.: It feels so good starting this third arc. I decided to do something a little different than originally planned. We have a mystery on our hands still that stems from the previous story. I also wanted some fluff. Take it as you will. There's nothing wrong will prepping for the third installment already. But the next chapter will get things moving faster. :.

The Girl with A Half-Soul

Chapter 21:

It's The Little Things

For the first time in days, they had work to complete. They were thankful. If they did thorough work that was worth all the fees, it could bring in more business. Their dry spell could be quenched. That was what they were hoping for, at least. It turns out the Marines had other plans. They barged in and detained the two workers, claiming they had questions to ask them. Now they were separated and isolated.

The Marines took them to their headquarters on the island. Since they were not wanted criminals, they put both of the men in identical rooms that had a table with perpendicular chairs at it. The amount of time spent alone felt like a long time, but that was only because the Marines were also waiting on someone.

A new ship entered the crowded bay. Compared to the standard styles making up most of what was anchored down, the new one was classed as a battleship. It was taller, wider, and contained four masts with big white sails adorning the Naval emblem. The name "G-9" spread across the bottom and biggest sail on the front mast. The Marines on the other ships looked with awe as the ship anchored outside the mess and began to deploy a smaller vessel that could take people to the shore. It did not belong here at all. Its base of operations was hundreds of miles away. And it stood out among other battleships due to its ferocious figurehead.

A smaller craft was lowered into the water by a pulley system. There was no delay as the occupants transported themselves via oars. The only person in it that did no work was a man of higher rank. He sat with his arms crossed in an attempt to warm himself from the overcast weather that kept wanting to spit rain. Underneath the signature hat that most soldiers wore was golden orange strands of hair that needed a trim. His coat had the signature tassels dangling down his shoulders. The onlookers were not as familiar with this individual. He did not appear to be a Vice Admiral.

After a few minutes of maneuvering through the stationary fleet, the craft arrived at the harbor. The leader of the base was there already, prepared to greet the fellow ranked official. His clean-shaven face was smug. Underneath his own white coat was a bright red undercoat with navy blue trim and little golden stripes. "Welcome to the Highlands, Commander," he said as he stepped up onto the stable wooden planks.

"Black Jack Randall," the visitor greeted as he found himself being the taller of the two. Although he respected him, the Commander knew to only be cordial and keep his distance. A lot of rumors surrounded this Captain. He never seemed to face consequences for his actions as long as he followed orders, as he was one to grossly abuse his position for those who double crossed him. One day, he would reap what he sowed, but that was not what was important right now. "Thank you for allowing me to arrive unexpectedly."

"Of course. You just wanted to speak to a couple of civilians?"

"If you did not mind me intruding."

"I do not." He turned to lead him off the busy docks. "I actually already have the people you're interested in in custody."

"Custody? I never asked for you to arrest them."

"They're not in cells. Sometimes you just have to make things easier and avoid trouble."

The Commander shook his head. These people had done nothing wrong as far as he knew. But when they entered the town of Lollybroch, he could see that such behavior was the norm. Not only was the climate here dreary, but so were the people. Captain Randall alone did not exhaust the spirits of the civilians, but he certainly did not help.

He was led to the main building of the Marine base. It was not large, and it did not stand out among the other wooden and stone buildings. The only thing distinguishing it from the rest was a sign and the roof ornament of the military's emblem. Once inside, he was shown to the rooms where the two men were held.

When the door to the first room was opened, the man sitting inside lifted his head to see an unfamiliar ranked official step inside. Upon the sight of the shackles binding his wrists to the table, he looked over his shoulders with annoyance. "Give me a key," he demanded. As soon as he was handed one, he came around the table and unlocked the shackles for him. "I'm terribly sorry. I did not ask them to do this."

The man looked up in the Commander's face without saying anything. The hairs in his beard matched the color of his golden strands. He was a young man still, having not entered his late twenties yet.

He was studying the Highlander as well. The thickness and scars of his palm's flesh told the tale of many years being a manual laborer. His brown hair threatened to touch his shoulders, and the thick facial hair made him appear very robust in mannerisms. There was no record of incarceration in his background check. As a result, there was absolutely no reason to restrain him. "You're Mhor Angus, correct?" he questioned him, taking the shackles away and sitting across the table.

"Aye."

"My name is Paladin Roarke. I'm the rank of Commander under the branch G-9. The reason I'm here is because I came across an interesting report from a minor incident that occurred here thirteen days ago."

"I've nothing to say."

"Trust me, I'm not trying to pin a crime on you. I just want to talk."

Angus looked away. To be honest, he had no idea what kind of report this Roarke was referring to. But he also was not a fan of the military or the World Government. They were putting his shipwright company out of business for no reason other than their own greed.

Roarke pulled out the particular file and read over it once again. "It says here you and your friend MacKenzie Rupert were pursuing someone who you claimed to be kidnapping an acquaintance. The Marines nearby tried to assist, but the perpetrator escaped with the victim and was never seen again. Does any of that ring a bell to you?"

He closed his eyes. Not this again. That day already haunted him enough. Now bigger fish in the sea were taking an interest. "…Aye."

"According to Rupert, the perpetrator had blonde hair and looked like a regular Highlander from clothes alone. As for the victim, she had brown hair with white strands on the forehead, her eyes were brown and green, her skin possessed patches, and she was pregnant. But he would not give us a name."

Angus listened, remembering the young girl they had only gotten to know for a few short hours. His stomach started twisting. Whoever took her away did not belong to the Navy, but he also was not a native of the island. He had no idea who he was. All he knew was that he took her. And they could not go to the Marines about it because she was a wanted person. They were stuck with their backs against the wall.

"I was just wondering if this was who was taken," Roarke continued, pulling a single paper, and setting it on the table.

The sight of a wanted poster with a sketch of a young girl on it filled him with even more dread. She fit Rupert's description perfectly. Left eye brown, right eye green. Messy brown hair with white strands flowing from her forehead patch. Even the roundness of her face matched what was presented in real life. The only thing that did not suit was her age. The sketch was a few years old. Underneath the image was the name "Aurilee," and a bounty of one million berries posted. Angus settled his elbows on the table and despondently buried his fingers into his hair. What she had warned them about was proven correct.

"Now, the picture is a little more than eight years old, so she would be an adult today. But was this who you saw that day? Yes or no?"

Angus wanted to deny everything. If they left him alone, they would leave Aurilee alone. But it still did not feel right to him. She was taken. The Marines scoured the whole island for her, but she just disappeared. Aurilee was not safe with her kidnappers, but she also would not be safe in the military's hands. What could he do?

Roarke saw how uneasy the shipwright was becoming. Tension rose in him. It would take more coaxing to get information from him. However, before he could say anything, Angus spoke up.

"Why's it matter to ya?"

He gathered his thoughts to try explaining it clearly. If he built up some trust, Angus was bound to talk more. "Wanted criminals who are children are novelties," he answered. "They rarely do things of their own accord. There's always someone else pulling the strings. I think they deserve a second chance because of that."

Angus's hands moved to his jaw. It was hard for him to believe a Marine wanted to rehabilitate criminals. Everyone knew they were imprisoned and slain daily. Or they treated law-abiding citizens like scum of the earth and ruined their livelihoods, too. He finally just shook his head.

But Roarke had one last card up his sleeve. If this failed, he would have to move on to Rupert for answers. "What if I told you that not all wanted posters are bad? Some are used for good reasons. People go missing all the time, and we need help locating them. That's what we believe Aurilee is." He pointed to the small letters above the bounty amount. Only Alive, it said. "We find Aurilee, we can help her and her child get back home."

With that, Angus hesitated. That was exactly what Aurilee wanted. She wanted to find her way home. So much so, that she trusted a complete stranger who claimed to be able to do that for her. Now she was probably back in the same boat she was before and fighting for her life. Gerald would not be happy about that at all. Letting her get away was the worst mistake they had ever made. "Alright," he blurted out. "Aurilee was 'ere. The lass is the daughter of our friend."

Roarke cocked an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Gerald raised her. She came 'ere looking for 'im. But he left Lollybroch many years ago."

"How did Gerald meet her?"

"He was one of the pirates who took 'er from 'er island. But he loved her like 'is own. She spoke fondly of 'im, too. 'Er heart broke when she 'eard he wasn't 'ere."

The Commander listened carefully. This was the kind of information he was looking for. "Where is this Gerald now?"

"Water Seven. He gave up pirating years ago to be a proper shipwright."

"You think he would have more information about her?"

"I doubt it. We sent 'im a letter about 'er visit last week. He hasn't had contact with 'er in a long time. She wanted him to know she was alive. And…we wanted 'im to know he was about to be a grandpa."

"She's that far along?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if she had 'er bairn by now."

"I see." He thought about this new lead. If Gerald helped take her from her home island, then he was sure to be of some kind of help. It looked like his next destination was Water Seven, a place crawling with pirates looking for repairs and new ships. Roarke stood up, taking the wanted poster. "Thank you for your help. I greatly appreciate it."

Angus watched him leave, hoping he had not just made a grave mistake in his judgement. Wherever Aurilee was, he prayed she and her child were safe and in good health.

Strong winds carried the Going Merry under the sunny sky with fluffy clouds. Choppy waters made the vessel rock back and forth a lot. Although it was technically a hot day, it felt cool. The spray of saltwater helped with that, too. But it was still good conditions for seasickness. That was why everyone was sipping ginger ale to keep any potential nausea at bay.

While most of the Straw Hat crew relaxed or worked on little projects, Nami kept her eyes on the log pose and adjusted their direction as needed. She could feel her weight shifting to keep balance. They had been sailing like this for a few days now. Some islands were passed up along the way, but the log pose did not point their way. With no depletion in any supplies besides goat milk, they continued traveling. Short-lived stops were opportunities for Aurilee to ask locals the whereabouts of her home island, but nobody knew what she was talking about so far. But she did not grow disappointed.

She was actually calm and in a decent mood today. Up on the back deck, she had a wash tub full of soapy water to do laundry. An article of clothing was soaked, squeezed, scrubbed against the washboard's ridges, and then soaked again until it was clean. Then she used clothespins to latch the clothes to many taut lines for drying. The wind was a little rough, pushing them and pulling them all around, but they were not going anywhere. Aurilee's years as a chore girl were not for nothing. She knew tricks and shortcuts for things like that.

As she worked leisurely, she hummed a familiar tune and tried ignoring the worsening soreness in her knees and back from the constant up and down. Chopper had said that her unborn children could hear her speak, so she found herself being a little bit more vocal as a result. As they grew even bigger, they would start to hear other people on the outside, too. With that logic, she had the hope that once they were born, they would recognize her and be soothed with the same melodies and songs she would sing them.

Sing me a song of a lass that is gone

Say, could that lass, be I?

Merry of soul, she sailed on a day

Over the sea to sky

She exhaled, still not sure what the rest of the words were. But nonetheless, her little ones reacted to the vibrations her voice caused in her chest cavity. One would push another, and that one would push back and end up pushing or kicking the third one to make that one move. There was not much room to go around, but they did not care. The sibling roughhousing was already beginning.

Unsure if it was the sailing or the pushing against her stomach, Aurilee began to feel nauseous again. She reached for the glass of ginger ale to sip through the straw, but all she had left was melting ice cubes. Her straw made a sucking sound from the lack of liquid. It was nothing to panic over, but her hormones overexaggerated her feelings about it. She felt a little devastated. She wanted to get her chores done, not start vomiting! Did Sanji want her to get sick?

As if he could hear her thoughts, her glass was snatched, and he replaced it with a full one. "Just the sound I was waiting for," the cook commented. "Now try."

She sipped her drink with relief. Her mini crisis was averted. "Thank you," she said, putting it back down to continue her washing.

"Anytime." He slipped off his suit jacket and tied it around his waist. Then he sat on his knees on the other side of the wash tub and pushed his sleeves up to his elbows. "How about you take a break. You've been working all morning."

"I don't mind working," she insisted, scrubbing the pair of pants in her hands. "It gives me something to do."

"But you'll get tired. You should be resting more than anything."

She dunked the pants and wrung them out of excess water. Offering them to him, she made a compromise. "Then I'll sit, and you can stand. How's that?"

He smiled and accepted them. "Whatever you prefer, Beautiful."

As he stood up and pinned the pants to the empty section of the line, she felt her face get warmer in embarrassment. If there was one thing about Sanji that drove her crazy, it was the incessant compliments and titles he gave women casually. A part of it was just her not knowing how to react. She was so used to the completely opposite kind of treatment from people: provocation and physical harm on a daily basis. He was one to shower her in verbal affection, and he only touched her if he was allowed to.

But still. His perspective of her was something she could not agree with. She had gotten bigger over the past few days thanks to her snacking and her little ones growing in her womb. Robin cut her hair to fix it as best she could, but she still had a while to go until it looked normal again. Some strands were still noticeably shorter than most. Now she had parted bangs covering her forehead. The goal was for her white patch to catch up and fill in the middle slowly but surely. But it still looked odd. Because of that, there was no way Sanji was being genuine in his coquetry toward her. She was not skinny or had nice skin or pretty hair. In the mirror, she looked…unpleasant.

He sat down across from her once more, prompting her to wash more clothes. Silently admiring her, he noticed her abdomen jiggle with a kick from inside. What made him giggle about it was seeing how indifferent she seemed. As a man, he would never know or understand what it felt like to carry life. A movement like that was assumed to be painful. So, why the lack of wincing or visible discomfort?

The sound of him giggling at her heightened her aggravation. "What?" she questioned.

"That was a big kick."

She looked down at herself to see and feel stillness. Once again, she overreacted to something small. "I wasn't paying attention," she admitted. To rile her triplets up again, she dug her fingertips into the surface to make contact. Sanji felt himself get scared at the sight. He had no idea her body was capable of doing that. Did it not hurt? Could she actually touch a baby like that? She pulled her hand away and waited a moment. In the exact same area as before, an even bigger kick erupted. Aurilee groaned in response but followed it with a little laugh of her own. "Okay. That one hurt."

Her smile and laugh electrified his soul. For a while, he dreamed of it. Was this really the same Aurilee he met just under two weeks ago? She used to be so silent and reserved in her misery. The woman in front of him was unrecognizable in comparison. Her smile was contagious, and her eyes gleamed against the sunlight. It made his heart skip a beat. He just gravitated toward her essence. Watching her grow over the last couple of weeks was rewarding. Physically and mentally improving with his and Chopper's help was already working wonders on her overall. Aurilee was such an amazing person. He knew she would be an even more amazing mother.

"Sanji?"

She was trying to pass him a clean shirt, but he was so lost in his own thoughts that he did not realize it. His eye focused on her extended hand, and he tilted his head as he grinned. "Sorry." He took it from her hand and stood back up to pin it in place on the line. Together they worked until all of it was finished.

When Roarke exited the room, he motioned for his soldiers to leave. His hands rolled up the wanted poster. They would head straight to Water Seven. Getting there would take a few days, maybe even a week, but that did not deter him. "Going so soon?" Randall questioned inquisitively.

"I found what I was looking for," Roarke answered as he followed his men out. "Let them go back to work."

"Very well."

Upon leaving the Naval headquarters in Lollybroch, Commander Roarke's mini brigade loaded back onto the vessel they used to get to shore. G-9's battleship elevated them back up to the deck. But right when Roarke was about to give out orders, someone brought him an alert transponder snail. "Commander, Vice Admiral Rico is trying to contact you."

"Oh great," he replied as he stepped onto the deck. Whenever his superior was involved, it was not anything to play around with. Despite knowing he was coming to this place, there was a chance he would change their plans for some reason. He gripped the receiver and spoke into it. "Commander Roarke speaking."

"Hey, boy," a thick accent that exaggerated the vowels sounded from the snail's mouth. "You might want ta head back once you're done in dee Highlands."

"What's happened?"

"It's not bad. There's just someone here who wants ta see you."

"Uh…Ooh! Have the newest recruits arrived?"

"No, not yet. But someone else has perked up. I believe she's ready for anotha expedition."

Hearing that lifted Roarke's mood. He knew exactly who Rico was talking about. Someone who he had been waiting to go back to her old self for many months now. They were joined at the hip for years, and he was saddened when she had to go on leave. Not having his dear friend around was a hard adjustment. She was probably the biggest reason for why he was powerful and climbed the ranks at a considerably young age.

The Marines watched as their Commander could not contain his excitement. His feet pranced and he cheered for his friend. He always had hope that she would return one day. The audience was tickled by the display. For someone who tried to be serious, he really sucked at it and was instead easily impressed. "I'll be there in a jiffy, Vice Admiral!" Roarke communicated through the receiver.

He chuckled from the other end. "Yeah, make it quick. She's been bugging everyone lately." Ca-lick.

"Men, we're heading back to base!" Roarke told them all as he returned the receiver to the now deactivated snail. "After that, we're off to Water Seven."