A short chapter this time.

Sanji POV:

He is falling, crashing into pillars of heat and pain on his way down. Sometimes he is agonizingly still, wrapped up suffocatingly, drowning in the heat that seems to burn him from the inside out, the slow syrupy drag of his thoughts. Sometimes there is nothing but cold, sharp pain; the edge of a blade forcing screams up and out of his throat.

The only reason he keeps sane is that he is not alone. He can't pull names out of his drifting mind, it's too much, it's all too much but he knows them.

Something soft brushing against his cheek. "I'm here. I'm here Sanji. I'll get you through this. You'll get through this. You're so strong."

Careful fingers in his hair. Everything is hurting right now but he wants them to stop even less. "We've got you Sanji-kun."

A weight on top of him, and he should feel pinned down, feel panicked. But all he feels is safe.

"Sanji is mine!" a voice snarls close to his face, a forehead pressing against his own. "He can't leave until I say so!"

He wants to reply. To agree. There isn't anything he wouldn't do for this person. He knows that even when he doesn't know his own name.

Sanji drifts. This may be hell. But he is not alone.

Chopper POV:

It takes a day and half for whatever drug they'd poured into Sanji to work itself out of his system. It had been a balancing act, ensuring that the combination of the drug and the anaesthetic didn't depress his respiratory system so much that he would die. It had been depressing to find that the anaesthesia had worn off before whatever it was. They'd given him far too much, his captors.

Chopper finds that he doesn't feel sorry for their fate in the least.

But he'd managed to save the majority of what had been left of Sanji's arm. He'd been worried that the infection would spread beyond the elbow and the chef would lose that extra mobility.

Still, it took four whole days for Sanji's fever to break.

Sanji spent most of it unconscious. And when he was awake, he was incoherent, eyes wandering, shifting restlessly on the sweat-soaked sheets. Chopper had spent those four days bent over his patient, changing IV's, pumping more antibiotics into him, changing bandages and sponging down his burning skin to give him some relief.

And he'd talked. He'd talked and talked and talked until he was hoarse and then he had kept going anyway. He didn't know why, but some instinct drove him to it, told him to use his voice like a lifeline. And he hated the thought of his nakama thinking he was alone anyway.

Chopper wasn't alone in his endeavours either. As soon as Sanji was stable enough for visitors, the others came. He kept the visitors to one at a time, masked and gloved. Sanji was strong. He was so strong, but his immune system was currently compromised and Chopper didn't want to take any chances.

Nobody protested his stringent measures. Not even Brook who didn't even have lungs or skin. No one dared to mess up their chance to sit with their injured crewmate, to sing quietly to him, or change the cool cloths on his brow. To simply be with him and assure themselves that he was still here.

It takes four days for Sanji's fever to break.

On day five Chopper leaves Robin sitting with a sleeping Sanji and walks out of the infirmary. It's the first time since the island that he's actually left save for using the bathroom and the wind blowing little furrows into his sweat-damp fur feels good. The salt stings his sensitive nose and he's almost grateful for it. He's a doctor but having the scent of sick, of infection, stuck in his nasal canal for so long isn't pleasant either.

He makes it up the stairs to the upper deck, not quite thinking about where he is going until he is within the tangerine grove. Then he sits down abruptly, little legs giving out under him, puts his face in his hooves and bawls helplessly.

He is crying so hard he almost can't breathe when massive arms scoop him up and hold him close.

"Oh, little bro!" Franky says, sounding as devastated as Chopper feels. "I know. I know. I got you little bro."

Chopper cries and cries and tries to find some way to explain, to speak, but the only thing he manages, is to wail, "Sanji!!!!" before burying his face into Franky's chest and blubbering again.

"I know little bro," Franky says again, sounding like he is crying himself. "But he's alive and you helped him be that way."

"But! But!" Chopper protests.

"He'll be okay," Franky says firmly, through his own sobs. "He's got us and we'll help cook-bro figure it out. Okay?"

Chopper cries harder, because he doesn't want there to be anything to have to figure out beyond rest and meals. But he nods too because he isn't going anywhere, none of them are, so they'll figure it out like they figure everything else out.

It still hurts though. And Chopper can't help but wonder, if it hurts him this much, how much will it hurt Sanji, when he finally wakes up enough to take in his new reality.

Please leave a review and let me know what you think!

Sanji should be waking up next chapter!