Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter One: Paradise

Warm.

It was a sensation 0543 hadn't known for a long time. Even when she and 0544 held each other at night, even with scratchy blankets, it only did so much in the holding cell. There was always a chill. She didn't know if it was actually cold in there, or if it was just the hopelessness of their situation escalating as each day passed with no sign of rescue or chance to escape.

But as she started to wake up, 0543 felt like she was wrapped in warmth. It didn't make any sense. Nothing in her world was that warm anymore. The scientists wouldn't do anything to make her or 0544 comfortable – alive, yes, but comfort was only offered if it was a necessity. Another hallucination? Another experiment? She whimpered.

Wait.

0543 thought for a moment. There had been a change in their situation, hadn't there? She'd fallen through the examination table, and 0544 could turn into a fox – somehow, there were two Devil Fruit powers inside each of them. It made no sense, but it had given them a glimmer of hope – a chance to escape. And they ran and hid through the ship for hours. Even if they couldn't find dry land, even if they were just escaping to their own deaths, they wanted to get away and be pirates one last time, even if their ship was a lifeboat and the stormy weather would take them out in second.

But they'd done it. They'd gotten away from him. Which meant . . .

We're dead. He can't hurt us anymore.

But somehow this didn't seem like death. She still felt alive. She was breathing. She was pretty sure her heart was beating. Whatever she was, wherever she was, she wasn't dead. Her eyes widened. What did that mean? How could they still be alive? She shuddered. No . . . don't tell me that man found us . . . please . . .

She moved her hand.

0543 had free range of motion. She put her hand to her neck – no shock collar. She closed her eyes. If Tesla – that horrible man – had gotten to them she would have been bound in so much seastone she might not have the energy to breathe, not with her newfound ability to pass through solid objects. But there was warmth. There were no restraints. Wherever she was, it wasn't in the clutches of that person.

0543 shifted, and felt fabric around her – soft fabric. They were bed sheets and a blanket – a good blanket, not the scratchy pieces of shit that man provided them with if he even bothered to give them anything. There was a pillow under her head – a soft, fluffed pillow with a clean smelling pillow case.

She opened her eyes and saw pale green walls and a dark brown chest of drawers. The sheets were yellow and the blanket – an old, well loved quilt – was pale blue. There were pale green curtains, drawn, but she nearly burst into tears. There was a glow around the curtains, a glow she hadn't seen for over a year.

The sun.

0543 struggled to sit up. Her body was aching and screaming at her. She wasn't sure why. She didn't know long she'd been out, or maybe the stress of the second Devil Fruit power showing up had taken a stronger toll on her body than she'd realized – hell, maybe the energy they'd had to escape had been adrenaline and with the sense of danger gone she had no more strength to rely on.

"You're awake . . ."

0543 struggled to turn over and saw 0544, just as weak and as bald and as skinny and pale and pathetic as she was, lying in a bed a few feet away from her. He was looking over at her, one arm reaching out desperately to touch her. His eyes were bagged and heavy, but his mouth was pulled into a weak grin. He was okay, too, and he was happy to see she was awake.

0543 reached out to touch 0544, their fingertips brushing before their arms dropped. She clenched her eyes closed and pulled her lips into a weak grin just like 0544's. This wasn't Tesla's ship. This wasn't a hallucination or a dream. She felt herself starting to cry. "Please, say this is real. Please. Tell me it's real."

"It's real."

That was when 0543 really started to get what was around her. Did her eyes and skin deceive her, but was she wearing pajamas? She struggled to roll onto her back. The ceiling above her looked so . . . normal. There were light fixtures on the walls, and the nightstand, and the chest of drawers and the windows covered with curtains and the suggestion of sunlight . . . it was a bedroom - a real bedroom, in a real house.

"We're in a house," she said, her voice scratched and dry. She watched 0544 stumble out of the bed he was in – sensing what he was doing, 0543 wiggled over to let him lie down with her. He was wearing pajamas, too – soft blue ones that matched her soft pink ones. They had a sort of "new clothing" feeling to them, which was a shock – she was pretty sure it had been well over a year before she'd had anything new (all of the gowns Tesla had given then were thin and worn – they hadn't been the first people to wear them).

0544 settled in next to her. There was no physical need for it (the bed was plenty warm), but after so many months of holding each other at night or when they were scared or lonely, it seemed like the natural thing to do, and neither of them gave it a second thought. Of course they were going to hold each other now. He pulled himself closer to her, resting the back of his hand against her cheek.

0543 closed her eyes and clung to the front of 0544's pajama top. She wanted to cry, but she didn't think she had any tears left in her. If this was some kind of cruel dream, she wanted to die before she woke up. This was too real. It felt warm and safe and she didn't care that she didn't know whose house this was because they had to be better than Tesla. Maybe they would get to eat real food, or maybe even see the sun for the first time in a year.

It was just a normal house, but in that moment, it was paradise.

Mac slipped into the room where his two charges were staying and nearly dropped his tray when he saw the young man's bed was empty. He nearly panicked, wondering where he'd run off to (never mind where, how he could have run off), until he saw he was lying fast asleep in the other bed with his companion. They were huddled close, holding each other as they slept. Mac stepped closer. They looked a little happier, and their cheeks were shiny and wet – they'd been crying.

They must be close - I wonder what their relationship is? Although they were both pale, skinny, and bald, Mac decided their facial structure was too different for them to be blood related – at least, not close blood relatives. There was a little bit of hair on their heads – orange on the young lady, and blonde on the young man, although the young men had black, curling eyebrows just starting to grow back in.

Cobbler poked his head in and woofed. Mac hissed at him to go away – the big black dog whimpered and retreated. He felt bad sending the poor animal away, but he didn't want to disturb them now that they were sleeping peacefully. After the time they'd had, he wanted them to get sleep. This was probably the first they'd really been resting . . . well.

Mac sat down on the young man's bed, watching them for a little bit. It seemed Gala was right and the worst of it was probably over, but Mac was very worried for what would happen when they regained consciousness. Would they be sane? Civilized? Or had they been locked up or whatever it was that had happened to them for so long that they'd lost their sense of themselves and their humanity?

If they had . . . then what?

Maybe the next time he came through, he'd know what to do.

Mac stood up; he thought he should get them something to eat in case they woke up soon.

They laid there for a few hours, quietly enjoying their new environment. It was quiet, but there were no sounds of muttering scientists or medical equipment to be heard. The curtains were drawn, but slivers of sunlight were peeking through the curtains. 0544 wept a little when he saw those bits of sunlight – he knew he'd missed the sun while he was captive but he didn't realize how badly it was missed until he saw it. He watched the spots of light on the wall contently.

They were beautiful.

The more time passed, the more real the room became. They dozed off and woke up several times, so they knew it wasn't a dream, and everything felt real. At one point 0544 realized he smelled some kind of soap – someone had given them some kind of bath, but they'd used just a regular bar of soap, not the antiseptic medicinal crap Tesla had his crew use on them. Combined with the pajamas and the beds, it was clear that whoever was doing this had nothing to do with Tesla.

Someone gave a shit about them for the first time in a year.

There was the sound of a door opening. 0544 felt his back tense up and turned to look to see who was coming into their sanctuary, but the man who walked through wasn't Tesla or Curie or one of the other members of their crew. It was a middle aged man with dark brown hair and a pair of granny glasses sitting on the edge of his nose. He was carrying a tray with two tall glasses of water and two plates of crackers. The man spotted him looking at him, and the relief that washed over him was comforting.

"I was wondering when the two of you were going to wake up," he said with a smile. Balancing the tray on one hand, he opened up a tray table and set it down. 0544 sat up and sensed 0543 sitting up behind him. His muscles were screaming but his stomach yelled louder. Crackers and water wasn't terribly exciting, but it was food. The man paused. "You . . . well, all right," he said, scratching his head as he looked at 0544's changed position.

0544 and 0543 continued to stare at him. They weren't sure what to do. But even if the water was arsenic and the crackers were anthrax, they'd drink and eat. The man handed them the water first, and then the crackers, which they quickly drank and started to eat. 0544 gasped – he hadn't had cold water in a year. Whatever Tesla gave them was always luke warm.

Sitting down on what had been 0544's bed, the man folded his hands and watched them eat, evaluating them. They were quickly downing the crackers, clearly hungry and clearly not caring how many crumbs they got on the beds. "My dog found the two of you a couple of days and wouldn't stop barking until I came to see. Thank God the blacksmith was with me or else I don't know how we would have gotten you back here."

They stared at him oddly. He raised his hands in defense. "It's going to be okay. You're safe."

0543 and 0544 looked at each other. Yes, it seemed that way, didn't it?

The man frowned. "Can you speak?" he asked.

0543 urged 0544 to say something. "Yes," he said, but his voice was still dry.

The man frowned. "Maybe you shouldn't talk yet, your voice sounds a little hoarse – at the very least I think you two are going to need some more water. I'll be back, all right?" The pair slowly nodded, still in disbelief that this kind man and this house were even real. The man swallowed nervously, straightened his collar, and started to leave. But as he got to the door, and he turned and smiled warmly. "By the way, my name is Mac – I'm the mayor of Apple Island."

So that was what God was naming his angels these days.

Mac returned some time later with the promised pitcher of ice water, more crackers, and slices of apples. He was also accompanied by a large black dog who put his front paws on the edge of the bed next to the young man and woofed. The mayor winced – he was going to scare them or upset them. "Cobbler!" Mac said sternly.

The dog ignored him, instead paying attention to the two people scratching him behind the ears. They almost looked like they were smiling, and Cobbler was loving every second of it. The mayor decided to let the dog win this one – if petting him was going to make these people relaxed or content or whatever, so be it. They were both softly talking to Cobbler, and Cobbler had his tongue hanging out of his mouth as he looked excitedly between the two, his tail wagging behind him.

But in a moment things quieted, and Mac noticed the pair's eyes had locked onto the new plate of food – they were only absently scratching Cobbler now. "Hungry again?" he said. They looked up at him and nodded. Mac smiled, passing the plate to them and putting the pitcher on the nightstand – Cobbler moved out of the way and laid down on the floor by their bed. The pair went straight for the apples and started crying as they chewed on the white flesh. He blinked in surprise. "Tears? For apples?" he said.

The girl wiped the tears away. "No one's been this nice to us for a long time," she said.

Mac felt his heart pain. Oh God, giving them sliced apples is the nicest thing someone's done for them in a long time? He wasn't sure what to say for a few moments, watching them eat and occasionally steal glances at each other, smiling over the fruit. It was strangely satisfying to watch them, knowing that they were getting that much joy out of his simple gesture.

Granted, this was Apple Island. Apples were by far their most plentiful crop (a full third of the island's land was JUST apple orchards). Here, eating apples or making your living from apples was almost as common as breathing. There were always plenty to go around no matter what the season and it was only newcomers who might be excited over the crop, and newcomers were very rare these days.

He pushed his glasses back onto his nose. They looked at him for an answer, and he finally cleared his throat and settled on a response. "Well, you can have as many apples as your want – it's what our town does best. Grow apples. My mother makes a fantastic apple pie but the doctor says that you two probably shouldn't have any spicy foods for a while."

The word "doctor" caused his charges to stop eating, freeze, and stare at him in horror. Mac was surprised by their sudden reaction. Didn't they need to see the doctor so he could make sure they were healthy? Certainly they were awake and that was a good sign but God only knew what diseases the two may have contracted.

Then again, what they were wearing when he found them were hospital gowns. . .

He tried to backpedal. "Dr. Gala is a good man – he's a very talented doctor and wouldn't harm any of his patients. He only wants to make you better," he said slowly. The two exchanged nervous looks, and Mac wasn't sure if they were going to agree to getting help from Gala. However, Mac knew that regardless of their feelings, they needed to be looked at again. As they went back to their apple slices, Mac decided that maybe it was time for a subject change – for the moment, at least. "What are you names?"

"0544," the young man said, licking the juice from the apples off his fingers.

"0543," the girl responded, absently biting one of the slices.

Mac blinked. Numbers? He had a horrible feeling in his stomach. People didn't name their children numbers. They had names. Oh God this is getting even worse. He swallowed and tried to straighten his tie. "Those . . . those can't be your real names. Is that really what your parents called you?"

Cobbler whined and pushed his nose into the young lady's knee.

The young man froze and looked at the girl. "Oh God," he said. He turned to Mac. "I . . . my name . . . my name . . ." He shuddered, his eyes widening. The young woman looked at her companion with a quivering bottom lip. He opened his mouth, a sound almost coming out, but he stopped, seeming to remember something horrible before shutting his mouth.

Mac felt his heart breaking again. They have names but they're afraid to say them. But why? He closed his eyes. "It's okay. It's okay. We'll think of something. I promise." He looked between the two of them. "Those are not your names, yes?" The pair hesitated, but slowly nodded. "Okay. That's all I needed to know. We'll find a way to fix this. All right?"

"I don't know if we can . . ." said the young woman. She looked frustrated and ready to cry.

"Remember – I'm the mayor of this island. As long as you're on this island it is my job and honor to make you comfortable and happy. I will figure out SOMETHING," he said. His charges didn't seem to believe him, but Mac was certain there was something he could. Or, if there wasn't anything he himself could do, maybe Gala could do something for them. He turned to his dog. "Cobbler, keep an eye on them, okay boy?"

Cobbler barked in agreement and turned his attention back to his patients for more attention.

Author's Notes

And there's chapter one!

Sorry things have been slow – it was con season. And other stuff. You know, life. Chapter two needs to be handled a bit delicately (it's Gala's turn to officially meet a conscious Sanji and Nami) and hasn't had a lot of attention because, once again, CON SEASON and other stuff.

Someone very good observations were made in the reviews of the prologue and "Sought", a few of which impressed and amused me. As always there are people trying to climb the wrong trees but a few of you might be onto something this time around ;)