Chapter 9: Let Go

Summary: Life really is a bitch.

Notes: AMAZING art by CrowSizna!


Drake:

"This is all quite a mess," Vice Admiral Tsuru sighed through the snail, though Drake had stopped paying attention. He could feel Kujaku's gaze upon him, and Grus'... and Hawkins. Sorrow, resignation, and wariness.

All feelings Drake supposed he should be feeling, and perhaps he would when the numbness wore off. He would rather stay numb forever however.

"So…all of it, for nothing?" his tongue formed the words but if he were questioned on whose voice came from his mouth, Red Flag Diez Drake would be uncertain. The silence from the snail was deafening. His infiltration of the Beast Pirates, joining the Tobi Roppo, garnering a hefty wanted bounty… Standing by while the innocent citizens of Wano toiled and suffered beneath Kaido's hands, destroying livelihoods for the greater good…

A tremor shot through Drake's frame.

"Cipher Pol's unexpected dealings with Kaido and your subsequent clash with them has made your position as a Marine tenuous," her voice crackled. A woman sobbed as he smacked her husband across the face with the flat of his blade. Orochi hadn't liked the tribute they'd sent…

"Hold on," Grus thumbed the long brim of his hat. "He did everything he was asked to do, and then some. This isn't–"

"If you say fair, Rear Admiral Grus, I'll remind you that SWORD exists because the world is unfair." Her voice was hot iron, searing into Drake's psyche. Grus mumbled something under his breath like a child. Kujaku didn't bother swatting him for disrespect. Their conversation passed over him like a wave. The face of a wailing little girl in Wano as her home burned to the ground. A sickening pulsing began in his chest.

"Vice Admiral, surely you could sway the decision in Drake-kun's favor," Kujaku said imploringly to the snail. How impudent of her, to plead to her grandmother for him. The stern look on the den den's face was all the answer needed there. Smoker's eyes widening in shock as Drake's axe dug into the flesh of his chest, blood splattering across Drake's face, his hands. The walls of the office seemed to sway in his vision, there were too many zigzagging cracks in the surface of the coffee table, nausea rose up in his throat. Over his head, voices rose and fell, like standing in the middle of a stage. Grus smacking his thigh with his fist, Kujaku gesturing fiercely. Hawkins still and unmoving across from him, but his eyes unrelenting in their piercing gaze.

Shouldn't he say something? Shouldn't he? Hina looking right at him in the trees as she lifted Smoker's limp unconscious form over her shoulder. The way his hand rose briefly before falling back to his side.

"All of you, leave the room. I wish to speak with Rear Admiral Diez Drake alone," the Vice Admiral barked. The flurry of activity around him came to a halt, a moment in time frozen like startled rabbits. The actors shuffled out, leaving him alone to monologue, but he'd forgotten all his lines.

How long was it before Vice Admiral Tsuru's voice drifted through the airwaves, he didn't know. It didn't matter. "I had hoped that one of mine wouldn't join SWORD… if only because of this risk. Kujaku was a lost cause from the start, but you…" Gone was the stern veneer of command, replaced by the woman who had wrapped him in a blanket off the coast of Minion Island.

"How long do I have?" ah, words of action. Yes, action to break through the numbness that had spread so rapidly. Funny that his hands were trembling like a lamb, he could hardly feel them.

"As long as I can manage. However, I have received recommended actions you could take to sway your case." She spat the last part like finding bleach in her wine.

"Actions?"

"Cross Guild is becoming quite the thorn," she muttered. He blinked slowly. Another Yonko's crew, new but with big names. Anything with Crocodile was to be avoided, as information was his specialty. Infiltration would be suicide after his defection from Kaido.

"And apparently, your former comrade, one Whos Who, is a loose end," she ticked off another option. Whos Who wasn't stupid. He knew what Drake was, had likely snuck off somewhere difficult to reach by Cipher Pol, so Blackbeard or Red Hair's ranks. Another suicide mission.

"Or… perhaps rejoining the main force." The hesitation in Tsuru's voice made it clear this was the most dangerous option.

"To make me an example," he stated. All traitors put in their place in the name of "justice". A win for the Navy during this time of turmoil. Execution or Impel Down. She sighed, the black snail's eyes looking as ancient as the sea.

So, those were his options. Die, or disappear. Such was the fate of Rear Admiral Diez Drake.

"And Hawkins?"

"The pirate?" she asked, surprised. He had hoped to be able to instate him as an official member of his SWORD crew, only with Vice Admiral Tsuru's blessing could Drake keep him from being thrown once more in the brig. Dodge the gallows by the skin of his teeth. Fight for what was right by his side. What was right…what a farce. "They don't know about him yet, but I cannot guarantee how long that will last."

The trembling in his hands moved up into his arms, his shoulders.

"Understood, Vice Admiral," Drake managed to get out without his voice shaking. There was a long moment of silence.

"Drake," her voice was sad, unbearably so. "None of this…"

"I know," Drake murmured.


Smoker:

"Tashigi-san! Tashigi-san! Look!" One of the brats tossed a paper airplane high, its wings catching on the air to glide smoothly upward to catch a small updraft. One of his fold designs, an unexpected perk to being made of smoke was that Smoker now understood air currents and flight on an intuitive level.

"Oh wow, look at it go!" Tashigi clapped her hands, the brats chasing after it like puppies under the cloudy sky. "I think they'll want you to make more," she smiled, elbow gently nudging his side. Smoker grunted. Her smile faltered.

"Smoker-san… you promised that you'd be here."

"I am here," He pursed his lips.

"Yes, physically. But," she brushed her fingers against the side of his head, "not here." Smoker rolled his eyes. He could only be so present when interacting with children. Tashigi gave him a look. "They can sense it too you know," she gestured at the brats.

He huffed, looking off to the side, focusing his gaze on the port where their ship sat, not far from the Liberal Hind with its red sails sticking out like a sore thumb.

"I'm gonna be King of the Pirates!" cried one of the brats, laughing as she was tackled to the ground by two more of them. A small rock by his boot trembled from the impact of their giant forms. "No I am! You were last time!" "Aw, then I wanna be an Admiral!"

"Still haven't gotten them to quit with that yet?" Smoker growled. He expected Tashigi to wilt a little, but she didn't.

"Well," she settled her hands into her lap, "they are of equal standing to them, are they not?" He noted that her fingernails were chewed, a sign of anxiety if there ever was one. He grunted, pulling a cigar off of his arm holder.

"I've… been meaning to tell you something," she fiddled with the hem of her jacket. "It was me who told Rear Admiral Drake that you were in trouble… not Doll-san."

"Couldn't have told me that before I went to Doll and made a fucking ass of myself?!"

"I don't think I could have prevented that," Tashigi squeaked out brazenly despite shrinking away from him. He glared, fist clenching and looking away. Yeah, she was probably right. Whether Tashigi told Diez or not, Doll had been the one to send him and Hina out.

"So, why?" he growled after a moment.

The kids had begun a game of tag, the ones his size and smaller bolting around the legs of the giant ones, using them as places to hide. "Tashigi-san! We wanna race! Can you count for us?!" one of the boys yelled.

"In a moment, why don't you do a warm-up race first?" Their eyes lit up. Man, the brats really loved her.

She turned back to him, her brown eyes reflecting a small patch of blue overhead. "I was thinking about them," she nodded at the kids, "and about how, well, without the Straw Hats, they wouldn't be here."

"What the hell does that have to do with Diez?" Smoker growled, deciding to be purposely dense. The nicotine from his first cigar was not doing enough, so he tugged a second one free.

"Pirates…will always be pirates," she mumbled. He stiffened. "But what kind of pirate does that mean? A-a rat like Vergo? Like Crocodile? Or…" she trailed off, looking at the gaggle of children laughing and playing before them.

"You wanted to see what kind he was?" Smoker murmured.

"Yes, didn't you?" her fingers brushed against his chin before she went to lend her aid to the kids calling for her.


Drake:

The battered halls of SWORD passed by, the linoleum under his boots gray with a layer of grime. "Hey! Drake!" Grus called after him, his office door swinging in Drake's wake. He and Kujaku hurried to match his stride.

"Vice Admiral Tsuru can't be serious about letting you go–"

"I'll call Garp-kun, perhaps he can–"

"-I mean seriously, we're short staffed enough as it is! And then Ko–"

"You should reach out to Sengoku-san, he has–"

Drake's hair scraped against the ceiling. He never did quite fit in this building. Or on this base. Or here at all, did he? Always stained, his father had made sure of that. SWORD was supposed to change that. Be a place for him to belong, to fit in! Out of the way so Hina and Smoker could move forward without smudges, without him to hold them back.

A place where he could still love them from afar, protect them the only way he could.

The doors screamed on their hinges as he flung them open to the muddy courtyard between SG-1 and the main building of G-14. All for nothing. All of it. Kaido's looming bulk over his shoulder, Orochi's mad cackling as bodies burned on pyres, Whos Who always watching. Five years of his life, five years of misery, five years of pain and longing–

His life! His life had been a waste! What good had he done?

"Drake, where are you going?!" Grus hollered, stopping at the door. Kujaku stood between them, looking from her superior officer to him with concern. What did it matter where he was going? He could march into the sea, let it take him, do the Navy a favor. Borrowed time, that's all he had now. But he'd been dead for much longer than that hadn't he?

Dead since he became Red Flag X Drake.

Grus and Kujaku suddenly went silent. Heavy boots landed in the mud to his right, the sky spun overhead, his borrowed uniform was too tight across his chest–

"Red Flag X Drake."

Drake turned slowly, his heart a solemn boulder. Ah. It would come to this, wouldn't it?
Jitte pointed at Drake's chest, stance firm, wide. Perfected from years of practice, years of applying justice. Hair as gray as the clouds in the sky, eyes like coal embers, a cigar alive between lips pulled into a snarl.

"I don't want to fight you, Smoker," the words came out mechanically from his mouth, with no taste or feel. Numbness had claimed his voice too.

"Yeah, you do." Those eyes that had once looked at him as if he meant something now narrowed. Haki sparked in the air, and Drake found his hand moving to Guinevere's hilt.


Smoker:

The soggy ground caved below him, the impact of Drake's axe hurling mud into the air. Smoker swirled away, landing on his feet just to disappear again as Drake's sword chased after him. Keeping him at a distance so the seastone on his jitte wouldn't connect. A smart strategy if Smoker was still green behind the ears!

He flung his jitte into the mud, letting his smoke fill the battlefield. A bigger target yes, but maneuverability was more important. Drake spun, both his weapons slicing through the air, but the fucker had neglected to coat them in haki.

"Toying with me?!" Smoker snarled, rematerializing right behind the zoan to slam his elbow into his kidneys. Drake stumbled forward, Smoker kicking out to knock him to the ground, but Drake tapped into his zoan strength, a tail sprouting to wrap around Smoker's waist and throw him away.

Furious beastly yellow eyes whipped around to glare at him as Smoker once again retreated into the smoke. This time however, Drake went on the offensive, haki coating his blades! Smoker barely pulled himself into one piece, dodging and rolling away from a combination axe slice and rapier thrust!

"Why can't you just leave me be?!" Drake roared furiously. Tch, deja fucking vu. Five years ago, the same words had echoed in that fucking forest clearing. And just like back then, Drake charged him, haki radiating off his arms and down blades sharp enough to whistle as they passed through the air.

But Smoker wasn't the same as he was back then, his goal different. Bring Drake home, smack sense into him, but not this time. No, this time… this time he wanted to know who Drake wanted to be. His fists turned black, using soru to leap over the reach of Drake's weapons, coming down with a punch to the zoan's jaw! Again, another strike, the bastard refusing to fall back, instead absorbing Smoker's hits like a punching bag until sharp teeth sank into his wrist and he turned incorporeal, flying high to get some distance–

Except the teeth followed him, Drake disappearing into the hulking beast of his full zoan form, jaw snapping! Shit, he was faster than Smoker was expecting for his bulk! Teeth should have sank into his middle but–

Rage ignited in Smoker's chest. He wasn't using haki. Diez still wasn't taking this seriously. Just playing around, trying to appease Smoker enough to let him go. Not like last time, where his blades had meant business, where his punches snapped ribs!

But Smoker wasn't playing around. The tiny tendril of smoke he kept attached to his jitte became his fist and in an instant he ripped the weapon from the earth, whipping it around to slam across the beast's skull!

The seastone jabbed into Drake's skin, instantly nullifying his powers and sending him smashing and skidding across the ground!

Smoker panted, lips upturned in a snarl as Drake got to his feet, blood dripping from a cut across his brow. "You trying to kill me Smoker?" Drake said, eyes dark.

"The wanted poster says dead or alive," he hissed. Red Flag went still before his hands curled into fists.

"It does, doesn't it…" And with that, the battle changed.


Drake:

Drake panted, dislocated shoulder screaming. Rubble was strewn about his feet, collapsed walls from where Smoker had just thrown him. Morgane vibrated in his hand, the steel still ringing from clashing with that goddamned jitte! Smoker hovered in the air above him, split lip dripping blood far to the mud below. The smell of it in Drake's semi-beast form was intoxicating. Blood always was.

He hated it.

The courtyard was a wreck, the sounds of their battle had attracted a crowd of onlookers. But none had their guns pointed at him. Yet. No, the real threat was Smoker as the bastard readied for another attack.

A volley of haki-coated fists rained down, Drake blocking and dodging, never staying in one place long enough to be overwhelmed. Except Smoker was far stronger than the last time they had clashed like this. Suddenly from Drake's left and right appeared more fists, blocking him in!

Smoker had always been excellent at thinking on his feet. Better than Hina, better than him at improvisation, at strategy.

But Drake didn't think that way, no, not when he could use raw power to his advantage! With a roar, he turned into a full allosaurus, spinning his tail as fast as a whip, forcing an opening! He shrank again, slipping between Smoker's hands by inches, turning to to clash axe against jitte again.

Back and forth they went, adrenaline making the fight painfully vivid. This is how it would be wouldn't it?! Former friends coming in for the kill. Always going for his throat! How it had been for five years. Admiral Kizaru had just been showing him the future with that light speed kick to the face. But back then…

Smoker's knee sank into Drake's solar plexus, the air exploding from his lungs, stars bursting in front of his eyes as he took a blow to the back of the head, Morgane dropping from his fingers. He guessed he deserved this fight though.

If Smoker killed him here, he'd be okay with that. The thought kept him in the mud, pain lancing through his side as Smoker's foot sent him sprawling. No more running, no more pretending. Not a pirate, not a marine, just a body on the ground. He stared up at the sky, breathing heavily, all the fight, all the anger, leaving him.

Morgane came into focus above him, Smoker wielding her. Her blade pointed at his chest.

"You gonna make us match, Smoker?" There'd be a poetic quality to that. His axe moved to point at his throat. Clouds of smoke surrounded them, blocking out all the world but this moment. No onlookers, no towering buildings embossed with Justice, no sea.

Amber eyes stared down at him, Smoker sinking to kneel over him. The fight was over. The end had come.

"Why'd you do it?"

Drake stared at Smoker, up at the clouds swirling overhead.

"Do what?" But he knew. He just wanted to hear Smoker say it. Why did he betray them. Why why why–

"Leave us. Me… and Hina." There should have been fury in Smoker's eyes, but there wasn't. The feeling of peace that had overtaken Drake wavered. Something else taking its place, something small and sad and ugly. He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

"Weren't you happy?" Blood from Smoker's mouth dripped onto Drake's face.

"Happiest I've ever been," Drake's voice cracked. Five years of thinking of them in the darkness of the night, one thousand eight hundred and twenty five days of scanning the papers for news, over forty thousand hours of wishing, of hoping that one day… one day he'd be able to–

All for nothing. NOTHING!

"Then why?"

Drake's eyes throbbed, a hard lump forming in his throat. "I… I thought it would be better. I could…" words spilled from his mouth like a spring flood. Slow at first, then all at once. "I could do something no one else could. I could do something right, atone for my father's mistakes. Not hold you back, not hold Hina back."

Something hot dribbled down his face, and it took Drake a moment to realize he was crying.

"I fucked up Smoker. All of it was for nothing. I followed my justice and they're gonna throw me out anyway! I did what they asked, I gave up everything and—"

"Idiot," Smoker grumbled, "Who cares what they're gonna do? What do you want to do?" Morgane was still pointed at him, but not the same. Smoker was still angry, but not the same.

Drake stared. A thousand words fought for the chance to escape his mouth. That he was sorry, that he was tired, that he felt lost, that–

"I want to come home," he whispered, voice breaking. The clouds shifted overhead, the clear bright blue of the sky suddenly appearing, as beautiful as creation itself. Gloved knuckles stained with his blood brushed along Drake's jaw, wiping the tears from his eyes. Drake's heart stuttered in his chest.

"Then get strong enough to do that," Smoker murmured and at last, something in Drake's chest let go.


Notes:
Aw Drake its gonna be okay baby