyra the whole time it's in the room as though waiting for her to throw herself at it or its captain at any moment. Kyra figures it's still unhappy about the fact that she paralyzed it. Once it sets the bowl and the jug down on the stainless steel table beside Law, Bepo looks to its captain and speaks again with an impossibly deep voice.

"Do you need anything, Captain?"

Law shakes his head. "Tell the men we're having a meeting at sundown. We'll surface for the night and meet on the deck. Let Gable know."

"Yes, Captain."

Sorceress and surgeon are both silent until the door once again closes behind his fluffy subordinate. Leaning back against the wall and folding his arms over his chest, Law regards Kyra smugly under the fur of his hat.

"Hungry?" he asks, that certain purr in his voice which does weird things to Kyra's insides. "This is great soup. Why don't you come over here and have some? I promise I don't bite unless you ask me to."

Kyra wonders how this man doesn't sink his own sub with the sheer size and weight of his ego. She briefly considers denying her hunger, but her traitorous stomach chooses that moment to growl obnoxiously. Predictably this is enough to set the Dark Doctor off, as he laughs at the mage while she burns red in embarrassment. Giving him a look that plainly tells him to go to hell, Kyra lowers herself to sit cross-legged on the floor against the wall across the room from him - careful to keep her sheet-toga securely wrapped around her torso - and crooks a finger at the bowl of soup. It rises off the table and floats gently towards her, coming to rest safely in her lap with nary a drop spilled.

"Go fuck yourself," she replies politely just before taking a sip of the soup. He's right; it is great stuff.

That grin of his gets wider. "What kind of Devil Fruit is that?"

Kyra pauses with a spoonful of soup halfway to her mouth so that she can give Law a purposely confused look. "Did I say it was a Devil Fruit? Damn, my mistake. All this lying to get assholes like you off my back is corrupting my moral compass."

"Is it corrupting your vocabulary as well?"

"That's au natural. Not my problem you don't like it, jackass."

"Captain or Law works just fine, Miss Kyra."

"You're not my captain, jackass."

A dismissive wave of the hand is given in response to that statement. "You'll change your mind eventually."

Kyra opts to ignore that; she's really fucking hungry and this soup is probably the best she's ever had. If Law wants to delude himself into thinking he's snagged another crewmember by kidnapping her, that's his problem. She won't hesitate to kill the smug bastard if he tries to stop her from leaving at the first opportunity, general admiration for pirates or no. Her freedom is everything to her; the sorceress refuses to let anyone chain her will in any way ever again.

"I don't need you to check whatever stitches you put in my chest," she tells him instead, swallowing down a mouthful of soup. "They aren't there anymore anyway. I wasn't kidding when I told you I didn't need medical attention back at the auction house; sewing me up like that was completely pointless. Don't do it again."

A vaguely familiar look, cold and ugly with its promise of violence, settles on Law's visage. He watches her through those strange icy eyes of his, clearly not pleased about something. Kyra fails to see why she should care; the pirate's lucky he's not currently splattered all over his own little infirmary.

"I believe I've told you before not to give me orders, Miss Kyra," he reminds her in a voice that has the hairs on the back of her neck rising in warning. He is dangerous right now, in his refusal to be commanded in any way. She is fairly certain he would kill her were she anybody else who had just done that.

"I don't care if you like orders or not," she retorts, supremely unconcerned. She'll shield if he tries anything; no way is she letting him touch her again if she can avoid it. But those powers of his are going to be another matter, one not so easily dealt with... "If you're expecting me to cower at that look and beg you not to hurt me, I hope you like being disappointed. It'll snow in Hell before I beg you for anything."

The ugly look slowly melts from Law's face as Kyra turns her full attention to the rest of the soup. She has no idea how long she was out, or exactly how much magic she expended while unconscious and healing; anywhere from two hours to two days might have passed. She's really hungry - an unknown number of ribs and the messed up lung probably required a large portion of magic to fix, plus dissolving the unneeded stitches and knitting her skin back together.

"You can have more if you're still hungry, Miss Kyra. You were unconscious for several hours and that power seems to take a lot out of you. I'm sure it wasn't easy - even for you - to heal a twice-punctured lung and a fractured rib." The ruthless murderer across from her is once more relaxed in both posture and expression, his voice back to the odd liquid growl he seems to prefer when speaking to her. Kyra wonders for a moment if this man is trying to seduce her into joining his crew; she quickly discards that idea. Surely someone like Trafalgar Law wouldn't be stupid enough to try that, right?

Clambering to her feet, the slightly sore magician reluctantly shuffles over to the duffel bag the bear had carried in for her earlier, plopping back down next to it and pulling it into her lap. Once opened, an array of clothing is revealed to curious blue eyes. Kyra takes a few pieces out for further scrutiny, trying to ignore the way Law is still watching her. Shirts of various colors and cuts; trousers in kaki, black, and denim; socks; underwear; even bras - the last two groups of clothing earning the Dark Doctor a cold look. Dumping what's left in the bag on the floor, she finds hair ties; a brush; a small bottle of shampoo and a decent sized bar of lavender-scented soap. This last item prompts Kyra to wonder just how the hell the pirate figured out what her favorite scent is, but she refuses to give him the satisfaction of asking.

A forest-green tank top and a pair of baggy black cargo pants are set aside along with underwear and a bra. A plain tie is used to secure Kyra's mop of unruly curls. The socks are all flung disdainfully in Law's general direction with a wave of one hand; everything else is deposited back in the duffel.

"Is it unreasonable to suppose that you'd get out so I can get dressed? Maybe you could wash the blood off your face and your hand, unless you like walking around advertising the fact that I broke your nose." The barbs are sneered at the grinning surgeon, standing there oh-so-casually against a wall in his own infirmary and surrounded by socks of various colors. In answer, he straightens up, sticks his hands in the pockets of his spotted jeans, and practically oozes out of the room. He pauses to shoot a grin at the toga-clad mage right before she bangs the door shut in his face.

The sorceress has only been in the doctor's presence for a handful of hours - part of that time spent unconscious - and already he's driving her crazy. If she ever did agree to join his crew, no doubt she'd crack from the constant strain and butcher everyone on this ship in a matter of days!

It doesn't matter. Kyra is not going to join Trafalgar Law's crew. She will never be forced to use her magic for someone else's gain again.

Come hell or high water, Kyra is going to get away from the Surgeon of Death, regain her liberty, resume her solitude, and take charge of her destiny!

All this, right after she grabs a bite to eat. Priorities.

A/N: Please review.