A/N: Hello, WheelofArgos here with the second story of my One Piece genderbending series! In the midst of brainstorming ways to keep Ace from dying - because I appreciate the drama and development of his canonical death, but that spitfire will never die in my mind - I somehow stumbled across the idea of what if Garp was female and, more than that, was Ace's mom? My brain got excited and voila!

I hope this story lives up to the dynamic I've been hoping for with this series. The rough definition is that I explore how canon would have changed with a single genderbent character, putting the majority of my words into plot with a dash of romance on the side. I already have one story posting featuring female Buggy and have rough outlines for two more, which likely won't be posted for a while, but I actually really enjoyed planning this one out, though it's far from fully planned.

By the way, I like to replace some of the letters in curse words with atomic numbers whose symbols are the same letters. This started when my writing picked up in high school with a school-issued chromebook. I got alerts when I typed something crass or violent so I used the numbers to avoid the alerts. I continue now because I think it's amusing.

But that's enough stalling; enjoy the story!

Garp had imagined many ways this could play out, ranging from going in guns blazing (her favorite) to having to rescue the fool from the danger that hovered near him like flies. There was never any doubt that something would happen, though. Whatever caused the Pirate King to disappear off the map could never be boring [was bound to be interesting].

She approached a cave in the mountain hillside, her lips twitching at the familiar pulse of Roger's haki, the man not even bothering to hide his presence. It was arrogant in its strength but curious in its touch, reaching out to the world around it like it expected the very earth to talk back, a perfect mirror of the man it flowed from. But she did not smile her usual D-shaped grin, the one that annoyed Senny to no end, because even though this haki was the same she sensed hundreds of times before, something was different. The change was just a feeling, but she would be a poor marine and an even poorer D if she didn't trust her instincts completely.

The cave was concealed fairly well by the rocks around it, and even better by the rain that soaked her jacket and flattened her hair to her head, but Garp could spot it a mile away. All but growing up in a forest did lead to some unique and useful talents. The edges of a soft light could barely be seen from her approaching position, indicating the presence of another inside the shelter, one smart or experienced enough to decrease the chance of discovery even during such a downpour (Garp knew said person would always be the latter, even on his best day. Not that she had much room to judge).

She made no effort to hide her approach, because attempting a sneak attack would destroy the unsaid agreements between the marine and her quarry. Besides, she hadn't come across Roger since a few islands before he reached Lodestar for the second time. A good fight was exactly what she was hoping for.

She saw Roger as soon as she stepped through the cave entrance, the man crouched around a small fire about twenty meters away. His head was angled away from Garp, but she had no doubt the man knew she was there. A light chuckle, just loud enough for Garp to hear, proved it.

Roger shifted slightly, turning more head than body, to lock eyes with her.

"Welcome, my friend," he said, voice and smile softer than Garp had ever heard or seen from the man, surprising her with how… intimate they seemed. Though Garp supposed their relationship had its own kind of intimacy, forged through battle to hold respect for the other, for their strength, dream, tenacity, and morals. She likely understood Roger better than anyone, save his first mate, though understanding was a far cry from knowledge. "I've been waiting for you."

"Oh, you have?" she taunted, falling into a familiar rhythm even after months of silence. The softness on Roger's faced sharpened, his grin matching hers with intensity. A shiver went down her spine as she removed her Marine coat in anticipation; d(95)n, how she missed this!

Haki, sword, and herculean strength remained sheathed in respect for their surroundings – a control that went hand-in-hand with power and that Garp saw far too little of among the Navy and pirates – a battle based on skill and finesse. But even restraining most of their power, the solidity of each block and ripple of each strike made her blood sing with excitement, a joy reflected in the dancing light of her rival's silver eyes.

And though the Marines had explicit orders – which Senny had repeatedly made sure she knew – to capture or kill the Pirate King on sight, Garp found herself sitting across from Roger around his fire, a simpler parody of many battles the woman and her trusted soldiers had fought against Roger and his crew. They laughed at the quickly coloring bruises on Garp's arms and on the ones that must be forming underneath Roger's captain's coat, as well as the nice spot on the side of his neck where she had clipped him with a lariat. Garp felt something settle in her, a restlessness that had grown over months without this challenge. That restlessness was one reason Garp could never bring herself to capture Roger. And it was one of the reasons her gut had been screaming at her since Roger's presence came within her range.

"So, what's going on?" she asked with the bluntness anyone who met her expected. She set down the bottle of sake Roger had handed her, intent on getting answers. Garp was never one to question everything around her, but whenever curiosity did roost in her mind, she didn't leave it unsatisfied.

Roger's smile dimmed – it didn't disappear, but shrunk, painted with a drop of that softness from earlier, the intimacy Garp wasn't sure how to react to – and he swirled the bottle of sake held in his own hand.

"I disbanded the crew," he said simply, as if his words made sense.

Garp blinked, then tilted her head, then twisted her pinky in her ear to see if one of those Whisper mites from that island of carnivorous plants had nested in there again. Her finger came back with nothing but a slight buildup of wax. She looked back up at Roger, who was observing her actions with a small smirk of amusement, full of humor but empty of that white lie teasing Roger had liked to greet her with a few years back.

"WHAT?!"

Roger chuckled, his lips pressed together to contain the full-bellied laughter that came easily to them, but he made no move to deny his words, only saying, "Aye, it was time."

"Are you going to start making any sense?!" Garp demanded, face twisted in the raging confusion her thoughts were trying to resolve, without luck. Gol D. Roger was an idiot even to Garp, but somehow the man also managed talk around her in circles.

"But I am!" he laughed, taking delight in her misery. "The role of the Roger no Kaizoku is done and allowing them to scatter to the winds will protect them from what I still have to do. Besides, I want them to take their own journeys, to find their own way in the new world."

Ignoring the first half, the typical unexplained Roger bullsh(53)t, Garp focused on what she did understand, "I doubt they'd all stay in the New World, Roger, especially those brats of yours."

Roger chuckled, like Garp was missing something only he knew and wouldn't tell. She glared at him, expression pulled into an annoyed pout, like if she did so long enough he would stop being a secretive sh(53)t and start singing like a canary. It didn't work, not that she expected it to. Getting secrets from Roger was like trying to drink the ocean.

"You're not going to tell me anything," Garp stated, leaning back and letting her hand support her weight, the other picking up the sake bottle to take another drink.

"I am telling you stuff," Roger protested, but lighthearted enough to show she was right. "But there's things I know that you wouldn't want to." And there it was. Well, Roger was a bastard, but he was always sincere. He was probably right about whatever information he believed she wouldn't want to know. But that wouldn't stop her from being grumpy on principle.

They sat in silence, reveling in the warmth of the fire, the sake in their stomachs, and the contentment that always lasted after a good battle. She smirked when she thought of how Senny would react if he knew what she was doing, he never did like her friendly rivalry with Roger.

After she finished the bottle, Garp sat up and stretched her arms above her head before moving to get up. As she rose from her seat, she said, "There's more you're not telling me, more than what could put me in a tight spot." (Because Roger, even more than herself, had always been conscious of what her being a Marine meant, of how much danger certain suspicions, if given purpose, could cause to one under the thumb of the World Government) "But you're welcome to keep your secrets to yourself, I got what I wanted."

She passed by the fire – having sat on the side furthest from the entrance as a show of good will, giving Roger the quickest path to it though both knew she had no desire to capture him, nor had he given her any reason to, despite what Navy field reports tried to paint – and made to return to her ship docked at the port on the other side of the island, but halted at a hand around her wrist, one of the few that could encircle it.

"Wait…" Roger said, staring into the fire like it held whatever he wanted to say. Garp raised an eyebrow, curious at his apparent hesitation to say something. But the words he had been about to speak were cut off by an insistent 'purururu purururu' of the den den mushi Sengoku had personally trained to make a noise even Garp couldn't ignore (she had taught Ari to eat marine coats in retaliation). Roger released her wrist, prompting her to pick up the call. *gacha*

"Who's calling?" she asked, just to annoy the familiar expression of her old friend mimicked by the snail.

Garp, snail-Senny growled. You were supposed to report in over two hours ago! Garp glanced over at the cave entrance to see the rain had stopped and night fallen.

"Wow, guess I really lost track of time there," she laughed, and laughed even harder when an even more familiar tick mark was expressed on the snail's slimy countenance.

And what, snail-Senny asked, very clearly keeping his voice level. He knew better than to shout at Garp if he wanted a report; she'd turn it into a competition. Please tell, made you lose track of that much time? I swear if you don't have Roger in chains and ready to pay for his crimes, I'm going to replace all your barbeque-flavored rice crackers with sriracha!

Whoops, looks like Senny really was angry. Garp glanced at Roger, he was watching the conversation with open curiosity and amusement. If she chose to apprehend him right now, he would go with her with a laugh or run away with a laugh. The question was whether she valued the orders of the World Government over her own judgement.

I'd like to say that Garp thought long and hard about a government that sought to kill a man whose only crimes were in defense of his friends (though the response may have been excessive, similar had been covered up for Garp herself simply because she wore white) or because he knew too much. That she piled these on top of the illegal slaves flaunted by nobles, on top of World Nobles in general, on top of the bounties calling for the lives of Roger's apprentices, of whom she was near certain neither had yet to kill a man, and looked at the tangled web of lies paraded as truth and the injustice caused to enforce justice. I'd like to say her next actions were based on some form of realization that she carried with her the rest of her life, and which made her a better Marine because her sight was a little less narrow. But such deep thoughts are not in the nature of Monkey D. Garp, not in any universe. Also, she had an impatient Sengoku to answer before her silence extended the time allotted by Garp EccentricyTM. Her decision was quick and based on her go to method: her gut.

"Hmm, I followed a lead to an island with a deep forest," she answered with the complete truth. "Must've passed the check-in time, but I found a cool cave!" Garp worked hard to keep the mischief off her face as snail-Senny turned an impressive shade of purple, contrasting sharply with its pale-yellow skin. She also made sure to keep Roger out of her peripheral – although she could perfectly imagine a hand forcing his own mouth closed and any sound from escaping – lest she lose control over her own laughter.

Move. On, snail-Senny gritted out, teeth clamped so hard it was undoubtedly hurting the den den, whose primary diet was leaves. Garp would have to give it a few rice crackers as a treat for all its effort.

"But I haven't asked around the islanders for any new leads yet," Garp complained, though she was unsure what sort of leads the island's people could give her when the source was right here.

Then why were you exploring the forest?! Senny finally exploded, a flash of gold shining in the snail's eyes as the rage made him lose the slightest bit of control.

"Cause it's a forest," Garp deadpanned, fully believing she answered Senny's question.

Just do your job, Senny halfway pleaded, giving up his futile attempt to make Garp act like an obedient soldier. I want a report every three days. On time!

"Will do, Senny!" she responded brightly, watching the tick mark pulse before deflating as the snail let out a deep sigh. The call ended with a *gacha* and Garp returned it to the coat she had redonned after their battle.

A beat of silence, then: Bwahahahaha/Wahahahaha!

After the laughter died down, Garp asked Roger, "So what did you want to say?"

Roger quieted, seeming to think about something before dismissing it with a soft smile (Garp thought about asking once more if something had happened. She had never seen Roger this gentle, but then again, she had only ever seen him during battles and parties, when the man was at his liveliest). "Go on ahead before your men start looking for you."

Garp raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and left Roger to his secrets. She had neither the position nor desire to be his confidant. If he wanted to tell her something, he would. Garp returned to the Hound, ordering her soldiers to begin an investigation into pirate activities, involving the Pirate King or otherwise, when the sun rose. Roger had concealed the area of his haki, meaning only she and Bogard knew he was here, and her right hand would remain silent as long as she did. In the meantime, Garp would protect the people from any who intended to harm them.

. . .

It turned into a game. Garp followed the most scatter-brained lead, the one that was always closest to the truth but involved the widest margin of error, and Roger would show up a few days later, turning the rumor into truth and kickstarting another that was valid enough to travel to the next island. She would regale and placate Senny with the marauding pirate crews and illegal syndicates she sniffed out and took down but forget to mention the very much wanted man that always managed to find her when she was alone for a battle and bottle of booze or took out some of her prey when they were the particular kind of scum that just begged for a punch to the face.

It was ironic, the kind of freedom they had when the world demanded one bring back the other in chains.

Despite her trust in what the Marines stood for, Garp knew exactly what the World Government thought of her: she was a wild dog, uncontrollable but for the leash they took considerable effort to maintain. Too many times, she had been held at a single island for months, stalled by bureaucracy and used to scare the rats so deep in their holes, the Navy couldn't find them to arrest them. Then, when she was finally allowed to move on, the underbelly of the island she had planned to go to was uniform with the typical dregs. And for a Grand Line Island, nothing could stink more.

Now, on the trail of a man the Government wanted dead at all costs, a lead meant she could ship off the moment the Fleet Admiral was certain it pointed elsewhere. She arrived at islands whose lawbreakers hadn't been forewarned and took down the head, arms, and legs of illegal organizations that spanned the whole island and more.

That freedom also extended to Roger. Under the spotlight of his jolly roger, their interaction had been limited to battles and the festive parties afterwards because the Navy had no way to document such an invitation. And Garp had enjoyed what they could have. But with no clear, official location of the Pirate King, and the man himself almost appearing to seek her out, the only things they had to be conscious of were other people (which… haki). Their conversations diverged from events since the last time they met amicably and into more personal details and stories that Garp found herself wanting to know and wanting to share. Roger had always been a mystery of a rival, and he would never stop being an enigmatic and surprising b(33)tard (Roger would likely say the same about her), but she had a clearer view of him now, understood him better and kept the traitorous agreements she had with many of his opinions to herself. Outside of the principles of marine and pirate, which kept her thoughts inside her mind and off her tongue, she could even say they were friends.

. . .

"Merry Christmas!" Roger greeted, catching her on her second round of the town, meant to find criminals who knew the best time to move was immediately after the law had passed through. Conveniently, her position on the outskirts marked the end of her loop, so she accepted the bottle of liquor and a seat at the small fire he had warming up the warehouse. She may be tough enough to weather the winter of winter islands, but she still appreciated warmth.

"Merry Christmas," she returned before taking a swig. The heavy taste of her favorite whiskey, distilled from the crop of a South Blue isle a few relatives of hers lived on, burned down her throat. She glanced at the festive ribbon wrapped around the neck of the bottle. "Hope you didn't expect me to be bearing a gift, Gol."

Roger barked a laugh, "Course not, Monkey. I just have too many berries for an old man like me, gotta spend them somehow."

"Or you could return 'em to the people you stole them from," Garp offered dryly, knowing full well that Roger would sooner turn himself into the Navy than do such.

"It'd be a little hard to force berries down the belly of a snake, I think," Roger retorted calmly, so calmly it took Garp a moment to realize something wasn't normal with it. He laughed uproariously when she spit out the drink in her mouth.

"Wha- a snake!" she exclaimed, begging explanation. Roger had to force himself to stop convulsing with laughter before he acquiesced to her demand.

"Traded for the treasures in the gullet of the largest land snake you'd ever see, straight from an island in the sky," he answered, eyes twinkling as he remembered his adventures. "Though we did keep a few for ourselves and Bankuro left the ones with historical value at museums. I like to use them 'cause when I buy stuff, I'm getting it for what's basically snake vomit."

Garp laughed, powerful and full, and didn't realize that Roger – instead of joining her in laughter – was looking at her with the same soft adoration that threw her off. He forced his gaze back to his merry fire before she took notice.

"Hah, that's rich!" Garp managed once her laughter stopped stealing her breath. "I remember coming down from the mountain for the first time and realizing money was traded because it was valuable. The look on their faces when I returned and tried to trade a carcass for bread!"

Warmth and laughter continued till night fell.

. . .

It's stupid, she thought, once again reaching into her pocket to fiddle with the item there. Roger didn't expect anything and Garp had thought that would be one expectation she fulfilled. They were friends, she could readily admit, but giving a pirate a gift made the part of her brain dedicated to the Marines scream and shout, even though the voice had been getting quieter around Roger and had never screamed as loudly for the man anyway. But she kept the vat of sword polish in her pocket as, for once, she was the one to search out Roger.

She also carried a large carcass of fresh sea king and had told her men that she would be out on the island all night, celebrating the new year with a feast. Her soldiers had accepted her half-truth, too occupied with planning for the sudden shore leave for all but those necessary to maintain and guard the ship, which could be allotted through rotation to give everyone some time off. Bogard had raised an eyebrow, no doubt also sensing Roger on the island, but remained silent. Garp couldn't ask for a better right-hand, she should bring him back some meat to show her appreciation.

It wasn't hard to find Roger; after years of chasing the man, she was so attuned to his presence that within a certain distance, she could tell what direction he was in even outside the range of his haki. The small forest on the other side of the island was reminiscent of their meeting a few months ago, though she doubted he would be in another cave given the flatness of the island.

She found him in a clearing, awake but looking like he'd been awoken by her presence. He wouldn't be one of the most dangerous men in the world if he couldn't keep up Kenbunshoku while sleeping. The smile on his face was absolutely delighted and Garp held back a groan, hoping the teasing would be minimal and confined to today.

"So, what brings the Lady Marine to my corner of the island today?" he asked smugly. Garp felt the urge to punch him but held herself back by imagining the sea king on her shoulders roasting on a spit, juices running and the delicious smell wafting with the smoke.

"Shut up, pirate," she griped instead. "Start a fire so we can get this thing cooking." Roger chuckled, the delight never leaving his expression, and gathered a small pile of kindling before lighting it up with some flint. Once the fire built itself strong enough, he added the larger branches that wouldn't have caught as easily. Garp cut down some limbs from the surrounding trees and built a spit, a skill any forest-raised worth her salt could do. The sea king was skinned, any organs that would cook slower or faster than the meat removed for later, and set on the spit. A faint scent of cooking meat made Garp's mouth water, and the grumbling of Roger's stomach showed he felt the same.

They passed the time with trading stories: of growing up in a jungle or the streets of Loguetown, of pirate adventures and marine exploits, of her son or his apprentices or Whitebeard's gathering of lost children.

After a particularly memorable account of a six-year-old Dragon pushing her into the sea during one of her visits (he later told her, armed with a pout, that it was because she missed coming back for his birthday), Roger asked about Dragon's father.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," he was quick to add. "Just curious."

"It's fine, Gol," Garp said. "Just had too much to drink after failing to protect a kid on duty. I don't even know, 'cause I didn't know I was having a kid till he started showing." And truly, that was it. It may not have been expected, but she loved being Dragon's mom, even if the kid ran off to go start a d(95)n revolution. And it's not like she let it slow her down either – well, after the six months of desk work Tsuru forced her to take.

Garp smirked, a glint in her eyes that made Roger wary. "So, what about you, any exploits to speak of?" Roger spit out the drink of water he'd gulped, looking all like a deer caught in the lantern light, before he coughed and composed himself from the unexpected question. Though, really, he should have known better, Garp always managed to surprise him.

"Nope," he answered, circling his thumbs and decidedly not looking at Garp. "Love is its own adventure, and no woman whose love would be greater than my journey would give me the time of day."

Garp raised an eyebrow, "You're being awfully poetic for saying none could make you stick to a port."

Roger laughed, "Maybe, maybe not! Perhaps I fancy those who love the sea as much as I, eh Garp."

Garp shook her head, letting Roger's cryptic bullsh(53)t go in one ear and out the other. "That does sound like you, Gol."

"And how about you, Monkey?" Roger queried. "What man would catch your eye?"

"Hah, Tsuru once asked the same thing!" she remarked. "Then said I'd likely be single forever once I gave an answer after thinking about it."

"And what'd she find so impossible?" Roger prompted. Garp narrowed her eyes, deciding whether answering would bite her in the behind. But considering that Roger had already answered the same question, any shots he tried to throw she could return right back.

"Said he had to be my equal in strength," she stated. "Didn't have to be a marine but had to respect that I was. Didn't have to fight for justice but wouldn't let injustice run free if he could help it. Wouldn't care that I wasn't small or beautiful like other women."

She looked at Roger, almost daring him to call her out on what her marine friends thought was too ideal, and met with that soft smile, something in her gut fluttering at the pride held in his eyes. "You deserve nothing less," he said, heavy with certainty. Garp felt a small smile grow on her own face, and realized she'd had no reason to doubt Roger's response. Though his nakama were of greater importance to him, he never thought anyone of a lesser value. Everyone had full claim to their own dreams, ambitions, and ideals and they were not to be belittled or seen as impossible. He lived by a natural simplicity that the governmental structure of the navy seemed to destroy in its own troops, and that Garp found she preferred to the shadows and greed of bureaucracy. It was an idle thought, but she wondered if her life would've gone differently had she and Roger met before she joined the marines.

The smell of roasted meat, that subtle change from a little undercooked to perfectly done that she'd known since she was a kid, freed her from continuing the conversation. "Meat's done!" she proclaimed, taking the spit off the fire, and placing it on the supports she had also made. She ripped out a slab of flank for herself before Roger could reach it and dug in.

Talking ceased, as it does for all good food, but in no way did silence fall. Tearing meat, licking fat off hands and fingers, and scuffles over who got which part kept the clearing lively. All too soon, the entire sea king (though it had been a smaller one) was cleaned to the bones, splinters of said bones being used as toothpicks. They sat contentedly around the fire, the heat of the flames and warm food in their stomachs warding off the chill winds of winter on a summer island.

When the last of the sun slipped below the tree line, Garp reached into her pocket and held out its contents for Roger to take.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Though you'd like it," she grunted. "Think of it like a gift for the new year's."

Roger picked up the container and read the label on top, "Ooh, sword polish! I was starting to get low. Thanks, Garp."

"Wasn't much trouble," she answered, turning away from the burning, soft gaze he was looking at her with. It made her stomach wonky, and her heart beat weird. Should she have the ship doctor look at her… nah, old Westor might have a heart attack if Garp walked in his clinic willingly.

"And you couldn't have thought of a better day to give me a gift," he chuckled. Garp looked back at him, expression asking the question for her.

"Today's my birthday," he grinned, holding the jar of sword polish like a precious treasure. "I thought it'd be just me celebrating this year. You never cause to amaze, Garp."

She couldn't make herself look away, drawn in by that gentle smile that made her heart pound instead of her spine shiver. The heat of the fire felt oppressive across her cheeks and the tips of her ears. The world almost seemed to move in slow motion as Roger picked up her wrist, lightly supporting the tips of her fingers so that the back of her hand faced up. He looked at her, silver meeting blue, asking permission. Garp wasn't sure what for, no one had ever held her hand like this, but she was curious and Roger took her lack of opposition as an affirmative. He lifted her hand to his lips, thick mustache tickling as he pressed a kiss on the skin. The heat on her face doubled when he smiled at her and said, "You're very beautiful. The world must be blind."

. . .

Bogard observed his commanding officer – the only officer he would ever follow – return to the ship half a night before she said she would be back. The sea king was gone and, though he couldn't see it from where he stood watch near the back of the ship, he was sure the small weight in her pocket was also missing. He crossed the deck to greet and inform her of who was still on ship and who was in the harbor town on shore leave.

Coming up close to the Vice Admiral, he saw her face clouded with a dazed expression, one which he had never before observed on the woman. He gave his report and her nod showed she was still aware and listening, though her thoughts threatened to return to whatever far off place they had been in at a moment's notice. He watched her wander around the deck, securing rigging and other odd jobs he had never seen another commanding officer do, mind present but also deep in her own thoughts. And it was slight and easily excused as an assumption, but Bogard had long since realized the difference between meaningful and meaningless actions with Monkey D. Garp, but she was touching and looking at the back of her left hand.

Another soldier would have already brought up his concerns to Garp long before, but Bogard trusted his superior completely. He had served as her right-hand for years and met the crew of the Pirate King and seen the unconventional relationship between their captain and the Vice Admiral. He knew the man was not wanted because he was ruthless but because the World Government feared him and had observed the care he had for those close to him. Bogard had also shared many commiserating looks with the Dark King over Roger's enthusiasm and Garp's denseness.

Another soldier would be concerned, but Bogard was Monkey D. Garp's right hand for a reason. He trusted her and would let her figure out where she stood with the Pirate King by herself, without reminding her of the opinion of the World Government. It had stolen far too much of her freedom already, he would not let it steal this from her too.