Ordeal

Characters: Law, Shachi. Rating: K+. Warnings: None

The atmosphere in the Polar Tang was tense, and Law hated it. Despite the overly cheery smiles of his crew – most of them, anyway – there was no hiding the way they were all looking over their shoulders as if they expected something bad to happen any moment.

The fear wasn't totally unfounded, either. As much as Law wanted to be an idealistic optimist, it was cold hard fact that right now he – they – couldn't trust Penguin. Refusing to keep him confined to the infirmary like some sort of prisoner, Law had let him wander the ship as he liked, under one condition. Penguin was not allowed to be by himself at any time. Some of the crew, particularly the newer ones, thought it was for his protection; after all, the Polar Tang was full of hazards for the unwary, and without his memories of her, Penguin was likely to fall afoul of them.

Law wished that was all it was. Penguin's safety was, of course, paramount; amnesia or not, he was part of Law's nakama no matter what the situation. Unfortunately, there was a less known fact about Penguin that many of the crew did not know.

Penguin hated pirates. Law had overheard him and Shachi talking more than once about the irony of it all and was well aware of their past experiences with pirates. While Penguin had forgotten even Shachi's existence, Law could see in his eyes, could hear in his voice, that he hadn't forgotten that. Thus, they had a pirate-hating man on a ship surrounded by people who would love nothing more than to trust him. If Penguin didn't regain at least some relevant memories soon, that was going to become a problem. Law knew full well that Penguin was scoping them out, looking for weaknesses to exploit. He'd allowed it in the hopes that if he learnt enough his memories would resurface, but if he was remembering anything he wasn't admitting it.

The fact that he couldn't do anything to help was frustrating. While he knew the basics of amnesia, and had seen the potential signs before Penguin even woke up, he didn't know anywhere near enough about the workings of the brain to even attempt to fix the damage. He wouldn't do anything he wasn't completely and utterly confident on when it came to his nakama, especially with the potential for irreversible damage. There was also Penguin's reaction to Law's attempt to examine him earlier, before discharging him from the infirmary.

Law had been called all sorts of names before, especially from people who didn't know how his abilities worked, but hearing the common "freak" from the mouth of Penguin – who had never, not even the first time he'd seen it, said the word with as much vehement disgust as he had then – had hurt badly. He could admit that it had unbalanced him enough that he'd ended up discharging Penguin only halfway through his usual procedure, unable to take those judging eyes any longer.

Holed up in the library, Law had torn through every book he had with any reference at all to head injuries and amnesia, only to be met with what he already knew. There was no hard and fast cure. Not even something so complex and difficult it would take a miracle – or the Ope Ope no Mi – to pull off. No, there was absolutely nothing Law could do as a doctor. All he could do was expose Penguin to his usual surroundings, wait, and hope.

Now, as he watched Penguin pick through his meal – his favourite meal, the cook had enthusiastically joined in on doing everything possible to jog his memory – Law identified a problem. There was, one person that had more familiarity with Penguin than anyone else, and therefore the greatest chance of success at coaxing his memories back. However, that same person hadn't been seen since Penguin had left the infirmary.

Finishing his plate, he left it in the sink with an apology to the cook and picked up the untouched plate of food. The cook waved him off with a tired grin.

"Make sure he eats it all," he said, and Law nodded, leaving the room with the plate held securely in both hands. He could feel the heavy weight of a gaze on his back, and didn't need to turn around to know it was Penguin, gathering more information and drawing more conclusions.

Despite everything, Shachi was still in the same bolt hole he always used when he wanted to escape. Law's haki picked up on him in his room, face down on his bunk, and he shuffled his grip on the plate until he had a hand free to knock on the closed door. There was no answer, and normally Law would have left him alone – not quite true, normally he'd go and fetch Penguin – but he couldn't do that this time.

"Shachi?" he called, knowing that the ginger was well aware it was him. "I'm coming in." There was no protest, so he pushed the door open, walking in to the dark room. "I brought your dinner," he said, when there was no response from the top bunk, and finally there was the sound of movement as the ginger shuffled around.

"Not hungry," he mumbled, but he came down anyway, gliding down the ladder. Law stayed where he was as there was the sound of something being picked up, and then the light turned on. With his shades on, Shachi was sometimes difficult to read. The dried tear stains on his cheeks left Law in no doubt how he was feeling this time.

"You still need to eat," Law told him, nudging him to sit on the bottom bunk – well aware it was Penguin's and probably the last place Shachi wanted to be – and placing the plate on his lap before sitting next to him, ducking his head to avoid hitting it on the top bunk.

Shachi didn't say anything but he did pick at the meal, very similarly to the way Penguin had been picking at his own food. Law kept that observation to himself, choosing to sit in silence while Shachi ate. The silence reigned until he finished, setting the plate on the floor.

"How… is he?" Shachi asked, head bowed and looking at the floor. Law leaned on his elbows, but kept his eyes on the ginger.

"Physically fine," Law told him. "His injuries are healing well." Better than yours, he didn't say, even though the fresh bandaging on his side was clearly visible.

"But he still doesn't remember anything?" Shachi guessed, his voice thick. Law nodded. "You can't..?" He made a funny motion with one hand, clearly mimicking the way Law summoned his Room.

"There's nothing I can do," Law admitted. "It might be possible, but I don't know how and I won't risk damaging him permanently if I make a mistake." Shachi's sigh sounded resigned rather than disappointed; he'd already known the answer. "Shachi," he started, knowing what he needed to ask but faltering in the reality of the situation. His nakama made a noise that could either be intrigue or dismissal. Law chose to interpret it as intrigue. "Can you spend time with Penguin?"

Shachi's breath hitched, and his hands started to tremble where they were balled in his lap. Law ploughed on, knowing that Shachi was hurting more than any of them but also certain that out of all of them, he was the one with the best chance of helping Penguin remember.

"The best chance of recovering his memories is exposing him to things that should be familiar," he explained. "Out of everyone, you're the closest to him, so if there's any chance, it's you." He didn't want to put that pressure on Shachi, not when he was falling apart, but things couldn't continue like this. He – they – needed Penguin back.

Shachi said nothing for several minutes, the silence stretching over them, laden with heavy expectations. With the shades on, Law didn't know where Shachi was looking, if he was looking at anything at all or just staring into space. Looking forwards himself, towards the opposite wall, he saw sketches of what he presumed were their parents, alongside more familiar faces.

If Penguin saw those, would that trigger something?

"Okay," Shachi said suddenly, and Law's attention snapped back to him, his mind scrabbling to put the word into context. "I'll help him." Law blinked, startled, as the ginger got to his feet and retrieved the plate before giving a grin that was far too painfully fake.

"Shachi-" Law started, only for the ginger to turn away, opening the door.

"It's the only way we'll fix this before he does something stupid," he said. "If he tries to kill us, would we be able to stop him?"

Law had known that, had known Penguin was gathering information for that exact reason, but hearing Shachi say it was like a punch to the gut. He didn't ask how Shachi knew Penguin remembered he hated pirates, instead numbly watching his receding back as the ginger left the room to inflict constant emotional pain on himself in order to help Penguin.

Why did it have to be like that? Why did someone always have to hurt to help someone else? Why did Shachi have to be the sacrificial lamb? Why wasn't Law enough to take the burden?

Nudging the door shut with a Room and a Tact, Law curled up on the bed as the tears he'd been holding back ever since Penguin woke up amnesiac burst out. The bed was cold, unused for the last two nights while its owner was in the infirmary, but the unmistakable presence of Penguin still lingered and Law buried himself in it, wanting his nakama back and hating himself for being so useless.

And that's how well Law is (not) handling it. I'm really not letting them catch a break, am I? Maybe I should go for something a bit less angsty tomorrow...

Thanks for reading!
Tsari