A/N: I decided to go ahead and upload this chapter at the same time as the first one, since I straight-up forgot to post this fic here xD

Disclaimer: I don't own this.


"Harley."

Sea salt.

The air was thick with it. Harley scraped in a breath and for a second imagined she was inhaling water—then she realized what must have been a hardwood floor beneath her was gently rocking. She blinked open her eyes and squinted as they adjusted to the cool morning light, and she propped herself up on her elbows to take stock of the situation.

Vivi was kneeling beside her and Karoo was near Vivi, watching with as much concern as a duck could express. The three were aboard an unfamiliar ship—Harley peered upward and found a black pirate flag fluttering at the top of the mast. When she craned her neck she managed to make out a skull and crossbones with a straw hat.

Considering that scrawny boy with the thirty-million bounty had worn a straw hat on his poster, this must have been the pirates' ship. I guess we did end up going to the harbor, then, thought Harley, and she flailed to her feet. As she tried to find her balance she looked out over the painted-white wooden railing beside her. Whiskey Peak must have been long gone—and the sky and ocean seemed to have together turned a pale green, a low mist still in the heavy air.

Harley faced Vivi. "How in the—why in the—"

"Harley," interrupted Vivi, and the princess took one of Harley's ink-splattered hands. Harley stopped, surprised at her tone. "Igaram is dead."

"He's what?!" demanded Harley. "He is not!"

"He is," said Vivi, and her grip tightened on Harley's hand. "Miss All Sunday knows where we are and Crocodile knows we have his identity. The Strawhats agreed to help us for the time being and we're on our way to Little Garden—the next island."

Harley swallowed hard. She automatically tugged her hand out of Vivi's grip, because she could already feel ink rising to her palms. She hadn't—she'd always been better acquainted with the scullery maids and housekeeper in the palace, but Igaram had always been there, on the periphery, as solid and unmovable as the king himself.

Fucking hell—but Harley couldn't have any further reaction in front of Vivi, because the princess had to keep it together. Not only due to Miss All Sunday's knowledge of their location—and that was problematic enough—but because of "The Strawhats?" Harley repeated.

She glanced around the ship again and took notice of the other passengers this time. There was a collection of teenaged boys and an orange-haired girl and all were still, watching Harley and Vivi—aside from the boy with the bounty and the hat, who bounded down the steps to the forecastle deck and skidded to a stop in front of Harley. "Hey! You're Vivi's friend!"

Harley half-glanced at Vivi. "Uh, yeah."

"I'm Monkey D. Luffy," continued the boy as Harley refocused on him, "and I'm gonna be King of the Pirates!"

"…okay," said Harley, who had no idea how else to respond. It's always good to have a goal, I guess. The boy grinned at her, easygoing—he was tan and slender and his shoulders seemed too skinny for him to have such a ridiculous bounty. "Thanks for taking us on."

"No problem!" returned Luffy. Without asking or hesitating he reached up to touch the side of Harley's face, and for some reason his fingers felt similar to an eraser. "And what's all over you and Zoro? Is this ink?"

Harley was unbothered. "Yeah, I ate the Ink Ink Fruit." This reminded her she must have been completely messy—she was sure she was hot, but she still tugged her peach hair scarf out and pushed one bandaged hand through her hair. "I'm Toscano Harley."

"She's my lady's maid," provided Vivi as Harley stepped back far enough that she could flip her hair forward and then straighten. She ran her hand through it again before gathering it all on one side of her neck and automatically side-braiding it with the hair scarf. "And she is—was—Miss Mother's Day. She's partnered with Mr. 6."

"Wait, isn't that sort of powerful?" asked the unfamiliar girl onboard. Harley glanced toward her and for a second they studied each other, more calculating than anything. The girl was noticeably pretty, freckly and pale, and that mandarin-orange hair was remarkably bright even in the misted light. "Why were you knocked out so fast?" the girl asked Harley with visible suspicion.

Harley shrugged. "Miss Valentine has always been jealous of me," she said airily as she finished with her side-braid. "She had to take me out as soon as possible."

The corner of the girl's mouth turned upward in a smirk that seemed to mean she recognized the sarcastic overconfidence. Harley was automatically endeared. "…right. I'm Nami, this crew's navigator."

"It's a pleasure, I'm sure," said Harley, throwing her a wink. Nami gave her a thumbs-up back.

Before their conversation could continue, however, a boy flounced up—he had a mop of blond hair that obscured one eye as the other stared at Harley with great intensity. But whatever effect his height—not that it was hard to impress Harley in that respect—and the slick black suit provided him was ruined by both his unhealthily pale skin and his—curly eyebrow? Oh my God?

"I'm not surprised you're friends with the lovely Miss Wednesday," the boy trilled at Harley, who recoiled. He held out one hand. "I'm Sanji, the cook."

Harley's gaze flicked over him for a second, skeptical, and she actively took his hand and forced it into a shake to prevent him from kissing her knuckles. "Whatever."

"And may I say," continued Sanji as Harley let go and glanced down at her stiff-with-dried-ink bandages, "you're stunning!"

"Yeah, I know," returned Harley with impatience. "I've seen a mirror." She folded her arms. "It sure doesn't look like you have, though, Eyebrow."

Sanji yipped as if he'd been struck and windmilled his arms as he collapsed backward to the floor—behind him Nami gave a startled laugh as another boy beside her shrieked, "Her personality sucks!"

Harley offered him a peace sign—and as she did she realized the cook had started arguing with someone, voice much flatter than before. "—laughing at, Mosshead?!"

Mosshead! Harley turned and found the pirate she'd briefly tangled with the night before. He was perched on one stair to the forecastle deck, elbows propped against his knees and his three swords held close.

And oh my God, he was even hotter than she'd thought—between that tan, those broad shoulders and muscular arms, and the confident but completely disinterested way he seemed to carry himself, he had to be the prettiest person on the ship, Harley included. Even with dried ink spattered across his shirt and smeared on his face he won by a landslide.

He had continued arguing with Sanji while Harley had stared at him, and she called, "Hey. Mosshead."

That caught his attention at once—he speared Harley with a glance. "Call me that again and I'll finish our fight from the rooftop."

Harley half-grinned at him. "Is that a promise?" He rolled his eyes. "Who are you?"

"Roronoa Zoro."

"Hang on, you fought her?" Sanji demanded of Zoro with far too much indignance on Harley's behalf. He propped himself up on one elbow. "How dare you lay a hand on such a—"

Harley snorted. "Who wouldn't lay a hand on me?" Sanji glanced back at her, relaxing at once. "I mean, look at me."

Vivi gave an audible sigh. "Harley."

"What?" said Harley, and she gave the Strawhats a quick glance. "Fine. This is probably the cutest pirate crew I've ever seen."

"That's not—never mind."

"Wait, and who are you?" Harley asked the last pirate.

He was cute if a little gangly, with medium brown skin, low cheekbones, bushy black curls, and the longest nose Harley had ever seen. At least he was memorable. And in a much better way than Sanji, who was now smoking a cigarette and potentially posing on the floor.

The last pirate gave Harley a wave. "I'm Usopp." He lifted his chin, placing his hands on his hips. "And I'll have you know I was voted Cutest Boy in my hometown four years in a row!"

"This is the stupidest conversation I've ever heard," muttered Zoro from the stairs. He stood, gathering his swords with him. "Let me know when we're close to Little Garden." With that he turned on the heel of one boot and ascended the stairs to the forecastle deck.

His abrupt exit seemed to signify the meet-and-greet was over, because Luffy galloped over to Usopp to chatter at him, apparently impressed with his accolades. At the same time Sanji rose from the floor, dusting his suit off, and Nami joined Harley and Vivi. "That's really ink, huh?" Nami said, gesturing to Harley as a whole.

"Yep," confirmed Harley. She glanced down at her destroyed denim shorts, sun-patterned top, and black denim jacket. "Most of my clothes look like this."

That reminded her—she whirled toward Vivi. "Wait! Did you get—"

Vivi plucked a strap of Harley's overstuffed floral-patterned backpack up to show the bag to her. "Your camera and photo album should be inside."

Harley released a breath of relief and took the backpack to sling it over one shoulder. "Thank you." Aside from her hair scarf and the faded stuffed fox she'd been given by her mother quite a few years prior, her camera and album were her most prized possessions. "And thanks for not leaving me on Whiskey Peak." She was sure hefting her unconscious body around while trying to escape two numbered agents couldn't have been easy.

"Of course," said Vivi with a nod.

"And if you want to get the ink out of those shorts," offered Nami, "I might be able to help." She turned on the heel of her sandal. "From the Log Pose it looks like you'd have enough time to shower, too, if you want."

That sounded divine—other than all the ink Harley could feel dried sweat coating her skin. "That would be amazing." Before agreeing, though, Harley glanced back toward Vivi, deferring to her. "Do you want to go first?"

Vivi shook her head, tugging at the hem of her striped button-down. "You can. I'll stay out here with Karoo."

Thus Harley followed Nami through an unlabeled door off the deck. After a messy storage room that made Harley wince with its remarkable disorganization, Nami swept open another door to reveal the bathroom. She flicked the light switch on. "It's not much," she said as Harley stepped in past her, "but it'll do."

There was an open bathtub and a showerhead perched on the wall, a shelf piled with towels nearby, a toilet, and a sink with a mirror. "So," said Nami with authority, "I don't keep my things in here—and no offense, but you couldn't use it anyway, since my shampoo and soap are a precious commodity—but I doubt Luffy or Zoro would mind if you used one of their awful two-in-one shampoo-conditioner abominations."

As Nami spoke Harley located the cluttered bottles in question on another rack above the bathtub. "What a promising description," Harley said with a hint of sarcasm. She moved forward to examine the possibilities and tried to touch the bottles as little as possible, because all of them had dried with soap and shampoo on them and were sticky.

The shampoo with coconut oil was probably Usopp's and the lemon-sage shampoo and matching conditioner must have been Sanji's. Harley found a half-empty bottle labeled Pure Sport Shampoo + Conditioner and plucked it up. "Which one of these smells better?" she asked as she noticed a different one that had been behind it, labeled Extreme Sport.

Nami snorted. "As if either of those idiots shower enough for me to know."

Harley gave a startled laugh. "Uh, right."

"Anyway, I'll have Sanji draw water for you," added Nami. "That way you'll have water for as long as you want and he'll be too busy to try and peep."

Harley glanced back, already annoyed on Nami's behalf. "That dude sucks."

Nami shrugged, waving one hand. "At least he's easily manipulated." She half-smiled at Harley, who grinned back. "I'll leave you to it."

"Thanks!" chirped Harley, and Nami was gone, walking back through the storage room. Harley swung the door shut behind her and, upon realizing there was a lock, turned it. There were curtains on either side of the circular window in the door, and Harley let those down.

At last she was alone. Harley set her backpack and her sling bag on the floor and then sat beside them for a second to breathe, closing her eyes. She and Vivi—and Alabasta as a whole—would be fine. Igaram might have been dead, and of course if Igaram could go surely anyone could, but—

Stop it. If she could breathe, she could fight, and if she could fight, she could protect the princess—and if the princess remained safe, she could return home and prevent a multitude of casualties in a war founded on lies. And we will, thought Harley. They had to.

Harley exhaled and opened her eyes again, bracing her hands against her thighs. The back of her head felt bruised, but at least nothing else seemed anything more than generally sore. She tugged her backpack closer to unclasp the top and rummage through it.

She had a few throwing knives stored there, as well as several rolls of bandages and matching clips, her stuffed fox, her camera, and her photo album. Otherwise she had an entire pack of tampons, three months' worth of the birth control she mostly used to fight cramps, painkillers, two lipsticks, and one gel eyeliner. And she had both underwear and one more bra as well as a white-and-teal floral-patterned top.

Harley glanced down at her shorts and sighed. She wasn't sure what Nami intended to try with them, but she couldn't wander around the Strawhat ship in her underwear. I guess ink-splattered is the latest trend in high fashion, Harley thought, and she yanked clean underwear and clean top out of her backpack. As she did, she heard the telltale swish of water starting to gather in what must have been an overhead basin, attached to the showerhead.

She proceeded to spend roughly half an hour scrubbing ink off with bottled soap—it was lemony and probably Sanji's and too nice for her to use, but there was no way in hell she was going for any bar soap—and fighting ink out of her hair with Extreme Sport Shampoo + Conditioner because it had more in it than Pure Sport. When she had passably managed both tasks, she snagged a towel and fiddled with the knob above the tub in an attempt to close off the pipe and maybe alert Sanji she was done.

It took a minute, but the water slowed and then stopped. Good, thought Harley, and she resumed drying off and dressing, including wrapping new bandages around her palms. She left her hair down to air dry and soon reemerged into the storage room, flipping the bathroom's light switch and leaving the door ajar behind her.

Harley tried not to look at the crowd of crates in the storage room even as she set her bags down there, and she let herself back onto the main deck. She had to pause as her eyes adjusted to what had quickly become a bright morning, the mist already burned away by the warm sun. "Harley!"

She turned at the sound of Nami's voice and found the other girl leaning over the railing of the stairs up to the quarterdeck, a hand extended. "Toss me that shirt."

Harley obeyed, throwing the ink-stained shirt up to her. "I can't actually give you my shorts."

Nami frowned and her eyes flicked over Harley. "Spin." Harley did so. "Yeah, none of my jeans would fit you. I could lend you a miniskirt, but it'd probably turn into a micromini."

Harley shrugged. "I'll take it."

"Alright," said Nami. She trotted down the steps and rounded the banister to stride past Harley into the storage room. "Be back in a sec."

As Harley waited, she leaned against the wooden wall, facing portside. The churning ocean, glimmering in the sunlight and occasionally crested with foam, was pretty—Harley felt as though she hadn't seen it in years. She and Mr. 6 hadn't been sent out on a mission in far too long.

Right! Harley couldn't believe she'd forgotten—there was one upside to this Baroque Works disaster. She no longer had to deal with Mr. 6. She half-smiled to herself and folded her arms. She had no idea what had happened to that jackass, but she supposed it didn't really matter as long as she never had to see him again.

Nami reappeared and handed Harley a peach-colored miniskirt. "Here you go."

"Thanks," said Harley. She retreated into the storage room and out of sight of the door to remove her wrecked shorts and wriggle into the miniskirt. Nami had been right—the damn thing was too tight to wear at its normal length. Harley had to bunch it up a little to ensure she could still move around in it and made a mental note not to bend over with it on.

Once Harley had given the shorts to Nami and thanked her again, she was free to roam the ship. The weather was gorgeous and the sea air invigorating after numerous days of dust. She leaned against the starboard railing for a while and let the salty breeze tangle in her drying hair.

Then Harley started fidgeting. A low, restless energy set in, and the more she tried not to think about Igaram or the revolution brewing in Alabasta, the more thoughts kept coming. With a sigh Harley straightened and drummed her fingers on the wooden railing. She could hear voices from the forecastle deck at the front of the ship—she might as well see what was going on. Maybe someone had something she could do.

Harley took the nearest set of stairs up to the forecastle deck two at a time and found both Luffy and Zoro. The former was perched on one railing, clutching a fishing rod, and the latter was half-sprawled on the hardwood floor, leaning against the same railing behind him. As Zoro no longer had ink splattered on him and his hair seemed damp, he had to have managed a shower sometime in the past ten minutes. "Hey, you two."

Luffy glanced back and beamed as Zoro gave Harley a rather scrutinizing look in lieu of responding. "What's up? Did Nami get the ink out of your stuff?"

"No idea," returned Harley. "Can I help either of you with anything? Or just around the ship or something?"

Zoro raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I prefer to make myself useful."

Luffy shrugged one shoulder. "You can fish with me if you want, but it's been terrible so far and it's kinda boring." He pouted. "But Sanji says we need more proteins since we didn't get any supplies at Whiskey Peak."

Harley offered him an apologetic wince. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"Oh, it's okay. I do wish we had meat though."

Harley considered and glanced at Zoro, who was still watching her in calculation. She gave him a hint of a smirk that he seemed to have no reaction to. "Do you have a Devil Fruit?"

Zoro's eyebrows crinkled together. "No."

Harley pointed at him. "Hear me out. What if I hold your ankles—"

"No."

"You didn't even let me finish!"

"No."

Luffy snickered. "Is that the only word you know, Zoro?"

"No—" started Zoro, and as Luffy laughed out loud he rolled his eyes. "Look, both of you leave me alone. I'm going to sleep, since I didn't get any last night." He shot Harley a dark glance that she flashed a bright smile back at. He made a 'tch' sound and folded his arms, holding his three swords in the crook of one elbow, and then he rested his head against the railing behind him and closed his eyes.

Harley watched him for another second, both amused and impressed by his ability to pass out so quickly. Then, to be at least somewhat polite, Harley stepped closer to Luffy and braced her bandaged hands against the railing beside him, lowering her voice a little. "What about you? Do you have a Devil Fruit?"

Luffy grinned and straightened, and with one hand he took hold of his ear. "Yup!" he said, and he tugged on his ear—which, to Harley's alarm and mild revulsion, stretched out abnormally. His tan skin looked normal and certainly as if it shouldn't have been doing that— "I ate the Gum Gum Fruit, so I'm made of rubber."

"Oh!" said Harley as Luffy released his ear and let it snap back into place. "That explains why your hand felt kind of weird earlier."

Luffy smiled again, easygoing. "Yup!" He nodded toward Harley's hands. "What'd you say you have? Ink Ink?" At Harley's confirmative nod Luffy asked, "Is it new? Is that why you have to wear the bandages?"

"Relatively new, yeah," said Harley. "But it's more like I have little to no self-control and therefore definitely can't control ink spilling out of my hands if I get too emotional or distracted."

Luffy frowned thoughtfully. "I guess that's a…Paramecia?"

"Yep."

"Huh," said Luffy. "Mine's a Paramecia too, but it's probably too different for me to help."

Harley waved this off. "It's fine." She tapped her hands against the railing. "I guess I should go see if anyone else needs anything."

"Okay," chirped Luffy. He gave Harley a peace sign as she retreated to the steps again. "Have fun!"

Harley echoed this sentiment back and turned on the heel of her high-top to trot down the steps to the main deck. There was still no one there, and aside from the steady clanging of rigging overhead and the swish of the ocean, Harley couldn't hear anything. I guess everyone's in the galley?

She trotted up the steps to the quarterdeck and entered the galley. "Harley!" she heard Vivi say, and once her eyes had adjusted to the abrupt shade, Harley found the princess seated on a bench at the wooden dining table in the center of the room. Usopp and Nami were to the right, leaning over a bucket filled with a white liquid and Nami holding Harley's shorts, and Sanji was rummaging in the refrigerator to the left. "You look better."

Harley ambled in to perch on the bench beside Vivi, facing Nami and Usopp. "You can probably shower, too, if you want."

"You can!" confirmed Nami without looking up from the liquid. "Usopp, add more milk."

"Adding more milk!" said Usopp, doing so.

"Don't use more than a few drops," ordered Sanji. He straightened from the refrigerator and glanced back, and as soon as his gaze landed on Harley, he smiled at her. "But if it's to help you out, Harley, dear, he can use as much as he wants!"

Harley gave a startled laugh. She half-glanced at Nami and Usopp—Nami had dunked the shorts into the concoction—and twirled to place her feet appropriately beneath the table and lean against the scuffed top with both elbows. "Are you saying if I asked to use the rest of your food stock trying to revive my inky clothes, you would actually let me?"

"Sure!" said Sanji with a both endearing and kind of pathetic sincerity.

Vivi sighed to herself, and Harley laced her fingers together on top of the table. "It's good to know manipulating you will take minimal effort."

"Tell me about it," called Nami wryly.

"Is that a compliment?" asked Sanji, from his tone and expression already delighted at the idea.

"No," said Harley.

Sanji was undeterred. "I'm glad you're so honest!" he said, and he turned to resume preparing whatever dish he'd started working on. Harley watched his narrow shoulders for a second, amused—she couldn't decide whether or not his apparent instant devotion was cute—before she glanced toward Vivi.

Vivi was fiddling with a thread on the cuff of her sleeve, and Harley nudged her shoulder. "Do you want to train?"

"No, that's all right," said Vivi with a shake of her head.

Harley studied her. The princess was clearly anxious, and with good reason. "I was going to ask if I could do any chores," Harley suggested. "Do you want to help?"

Vivi considered. "Actually, I might."

Harley was pleasantly surprised, and she flashed a smile at Vivi. Then she twisted back around toward Nami, who seemed the most competent of the Strawhats. "Are there any chores either of us can do?"

The remainder of the morning was spent gathering and washing dirty laundry, helping Nami water the tangerine trees she kept cultivated atop the galley, and cleaning several tools under Usopp's supervision. Lunch was chaotic, and the only notable moment was when Harley opted to ask, "Is everyone single?"

The Strawhats' reactions were amusing. Sanji almost dropped his glass and sloshed water all over his shirt, Zoro raised his eyes to the ceiling as though searching for patience, Usopp snorted, Luffy looked blankly at Harley as he continued shoving rice balls into his mouth, and Nami was the one to answer the question, as Vivi just sighed.

Nami indicated each Strawhat as she explained their situations. "I am, Zoro is, Usopp isn't, Luffy's not interested, and Sanji is, as I'm sure you could guess."

Sanji sighed as he pressed napkins to his shirt. "You're so cute when you're insulting me."

"Exhibit A," concluded Nami with a tilt of her head toward Sanji.

"Who cares?" asked Luffy with his mouth half-full. "What's for dessert?"

The conversation proceeded to be somewhat less interesting and the afternoon only marginally more so, as Harley spent it helping Nami reorganize the bookshelves in her well-kept bedroom. After dinner and as the sun set over the ocean, coloring the sky pink and orange, Nami dug out extra sleeping bags from the storage room to help set them up on the floor of her bedroom.

It seemed to take longer than usual to fall asleep that night—it was tougher not to think with nothing else to do. Harley couldn't stop dwelling on Igaram and the rest of the palace's top-tier servants, including her own direct supervisor the head housekeeper, and that only brought her around to how all of her friends must have been faring in such an awful political climate. She was sure her father couldn't have been doing well, either—he was doubtlessly aligned with the rebels. As for her brother, Harley never had any idea where his loyalties lay.

She exhaled and blinked open her eyes to stare across the dark room, at the wooden boards beneath Nami's desk. Her entire being seemed built of exhaustion but her eyes wouldn't close. Should I take a book and try to read? None of them had seemed particularly interesting, though, as they were mostly informational, and she'd start thinking again.

Ugh, whatever, Harley decided. She rolled over to stare at the ceiling overhead. Maybe if she attempted to meditate, clear her mind and focus on nothing but the steady swaying of the ship and the occasional creaking of wood and audible splashes from the ocean, sleep would come.