Brand

Characters: Jean Bart, Law. Rating: K+. Warnings: none

Jean Bart had been with the Heart Pirates for several months before his captain asked the question in the middle of his regular health check.

"Do you want me to do something about this?" his captain asked from behind him, and if Jean Bart wasn't already fairly certain what he was referring to, the feather-light touch to the centre of his back dispelled any doubts. The Tenryubito brand, marking him a slave forever more. Thanks to his captain, he was no longer a slave, but the mark that claimed he was remained stark against his skin.

"Can you?" he asked, looking straight ahead at the wall and listening to his captain move around behind him, continuing with his checks.

"It's nothing I've done before," Law admitted, "but I know how to do a skin graft." Jean Bart frowned. While pain and medical treatment were nothing new to him – he'd been a pirate far too long for that – the idea of willingly subjecting himself to either having some stranger's skin fused to him forever, or losing more of his own skin from elsewhere to patch himself up like some human quilt didn't exactly appeal to him.

Law must have noticed his reluctance, because he didn't say anything else on the matter, working in silence for several minutes before making a seemingly idle comment on the fact that Bepo appeared to have convinced Penguin and Shachi to bring the Tang back to the surface again. It was a clear change in topic, and if Law was another man Jean Bart might have felt insulted at the obviousness of it, but he'd already learnt that while his captain had many strengths, intentional emotional support was not one of them, and if he wanted that he needed to go find another nakama. The silence before the topic change was the best Law knew how to do.

The conversation never cycled back around towards the mark on his back, but once it had been brought up, the idea was never far from his mind. He didn't want to be marked forever, but a skin graft was too crude, and almost too easy. He thought of the other slaves, other escaped slaves, who had to live with the brand for the rest of their lives, and even though he didn't know them, had never spoken to the other slaves, there was a sense of camaraderie there. Returning his back to a blank slate would make it as though his experiences were worth nothing, and to a sceptic, someone who had never been a slave, maybe they were. But to Jean Bart, they had been a significant part of his life.

If he didn't want to remove it, but didn't want to keep it either, what choice was there?

It was his captain, the one who had first posed the question, that gave him his answer. It was unintentional; Law had clearly seeking to put his question far behind him after the lack of a response – and in hindsight maybe it had been a bit rude to dismiss his captain's offer without even a single word.

He'd caught sight of his captain's own back, slender and lithe like the rest of him, but the deceptively slim figure didn't catch his attention even though it was the first time he'd seen Law in such a state of undress. Instead, his eyes were drawn to the unapologetic back lines splayed all across it, rippling slightly as the muscles beneath the skin tensed and relaxed with his movements. The now-familiar sight of their jolly roger grinned back at them from his skin and the epiphany hit.

He knew what he wanted.

"Captain," he said as he entered the infirmary weeks later, knowing that was where he'd find Law and sure enough the younger man was flicking through a medical book. He immediately gained his attention, golden eyes snapping up to survey him. Jean Bart knew his left hand was a single twitch away from forming a Room as he searched for a sign of injury.

"Jean Bart," he greeted, a tone of inquisitiveness in his voice implying that his initial impression had shown nothing out of the ordinary. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm fine," he said, sitting himself down on a bed in front of his captain so he didn't tower over him quite so much. "I've been thinking about what to do about my back." Instincts honed as a slave to detect when his owner was displeased picked up on the almost imperceptible tensing of Law's back, even as his face simply slid into an expression of intrigue.

"Is it something I can help with?"

Jean Bart heard the desperation behind the carefully interested tone, his captain seeking reassurance that he could do something for his crew. The larger man had joined the crew out of gratitude, but it was that very quality of the captain – the uncertain need to help, to protect, hidden behind wary layers of nonchalance – that had led him to his current decision.

"I want a tattoo," he said simply, reaching into a pocket with one large hand to withdraw a piece of paper. "I'd like to ask your permission to use this design," he continued, offering it to Law. The shorter man leaned forwards to accept it, unfolding the paper slowly and carefully. Jean Bart watched his face carefully, unsurprised when his eyes widened.

After a long minute, those golden eyes left the paper to scrutinise Jean Bart in kind. He kept his countenance calmly confident, even though it felt as if his stomach was churning with nerves he hadn't felt for so many long years. He didn't know what Law was looking for, but whatever it was his captain found it, because his lips twitched into a small, slightly sad smile and he gave the paper back.

"Permission granted," he said. "Although tattooing is outside of my skillset."

They found someone on the next island, on the wrong side of the law because there was no way any law-abiding citizen would dare touch a Tenryubito Brand, and after several hours in a parlour that seemed a little too seedy for pleasant company accompanied by his captain, he walked out with a burning back and a lighter step.

"Show, show!" his nakama chanted when he finally returned to the Tang several hours later (Law had predicted the reaction and had stayed with him in the small town until the bandaging could be safely removed). He complied, Law helping him unwrap the bandaging, and there was a moment of silence as they took in the mark and everything it symbolised.

Then the cheers began, hands clapping him wherever they could reach (although never near the tattoo itself because with Law as a captain they knew better) before announcing that a party was in order. Unwilling to deprive them of the excuse, Jean Bart shrugged and let them do as they wished.

After the party, where the youngsters drank too much alcohol and knocked themselves out flat on the floor on the recreation room, leaving a disgruntled captain to the clean-up, Jean Bart found himself in the bathroom, looking over his shoulder at his new back.

The Heart Pirates jolly roger grinned back at him, as bold and black as could be found on Law's own back. Unlike Law's, however, there was a shadow of another insignia behind it, picked out in a grey dark enough to hide what was beneath it but not enough to overpower his current flag. His old crew were gone, yes, but not forgotten.

While I love the Heart Pirate jolly roger, it's not really conducive to covering things up like the Sun Pirates' one was, so Jean Bart wouldn't be able to simply slap the same tattoo Law has over it and call it a day.

I have to say, my internet history after the research for this chapter probably looks quite interesting...

Thanks for reading!
Tsari