Mass x Acceleration
By Dixxy Mouri
Chapter 30: When The World Stopped Moving
"Are you SHITTING ME!? DID HIS DICK GET LOST ON ITS WAY TO THE CONDOM!?"
Nami was sitting on the toilet while Sanji was in the shower, relaying to him the details of her conversation with Ria. They'd waited until they were in their apartment to start talking, and since his story was shorter, Sanji had gone first. Nami had confirmed his suspicion that Ria was in Baroque Works as well, and now it was her turn. "When you look at the girls you can kind of see it. Remember how Zoro mentioned he'd been approached by Baroque Works in the past? Apparently she was one of their attempts."
Sanji grunted in annoyance. Even though Nami knew that he wanted to try and work things out with the swordsman, this obviously wasn't sitting well with him. Zoro, as far as she knew, wasn't interested in children or having a family, and yet there were two human beings running around that he was partially responsible for the creation of. Sanji, on the other hand, had been devastated when he learned he was sterile. Combine that with the general animosity they felt towards each other and, well, she understood why he was upset.
"And even worse, he just poof, disappeared on her? What the fuck, Marimo?"
"Well, she left him while he was still sleeping first – who knows what he was thinking when he woke up alone. Maybe he went to go look for her," said Nami. She winced. "And you know how that would have ended. Sometimes I'm amazed he was able to navigate around the Going Merry or the Thousand Sunny."
"Yeah he probably ended up on top of a mountain somewhere or something," said Sanji. He sighed. A lot of his rage had subsided. "Still, that's going to be a big ball of awful when Luffy gets here. 'Hey guys, how's it going – oh, by the way, the stupid swordsman knocked a girl up. Good to see everyone after so long!' I mean, what do we do with that information?"
"Well if he recognizes Ria and sees her with the girls, he might figure out what happened, but honestly, I don't know – I haven't known this all that much longer than you have," said Nami. She forced a grin. "Can't be that much harder than explaining to Luffy and the others we each have double Devil Fruits. There's going to be some . . confusion . . . no matter what."
"It should also be pointed out that unless Yasopp has made contact with them and we just haven't heard about it yet, there's a good chance they think we're dead. Also, we're dating – scratch that. We are beyond dating – we've been living together for months and sleeping together sleeping together for three of them. The shock might kill one of them – in Brook's case, again."
Nami bit the bottom of her lip. It occurred to her that not all pirate crews allowed fraternization amongst crew members, depending on how the captain felt about it. She really didn't think Luffy cared (hell, if she told him she and Sanji were sleeping together he'd probably assume they just liked to have a lot of slumber parties or something) but if it did cause any problems, she wasn't sure what they would do.
She swallowed and decided to change the subject. "Are you okay?"
"What do you mean?" Sanji asked.
"About falling into the water," said Nami. She shuddered. "That scared me."
Sanji was quiet for a moment. "It scared me, too," he finally said. "Luffy and the others with Devil Fruits never panicked like that. But I don't think anyone ever did to them what That Man did to us. But I'm okay – Braeburn got me out." The water shut off and Sanji slid the glass door open to grab a towel. "And then he ran off and, well, I'm really anxious to see what he has to say."
"He was that upset, huh?"
"His tattoo was big and even though Baroque Works wasn't a pirate crew, it's basically a jolly roger," said Sanji. He finished toweling off and dropped his towel into the hamper by the door and headed out to their bedroom. Nami followed, realizing the only bits of the story she'd gotten to Sanji were that Zoro had fathered the twins. She had other things to tell him as well.
Nami sat on the edge of their bed and finished relaying Ria's story to him while he got dressed. Sanji listened quietly, having gotten over the shock of her relationship to Zoro, and let the rest of it sink in. "But there's still a few things I have to ask. One, she said that Vivi and Robin helped them escape – well, 'Miss Wednesday' and 'Miss All Sunday' did. Based on her description of Miss Wednesday I think it was definitely Vivi who helped her."
"How so?"
"She suspected she had another agenda – that would be our Vivi."
"And Robin?"
"Not sure – when she started talking about her she kind of stopped in her tracks," said Nami.
Sanji sat on the bed as he started to pull on his jeans. "Robin had an agenda of her own in that organization as well – she wasn't really interested in destroying Arabasta like Crocodile was, so maybe she didn't want to kill Ria just because she got pregnant and let Braeburn go with her so someone could keep an eye on her. It sounds like Ria's a capable fighter when she's not pregnant, but especially considering that she was carrying twins, she probably wasn't able to do much the last few months of that pregnancy."
"She was probably terrified," said Nami. It was weird to think of Ria being terrified, considering how confident she usually was, but by the time they had met her she'd had some time to adjust to her role as a mother. Not to mention she was running a successful seamstress shop and was able to support her girls without much of a problem. Then again, she'd been nervous during certain parts of telling her story to Nami.
And as for Braeburn . . .
Sanji pulled a turtleneck over his head, followed by a t-shirt and one of the scarves he'd taken to wearing around his neck. Nami figured that he wore them as surrogate ties, since he wasn't wearing suits as often as he used to, or as another shield to hide the numbers. He smiled at her while he pulled on a pair of jeans. "Braeburn is a good man. If Ria was able to calm him down and we're able to explain to them exactly what happened between us and Baroque Works, he'll probably relax."
"That's a good point – they've probably been afraid of Baroque Works for the past few years, but now they're gone," said Nami. "And one of the women who helped them escaped is part of our crew. How do you think Robin will react when she sees them again?"
Sanji laughed. "Who knows?"
"Should we tell them who Vivi is?" asked Nami.
"Probably not – at least, not yet. Robin? Definitely, she'll be en route to the island with Luffy and the others. Mr. 2 as well, I guess, but we don't know him that well so I'm not sure." Sanji pulled on a worn pair of brown boots and pulled the legs of his jeans over them. He tapped his heels against the floor a couple of times. "Ready to go?"
"I've been waiting for you."
Sanji and Nami arrived at the seamstress' home not long after. Ria was waiting for them outside. She seemed a bit calmer, but the blacksmith was nowhere to be seen. "Good to see you've gotten all cleaned up, Sanji." She took in a deep breath. "Braeburn's out at the moment, but he'll be back. He ran to the forge to grab something," she explained. "In the meantime let's head upstairs, shall we?"
The trio went upstairs to the living room, but Ria was eyeing Sanji oddly.
Nami noticed Sanji was looking at her oddly, too. Sighing, she elbowed him.
"Ow!"
"What was that for?"
"Sanji-kun and Zoro have, um, issues, so he's still getting over the twins being his kids."
"What kind of issues?" asked Ria, raising an eyebrow at Sanji.
"Daily physical altercations," Nami said dryly.
"Lovely," Ria said with an eyeroll as she sat down on the couch. She sighed. "The twins picked up enough to figure out they were a subject of discussion. I told them the grown ups needed to talk about it, but now I'm not sure what to do. They have a right to know who their father is, but I don't know how Zoro is going to take to the news."
"And that matters because . . .?" Sanji asked.
"If Zoro doesn't react well and the twins know who he is, that could be messy," said Nami. Sanji winced. "So you want to ask us if you think Zoro will . . . react well, I guess?" Ria was looking at her lap, but she nodded. "The only thing I know for sure is that he won't just up and leave the crew to marry you or something."
"I don't want to marry him," Ria said, her eyes wide. "I just don't want the girls knowing who he is until I know if he's going to . . . be nice to them or try to play a role in their lives or something. If he's going to act like they don't exist, then what they don't know won't hurt them. But if he might try to visit or send them letters or something . . . I'd like to give them that chance to know their father. Am I making sense?"
Sanji and Nami exchanged a look. It was hard to know whether or not Zoro would try to establish a relationship with his daughters or . . . not. "Forcing him to play nice would be harmful to the girls – I think the ball really needs to be in his court," said Nami. She turned to Ria. "What we can do is talk to Zoro alone once Luffy and the others get here, or if Shanks or Yasopp make a pit stop on the island before finding Luffy and the others, maybe relay the message to him?"
"If we can do that second one that might be the best way to go," said Sanji. "It would give him a chance to have his initial reaction, whatever that is, far away from where the twins might catch wind of something not so good, and it'll give him time to come to terms with it. But it's a chicken and egg situation, Nami-san – we won't know what's going to happen until someone gets here."
As they were speaking, the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs could be heard, and Braeburn emerged at the top of the stairwell. Although it looked like he'd taken the time to get cleaned up as well, he had an exhausted look on his face and was carrying a decorative box under one arm. "I'm sorry I'm late," he said quietly.
Nami slid closer to Sanji and patted the empty seat next to her. "Come on, let's have a seat in the living room, okay? It'll be fine – you're not the only ex-Baroque Works operatives we're friends with," she said calmly. Braeburn looked at her in surprise as he took a seat on the couch. "You two have to remember – we're pirates. We deal with criminals all the time. We're not going to shun you or anything over that."
Ria sat on the armrest beside Braeburn and grinned, flicking his nose. "I told you so, sugah."
Braeburn didn't say anything – he still looked terribly uncomfortable.
Nami took charge of the discussion. "Braeburn, why don't you go first? Whatever happen to you happened long before Sanji-kun and I had even heard of Baroque Works, so it might be easier to start there – then we can fill you two in on exactly what happened when they organization was dismantled."
"So Baroque Works is gone," said Ria, a sense of relief in her voice.
Nami nodded. "Yes, and we'll explain it after everything's out on the table."
Braeburn still looked upset, looking at Nami with sad, defeated eyes. Still, there was a ghost of a smile there – he was glad the organization was gone, too. "When we left Baroque Works, I still had a few precious things with me. I wanted to get this to show you why I joined the company." He flipped a piece on the front aside and opened the box.
The first thing he pulled out was a picture of a smiling woman. She was dark skinned, like Braeburn, but had beautiful violet eyes the color of wildflowers. Her hair was pulled into a bun with curling tendrils framing her smiling, beaming face. Braeburn lifted the picture to his face to kiss the woman. Nami's heart sunk – this must have been his wife.
"This is a picture of my late wife, Phoebe," he said, passing the picture to Nami. "One of the most amazing people I've ever met. We met when I was still an apprentice blacksmith and she was working part time as an artist. See, the blacksmith I was learning from, a good honest man named Anatak, was having a big fight with his wife and whenever he tried to buy her flowers she got mad because the flowers would always die, so he decided to get her a painting of flowers so they'd last forever. The painting she came up with was beautiful and floored everyone in that forge, and when she smiled at me my bones turned to jelly or something. Or maybe my brain did because I asked her to marry me right then and there – she laughed and told me she'd need to think about it, but she wanted to think about it over dinner some night." He laughed. "We were married about a year later – we were young and we didn't have a lot of money, but we were happy and for the longest time it was all I cared about."
Sanji frowned. Even though he was still sad, there was a lighter tone in Braeburn's voice while talking about his wife. Nami handed him the picture of Phoebe and he looked at it for several moments, taking in the image of the woman who held his friend's heart. The edges were well worn and a few spots looked a little water damaged. Sanji's heart sunk. Tear stains.
"She was amazing," he said. "We talked about seeing the world together when we were dating. I wanted to find the Mine of Volunder, and she wanted to paint all of the beautiful sights she saw." Braeburn put his head in his hands. "We never got the chance to do that. Life got in the way. You know how it is."
Ria had a distressed look in her eyes and had her hand over her stomach.
"She wasn't the only one I lost," said Braeburn. Now his eyes were getting misty as he grabbed a second picture from inside the box. Nami caught a glimpse and felt her blood go cold. It was a picture of Braeburn and his wife, taken maybe a few years after the first picture. Braeburn looked much younger in the photo as well, but they weren't the only ones in the picture.
There was also a little girl in the picture – she had Phoebe's eyes and Braeburn's nose.
"That's my daughter, Chloe."
Six years ago . . .
It was the kind of day that was so beautiful it should have been uninteresting. The sky was a pale blue and not a cloud could be seen in the sky. Braeburn always thought clouds gave a day character – dark stormy clouds or little tufts of white that Chloe liked to imagine were rabbits or mermaids or whatever it was that had taken the seven year old's interest that week. Days like today were nice, but there wasn't that much else to say about them, really.
Leave it to Phoebe to make something of the day anyways. She'd suggested the small family go out for a walk. Perhaps they could go to the beach or the market to find dinner for the evening. There was a park with a swing set that Chloe loved to run around in. Even though he felt tired, maybe the fresh air would do him some good. The prospect made him smile. Well, maybe days with no clouds weren't that bad after all.
And so the small family left the tiny cabin they called home to head into town. Phoebe had picked out her best sun dress for the occasion – a white dress with large orange blossoms emblazoned on the fabric – and a jumper dress for their daughter – purple corduroy with a teal t-shirt underneath. His wife was resting her head on his right shoulder and Chloe was several paces ahead of them, running a stick she'd found along the ground.
Braeburn laced his fingers with Phoebe's and stole a kiss. She stole a side glance at him, knowing what he wanted to ask. Chloe had been in their hair all morning, so they hadn't had a real chance to discuss their plans for the future of their family. "Anything yet?" he mouthed to her.
"Not yet," she whispered back. "Be patient – sometimes it takes a while to get pregnant."
"That wasn't what happened last time," he said, half-joking. Although they hadn't planned on having a child so quickly, Phoebe was pregnant within the few months of their marriage and Chloe had been born by their first anniversary. That had put a little bit of a burden on the family financially, but now it was beginning to look like maybe they had enough to bring a second child into the world. Phoebe had been offered several large commissions, giving her a full pallet of work for the next several weeks, and in the midst of business at the forge starting to boom, Braeburn had been invited to play bass for a small band in town – it wasn't much of a second job, but it did bring home an extra paycheck every week.
Perhaps because this time they were actively trying to have a child, however, they were having no such luck. Their doctor told them not to be discouraged and to keep trying. The best thing to do was relax, not stress out over it, and let nature take its course. But it had been four months and it wasn't so easy to relax, not stress out over it, and let nature take its course.
"I was thinking . . . what about names?" asked Braeburn.
"Hmm. If it's a little boy we should name him Marcus after his father," she said.
Braeburn laughed. He was particular about who he let call him by his first name. He wasn't sure where it had come from, but growing up he'd always just preferred to go by his family name. Something about his given name was very personal to him, and he only let those very close to him call him "Marcus".
"And what would we call him? Junior? Marc?"
"We'll see what he wants to be called – it isn't like you're using your first name anyways, Marcus."
Braeburn clucked his tongue. Of course his wife was one of the lucky ones who got to call him that.
"What about a little girl?" she asked.
"Trying to surround me with women, huh?" he asked.
"I don't get to choose if it's a boy or a girl. Nature does."
"Well, I always loved my grandmother's first name. Rosalie."
"That is pretty," said Phoebe. She leaned in closer, her steps beginning to slow down. "We can table the discussion on our son's name, but I think I like Rosalie for a little girl, too." Braeburn kissed the top of her head. Even if there was no second child on the way, at least now they had a name for her if she was a little girl.
"Daddy, can I have a ride on your shoulders?"
Braeburn looked down at Chloe, who was tugging on his sleeve. She had an adorable little pout on her face as she tried tug at his heart strings. He sighed heavily and shook his head. "I'm sorry, baby, Daddy's a little tired today and you're starting to get big on me. I don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to carry you around like that."
Chloe pouted and went back to her stick.
"Are you sure you want another one?" Phoebe asked.
"You never know – might be too late to back out of the next one already," he said hopefully.
Phoebe laughed, but the laughter stopped when she tripped. Braeburn caught her and she looked up at him with a hopeful smile. "Sorry, I guess I'm just a little clumsy today."
"You sure?" he asked.
"I'm fine. Come on, we're nearly at the park now."
Braeburn nodded, but kept a protective around Phoebe's shoulder.
Braeburn kept his attention divided between his wife and his daughter the entire time they were at the park. Chloe was fine – she was bursting with energy and playing well with the other children, so he just needed to make sure she didn't wander off on them. Phoebe, on the other hand, was sitting on a bench watching her daughter play. That shouldn't have been too odd (plenty of the other mothers did that), but she was usually doing something more active, even if it was just sketching the other people around them.
He was worried. After a while even Chloe seemed to be losing interest in playing with the other children and was constantly looking over her shoulder at where her mother was seated. By the time she lost a game of tag because she'd been just staring at her mother, Braeburn took matters into his own hands and called Chloe over to the bench.
"Marcus, what are you doing?" asked Phoebe.
"She's worried about you, Phoebe – she isn't playing with the other kids. I'm worried, too. Let's get you home and get you some rest, all right?"
"Marcus, I told you I'm fine!" she said, getting to her feet. Her face had been angry, but slowly faded as she began to sway on her feet. She caught herself on the arm of the bench and put her free hand on her forehead. "I just need a minute to sit, that's all."
"Mommy? Mommy are you okay?" Chloe had come up from behind him and was staring at her mother in worry. Phoebe smiled at her daughter and brushed a hand against her daughter's cheek before her eyes closed and she collapsed into the bench. "MOMMY!"
"PHOEBE!"
The doctor didn't know what was wrong with Phoebe. She had no fever, no rashes, no sores, nothing should have been wrong with her. But she was getting weaker and weaker by the day. Braeburn stopped reporting the forge, although the master smith, Anatak, had granted him an extended leave of absence. Chloe was pulled out of school after day four – she hadn't been paying much attention to what her teacher had been saying anyways, so she may as well have been home.
Phoebe fell asleep the sixth night and didn't wake up the seventh morning.
The next few days were a blur. The doctor and the town undertakers came by to take Phoebe somewhere so they could prepare her for burial. People came by to offer their condolences – Braeburn didn't recognize half of them. Maybe they had been friends of Phoebe or just townspeople who had heard about the sudden collapse and decline of one of their own. He didn't care. He just knew that he couldn't bring himself to sleep in the bed he'd shared with her for the past eight years.
Chloe wasn't talking to him. She spent all of her time holed up in her room. Braeburn checked in on her every so often, but all she ever told him was that she didn't want to talk about it. He let her be, knowing she needed time to mourn as well. She's hurting, too. She just lost her mother. I can't say I was much different when my parents died.
It wasn't until the day of the funeral that they really talked again. It was a cloudy, miserable day. It was chill and the skies were gray from a storm that could not have been too far behind. They stood silently next to each other and the minister said a few words about Phoebe. As the crowd began to disperse, father and daughter were approached by the holy man.
"They haven't sealed her casket yet. Would you two like to have one last good bye?" he asked.
It took a few moments, but both Braeburn and Chloe nodded. The minister bowed, politely excusing himself so they could have a few minutes alone. Once he was out of earshot, Braeburn took a deep breath and slowly raised the lid of the casket, trying his hardest not to burst into tears for what must have been the millionth time that week.
Phoebe looked peaceful, like she was sleeping. The undertaker's wife had made her look beautiful. She was in a powder blue dress, her hands folded together neatly over her stomach, clutching a gold chain with a cross. Her hair was smooth and sleek and shiny, and just enough makeup had been applied to make her almost look alive. Corpses always looked somehow like wax to Braeburn, but his Phoebe didn't look like that. She looked like she was going to sit up in that casket and ask them how their day had been and what they all wanted to do for dinner that night.
"Daddy?" Braeburn turned to his daughter. Her eyes were looking at her mother, and her voice was quiet and meek. He reached over to put his hand over hers and she turned to look at him. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Of course, baby," he said.
"Do you remember that story you told me a long time ago about the Mine of Volunder?"
The question took Braeburn by surprise. "Of course I do," he said. The Mine of Volunder was a legendary mine that blacksmiths liked to talk about with veins of orihalcum running through its shafts. It was said to have been lost centuries ago, but if someone were to ever find the location again, they'd be rich beyond their wildest dreams. As a young apprentice he had daydreamed about finding it, but he'd never been in a position to go looking for it. Then he'd gotten married and had a child, and he'd all but forgotten about it outside of Chloe's bedtime stories.
Chloe forced a smile. "Can you promise me that you'll take me there someday?"
Braeburn wasn't sure how to respond to that. "You . . . want to go to the Mine of Volunder?"
"Uh huh," she said.
"I don't understand."
"Mommy used to tell me that she wanted to see the world and paint all of the things she saw. And I asked her if that meant the mine, too, and she said that was the most important thing of all. I asked her what would happen to you and me, and she said she wanted us to be with her, of course, especially if it meant you finding your mine. But Mommy can't do that anymore." Chloe looked at her father with teary eyes. "I want to see the world for her."
Braeburn understood and clenched his eyes, choking on a sob. "Of course, baby. We'll figure it out. Okay? We'll figure it out and we'll see the world." He gently put his hand on Chloe's. "Okay, Phoebe? Now we have to do it now that we've said it in front of you. Chloe and I are going to travel the world and see all the things you couldn't see."
Braeburn and Chloe each gave Phoebe one final kiss goodbye before closing her casket.
The walk back to their house was quiet. Braeburn had a lot to think about. With the funeral over, this was the moment that things finally had to begin again. He needed to figure out how to raise Chloe on his own – Phoebe's income was gone and the money they'd managed to save up had been wiped clean in the last two weeks from the illness and the funeral arrangements. I can do this. I can put in a few more hours at the forge, and maybe see if I can talk the guys in the band into doing a couple of extra performances a week. I'll need to find someone to watch Chloe during all that, but in a few years she'll be old enough to take care of herself so that's only temporary. We'll be fine.
"Daddy, why are those people standing outside of our house?"
Braeburn saw a collection of men he wasn't sure he was happy to see. There were two members of the town council Augusta Birch and John Providence, Sheriff Montfilier and his deputies (Conchord and Heartford), and the governor herself, Miss Bohstahn. His eyes narrowed. They are all people he knew, yes, but he didn't know any of them very well so it seemed strange that they'd all be outside of his house like this. If they wanted to pay their respects to Phoebe, they would have done it at the wake. Something's wrong.
Miss Bohstahn saw Braeburn and turned to face him, crossing her arms and closing the distance between them. She was a middle aged woman with deep purple hair that was always pulled into a tight bun, with a streak of grey starting at her left temple that hung in a lose curl by her cheek. "Mr. Braeburn, we need to have a talk."
"About what?" asked Braeburn.
"A personal matter regarding the death of your . . . wife," she said curtly. Braeburn twitched at the way she had called Phoebe his "wife" and held onto his daughter's hand tightly. "Perhaps it would be best if we went inside?"
"You can't just invite yourself into someone's house," he said. "We can talk out here."
"Disobeying an order from the governor, are we?" she said, raising an eyebrow. Braeburn swallowed as the corner of her lip curled itself into a smirk. "I thought we'd be more comfortable inside. Besides, I think it's only polite my entourage is given a chance to have a seat, don't you? It's rude to make people stand around all day waiting for you."
There's a reason I didn't vote for you, Braeburn thought to himself. Still, not wanting to cause a scene and create trouble for himself and his daughter when they least needed it, he pulled the keys out of his pocket and let the group inside. None of Miss Bohstahn's "entourage" looked particularly comfortable to be there.
Miss Bohstahn turned to her council members. "The file, please?" Ms. Birch produced a folder, then averted her eyes away from everyone else in the room. The governor briefly flipped through the folder before clapping it shut and turning her attention back to Braeburn. "I need to have a word with you alone – just you and me. Is there a backroom or someplace we can talk in private?"
"We're already inside – what do you want?" asked Braeburn.
"I will tell you when we are alone," she said, gritting her teeth and glaring angrily at him.
Braeburn sighed. "I'm sorry, Chloe – I'll be right back okay? Just wait here with the sheriff while the governor and I go have our talk, okay?" Chloe nodded, but looked scared. Braeburn gave her a hug and a kiss on the forehead. As he stood, Chloe held onto his hand – he gave her a reassuring smile before turning back to the governor.
He led Miss Bohstahn to the back of the house. His bedroom and Chloe's bedroom both had doors, but he didn't want the governor to invade such a personal space (not that she hadn't alredy). He settled on a back room that he and Phoebe had discussed turning into a nursery, but was currently little more than a storage closet.
Miss Bohstahn turned up her nose at the room. There were boxes and trunks stacked on top of each other everywhere. "It's a storage room," Braeburn said. "I imagine you've got one at your office or your home somewhere." He took a seat on a wooden trunk that had belonged to his father, crossed his arms, and looked at the governor. "Okay, we're alone – what do you want?"
Miss Bohstahn looked around in disgust before wiping off another trunk and gingerly taking a seat. "We did some investigations after the passing of Miss Phoebe Flowers," she said in a sort of cold, official sounding tone. Braeburn raised an eyebrow at that. Flowers had been Phoebe's maiden name – she'd been happily going by Mrs. Phoebe Braeburn for years.
"Why did you use her maiden name?" Braeburn asked.
Miss Bohstahn grinned. "Because that's her name. You were never legally married."
In that moment the world started to slow down around them and Braeburn felt a little dizzy. "Excuse me?"
"You were never legally married. As it turns out the man who officiated your wedding didn't have the authority to do so – your marriage license means as much to me as the wax paper my lunch was wrapped in this afternoon. It's trash. Meaningless," said the governor. "I've got a couple of lawyers working for my office looking into it, but so far that's what they've come up with."
Braeburn clenched his fist. Knowing that his marriage wasn't legal hurt. But that wasn't his or Phoebe's fault, and even though it was shorter than he'd have liked it to have lasted, they had a wonderful marriage. "All right. So the paper didn't mean anything. I still loved Phoebe and made her happy for all the years we were together," he said.
Miss Bohstahn yawned. "Yes, yes, I'm sure you did, but you're missing the point. Fluff and rainbows don't mean anything in the eyes of the law. In the eyes of the law, your marriage doesn't exist, and that means you don't get to enjoy all of the legal rights of that marriage, and since you can't marry a dead woman, I'm afraid that means you're out of luck."
"Legal rights as in what?" Braeburn stated.
"Well, you were able to live in this house because it was a gift from your in-laws – or rather, the late Mr. and Mrs. Flowers, to whom you have no relation, and since your name isn't anywhere on the deed I'm afraid that means this house is now government property – you can't live here anymore," said Miss Bohstahn.
"What?!" Braeburn said, getting to his feet and looking at the governor angrily. She was just taking his home away? Over a stupid . . . that didn't make any sense! She must have known that this whole mess some kind of massive misunderstanding, so why the hell was he getting punished for it? More importantly, why did Chloe have to get punished for it? She'd be losing her home, too! "You can't just kick me out! Where the hell are my daughter and I supposed to live?"
"Ah, you mean little Chloe. You mean the child you and Miss Flowers had out of wedlock?"
If the world had slowed down before, now it had stopped completely. "No. You wouldn't." Braeburn turned to the door of the storage room, not even giving the governor a chance to continue before he flew out and bolted towards the living room. "CHLOE! CHLOE! BABY, WHERE ARE YOU!? CHLOE!"
The living room was empty. That's why she wanted to speak to me alone. So they could . . .
"We've taken her into protective custody."
Braeburn spun around to see Miss Bohstahn standing behind him, still grinning. "Since your marriage wasn't legal, she isn't legally your daughter. That makes her an orphan and a ward of the state," she said. Braeburn wasn't sure if he wanted to lash out or cry or die right where he stood, but he was still too stunned to react. All he could do was stare at the governor in disbelief.
"I'll give you an hour to pack. I'd suggest you start now."
Braeburn continued to stare at her. How could this woman just look at him in bemusement after she'd just taken everything he had away from him? How could she be so cruel? He wanted to yell at her. He wanted to strangle her, even if it was just to wipe that stupid smile off her face. He wanted his wife back, he wanted his daughter back, and he wanted everything to go back to the way it had been a month ago.
"Clock's ticking," she said, pointing at her wrist.
Braeburn found himself at one of the local taverns several hours later. He'd packed himself a few changes of clothing, a few sentimental items he didn't let the governor see for fear that she'd try to take those, too, and the last bit of money he had on him. But what little money he had left wasn't going to get him anywhere. It wasn't enough for anything really.
So he spent it on liquor to try and escape from the world for a few hours. It wasn't working.
"Braeburn . . . oh Braeburn, I just heard."
Braeburn turned his head to see Anatak standing next to his barstool. Anatak had a sad look in his eyes as he pulled himself onto the stool next to his former student. The old blacksmith was short so it was a bit of a struggle for him. Normally Braeburn would help, but he was too lost in his own misery to even bother. "I don't get it," he said. "I thought I was doing everything right. Married the woman I loved, had a kid that I think we were doing all right raising . . . and now everything's gone."
Anatak was finally in the seat and rested a hand – warm, big, and calloused from years of working in the forge – on Braeburn's arm. "I know. You did. But that's not why I'm here right now." He got the bartender's attention and ordered two glasses of water. The bartender gave him an odd look before Anatak grunted. "He's going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow morning if you keep giving him grog – you're not helping, I am. Now go get me that water."
"Anatak-sensei, please, you don't-"
"-shut up. I never liked that woman but I didn't think she'd do this, least of all to someone like you. So I'm going to help you, but I don't think you're going to like either option I've figured out for you," said Anatak. Braeburn stared into what was left of his whiskey, considered downing it, and then shoved it off to the side. Anatak smiled. "Good start."
"What do I do, sensei?" he asked.
"I did a little digging after I found out what happened and learned that while it's possible you could get yourself a lawyer to fight your case for you . . . no one is going to take the case pro bono, and I have no idea how you'd come up with the money to hire one in your current situation. Now my wife and I are willing to give you a room to sleep in for now, but if you do that you'll never get yourself what you need to get that little girl back."
"So what do I do?" Braeburn asked, reconsidering his decision to shove the whiskey aside.
Anatak took a deep breath. "Before we get into that, I think I'm going to take you back home so you can sleep off the whiskey. We'll get you your water, I'll pay the tab – don't you DARE try to pay yourself – and we'll discuss it in the morning. Okay? I know I'm not your teacher anymore but let me help you one last time, Braeburn. Please."
Braeburn dumbly nodded and started to sob. "Thank you, sensei. Thank you."
". . . Anatak-sensei, that's crazy talk!"
Anatak, Braeburn, and the master smith's wife, Annabelle, were sitting down to breakfast the following morning. "Have you got a better idea? Even if you put in extra hours at the forge or did extra performances with your band or whatever, you'd never be able to save up enough money to try and get Chloe back, and the longer she's with the governor the harder it'll be to get her back."
"Anatak, you can't expect him to go out into the world to do that – he's practically a baby!"
"Annabelle, I'm twenty-six and I have a seven year old," Braeburn whined.
Annabelle shook her head. "You haven't eaten enough pancakes," she said, plopping another stack of three onto his plate. Braeburn stared at them blankly – he'd already eaten nine. Where exactly did this woman think he was going to fit more? Especially with the conversation they were having? How could he figure out where to put more pancakes when her husband wanted him to start bounty hunting?
"The only profession you can get into without any kind of formal training that nets that kind of money that quickly is bounty hunting," said Anatak. He sighed. "I know it's a long shot but I make sure all of my students knew how to use their hammer to create and, when necessary, destroy. You were the best I ever passed those skills onto."
Braeburn closed his eyes. "Because I had a wife and a baby to protect."
"And now you've got to use those skills to get your baby back," said Anatak. "We'll put you to work for a couple of days so we can have something to get you started, but there's a special project I want you to work on in between assignments, you got that?" He grinned. "A blacksmith's hammer can do a world of good if he needs to protect his home and his forge, but you're going to need a proper warhammer if you're going to be hunting bounties."
"You want me to make a warhammer?" asked Braeburn. He'd never made a weapon before – at best he'd done repair work and maintenance on the occasional piece that came in, but he'd never made one from scratch before. "Anatak-sensei, you never taught me how to make a weapon. How am I supposed to do that?"
"Exactly. How are you supposed to expect this poor child to go out into the world fighting criminals?" Annabelle chided. "He's going to get himself killed."
"No he won't – not if he's doing this for Chloe. As long as he's got her on his mind, nothing can kill him," said Anatak. "Annabelle darling, if we had the money to help him now you know I'd give it to him in a heartbeat. But we don't, and we're too old to try and come up with that kind of money ourselves anyways. This is his best shot at getting that girl back."
"Braeburn, sweetie, are you sure this is what you want?" Annabelle asked in concern.
Braeburn looked at Annabelle and swallowed. "I have to get my daughter back."
The following week had Braeburn working what felt like every day and every night on the work Anatak gave him and the warhammer his master insisted he make. He was exhausted every night and was asleep before his head hit the pillow, but it was a good kind of tired. The more work he got done, the more invested he became in his master's plan.
Maybe this WAS the only way to get Chloe back.
The hammer was big and heavy, much larger than the tool he usually worked with, but it still somehow felt familiar in his hands and it was no problem to swing it. He could be precise with it, but the weight of it crushed everything in its path. Anatak made a joke that he'd need to be careful not to hit his target's faces or the Marines wouldn't be able to correctly identify his prey.
Annabelle yelled at him for that and refused him dessert that night.
(And it was his favorite peach raspberry cobbler – Braeburn got an extra helping.)
It finally got to a point where Braeburn assumed the hammer was finished, but Anatak had one more gift to give him. It was an ore, shiny and gold, and about the size of an apple. It took Braeburn a moment to realize what the glistening ore was, but he nearly fainted as he realized what it was. "Anatak-sensei! That's . . . that's . . ."
"Orihalcum. I know."
"How did you come across a chunk of orihalcum that big?!" asked Braeburn.
"I've been saving it for a special occasion. I would have sold it if I thought it would get you the money you need, but unfortunately I wouldn't be able to get enough for it. But if you use this to modify the head of your hammer, it'll give it an extra kick," said Anatak. He smiled. "Besides, maybe while you're out there you'll be able to find the Mine of Volunder and bring me my weight in orihalcum."
Braeburn smiled at the little joke as he accepted the ore. "Thank you, sensei."
"Think nothing of it. Just make sure you add it to . . . uh . . . what's her name again?"
"Her?"
"The hammer. All good weapons have a name."
Braeburn looked at the hammer sadly. "And you think it's a her?"
"Looks like one to me. What are you going to name her?"
Braeburn sat down, his hands gripped around the pole. "Rosalie."
Author's Notes
Lots of things in the Author's Notes this time around, I'll try to be brief.
The people who took Chloe are loosely named after the capitol cities in the six New England states (Augusta, Maine, Concord, New Hampshire, Montpelier, Vermont, Boston, Massachusetts, Providence, Rhode Island, and Hartford, Connecticut). I couldn't think of ways to misspell "Augusta" and "Providence" that made sense to me so I left those two as is, but the others were changed slightly.
I borrowed Anatak from my last attempt at a long form One Piece fanfiction, Deadline. In this universe he isn't brutally murdered.
Special thanks to Xarciel for letting me use the line about Zoro and condoms – she left it in a review a couple of chapters ago and I kind of loved it, so I asked if it was okay to use it and she said yes. Thanks again!
I received my final dose of radiation therapy on October 1 so, excluding follow up appointments to make sure it doesn't come back, I am DONE WITH CANCER TREATMENT! HURRAY!
So I have this file on my computer called Devil Fruit Salad which consists of things I cut from this series and older versions of scenes – it's huge and contains a LOT of stuff. Would you guys be interested in me putting some of those snippets out on ? It would be kind of a like a "deleted scenes" thing and feature stuff from both A Force Against Inertia and Mass x Acceleration and maybe stuff from "Vanished" and "Sought". Context would be given for each scene/segment, followed by an explanation as to why it is was cut. It would benefit you guys because it's something I could just throw out there if chapters are taking a long time to get out. Thoughts?
- Dixxy