Chapter Seven:

Guilty Conscience

Grace was sure she'd have a hard time getting back into the swing of things. She felt like she had been tainted by her time with Shanks, like there was a tiny little seed of doubt in her brain telling her that pirates weren't all the same. That they weren't all demons who relished in the pain of others. She struggled with the thought, because it threatened to open old wounds and make her face the fact that maybe she was being unfair. Because Shanks wasn't the only one she knew who challenged her idea of what a pirate was. But that line of thinking was off limits. Whenever her thoughts started going down that road, Grace slapped her cheeks and started cleaning her weapons. It happened a more often than she liked.

She had just started taking apart her pistol for maintenance when somebody spoke up. "Didn't you just clean that an hour ago?"

She looked up and glowered at the brunette from before. She learned his name was Tully. "Mind your own business."

"You've been cleaning your weapons a lot." he observed, scratching his chin. Grace ignored him to wipe down pieces of her gun, but he seemed to recognize the task for what it really was. "What's eating you, kid?"

"None of your business." she replied.

Tully shrugged and picked up a comic book.

They were in the rec room, if it could even be called that. There were a couple of couches, a card table where a game of poker was in progress, a dart board on the wall, some board games no one ever played and some bikini mags and comics that nearly everyone thumbed through. Grace didn't know why she bothered to hang out in there. She didn't want to socialize, and there wasn't anything that interested her in there. She sighed and continued the monotonous task of piecing her pistol back together while trying to keep her mind from wandering.

Within a few weeks after that, an urgent call for help had Garp's fleet changing coarse and sailing to small island. A truly sadistic pirate crew had taken over the place and made a game out of terrorizing the locals. Hearing about what they said and did made Grace' stomach churn. Seeing it with her own eyes was even worse. Kidnapped women, children left without homes, men tortured a killed for resisting...These pirates had been no match for the marines and were dispatched swiftly, but the damage was done. When Grace looked around at the haunted faces of the island's surviving residents, she felt hatred coiling in her gut. She latched onto it and willed it to seep into her very bones. It burned, but it was familiar. Welcome, even. She thought she lost it. Having it back eased her uncertainty.

Grace remained reassured that she'd gotten her resolve back for the next few months, but then one day her doubts resurfaced. The fleet was docked at a large, bustling port town that had a heavy government influence. A sea king had surprised them that morning so they stopped to get the hole in the hull repaired as well as stock up on food and ammo while they were at it. With little else to do, Grace wandered through the town with her hands in her pockets. She looked around at all the vendors selling their merchandise and all the people out and about.

Her eyes drifted over a straw hat over in the fish market and she stopped in her tracks, caught off guard. It can't be... It's not like straw hats were rare or anything. She saw a stack of them being sold at stall a while back. And this was island was aligned with the government; somebody would have reported seeing the Roger Pirates if they were there. But Grace had to be sure.

She started towards where the hat had been swallowed up by the crowd. Her eyes scanned the sea of people all around her, both dreading and looking forward to what she might find. She didn't now how long she was at it, but she was just about ready to brush off what she saw as her imagination when an all too familiar person bumped into her. He was looking at her with wide, surprised eyes that no doubt mirrored her own.

"Gracie?"

"What the—"

"Ehh?!" She and Shanks were both startled by the loud outburst. It came from that clownish fellow the redhead seemed to like hanging out with. "What's that demon marine doing here?!" the red nosed boy asked loudly. The people around them all turned to see what the commotion was about.

Grace bristled under the curious gazes. It was a lot of attention all of a sudden. "I should be the one asking why there are pirates here!" she retorted. The people around them started murmuring to each other, shying away from the redhead and the clown. This town was not known for being a friend to their kind and Grace had to wonder what possessed the Pirate King to stop here.

"Ah..." Shanks stepped away from the marine and leaned closer to his friend, shifting the position of the big fish draped over his shoulder. "I think we should go..."

"You think?!" The two took off, and Grace saw the redhead spare a glance over his shoulder at her. She found herself hesitating for a split second before forcing her legs to move and going after them.

The townsfolk were perfectly willing to cooperate with her, since she was a marine. The crod parted so that she could easily get through and bystanders even pointed her in the right direction if she lost sight of the pirates. She should be satisfied that things were actually working in her favor for once. Alas, there was a distinct lack of enthusiasm for the situation. She almost caught herself hoping something would happen to hinder her efforts so he could escape. No. She steeled herself. I can't let him get to me... She clung onto every ounce of resolve she had in her body. Just because they kind of got along before didn't mean she could stop doing her job.

Shanks actually found himself getting a little frustrated. As laid back as he normally was, it was hard to try to find a place to hide when everyone who saw him kept pointing him out to the marine behind him. Or should he say marines. All the commotion had attracted more onto the scene. The whole town probably knew his crew was there by now. He chanced a look over his shoulder to see the marines gaining on him and had to make a choice. Did he try to hold on to the big fish that was supposed to be for dinner that night and risk getting caught, or did he drop the fish to get away and face getting an earful from Rayleigh?

He opted for dropping the fish. A little scolding was far from the worst thing in the world.

With the weight off his shoulder, Shanks was much more agile. Buggy seemed to have had the same idea, because he was no longer carrying anything either. "Let's split up, Buggy! At least one of us has to get help!" the redhead said. He didn't think they'd be able to just outright escape like usual since the whole town was more than cooperative with the marines. Shanks could only see this situation ending with a battle.

He and Buggy parted ways, each darting down a narrow street in opposite directions. Lady Luck must have smiled on him in that moment because he somehow managed to put enough distance between himself and the marines to duck under an unhitched wooden cart and slip through the large wooden door behind it before anyone could see him. Once inside, he realized it was a stable for horses up for rent. The lighting was dim and it smelled of hay. A couple of horses confined to their stalls looked at him curiously. He ignored them and hastily ducked into an empty stall before any stable hands came by, and then he simply waited.

He heard orders to find him being shouted outside, followed by heavy footsteps on the cobblestone outside running by. He stayed where he was, crouched in the corner of the stall for a few minutes, listening. Just when he almost thought it was safe to come out, he heard the door swing open. He froze, hardly daring to breath as the sound of boots on a wooden floor broke the silence. The steps were slow, deliberate, and Shanks pictured a marine peering into each stall with a weapon in hand. His hand traveled to the hilt of the sword at his hip, his muscles taut and ready to spring into action.

Shanks saw one shiny black boot enter his hiding spot and made to unsheathe his weapon, but he froze again when his eyes flicked up to the person's face. Careful blue eyes regarded him.

"Grace..." The redhead pulled himself up to his feet. "I—"

"What was your captain thinking? You are aware this is a government town, right?"

"Ah, well..." Shanks thought about how Captain Roger had sauntered off to a bar with Rayleigh near where they docked, cackling about how no one could catch him when someone brought up their location. "Yeah, I guess he kind of likes taunting you guys..." he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. "Anyway..." He stepped away from his corner, eyes flitting between Grace and the stall's exit. He quelled his usual playfulness when it threatened to surface. There was a certain vibe rolling off of the marine that told him banter wouldn't be welcome at the moment. "Do you think there's any chance that we could just...not do this?" he asked.

To his disappointment, the marine unsheathed her blade—thankfully leaving her pistol holstered—and frowned at him. "You think I'm just going to let you go? My job is to put pirates behind bars. Did you forget that?" she asked. Her eyes were hard, and so was her frown.

"Of course not..." Shanks replied. He was a little taken aback. They had parted on such good terms last time they saw each other. "I just thought that since we had such a good time before, you could...cut me a little slack?" It was probably just wishful thinking on his part, though.

"Cut you some slack? You mean just let a pirate escape?" She scoffed. "Not only is that treason, but you think that just because we splashed around in the water that we're best friends now?" She pointed her weapon at him. "You're mistaken."

Shanks wondered what happened to the relaxed Grace he had gotten to know on the island. Or even what happened to the fiery one he had known before that. The one standing before him was icier, more guarded. "C'mon, doll...I don't wanna fight you..." he said quietly, and it was true.

"Too bad. I'm not letting you out of here." she replied. "Whatever happened before doesn't matter."

Ouch. The redhead pursed his lips, searching the marine's eyes. All he saw was a cautious resolution. "Is that right?" He tipped the brim of his hat forward slightly, hiding his eyes for a moment, and then looked back at her with a carefully blank face. He decided to take a gamble. "If it really doesn't mean anything to you, then strike me." he said. He saw her eyes narrow. "Go ahead. If you're gonna arrest me, then do it."

They gazed at each other for an impossibly long time, neither side willing to budge. Finally, Grace moved, and Shanks steeled himself in preparation for an attack and possibly a broken heart. The sword thrust right past his face, but he didn't flinch, didn't look away. The marine stepped closer, changing the position of the blade so it pressed under his chin, but he still didn't move. He kept his eyes on her, ignoring the pounding in his rib-cage as he watched her resolve crack and doubt flit across her face.

Grace backed away, looking to the side at anything but him with a troubled expression. Shanks felt like his heart was in this throat, like it would just leap out of his body all together as he took a tentative step towards the exit. Grace didn't move. She just kept looking at one spot on the wall, jaw clenched. He made for the exit, but then paused. "Grace—"

"Just go." She said stiffly. She just stood there, struggling with some internal battle that Shanks knew he wouldn't understand.

He reached out and brushed a lock of her hair affectionately. "See you, sweetheart..." With that, he slipped out of the stable feeling a little lightheaded from the fluttery feeling in his chest.

Grace pounded the stable's wall with her fist. What's wrong with me? She rubbed her face as though that would get rid of the images swimming behind her eyelids. A smiley redhead teasing her lightheartedly, the infectious carefree attitude, the friendly laughter, then the challenge in his eyes when he stood before only moments ago. She cursed herself for being so soft. I've been compromised... She thought grimly. He was there right in front of her, not putting up a fight at all and she couldn't do it. She just just contradicted her own words and backed off. All because of some fond memories of island silliness.

Uncertainty gnawed at her mind as she wandered out of the stable and back into the busy street outside. She didn't know what to do. She wished she had her gun back before she met Shanks. Then this whole situation might not have been a problem in the first place. But it was too late. The damage was done and now Grace was a traitor who let a pirate escape.

But no one has to know that. That thought brought on a wave of guilt, but what other option was there? Assisting in a pirate's escape on it's own would land her in prison, but helping a pirate from the most wanted crew in the world? Grace shuddered to think what the punishment for that could be. Especially for a marine.

She sighed and cleared her face of any trace of her troubles. She had to at least pretend she was still on the hunt.

She heard gunfire a few streets down and hurried towards it. The closer she got the more people she saw running away. Well, this wasn't unexpected. Having Garp and Roger both on land only ever lead to a fierce and, frankly, destructive battle. So Grace shoved aside all of her worries, hoping she could redeem herself by joining in.

A/N: Fun Fact! This chapter was supposed to turn out more "fun" but I started having different ideas and writing them in and I turned up with this!

Anyways, stay tuned for more!