Chapter 4

Lyanna had just woken up and was drinking some water, trying to rehydrate herself and help her take some of the vitamins that Law had prescribed her. Conveniently enough, he walked into the room as she took them and nodded, pleased to see she was taking his advice. He hadn't been hovering exactly, but he had been keeping a close eye on her. She guessed it was probably because he had gone to an effort to save her life, and he would be pissed off if she just threw it back in his face by dying.

He took a seat across from her before getting right to the point. "So tell me why you want to die."

"Jeez, you don't mince your words." She responded with a sardonic laugh, trying to ease the moment's tension.

"You're the one with suicidal ideations."

"Look, I have no intention of boring you with my life story. You're a doctor, not a counsellor."

"The treatment of patients is both physical and mental." Again, he retorted without hesitation.

She groaned. His tone told her that she wasn't getting out of this conversation, no matter how much she wanted to. Nothing made her more uncomfortable than talking about herself and her feelings. She usually attempted to ignore them and pretend they didn't exist, or avoided the topic with humour. However, Law's expression didn't change despite her groan of protest. It wasn't something that she anticipated from him. Still, her opinion of him had been quickly leaning more towards him being a nice guy, if a little brusque and unapologetic.

"I hate talking about myself. It makes me want to vomit."

He merely pointed to the sink nearby, as if indicating that she could vomit there. She groaned again and stared frustratedly at the ceiling, wondering how she could get out of this.

"Talk," he said forcefully with a slightly raised voice, not giving her an option.

Even though she wasn't happy, she knew she had no choice. Law couldn't force it out of her, but he could annoy or intimidate her into it. He had quite a reputation in the 'Worst Generation' of rookie pirates, being called the 'Surgeon of Death'. It probably wasn't wise to piss him off. As she gathered the courage to speak, she opened her mouth a few times but closed it a second later. As impatient as he seemed, Law waited silently, giving her time to figure out what to say and how to say it. Placing her hand on her chest as she spoke, she wanted to make herself committed to being honest with him.

"So, Whitebeard, the old man. My village was under attack by pirates, and they slaughtered everyone. I was only about 7 years old. My parents died protecting me, my neighbours died, and all my friends. Whitebeard and his crew stopped them. Marco, the First Division Commander, saved my life. They saved as many as they could, but most of them died from their wounds later. There were only two of us left by the time everything was over. Whitebeard took me to another island where my Aunt had moved after getting married and took the other person to somewhere they had a family. I was on his ship for weeks, and although I was in such a deep state of grief, they treated me like family. I felt there was still hope in the world if people could be unconditionally kind. People that called themselves pirates!" Lyanna started, and it became easier to talk as she continued, letting everything spew out.

Law listened in silence; his only movement was blinking, and his chest rose and fell with his breath. She appreciated his rapt attention. It took a lot of courage for her to talk about this, and his calm demeanour made it a little easier.

"I don't know how to explain it. I probably didn't understand it fully since I was so young. They let me grieve and helped me through it. All of them had lost family and friends before, so they understood. The familial feeling aboard the ship made me feel like I could still belong in the world even though I'd lost everything and everyone. They dropped me off at the island and even came and visited about 2 years later to check on me. Years later, Marco saved me again after I entered the information business. He remembered me straight away and brought me to the old man. I hadn't seen them in years. Whitebeard still called me his daughter like I'd never been apart from them. Marco treated me like I was the little sister he never had, and the other guys were just so kind." She pictured all of these events in her mind's eye, fondly remembering the past, knowing it was all she had left.

"The old man set me up with some of his contacts and asked me to check in on his settlements. Until then, I didn't feel like I had a purpose in life. Maybe it was his charisma, but I felt a sudden driving force. So I dedicated myself to him and his cause; I got my Jolly Roger tattoo that day and never looked back." She gestured to her back, where her tattoo was.

"Now that the old man is gone and the crew have disappeared, I've got nothing left. I can't look after Whitebeard's territory anymore because it's going to be claimed by someone else if it hasn't been already. I'm not strong enough to defend it all on my own. I can't grieve with them because I don't know where they are. I'm just...alone." She shrugged and leaned back, finally finished with her story.

Law's face wasn't stern like usual, and she could swear his eyes were soft and understanding as he looked at her. Maybe it was just the shadows playing on his face, but he seemed sad. He considered what she had said and looked like he thought before he spoke a moment later.

"You're not alone. You can grieve here." His usually firm voice was quiet and soft.

With Law's permission, it was like the dam had opened, and before she knew it, she was crying. She had tried her best to hold in her emotions, but she couldn't any longer. It seemed strange that all she needed was someone to allow her to grieve, and maybe it was because Law was a rather severe and straightforward guy that she listened to him. It could have been because he'd saved her life, which he didn't need to do, nor help her through her grief. And yet, here he was. He was sitting here listening to her. Her lack of a support network outside the Whitebeard pirates was partly on her. She found it too hard to open up and trust people, so she struggled to make connections. Beforehand, she had never felt the need to build relationships outside of the old man and his crew. Of course she knew they wouldn't live forever, but she had thought she would have more time.

She hadn't exactly had an easy life. Witnessing a massacre as a child had traumatised her. Trying to find her way to make a living with her Devil Fruit abilities had been challenging until Whitebeard assisted her. It was always a lonely existence. Usually, she would meet up with the old man at least once a year to update him on his territories and pass on any pertinent information about the Navy, other pirate crews and the world at large. Outside of the few weeks she spent on their ship, she spent entirely on her own. When she went to the islands and territories under the old man's protection, she did her best to represent him well. Still, she never allowed herself the chance to deepen the connection. Some of the people had known Whitebeard longer than she'd been alive. Yet, she had never allowed them to get to know her. She'd just put her walls up and went about her life without letting anyone in. Having no relationships outside of the crew was entirely her own fault, and now she was paying the price.

It was a while before she began to calm down, and once she did, Law stood up from his seat and walked over to the cot. He carefully placed a hand on her shoulder to comfort her before leaving her on her own again. Although she still felt exhausted, she felt like a huge weight was beginning to lift off her shoulders. Her heart was still in agony from the old man's loss, but maybe she was starting to heal physically and mentally.

Tired from the exertion of talking and the outpouring of emotions, she laid back down, unable to keep her eyes open any longer…