Shatter

Characters: Law, Shachi. Rating: K+. Warnings: mention of torture

Law blearily made his way through the darkened corridors of the Polar Tang. It was the dead of night, with only the night watch (Ikkaku, if memory served) not in bed, but Law had been woken by the insistence of his bladder. Half asleep, he pushed the door of the bathroom open, ignoring the light switch in favour of allowing his adjusted vision to guide him towards the nearest stall, only to be brought up short by the sight of a figure hunched over the far sink, clenching the ceramic with knuckles so whitened Law could see the difference even in the dark.

Surprised that someone else was up, Law hesitated for a moment, in which the figure broke away from the sink with a gasp – a horrible, wet, broken gasp – and darted into the stall closest to them (him – Law's sleep fogged brain had yet to identify the nakama, but the figure wasn't feminine enough to be Ikkaku).

The pained sounds of retching and spattering of vomit assaulted Law's ears, and the doctor in him woke up, striding towards the still open stall with purpose, ready to form a Room despite the sling still on his right arm and his crew's insistence that he wasn't healed enough yet. If someone was sick it needed treating before it spread throughout the rest of the crew.

He hadn't turned the lights on, and perhaps he'd subconsciously known who it was the whole time, because as he reached the stall door his night vision made out the shoulder length hair, more greyscale than ginger but still striking, of Shachi. He was in his sleepwear, hat missing, and more importantly without his shades. The sleeveless top highlighted the mass of bandaging around his arms, particularly his wrists, and it was those he was rubbing viciously as he bent over the toilet bowl with tears streaming down his cheeks, wringing his hands around and around his wrists desperately, dislodging and then unravelling the bandages to reveal the welts and rope burns from where he'd been tied to a cross back on Zou.

Law stopped short, suddenly glad that he hadn't been noticed as the meaning of Shachi's state sunk in. This was no simple illness – nothing contagious that threatened the health of the crew – but a side effect, a lingering result of the torture.

He'd known that Shachi (and Penguin, for that matter), weren't okay. They'd put up a front, but they still lacked the boundless energy Law had long since associated with them. He'd thought they'd found solace with each other, in the same way they always had done before, but as he watched Shachi frantically rub at his raw wrists as he gasped and retched tearfully, distinctly alone and away from the safety of the room he shared with Penguin, Law realised he'd been so, so wrong.

What was he supposed to do? He couldn't possibly leave and pretend he'd seen nothing, even though Shachi hadn't noticed him (and that was another massive red flag, because with Shachi's observation haki sneaking up on the ginger was all but impossible – some of the crew liked to make a game of it, Law included as much as he pretended he wasn't actively trying to catch him off guard). There was no way he could leave his nakama in such a broken state, but when it came to offering comfort, or whatever it was Shachi needed at that moment, Law was completely clueless.

Should he get Penguin? Or Bepo? They were the usual go-tos when Shachi wasn't in the best mood, but Shachi was deliberately here without Penguin, when he could have easily dragged the other man with him. Then again, Penguin and Bepo had also suffered at the hands of Jack and his underlings, so maybe instead of helping them heal, commiserating together kept the wounds open? Law bit his lip, worrying at it as the thought crossed his mind that the others might well be in a similar state, hiding behind weak grins during the day only to break down at night.

A particularly loud, heart-wrenching sob from the form in front of him shoved the thought to the back of his mind; he'd deal with that later. They weren't in front of him right that second – Shachi was, and unless he could find a way to help Shachi, he'd be equally useless trying to help anyone else.

When it was him falling apart, Shachi would wrap his arms around him and pull him into a tight hug that would last until he pulled himself back together. Would that work? Was that what Law should do? He looked down at his own hands and realised they were trembling. He never initiated hugs. Would that make it weird? Would Shachi want a hug? Would a hug seem too much like pity? Shachi hated being pitied over anything.

His weight shifted, colliding with the door and nudging it against the wall. The noise did what Law's quiet footsteps had not and caught Shachi's attention, the ginger whirling around to see who the intruder was, his breath catching in his throat as he registered Law. His fingers tugged at the loose bandages around his wrists, trying to pull them back into place even as he gulped back tears, and something in Law snapped. Shachi should never have to hide his pain from him. Not now, and not ever.

His feet took him to the ginger's side, and a hand rested lightly on Shachi's back. Underneath the thin material, he felt the powerful muscles of his upper back tense, quivering for several long seconds, before the tension drained away and two fists clutched at the material of Law's own top, tugging him down to his knees. A tear-stained, vomit-stained face buried itself in his chest, but Law said nothing as his clothes were soiled, running his hand lightly up and down Shachi's back. His fingers could pick out the bumps of his spine as they travelled down, only to be rudely interrupted by the outline of the bandages underneath the clothes he wore. More reminders of the horrors Shachi had been through. Law fought to keep himself from tensing up in anger at Jack for what he'd done.

Shachi didn't need his anger. Shachi needed his support, and Law had no idea what he was doing, but as the wails started, muffled against his clothes but raw and full of pain nonetheless, he shifted his right arm until his hand rested lightly in amongst red strands of hair, hoping that it would help. He wasn't given a reaction either way, so he kept it there, staying silent as if making a single sound would snap Shachi back into the denial he'd been showing since Zou.

Law knew first hand the detriments to bottling everything up, and refused to let Shachi fall into that same trap (or maybe he already had, had been doing similar things for the past thirteen years and Law had never noticed but he prayed desperately that that wasn't the case, that he hadn't failed as a captain and nakama that badly).

He didn't know how long they stayed like that, long enough for the cool floor to chill his shins but the discomfort was easily ignored in the face of Shachi's pain, before the wails quietened to sniffles and hoarse sobs. The fists in his clothes tightened further, and Law read it as a cue to tighten his own hold just a little, letting Shachi pull himself closer.

"It hurts," the ginger whimpered breathlessly between sobs. "It hurts, so, so much."

"I know," Law dared to whisper, his voice barely leaving his mouth. "I know. I'm sorry."

Shachi didn't respond, trembling like a leaf, but he didn't pull away, didn't try to retreat back into himself, and Law tightened his grip again, resting his cheek on the top of Shachi's head and listening to his hiccupping breaths fade into something slightly more regular.

It took him another minute to realise that Shachi had cried himself to sleep, and Law was faced with a fresh dilemma. He couldn't leave him there, on the cold hard floor of the bathroom, but could he take him back to his room? With his arm, there was no way he'd manage to get Shachi back onto the top bunk, but the bottom bunk was Penguin's, and there had to be a reason Shachi hadn't turned to him. Law couldn't in good conscience leave Shachi there when he didn't know why.

That left his own bed as the only option. It would hardly be the first time they'd shared a bed (as teens Law was certain the older boys had spent more time in his bed than their own, or vice-versa), but usually it was the three of them, four if Bepo joined in.

More pressingly, it was only ever when Law was the one depressed. Law had never been the comforter, the rock. Yet he'd just watched one of his rocks crumble away to nothing in his arms, and the other was nowhere to be seen.

Delaying it would do nothing, so Law adjusted his hold on Shachi, slipping his right arm out of its sling completely to pick him up before slipping out of the room, his original reason for leaving his room completely forgotten. Shachi didn't stir as Law quietly made his way back to his room, his nakama held close to his chest protectively. Nor did he react when Law laid him on his bed before stripping off his dirty top and using an unaffected patch to wipe Shachi's face clean.

Breaking the rules imposed by his crew – in this situation, he refused to leave Shachi by himself – he Shambled the fabric into the pile in the laundry room before swapping the shades settled on the dresser in the room currently solely occupied by Penguin with one of the special coins on his desk. At least, he reasoned, Penguin would be able to work out where Shachi was from that, if he worried.

Letting his Room drop, he picked up the shades and moved them closer to the bed, in arms' reach on the bedside table, before slipping under the covers beside the sleeping ginger. Spying the disturbed bandaging, he gently rewrapped them, feeling his anger at Jack for doing such things to his nakama burn as he did so, before settling down himself.

Usually, Law was left lying on his back, cocooned by Penguin and Shachi on either side as they slung their arms around him protectively. This time, it was Shachi on his back, and Law curled up around the shorter male as best he could, seeking a comfortable position as he rested an arm over the ginger. He'd never realised how difficult it was to find somewhere for his other arm, too awkward regardless of whether it was underneath him or Shachi and ending up bunched between his chest and Shachi's side. To think Penguin and Shachi went through that every single time they chose to keep him company through his nightmares.

No more, Law decided. No more was he going to always be the comforted one. Doflamingo was gone. Now, he would help his nakama face their own demons, thirteen years overdue.

Oops? Well, torture leaves mental scars as well as the physical ones, and I thought I should probably give a nod to that. I'm sorry, Shachi. I love you really.

Thanks for reading!

Tsari