Mass x Acceleration

By Dixxy Mouri

Chapter Thirty-One: The Other Woman He Loved

Sanji had picked up the picture of Braeburn's family during the first part of the blacksmith's story, staring at it in horror. His daughter. The Chloe in the picture was smiling as she sat on her father's knee, but that poor girl . . . where was she now? And, for that matter . . . why wasn't Braeburn with her? What's he doing here? Why isn't he looking for her?

"So then that's why you joined Baroque Works," Nami concluded, looking over Sanji's shoulder at the picture. Braeburn lowered his head in shame. "You thought they could help you get Chloe back, didn't you?" She shook her head. "Braeburn, I was a career thief for eight years to try and save the people I cared about, and then I ended up asking a bunch of pirates for help when I realized I couldn't do it on my own and I was out of options."
Sanji frowned at her. "You make that sound like it's a bad thing."

"You know the point I'm trying to make, idiot," she said dryly, rolling her eyes before kissing his cheek. Nami turned her attention back to Braeburn and continued. "I get it. The world at large kind of sucks and bad things happen to good people all the time. Sometimes you have to do desperate things for the people you love."

Braeburn gave her a weak smile in response. "I see your point, but, well, I did pretty well as a bounty hunter, just not good enough. I got Baroque Work's attention, though, and a man going by Mr. 1 approached me. I was told the company was trying to create a utopia and that higher ranking members in the company got higher ranking positions in that utopia. I asked if that would come with money, he said yes, and I didn't think twice about getting involved. I'd already done something desperate to get my daughter back, and I still hadn't gotten enough. So . . . I joined. Gave up my name and took the Mr. 6 title."

Nami closed her eyes. Mr. 6 . . . something about that name . . .

The blacksmith gestured to his back. "I got the tattoo shortly after joining. I was . . . so convinced it was going to put my family back together that I wanted it to be as big as possible. The bosses didn't disapprove, so . . . there it is. It took two, three sessions before it was all done but at the time, I thought it was worth it."

Ria turned to look at him. "And then we got assigned to each other."

"How did that go?"

"Eh," said Braeburn. "I mean, we didn't really hate each other or anything, but for the first several months I was still dealing with Phoebe's death and Chloe being taken away from me. I just wanted to get our work done and felt like I needed to keep her on task better. She, on the other hand, decided I needed cheering up."

"We really weren't allowed to talk about our pasts with each other, but I could tell Braeburn was down in the dumps, so whenever it was slow I tried to cheer him up. For as much as my childhood sucked, my friends and I had always agreed that optimism and happiness were important – positive attitude is everything."

Sanji and Nami exchanged a look, remembering days when they couldn't find a positive attitude. They took each other's hands and squeezed.

"At any rate, around a year after we had joined the organization our outpost on Starcross Island was treated to an inspection," said Braeburn. "This wasn't really anything too out of the ordinary because we had one every two months or so, but normally one of the Officer Agent pairs or Mr. 2 Bon Clay handled it. This time, however, we got word that it was going to be Miss All Sunday."

"How did that go?" asked Sanji.

Five years ago . . .

Miss All Sunday tapped her pencil on the clipboard she was carrying, giving the Mr. 6 pair the small, slightly amused smile she gave everyone. "Your weapons cache is well stocked and organized. The Millions agents are happy, healthy, well-fed, and well trained – this is easily the highest morale I've seen at one of our outposts. And the number of bounties you've collected is impressive – Whiskey Peak has collected more beli overall but you've collected more heads. I'm thoroughly impressed."

"Thank you, ma'am," said Mr. 6. Miss Mother's Day started pumping her fist before her partner gave her a warning glare. She paused before slowly standing up straight and trying her hardest to look professional. "It means a lot to us to hear that kind of praise coming from the top. Is there anything we can do to improve?"

"Other than increasing your profit margin, not really," she said. "I'd suggest seeking out higher bounties if they aren't coming to you? Baroque Works doesn't have a foothold on every island this early on the Grand Line so perhaps creating and dispatching a few small units to those areas will help." Miss All Sunday straightened her hat. "But let's be honest – this is nitpicking. Even though they've collected more money at the Whiskey Peak outpost, most of their catches have been turned over deceased, so they've also lost a lot of money as well. Very few of your heads were deceased so your losses are significantly smaller than theirs."

"So aside from bringing in more bounties . . . keep doing what we're doing?" asked Miss Mother's Day. Miss All Sunday nodded. "Great. I'll let everyone know we're doing a good job. We've got almost everyone waiting in the town hall for a report on how the inspection went." She grinned. "We should totally have a party tonight."

"No, we should not 'totally have a party tonight'," said Mr. 6, sighing in exasperation at his partner. "We didn't get the good report by throwing parties left and right. I mean, think about the resources we'd be wasting. And being on top of stuff like that is something we JUST got commended for. We can't throw that away!"

Miss Mother's Day stuck her tongue out at him. "Sugah. Mr. 6. They have to eat tonight anyways. A bunch of them know how to play musical instruments on the side anyways – hell, don't think I haven't seen you fiddling around with the piano in the inn every so often. At most we'd maybe, maybe be putting out a little extra cash for a few more bottles of whiskey and let's be honest, they're probably going to buy it anyways. We might as well give them a morale booster."

"She has a point, Mr. 6," said Miss All Sunday, taking a seat and crossing her legs. "Morale is very important. Your Millions are happy and content for the moment, but working them too hard and not giving them any time to play can lead to discontent and, at worst, complete mutiny. I'd prefer to not come back here in two months to see your heads mounted on pikes."

"That was disturbing and unsettling," Mr. 6 muttered.

"See? Miss All Sunday is down with it, so we should totally have this party," said Miss Mother's Day. She crossed her arms. "In fact, I think we should invite Miss All Sunday to join in the festivities as well. I bet she works her ass off for Mr. 0 so she should have a chance to let her hair down, too. I bet you like martinis and conga lines, sugah."

Miss All Sunday chuckled. "I prefer coffee liquors and salsa dancing."

"All right, fine, coffee liquor and salsa dancing. We can make that happen, too," said Miss Mother's Day. She patted Mr. 6 on the back and winked. "Come on. Have some fun tonight, sugah. You're always Mr. Serious Frowny Face anyways. Have a couple of drinks, do a little dancing, maybe get a little lucky-"

Mr. 6's eyes widened. "What!?" He gripped his left ring finger – he no longer wore his wedding ring, but hadn't moved on from Phoebe's death, not to mention he still needed to find his daughter. He put on an angry face, got to his feet, and loomed over his partner. The redhead was not phased in the least by his height and stature (not that she ever was, and this made keeping her in line a challenge). "Miss Mother's Day!"

"Or you can go be a mopey sad sack in a corner somewhere. May I remind you that I have just as much say over what happens at this outpost as you do, and it looks like Miss All Sunday agrees with me," said Miss Mother's Day. "And it's not like we won't be prepared if some pirate ship floats by – these guys hold their liquor pretty darn well and I'm confident we can go from 'party mode' to 'bounty hunting mode' in ten seconds flat."

Mr. 6 looked at Miss All Sunday, who got to her feet. "It might be fun," she said.

"All right. Fine."

It wasn't nearly as bad as he thought it would be – the drunkenness wasn't as disorderly as he imagined it could have gotten, nothing was getting broken, and no one had gotten into the gunpowder to make fireworks (. . . at least not yet). The atmosphere was light and relaxed, and he had a feeling his partner and boss had been right – this probably was really good for morale.

At least it was good for everyone else's morale.

Mr. 6 had isolated himself at the fringe of the festivities with a plate of food and a single stein of ale he'd been nursing for the past two hours. He smiled and waved when he was greeted, but always politely declined when asked to participate more directly in the festivities. He just couldn't put his heart into it. He wasn't even getting tipsy for the alcohol – it wasn't even that enjoyable anymore now that it was getting warmer.

"I didn't think you were that old."

Miss All Sunday had taken a seat next to him without him noticing. Mr. 6 jumped a little in surprise before calming back down. "I'm really not that old, I'm only – wait. Are we allowed to share ages in Baroque Works?" Miss All Sunday paused to think about this, then nodded. "I'm only twenty-seven years old."

"That isn't what I meant. I meant you're young to be a widower."

Mr. 6 froze. "But . . . how did you know? I thought-"

"The way you reached for your left hand when Miss Mother's day suggested you 'get lucky'. You grabbed your ring finger . . . where a wedding ring would be," she said. Miss All Sunday shook her head and clucked her tongue. "It's nothing to be worried about breaking company policy – it was too small, too subtle, and not as identifiable as you might think. I doubt Miss Mother's Day noticed what you did at all, and I highly doubt you're the only employee in the company who's lost a spouse or a partner."

"You're probably right . . . although for all I know you've got files on every single one of us at your headquarters," he said. Miss All Sunday gave him an ambiguously knowing smile and he sighed. "I just kind of freaked out when she said that . . . I haven't been with another woman since she passed." He took another drink from his stein. "I know she thinks I'm some sort of worry wart who hates fun, but I've got my reasons for taking Baroque Works so seriously. If Project Utopia succeeds, it'll solve a lot of problems for me."

"Oh? And you don't think that's telling me too much?"

He shrugged. "Every single person in this organization wants something out of Project Utopia or else they wouldn't have joined. Even if it's just getting paid," explained Mr. 6. Miss All Sunday seemed interested in what he'd said, and he cracked a small, smug smile. "How exactly am I divulging anything personal if I tell you that? I have a reason for joining the organization? Well no shit – everyone has one of those."

"Touché."

Mr. 6 raised his stein. "To Project Utopia?"

Miss All Sunday raised her wine glass. "Indeed."

Glass clinked against metal.

Despite himself, Mr. 6 found himself enjoying his conversation with Miss All Sunday. Talking about things like literature, philosophy, and music (a subject she knew next to nothing about but seemed interested in) was something he hadn't done in ages. "I've always wanted to play a musical instrument, but I never learned how," she said.

"Which one?" he asked.

"I don't know if I ever put much thought into which one," Miss All Sunday admitted. "I just never had the time . . . or the chance." Her voice got quieter as she stared at her long since empty wine glass. Mr. 6 frowned, and then got an idea. There is that piano in the tavern, and it looks like most of the Millions have retired for the night. He looked around the town square where the party had been. Only a few men and women remained, most of them quietly chatting amongst themselves or starting on clean-up duties. Most important, it was quiet.

"You know what? Let me give you a music lesson," he said.

"Oh?" asked Miss All Sunday.

Mr. 6 nodded. "We have a piano in the inn."

"Is it tuned?"

"I just tuned it the other day," he said. They got to their feet and started to head towards the inn.

"Seems like a good use of your time," Miss All Sunday said with a smirk.

"Just because Miss Mother's Day thinks I'm a killjoy doesn't mean I don't get bored," Mr. 6 said with a chuckle. "Keeping the piano in tune is . . . well it's kind of what I do to relax when I need a break. We have a few people who play but they don't know a thing about keeping the darn thing playable. One guy was ready to take an axe to it because he thought it was broken."

Miss All Sunday laughed. "Oh my."

"Luckily I got to him in time because she's really nice – a baby grand. Her finish has seen better days but the wood's still gorgeous," said Mr. 6. "And she makes a beautiful sound." He crossed his arms as they approached the inn and he opened the door for her. "The lounge is this way, ma'am."

Before Starcross Island had been set up as a Baroque Works outpost, he imagined the inn had been largely used by travelers, most likely before the beginning of the Great Pirate Era. Now it was barely used – he, Miss Mother's Day, and a few Millions used the second floor as a dormitory. Miss All Sunday had been staying there during the inspection on the otherwise unused fourth floor, where there was a larger suite that the Frontier Agent pair had fixed up when they learned who would be doing the inspection this time – it seemed like a bad idea to give the boss' partner anything less than the best available housing on the island. "Do you know how to read sheet music at all?"

"I've read books about it."

"Well, we'll see how much you retained," he said. They reached the lounge and the two began to tag-team lighting the oil lanterns lining the walls of the room. When they were finished, they approached the piano and Mr. 6 sat on the right side of the bench, patting the empty spot on the left for Miss All Sunday. She gingerly took her seat.

Mr. 6 went through a few quick scales to figure out if the piano was in tune. Everything sounded fine, and he sighed with relief. "All right, so let's start by talking about the keys. See how the black and white keys follow a pattern?" Miss All Sunday studied the keyboard for a moment, and her eyes widened slightly before she nodded, and he explained which keys corresponded to which notes. She nodded along and started reciting which notes on the piano she was playing as she struck each key. Mr. 6 laughed as he picked up the book of sheet music left open on the stand and started to look for an easy to play melody for her to try.

"Ah. This one's pretty easy. Try this," he said. "Ignore this line for now – that's for chords, which play the harmony part of a song. It's a little tricky to do the harmony and the melody at the same time when you're just starting out, so let's do this one part at a time." Miss All Sunday nodded and focused on the task at hand. It was slow going, and she was holding each note for far too long, but she wasn't doing bad at all for a beginner.

They went through the song several times, and by no means did she master it, but she was able to fumble her way through the melody and the harmony over the course of about an hour. "Well, we've heard my rendition of it – may I hear yours?" she asked. Mr. 6 nodded, cracking his knuckles before playing through the piece and adding a few flourishes to the chords. Miss All Sunday studied his playing, nodding along and noting the liberties he was taking.

"So you don't follow the music exactly?"

"Not really, know – the arts are about emotions and feelings. The technical bits are only part of it. The little flaws and deviations are what make art and music unique. Like . . . do you ever go to the theater?" Miss All Sunday nodded. "Ever seen the same play put on by different companies? They'll each put their own spin on it – the sets and the costumes will be a little different, the way the actors deliver their lines is going to be a little different, sometimes they may even add or subtract things as they seem fit."

"So then why learn the technical part of it?"

"Because in order to break the rules you need to know what they are first," Mr. 6 explained. He caught a glimpse of the clock, and it captured his attention. "Whoa. Take a look at the time." Miss All Sunday looked at the clock on the wall and her eyes widened. They looked at each other, stared for a few moments, and chuckled. "Guess we lost track of time, huh?"

"I . . . suppose so," Miss All Sunday said slowly, looking at the piano sadly.

Mr. 6 raised an eyebrow. "Is everything okay?"

"I had fun tonight," she said. "And . . . now I feel lonely."

Mr. 6 frowned. "Do you want to play another song?"

Present Day

"I . . . ended up spending the night in her room," Braeburn admitted, looking at his hands in his lap. "We were both lonely, I was apparently . . . more ready than I thought I was to get back in the saddle . . . and it just kind of . . . happened, I guess. It started off as a casual thing though – just a way to blow off some steam and have some good conversation. I felt this . . . void without my family, and maybe it wasn't the best way to try and fill it, but . . . well, I think Phoebe would've hated it if I never tried to move on, and as for Chloe . . . getting in good with the second in command, I figured, was probably a good way to get more influence and power in the company so I'd be able to go back home and get her once it was all said and done."

"Good conversation . . . and just what the fuck was I supposed to be?!" Ria snapped.

"You and I weren't really friends at that point," said Braeburn. "Remember?"

"Oh yeah. But still, now I'm mad at you," she said, crossing her arms and legs in a huff.

Sanji's eyes darkened. "So you were using her?"

"It was mutual. She's a very . . . blunt . . . woman and proposed the affair like this," Braeburn said. He made his face as stoic and serious as possible. "'I believe that it would be to our mutual benefit to fornicate regularly in order to alleviate sexual frustration and stress.' It was the strangest invitation to jump in bed with a woman I've ever gotten but I said 'I agree . . . I think' and she smiled in amusement and that was that. Over time we arranged more times to meet up and it turned into a thing, I guess. We had to keep in on the down-low or else . . . well, we didn't know what would happen. It was possible we'd get 'fired', and in Baroque Works getting 'fired' meant 'getting killed'. So we had to be careful. She'd find reasons to visit our outpost more often, or I'd find reasons to leave the outpost for business and she'd arrange to have business, too."

Nami's eyes widened and her jaw slightly dropped. That's right, I remember now. Robin told me she'd had an affair with a Mr. 6 back on the Thousand Sunny. I can't believe I didn't realize that before now. She felt a pit in her stomach as she remembered more of Ria's story. The reason she and Braeburn were on the island was because Baroque Works wanted them dead.

Whatever happened between Robin and Braeburn had ended horribly.

She glanced over at Sanji. He had a blank, unreadable expression on his face. I wonder what the hell's going on in side of his head right now? Nami loved Sanji – really, she did, they had a wonderful, loving relationship with trust, respect, great sex, and openness – and she knew he'd never cheat on her, but to say that he wasn't still, on at least some level, a bit of a pervert?

Not a chance.

He still had the occasion impure thought about Robin.

"Think about it, Nami-san – her Devil Fruit power."

"What about it?"

"Imagine how she could use that in bed. The possibilities are ENDLESS."

"Sanji-kun, go the fuck to sleep."

"Boobs everywhere."

"Sanji-kun . . ."

. . .

. . .

" . . . everywhere . . ."

(This only succeeded in keeping Nami awake for two hours as she put some thought into what Sanji had brought up as well. She ultimately concluded that while she was still pretty sure she was straight she was at least curious about what Robin was like in bed on at least an intellectual level and maybe someday he'd get to have that threesome she didn't need to ask if he'd fantasized about having with the two of them after all.)

"Braeburn . . . you once told me you'd loved two women. She's the other one, isn't she?" Sanji said, his tone more serious than Nami would have expected – she supposed she expected complaining about how the hell Braeburn got Robin into bed in one night and how all of his wooing over the course of several months had failed to do the same, or maybe flipping out and demanding to know if their friends had slept with any more of their crewmates out of some sort of irrational anger. This honestly surprised her.

Then again, there was no denying Sanji had grown up. He wasn't the same person he'd been on the Thousand Sunny. He was happy with their relationship and, even before they'd gotten involved with each other, his wandering eye had all but vanished. Moreover, he didn't look angry or jealous, and those were two emotions Sanji was TERRIBLE at hiding (actually, he really wasn't good at hiding any of his emotions). What are you getting at, Sanji-kun?

Braeburn closed his eyes and continued.

Four and a half years ago . . .

It had been another of their secret meetings. They'd both found reasons to be on that island – Miss All Sunday couldn't tell him her business, but he'd gone on a supply run for Starcross Island. She made the reservation at the inn and brought the wine, he'd arranged for takeout. They ate in the room, talked about the books they'd been reading, and then enjoyed the other "benefits" of their friendship.

"You seem to get better and better at this," Miss All Sunday said in a smooth, breathy voice. The island they had met on was a summer island in the middle of a heat wave and her hair was slightly slick, sticking to the sides of her face, a few strands laying across her eyes and nose. He gently reached over to move them.

"Thanks. You do, too."

Miss All Sunday twisted around under the sheet. "I'm looking forward to this more each time."

Mr. 6 grinned. "Me, too."

She closed her eyes. "But I don't think this is about relieving sexual frustration anymore."

"Oh?" he asked.

"I've been enjoying our conversations. I've been thinking about you, but not just about the sex. You always seem pleased to see me, but not just because you're expecting intercourse – you were quite engaged in talking about your reading tonight as well." She sat up and brought her knees to her chest. "I'm not used to that."

"You should be – you're a fascinating woman," said Mr. 6. "You're really smart – a hell of a lot smarter than me, at least." He closed his eyes. "And you've got a great laugh whenever I can figure out how to get you to do that. And I wish you laughed more often. Sometimes, even when we're together, you still look so sad." He sat up and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand.

"This right here . . . this is too intimate," she said. "This is more than just sex."

She was right. Something about this was too intimate to be what they had going before. Not with the kind of talk they were having right now. Not with the way he was trying to comfort her. We screwed this up. We really fucked this up. "What are we doing here anyways?"

Miss All Sunday looked over at him. "This is more than just casual sex now, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I think so too." Mr. 6 started to lean in closer to her, his lips slightly parted and his eyes closed. With all of the things they'd done over the last six months, kissing was the one thing they really hadn't done. At least, not lips to lips. But he felt her finger over his mouth and his eyes popped open. Miss All Sunday had a worried, concerned look in her eyes.

"I don't want to continue this affair like this," she said.

"You . . . want to stop seeing each other?" he asked. He frowned. Well, I guess that makes sense, though . . . if it's going too far maybe it is best to part ways before we get hurt . . . or dead . . . "I understand. If you don't want to see me anymore . . . like this . . . then maybe-" She put a finger to his lips and gave him that knowing, amused smile.

"Not at all."

"Then, what it is?"

"If this is something more . . . I want to know who you are."

Mr. 6 turned his head in confusion. "Uh . . . I'm Mr. 6?"

"No. Mr. 6 isn't who you really are," she said, pressing her hand to his chest. "It's all been Miss All Sunday and Mr. 6 and 'you' and . . . if everything we've been doing up until now has been just sex and going forward it's going to be more than that, I want to know more than just my partner's code name. I . . . I want to break that rule."

"Are you sure?"

"Mr. 0 will have us terminated if he finds out about this anyways – another broken rule can't make our situation any worse than it already is," she said plainly. She sat up. "That's why I see no harm in sharing anymore. We got here because of mutual loneliness, and we've resolved that. The next step, I believe, is the truth. Who are you? And do you want to know who am I?"

He took her hand and gently kissed her knuckles. "Marcus."

Her eyes were watering. "Robin."

Author's Notes

I know what you're all thinking. Well, a couple of things, but let's go with the one you might have been aware of longer. Yes, there a long break between chapters. We obviously just got done with the holidays and I've been back to work (or trying to get back to work) since about September. There were also some crazy moving shenanigans in late summer and settling . . . took a while . . . and some REALLY awful writer's block. Why writer's block? Well, SHOCKINGLY, I wanted to make sure this chapter was handled well because I did something kind of scandalous, as I'm sure you're all aware.

I mean seriously, a My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic reference? What was I thinking?

No, of course I'm talking about the whole Braeburn and Robin thing (although I wasn't lying about the pony reference ^_^), and this was a MUCH bigger risk than the whole Ria and Zoro thing because whereas Ria's pretty much of the "it was a one time thing" school of thought, that clearly isn't the care here.

We're getting to the end of this story arc – there should only be one or two more chapters left (I can see pros and cons for keeping it all in one chapter as well as pros and cons for putting it into two chapters _ ) and then you'll get a lead in to the next story arc which I think is going to have something a LOT of your have been anticipating.

Like seriously, I expect people to be farting rainbows, sunshine, and unicorns.

Dixxy