The news of Gold Roger's capture broke in the Sunday morning edition of the World Economy News, Morgans not wasting any front page space on anything else. The headline was big and bold and impossible to miss.
Gold Roger captured and slated for execution!
Shortly following the Roger Pirates' reported discovery of Laugh Tale, the final Island on the Grand Line, the World Government announced Gold Roger's capture at the hands of Monkey D. Garp, the Marine Hero…
Captured, was he? Why was it that Crocodile found that so hard to believe? For as long as she had known Roger, the man had been on the run from the Navy. And he was damn good at avoiding them. Even if it was Monkey D. Garp leading the chase, Roger was a slippery bastard.
Whatever had happened, it was what Roger wanted.
Tossing the paper onto the table, she shouted for Daz and Sin. When they got close enough to her, Crocodile wasted no time, "We're going to the East Blue." Sin made a thoughtful sound, picking up the newspaper, eyes darting across the front page.
Sitting across from Crocodile at the small table tucked behind the helm, Daz blinked, "We are?"
She gestures to the paper in Sin's hand with her hookless stump, nodding firmly, "The newly crowned Pirate King is going to be executed in Rogue Town in a month. I have the feeling something big is going to happen. I want to be there when it does."
Daz frowned, "Can we even get to the east Blue before the execution?"
Crocodile glanced at Sin with the question in her eyes.
He tilted his head, his eyes narrowed as he calculated, "I can probably get us to the East Blue in twenty days. I'll talk to Matty and see if we can shave some time off that."
"Get us there as quickly as possible, please, Mr. Valoran." Tossing the paper back onto the table, he gave her a cheeky salute and left to return to the helm and speak with Matthias.
Daz furrowed his brows, crossed his arms, and leaned on the smooth wood, "What makes you think something is going to happen?"
"Gol D. Roger and his crew were the only known people to reach Laugh Tale and been named the King of the Pirates. That's a historical moment right there," She shakes her head, shrugging, "But I can't explain it. Something is telling me that I need to be there."
At that moment, Daz looked at her and saw a fiery determination in her eyes that lit a fire in him in response. Crocodile was rarely so adamant. She had plans she kept close to her heart that not even her crew knew of. Daz knew how much it took out of her to confide in them, so used to was she in keeping her own counsel. Her mind was always working and always ten steps ahead.
Whatever was coming in Rogue Town, Daz didn't doubt it would be massive. Crocodile was very rarely wrong.
–
"This execution's drawing the rats in like flies," Monkey D. Garp turned and met Sengoku's beautiful black eyes. Her admiral coat was nowhere to be seen, and her blouse and skirt were rumpled from sitting behind a desk all day. She continued, sitting down next to him in the window seat overlooking the central square of Rogue Town, "Glory chasing fools."
Garp grinned and pulled his eyes away from where he had been observing the marines in the square, securing it for tomorrow's debacle. He leaned against the wall behind him, "Can you blame them? Roger's intent on making his mark on history even bigger than he already has. The world is teetering on the edge of something, and everyone wants to find out what it is."
"I won't ask why you went to speak with him." She rolled her eyes, toeing off her shoes and lifting her feet onto the bench. She nudged Garp's thighs, frowning in disapproval. "I still think this is a mistake to execute him publicly like this."
"Yet the World Government is insisting, and Kong agrees."
Sengoku narrowed her eyes, "I'm aware. My concerns were dismissed when I brought them up to him."
Garp absentmindedly wrapped a hand gently around her stocking-covered toes, thumb massaging the arch of her foot, calloused skin rasping over the material. He barely heard her pleased sigh, her toes stretching in his grasp, "There was never a chance of the Gorosei letting Roger go quietly into the night. They want to make a spectacle of him."
"Well, they're succeeding, and the man isn't even dead yet," She tried to ignore the rubbing, but he knew the perfect way to turn her into a boneless mess. "A lot of up-and-comers are here to witness history." He pressed his thumb below her toes, and Sengoku bit back a moan.
The grin he passed her was positively roguish, the corners of his eyes creasing handsomely. He knew exactly what he was doing, counting on the fact that she'd pay him back later. She tried, half-heartedly, to pull her foot out of his grip, but he didn't let go. "Did you come to see me for a reason Admiral?"
There was a pregnant pause, and Garp's teasing dropped. Sengoku hesitated but had to say it, "Dragon's here."
Garp's hand stilled, and he looked up at her, irritation flashing in his eyes, "You saw him?"
"Zephyr did. He figured one of us should know," She murmured, successfully extracting her foot from his frozen grasp and draping her leg over his lap. She shifted her body after glancing down the hallway in either direction so that she was straddling his lap.
Garp dropped his head against her chest heavily, grumbling, "Of course, he chooses now to show up." Sengoku kissed the top of his head, fingers smoothing over his coarse hair, unbothered by his use of her breasts as a pillow. He grabbed her hip in a bruising grip and looked up at her, "Are you okay? You were angrier than I was."
Her thumb traces the shell of his ear, "You were angry. I was hurt," She swallowed. Garp played with the ends of her long braids with his free hand, resting his wrist against the small of her back. "Hard not to be when your own son tells you that you're everything wrong with the world."
"Our kid's always been a stubborn, intense, inconsiderate ass," Garp smiled self-deprecatingly, "He takes after me a little too much. We both know it."
She snorts, the sound wet and thick with tears, "What do we do?"
He grabbed her hand and kissed her palm, nose brushing the simple metal of her wedding ring, "Leave him be. If he gets himself captured, it'll be his own damn fault." For maybe the first time in all the years that she'd known him, Garp was utterly unyielding. No grin, no teasing. Just a grumpy seriousness that Sengoku wasn't sure how to deal with, "He's not a kid anymore. He's made his decisions and doesn't need mommy and daddy to hold his hands."
It would almost be arousing if they weren't talking about their son.
–
Above the island, storm clouds roiled violently, and the dark sky lit up with flashes of lightning. Low, rumbling bursts of thunder echoed across the city. She left her crew aboard the Eclipse and journeyed alone to the center of the sprawling city. Her heart beat an anxious rhythm against her ribs as she got closer, and the execution platform came into view.
The square was filled to the brim. People packed together like sardines, shoulder to shoulder. Marines scattered across the perimeter. And even more above, rifles in hand and prepared for trouble. Crocodile cut through the crowd, the crush of bodies parting before her like the prow of a ship cutting through the water. She kept her head down but was aware of just how much she stood out. Black fur, gold jewellery, and positively towering above the average person, her gold hook catching the dim light.
Yet she didn't feel like she had a target painted on her back. She glanced around and very quickly figured out why. She was far from the only eye-catching figure in that square.
At one end of the square was a pale-skinned man almost as tall as the execution platform. Spiky maroon hair, a wide, sharp-toothed smile and frigid blue eyes. He had long legs, arms, and a long skull with two horns protruding from his forehead. Certainly one of the more unusual humans Crocodile had seen before. He wore a fur-trimmed leather jacket with the sleeves rolled up to reveal toned forearms, snug leather pants, and tall boots. He was bare-chested under his jacket, lean and muscular. He had a sheathed sword clutched in one gloved hand and resting on his shoulder.
He caught Crocodile's eyes and winked. She breathed out an amused breath, smirking and turning her attention away from him, able to hear his snickering laugh even over the roaring crowd.
Near the front of the crowd, staring up at the platform with a hyena-like grin, was a blond brat of a kid wearing a gaudy fluffy pink feathered coat, golden blond hair pushed away from his face with a pair of goggles. His eyes were shielded by a pair of opaque, winged, white-framed sunglasses. He might have been handsome if it weren't for his unbearable smug, cocky expression. His shoulders were hunched forward, but it was with an air of laziness rather than self-consciousness.
Like the large goth man, he seemed to feel Crocodile's gaze. He tilted his head to the side, and though she couldn't see his eyes, she knew he was studying her just as closely. After a moment, his tongue lolled out of his mouth, and Crocodile felt a shiver of revulsion course through her body.
She turned away from him and very pointedly ignored his lingering gaze.
Closer to her than either of the others was a youth with porcelain white skin, black hair and intense yellow eyes, a massive sword as tall as he was strapped to his back. The guard of the black-bladed weapon was wider than the boy's shoulders, but he stood with an effortless grace that suggested he was well-versed in the blade's use. He, unlike the other two, didn't notice Crocodile was staring. Or he did and simply didn't care.
But Crocodile realized that may have had more to do with the tall, cloaked woman at his side.
Crocodile caught sight of a slight smirk, and the woman lifted her head, "Hello, Crocodile."
Crocodile's eyes widened, and she stepped closer to the pair. Keeping her voice low, she asked, somewhat concerned, "Should you be here?"
Rayleigh chuckled, the white of her eyes red and her cheeks splotchy like she'd been crying, "Probably not, but I need to be." She breathed a soft sigh, lifting a shaky hand to her face, and unexpectedly, her knees buckled. The kid grabbed her elbow, helping her keep her feet. Rayleigh drooped against him, "Thank you, Mihawk."
Despite her concern for the older woman, Crocodile's eyes jerked to the boy's elegant face, "Your son?" His eyes flickered to her before he focused back on Rayleigh.
"Surprised?" Rayleigh gave a husky laugh.
Hesitating, Crocodile admits, "You don't look much alike." And they didn't. Besides their height, mother and son didn't share any features. Rayleigh was blonde, bespectacled and golden bronze from so many years in the sun, the antithesis of her son.
What did the father look like? Crocodile wondered.
Apparently thinking similarly to Crocodile, Rayleigh responds, "He takes after his father," She reached up and touched his cheek softly, thumb tracing the high curve of his cheekbone, "Except his eyes. Those are all his."
"Mother…." The noise he makes is quietly exasperated, but he does lean into her touch a little. Rayleigh smiled softly. Her strength returning, she turned her attention to Crocodile, her eyes narrowed, "Came to witness history?"
"Me and many others, it seems." She couldn't tell if Rayleigh was bothered by that admission, but there wasn't a point in lying.
"Just like Roger wanted."
Above them, another crash of lightning and a boom of thunder. The crowd falls into a hush as a group of marines lead a shackled Roger to the platform.
Rayleigh tracks him for a moment before her eyes fall closed. "It's time."
–
Roger's final words rang out over the mass of people, and the blades fell, ending the life of the King of the Pirates.
Crocodile's body was humming with energy as she left the square. Excitement. Determination. Hunger for adventure. She wasn't paying attention to where she was walking, and her shoulder bumped into a man's. She spun, scowling, rain dripping down her face.
She was rooted into place by dark eyes, a firm mouth and an indescribable power.
The first time she met Monkey D. Dragon was in the same storm that had greeted Gol D. Roger's execution and heralded the Golden Age of Piracy.
And if that wasn't the best metaphor to describe their relationship, she didn't know what was.
Wet, electric and intense.
For four years, she'd loved him.
For four years, they'd been together. Or rather as together as Dragon had ever allowed them to be.
She shouldn't have been surprised, really. She'd known right from the beginning that Dragon was emotionally distant. He never showed her any vulnerability or let Crocodile too close, all while telling her he loved her.
It should not have bothered her.
But it did.
His work as a revolutionary was always his main priority, but it never failed to hurt that she played second fiddle to an ideal.
Four years of being stood up and left in the middle of planned meetings. She'd tolerated it.
Barely.
But their last meeting had been the final straw.
The first time she'd seen him in over a month, and he'd left while she had still been panting, boneless and recovering from her orgasm, lying naked on the bed. With little more than a kiss on her forehead and a "See you later, Crow," thrown over his shoulder as he walked out the door.
She'd felt used, like that was all their relationship was. Meeting up, having sex, and him leaving as quickly as he'd arrived.
Crocodile wouldn't have it. No, sir, not anymore.
She was worth more than a quick fuck.
No more of that wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am bullshit Dragon was subscribed to.
She deserved romance, multiple orgasms and cuddles, dammit.
Her heart had cracked, perhaps, but it had not broken. She deserved better.
Dragon was cut out of her life with cold, surgical precision.
For a month and a half, things had gone well. Her crew had stood by her decision. Eventually, Dragon stopped trying to contact her.
And then her period had failed to arrive.
Because of course it did.
"Pregnant," Nikita told her, only confirming Crocodile's suspicion.
She puffed out her cheeks, agitated, "Of course I am."
The doctor's eyebrows don't even twitch, "Don't want it? Easy enough to get rid of it."
"No, I want it. It's mine." She sneered, "Dragon provided the sperm, but that doesn't mean anything."
"Well, alright then," Nikita grinned, "Let me be the first to congratulate you and remind you: You are sand; your baby is not."
"Oh. Right," Crocodile blinked, "Well, shit. I guess I need a safe place, don't I?"
"Doctor's recommendation? Somewhere as non-violent as you can possibly find."
"So…not the Grand Line, then," Crocodile wracked her brain for options, chewing on her lip.
There was one option that would probably double as a nice slap in the face to that bastard Dragon if he found out about it.
Which was just what she wanted at the moment. Sometimes stupid really is the best option, she decided.
–
All it took was a tentative call made to a Den Den Mushi with a number scribbled onto a scrap of paper and kept separate from all of the rest of her contacts in the communication room of the ship. The meeting occurred a week later, docked off the coast of Alabasta.
Crocodile didn't know what to expect when the Marine Hero, Vice-Admiral Monkey D. Garp, stepped foot onto the deck of her ship, except that he ought to have looked more like his son. They had similar noses and the same choppy black hair. But that was where the physical similarities ended.
Garp was broader than his son. Taller than his son.
And where Dragon was quiet, intense and severe, Garp was, well…not.
He had started laughing when Crocodile had told him exactly why she needed his help, tears of hilarity leaking out of the corners of his eyes, "Never thought the brat had it in him!"
Crocodile waited for him to finish. Her crewmates were tense and quiet behind her, Daz at her back.
His laughter easing into a chuckle, Garp wipes his eyes. His voice is raspy when he muses, "Geez, how'd he ever get a gal like you?" The question was enough to send him back into boisterous laughter.
She assumed the question was rhetorical and didn't bother answering. She wasn't offended in the least because fuck if she knew what it was that had attracted her to Dragon in the first place.
It couldn't have been his big dick because she hadn't known about that until later.
A lump of nausea formed at the back of her throat, squinting against the bright sunlight.
Morning sickness, light sensitivity, the constant need to pee, and the list went on.
Why more women didn't talk about the delights of pregnancy, she didn't know.
Probably so other women would suffer the same.
Misery loved company, after all.
Lost in her own thoughts and the queasy feeling in her stomach, ignoring Garp's wild laughter, she didn't notice Bentham roll his made-up eyes, stepping up next to his vulnerable Captain. He politely cleared his throat, catching Garp's attention. The Vice-Admiral straightened up, looking at Bon-chan in question.
"As amusing you clearly find your son impregnating a woman, perhaps we can take this to the galley and take a seat? Have some tea, maybe?"
Suddenly realizing they were still standing on the deck of the Eclipse in front of the curious eyes of his marine brats, Garp nodded, "Oh, yeah, sure." He rubbed the back of his neck and bowed to Crocodile, clearing his throat, "Sorry 'bout that."
"It's fine," Crocodile assured him, glancing cautiously at Garp's second-in-command, Bogard. There is a moment of hesitation, a part of her screaming that there was a marine on her ship. A marine that she would never dare a confrontation with. She gave a mental shrug and gestured for the two men to follow her, leading the way to the galley.
Most of her crew stayed above deck, except for Daz and Remy, who got to work fixing a pot of tea for his Captain and her guests. Crocodile pulled a chair out from the table, settling into the chair, consciously keeping her body language unthreatening. Garp dropped down across from Crocodile, Bogard leaning against the wall next to the galley door, seemingly relaxed.
Garp was staring at her, and Crocodile recognized Dragon's weird fucking intensity, "Now, I can't imagine you'd contact me just to tell me I'm going to be a Gramps."
"You'd be correct," Crocodile accepted the cup of tea Remy offered her, and the cook placed Garp's in front of him.
"So what do you want?"
"While pregnant, I can't use my devil fruit powers. I dislike being vulnerable, so I need a safe place to have my child. Somewhere bounty hunters aren't likely to find me."
Garp waved his hand, "And that involves me because?"
Crocodile glared, pointedly sipping her tea, attempting to settle her stomach, "If you assist me, I would be willing to permit you access to your grandchild."
His lips flattened, and he squinted at the pirate woman the Navy called Lady Crocodile—a woman allegedly pregnant with his grandchild.
No proof besides her word.
But he was inclined to believe her.
He was relying on his instincts here. Something his wife might fondly call a fruitless endeavour.
What he did know was that very few people knew that the leader of the Revolutionary Army was his son, Monkey D. Dragon. Of the navy, only a few people at the top of the chain of command were aware of the fact.
For Crocodile to know not only that he and Dragon were father and son but also the codes for his personal Den-Den Mushi meant that she had been given that information.
But there was a way to know whether her supposed connection to his kid was genuine, "Who is Dragon's mother?" At the question, she blinked, her eyes shifting to Bogard behind him, "Bogard knows."
Her mouth firmed up, answering without any more hesitation, "Sengoku the Buddha."
His wariness and its accompanying intensity disappeared, and he grinned at her, "Well, at least I know you aren't lying about knowing him. Not many people even know me and Sen are married, let alone that we share a kid. Did the boy tell you to contact me if you ever needed help?"
She shifted in her seat, going for a sip of her tea only to find the cup empty. Remy noticed, coming around the counter to refill her cup. She smiled up at him gratefully, finally answering Garp, "About two years ago, maybe. He gave me your contact information. He didn't say what it was for, just that it was his father's info and that I'd know when I'd need it." She rolled her eyes, and Garp understood the feeling. Dragon turned unnecessarily cryptic into an art form. "I don't know if this is the specific scenario he meant, but regardless, it is what I'll assume."
Garp leaned back from the table, drinking his tea, thoughtful.
He waited patiently because it seemed like there was more she wanted to say.
Crocodile frowned, swirling the liquid in her cup, "I'd go seek shelter with my Oyaji, but I have the feeling the Grand Line is only going to get more dangerous," She shrugged, "And the Navy gets squirrelly if he leaves the New World."
Garp hummed as he finished his tea. His mind moved at a sluggish pace from all the information being tossed his way. "Your Oyaji, huh? Why would the navy care about an old man?"
She blinked, tilting her head, confused, "They've been keeping an even closer eye on him since the World Government declared him one of the Yonko." She laughed in delight when Garp started sputtering. She felt the malicious urge to clarify, "My Oyaji is Edward Newgate. Y'know, Whitebeard," Garp missed the mischievous glint in her eyes.
The cook chuckled, arranging snacks on a tray as Garp gaped at his Captain. Crocodile stared right back, sipping her drink.
There was a moment of shocked silence before he shot to his feet, shaking the china and the windows with his bellow, "You mean to tell me that my kid knocked up Whitebeard's daughter!? "
"I could not have made that any clearer."
Daz snorted behind her, smirking, "You have to admit that it's a little shocking to learn, boss." Although she still had not mustered the courage to contact him, her crew all knew that Whitebeard was her father. All of them betting quietly on how long it would take Crocodile to put aside her stubbornness and finally call him. Her pregnancy would likely be her breaking point.
Garp groaned, dropping his head into his hands.
Whitebeard's daughter.
His idiot of a son had knocked up Whitebeard's daughter.
Monkey men did tend to dream big.
He peeked through his fingers at her. Sexy in a femme fatale way, with shoulder-length hair, cat-like green eyes, and a curvy figure. Exactly Dragon's type of woman.
She thanked Remy as he placed the tray on the table, raising her eyebrow at Garp.
He understood what she meant, though. The Grand Line was growing increasingly dangerous with a constant influx of pirates searching for wealth, glory and the One Piece. And with a boom of pirate activity, the bounty hunters were out and about in force.
Dropping his hands to the table with a bang and startling everyone else in the cozy kitchen, Garp had a thought.
Crocodile needed a safe place to stay for the duration of her pregnancy.
And Garp needed a more trustworthy caretaker for his grandson, Ace.
His adopted grandson, to be more specific, was currently in the care of Dadan, a mountain bandit in the Goa Kingdom. A responsibility she never failed to remind him that she didn't want.
Garp propped his elbows on the table, folded hands in front of his mouth. "I'd be willing to help you, but I have a request."
"And what would that be?"
Before he answered her, Garp looked over his shoulder and told Bogard to leave. When the Captain had left the galley, closing the door, Garp spoke tentatively, "There is a child in my care, who I consider my grandson. His father made me swear that I would look after him and care for him after he died."
Garp hesitated momentarily, looking over at Remy and Daz, long enough that Crocodile realized that whatever the man needed to say was a dangerous secret. She turned to meet Remy's eyes, "Mind giving us a minute, boys?" Hesitating for a moment, they leave.
When the door was shut again, Garp continued, "The boy, my grandson, is Gol D. Ace. He's two years old."
Crocodile regretted teasing Garp only moments ago. Her eyes widened, her brain scrambling to do very confused math, "If he's Roger's son…How?"
His shoulders slumped, his eyes sad, "His mother carried him for twenty months through sheer will." Garp sighed, "Ace was born a year and three months after Roger's execution. And his mother didn't survive much longer than it took to give birth to him. Just long enough to name him."
Crocodile placed one hand over her lower belly and understood the woman's motivation. She was already prepared to do anything to protect her child.
What fate had the woman saved her child from? The news that Cipher Pol had been hunting for the woman rumoured to be pregnant with Roger's child had been everywhere following the Pirate King's execution. Dozens of women had been imprisoned, their babies torn from their arms or wombs. All for the small chance that their baby was that feared Child of a Demon.
Garp's eyes closed, exhaling softly before he continued. "I wish I could be with Ace all the time, but it's important that his existence is kept quiet. Not even my wife knows about him." And gods knew that she would kick his ass if she ever found out Garp had kept Ace a secret from her. But he hesitated to put her in danger like that, "Knowing about Ace, knowing where he came from, knowing his name… it's dangerous."
The danger didn't bother her, "And what is your request?" Crocodile whispered.
"Look after Ace while you raise your child. Give him a real family. Instead of a Gramps who rarely has a chance to see him and a mountain bandit forced to care for him." His voice is self-deprecating but honest. "Be his mother, and let him have a little brother or sister. Love him like he deserves to be loved."
And Crocodile agreed, with no hesitation, because she recognized that this child needed her.
"One stipulation."
Garp grimaced but nodded, part of him knowing what she would ask.
"Tell your damn wife about both of her grandchildren," Crocodile told him, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I don't care if you want to tell her that Ace is mine and Dragon's as well. I don't care if you want to tell her that I asked you not to tell her about us. Whatever you decide, I don't give a shit. Just fucking tell her."
Sengoku would kick his ass all the way to Laugh Tale…but if it meant Ace got a mother, he could put his ass on the line.
He would probably enjoy the ass-whooping anyway.