Disclaimer: One Piece does not belong to me.

I was looking through my writings on tumblr and realized that I'd forgotten to add this one to my collection here. Well, here it is! It's a little angsty but also kind of cute :)

Also, If you've read The Voyage Out by Virginia Woolf - there's a scene in which a character is sick with fever and the character's point of view becomes disoriented and distorted, so I was trying to emulate that a bit here.

Stay:

She woke to the sound of slow, rasping breaths. Blinking in the dim room, she realized they were her own. Her lips felt chapped, dry. Every swallow burned. Entangled in sweat-soaked sheets, she attempted to roll; but her body was weak, unresponsive. The infection had drained her.

When she dropped her head back to the pillow, she realized why she had awoken. For once, it wasn't the noise of the rambunctious crew which had woken her – rather, it was the silence. Straining her ears, she couldn't hear a single sound. The ship was uncharacteristically quiet. It was strange. For most of the week they had been in and out of her room, alternating shifts at her bedside, peeking in from the hallway.

Wondering where everyone had gone, but unable to form a coherent thought due to the pounding in her head, Nami swallowed, staring drowsily at the door.

At some point she must have drifted to sleep because she woke to the door's creak. She squinted into the hallway's glare.

Glass clinked as the figure slipped into the room. Her first thought was that it must be Sanji bringing her food, but as the figure approached the bed, she was able to make out bulky shoulders and the outline of disheveled hair. Not Sanji – Zoro.

The swordsman's large hand deposited the saucer on the bedside table with uncharacteristic care. Gazing blearily at the cup, she was surprised to feel a cool cloth pressed against her head. Confused, she reached for the damp material. A calloused hand wrapped around her wrist. Gently, her hand was tugged down and tucked back against her side. As his hand pulled back, she realized that his fingers had felt cool against her wrist. Strange - Zoro was a furnace; the guy radiated heat. If he felt cool to her – Nami sunk back into her pillow – then she really must be burning up.

As if confirming her thoughts, his hand rose to the cloth, flattening the damp material over her forehead. His voice was a quiet rumble. "Keep it on."

But for the pain in her head, she would have nodded. When she tried to speak, her throat constricted, dry and painful. Her voice emerged as a wheezing rasp.

Before she could try to speak again, the cup at the table was lifted. The bed dipped as he leaned over, bracing a knee on the sheets. Fingers, still strangely cool, felt behind her head. Head propped up, the cup was raised. With her mind too foggy to wonder at the strangeness of the situation, she parted her lips to warm liquid. Wetting her parched tongue, the tea trickled down her throat. It did little to relieve the burning, but provided a brief respite from the dry wheezes. Coughing, she was deposited gently down on the pillow.

She must have drifted off again – else time was acting strange. For when she next opened her eyes, Zoro was seated beside the bed. He leaned forward, his hands folded together and elbows resting on his knees. The cup was gone. The cloth on her head seemed cooler than before.

She coughed. Her voice emerged as a croak. "Where's everybody?"

Zoro frowned and leaned closer.

She must not have been coherent. Coughing again, she forced sound from her wearied throat. "Where are they? Everyone?"

"We arrived at the island – Pheandra. They all went looking for the plant – your cure."

Nami worked over his words, her fever riddled mind trying to make sense of them. The plant? That was right, Chopper was going to make medicine – for her. But he needed a plant. They had made it to Pheandra already? It should have taken weeks. As her mind circled over this information, she vaguely wondered how long she'd been sick. In this dim room, time had begun to lose meaning.

She tilted her head. The pillow was cool against her cheek. "You didn't go?"

He rubbed at his neck. Ruffling his hand over his hair, he dropped his fist to his lap. "Someone had to stay with the diseased."

She raised her voice in protest – or attempted to. It emerged as hoarse, pitchy wine. "M'not diseased. Jeez Zoro, you make it sound so awful."

He chuckled.

It might have been her imagination, but it sounded strained.

"I'm surprised-" A cough interrupted her. Zoro stood, but she waved him back down. Clearing her throat, she continued, managing little more than a whisper. "I'm surprised you didn't insist on going."

"Everybody was worried about me getting lost – they didn't want to waste time." He shrugged. "Whatever. I wasn't going to argue."

Her lips cracked in a teasing smile. "How mature of you."

"You're sick, so I'll let the mocking slide – just this once."

Nami laughed, but it transformed into a cough before any true laughter passed her lips.

And then Zoro did rise.

Time must have been playing games again. Because it couldn't have been more than a second, but Zoro already stood over her, steaming cup in hand. After she had been helped to drink the warm liquid, he touched the cloth, checking its coolness.

She blinked up at him, trying to remember if her mind had always been this foggy. His hand shifted down, feeling the temperature of her cheek, then her neck.

"For a swordsman, you've got gentle hands." The words left her mouth without any care or consideration. She blamed it on the fog. It and time were surely conspiring against her.

Flipping the cloth, he hummed low. "A swordsman may be able to cut steel and stone, but that alone does not make him great. A swordsman is great when he has the strength to cut the hardest metals, yet can brush a leaf with the sharp side of blade – and let it fall away un-cleaved."

Nami smiled softly. "The fever really must be getting to me – I've never known you to wax poetic."

He dropped back into his chair. "Yeah, yeah. Maybe it'll erase this conversation from your brain."

She looked to the window, trying to gauge the time based on the dim light peeking around the edges of the blinds. "How long've they been gone?"

She saw him hesitate. But Zoro wouldn't lie to her, of that she was sure.

"Seven hours."

"That's a long time."

"Probably want to bring back plenty of that plant – root – whatever it is."

Nami swallowed. The action hurt. Though her mind was hazy, she did remember conversations from when her nakama had crowded around the bed. There was a question as to whether or not this island even had the rare plant. At the time, Chopper hadn't been certain they could find it on Pheandra. Problem was – they didn't know where else to look. No books or maps had made the slightest mention of the plant residing on any other island.

Seven hours was a very long time.

"What if it's not here?"

"Then we'll look somewhere else." It was a statement of fact; as if no other option existed.

She blinked up at the ceiling. Nami was not one to give into dark musings – but for a split second she felt despair. It was a coldness in her chest, a metallic taste on her tongue.

"Where?"

"Chopper – or Robin, they'd figure something out." He paused. "Otherwise, we'll go from island to island, keep looking until we find the damn thing." His voice was hard. It left no option for alternatives.

But she knew, knew despite the fog – time which had become so fickle as of late – it was not her friend. She wanted to tell him that, but couldn't find the words to express this fear. Instead, "If it's not here, I think – I think I might die, Zoro."

Her words had an instant effect. The swordsman sat up straight. "Oi. Don't say shit like that."

The cloth on her head no longer felt cool. Frowning, she ignored the pounding in her head. The heat played with her mind. She was sure, adamant that there were important things that needed discussing. Uncoordinated, she reached out. Her hand, hot and burning gripped his. He froze beneath her touch.

"If – if that happens, you have to help him Zoro. He'll be stubborn. Don't get emotional about it. Find a navigator – someone good. Not somebody who'll get you guys lost somewhere out there-"

"Oi-oi-oi." Zoro flipped their hands, gripping hers in his own. "Nami – Nami stop."

Panting, she clamped her lips. Something tickled her check. She raised her other hand. When she drew it back, her fingers were wet. Tears. As if that had been a signal to her body, already aching and fatigued, her throat clamped tight. Sucking in a wavering breath, she let them come. "Zoro, I'm afraid."

"Hey, hey."

With eyes blurred by tears, she didn't see him move. The bed shifted. He was sitting beside her. There, he hesitated. He didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. One settled on her shoulder. It began rubbing a path up and down her arm. After another moment of hesitation, the other reprised its position behind her head. But this time, rather than prop her up, he pulled her against his chest.

Closing her eyes, the tears continued unchecked. Losing her grip on time and fearing that the fog might never leave, Nami felt it once more – despair. There were too many 'what if's'; they ran rampant in her fever riddled mind. She saw them, the crew – her nakama – in her mind's eye. Her worst fear was to leave them.

His hand had shifted to her back. It rubbed soothing circles. When he spoke, she felt his voice rumble in his chest. "Shhh, Nami. Nami – stop. It's alright. Nothing bad's gonna happen."

She spoke through the fog. "I don't want to go."

"You're not going anywhere. Okay? Listen, I'm gonna hold you." His arm squeezed. "-and you're gonna stay right here."

"You won't let me leave?"

"I won't let you leave." He paused. "You're not allowed. First-mate's orders."

She sniffed, looking up. "I don't think Luffy officially gave you the position."

"We can ask him when he gets back."

Dropping back against his chest, she acquiesced.

"You need to rest. Everything'll be alright. Those guys may be a bunch of idiots, but they're gonna find that plant."

As his hand rubbed her back, Nami found her eyes beginning to close. "S'true. They haven't let me down yet."

"You're the idiot if you think we ever would."

But she was already drifting. Eyes closed, she managed one last request. "Stay."

His arm squeezed tighter.

She awoke to shouting. Her head was propped up. A chest rose and fell behind her. As she struggled to make sense of her position, hands lifted her, settling her back into the bed.

She squinted up. "Zoro?"

His palm settled over her forehead as he glanced to the door. "They're back."

The door banged open and the room erupted in brightness.

Their captain's slim silhouette, complete with a tilted straw hat upon his head, stood in the doorway. His shoulder's rose and fell. He raised a triumphant fist. "We got it!"

Zoro spoke from beside the bed. "How long?"

"Chopper says an hour."

Zoro's lips twitched up in a lopsided smile. "How about that? Sounds like you're gonna be back to navigating in no time."

Still lost in the fog, words would not come. Instead, she smiled sleepily up at him.

Luffy, ready to bound onto the bed, was stopped by the swordsman's hard grasp. He pointed to the ground beside the bed.

Shoulder's sagging, Luffy dropped to the floor, sitting cross-legged before her. With a wide smile, he began recounting the tale of their adventures searching the island. Drifting in and out of sleep, Nami half listened to the tale. Whenever she did open her eyes, she was reassured by Luffy's voice and the swordsman's steady gaze.

An hour later, Chopper did come; and he brought with him a vial. After drinking its contents, the navigator's head slowly began to clear. As the afternoon wore on, she drowsed. Every time she awoke, there was a different assortment of nakama settled in to wait with her. However, there was one constant presence. True to his word, in the chair Zoro remained. And when she drifted into the remnants of her fever riddled dreams, she was reassured by his level gaze. Zoro had promised. He would stay. And so would she.

Thanks for reading! Reviews are always so appreciated :)