12 months after the end of the campaign
Hemlock opened her eyes. She looked at the ceiling. Her vibrant eyes were almost always glowing in the pitch-black room. She had trained herself since childhood to see in the dark. She could now count the nails in the wood planks above her. She could almost see better in the dark than in the light. As she lay there enjoying the quiet, she heard rustling next to her. She turned to the body beside her. William was sleeping soundly. A blanket partially covered his naked body. His hair was a mess and drooped itself all over his pillow. At some point in the night, he must have flipped over; he had fallen asleep abruptly, and the second his face hit the mattress, he had been out. Hemlock observed him. His chest rose and fell rhythmically. She watched the myriad of scars bounce up and down. Even in deep sleep, William looked like he was pretending to be asleep. His face twitches constantly as if he was trying to keep still. His eyes would even pry themselves open and close periodically. The small jerks also gave the impression he was uncomfortable. His nose would twitch wildly, a consequence of loose strands of hair falling on his face. When she and William had just started their nightly adventures, she several times thought he was pretending to be asleep. The times she had gotten halfway through playful banter or tried to seduce him before realizing he was actually just asleep embarrassed her to no end. More than his face to tell if he was asleep, she just observed how he breathed. He was asleep. Hemlock grunted as she sat up. Her hair must have looked insane. She yawned and stood up. A chill ran through her body as she left the warmth of the bed. She, like William, was entirely in the nude. She searched the ground for her clothes. She would have to return to her room to change into something warmer. They had slept in the room that was reserved for William whenever he and his family passed by. The two of them split their nights in between those rooms. She found the bottoms for her two-piece and looked for the top when she saw herself in the mirror. Hemlock scowled as she saw her reflection. On and In between her breasts, there was an array of hickeys that ran down her body.
"William! You tool!" She hissed in a whisper at his sleeping body. She looked at the clock in the room—11:08 AM. There was definitely a chance she'd run into someone. Hers and Williams' relationship wasn't a secret to anyone, but there was a line. One thing was to be bold enough to work in a skimpy two-piece made of leaves, and another was to have love marks evident as one clocks into work. She wanted to be more mad, but she just sighed. William, for having such inadequate tools, was surprisingly good at making love. It was good at first, but as time went on, it kept getting better and better. For two people who had gone years without intimately touching someone else, they found themselves longing for the feel of the other's flesh. Hemlock ran her hand across the marks and sighed. She looked around and spotted William's blue dress shirt. She stared at it for a moment. Did she dare? Being seen in that would be just as damaging as the hickeys but much less embarrassing. She picked up the shirt and gave it a quick sniff. It smelled like William, money, booze, and a little bit of blood. Smells that he had vigorously tried to wash out but lingered.
Hemlock threw the shirt on and looked at herself in the mirror. The open-cuffed sleeves reached halfway to her forearms, and the bottom reached her upper thighs. She lifted her arms, and the shirt rose to her hips. She deemed this acceptable. She ran a quick hand through her hair and reached the door. She cracked the door open and took a peek around. The coast was clear. She tiptoed out of the room and quietly shut the door behind her. She moved her way through the halls, being very careful when turning corners. She was in the last stretch when disaster struck. She had heard a sound behind her and had been looking over her shoulder when she bumped into someone ahead of her.
Hemlock froze and jumped backward as she turned to look at who was before her. She was left paralyzed in horror. In front of her was a girl, perhaps 15 years old. She was tall for her age but shorter than her. Her eyes were sharp, at least they were normally, currently, they were very wide. She had brown hair that was tied into a messy bun. The ends of her hair were white and looked like it'd just reach her shoulders if she undid the bun. She had on a baggy pair of pants held up by suspenders. Her white button-up was cuffed at the elbows, and fingerless gloves adorned her hands. She had piercings in her ears and knives all over her belt. It was Doxie—William's somewhat adopted daughter. The two of them stared at each other. Doxie's face reddened as she attempted to process what she was looking at. Hemlock appreciated her being lost for words as she desperately sought something to say.
"Doxie, darling. Good morning," she said awkwardly. Doxie didn't respond; she just looked straight at her. Hemlock started to walk slowly, reading what Doxie did as she advanced. Hopefully, this would be the end; it wasn't.
"Is that William's?" she asks very quietly. Hemlock stops dead in her tracks. She tries to hide her face with his sleeve, but it's too short and doesn't cover much of her face.
"Oh, this silly old thing?" She said playfully, "he must have left it in my room, you know him. I sometimes just feel like wearing it."
"So you two didn't just finish doing it?" She asked a little more loudly. Hemlock's gears turned faster and faster. Doxie knew about her relationship with William, right? If everyone on the base knew, there was no way she didn't. At least, she hoped so. She hadn't asked William what he had told her, and she didn't even know what he would call what they had. It felt like she was his girlfriend; they saw each other very frequently, but they usually just worked and then had sex. It was very fun, William was reliable enough, and the nights were always lonelier when he left to have his adventures.
"Oh my God! You guys just did!" Doxie exclaimed, pointing at her aggressively. Hemlock blinked twice in confusion. It seems she had lost herself in thought and had neglected to answer her.
"Has William said anything about us?" Hemlock asked. It came out sounding softer than she had intended. She didn't know why. Doxie opened her mouth before pausing suddenly. She made a face as if she had just had the epiphany of the century. She went red again, and her face contorted into bewilderment.
"This is what he was talking about!?" She screamed to herself more than to Hemlock. Hemlock was shaken as she took a careful step back.
"Pardon?" she said.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm awful. I shouldn't have eavesdropped Blah Blah Blah. I heard him tell Jason about having a good thing with a woman." She muttered loudly.
Doxie crouched down and placed her hands on her temple in deep thought. Well, at least he told his makeshift dad about them.
"Whenever he'd leave for the weekend, he'd say he was going to passionately romance a sexy older wom-" She stopped and immediately stood up, jumping back at least 10 feet, "He was talking about you!"
Hemlock was utterly taken aback. She had a stupid, happy grin that she hoped didn't make her look too silly. Her face was slightly flushed as she covered her mouth with his sleeve and looked away. It was like William to play up the truth to the point that people thought he was sarcastic.
"That wanker!" She hissed. Then there was silence. It suddenly became very awkward. Maybe it could have been better if they had sat at a table with some nice dinner, and the topic came up naturally. That wasn't how it happened, though. It was 11 AM, and Hemlock was wearing his shirt to hide evidence of the previous night. Doxie and Hemlock just stared at each other for seconds.
"Anyway, is there anything you want?" Hemlock said finally.
"H-huh?" Doxie sputtered out.
"You were heading to my room, darling. I assume you wanted to speak to me about something." Hemlock said, placing her hands on her hips, "Unless you were just looking for William."
"No, I mean yes, I mean kinda both." Doxie said, she seemed to be getting angrier, "I was looking for that asshole so he could tell me where you were, and I looked in his room, in Jason's room, on the deck, in the kitchen, everywhere! Then I decided to just look for you!"
"Oh, well, here I am."
"Uh, well, I wanted to ask you to help me with my knives again," Doxie said, scratching her arm and looking away. Hemlock's face beamed. She walked forward, threw her arm over her shoulder, and leaned on her heavily.
"Darling, why didn't you say so before? How did those throwing knives I gave you last time work out for you?"
Doxie was blushing heavily as she stammered to answer. The frustration was growing on her face.
"Let me change, and we'll head to the training room."
Doxie nodded quickly, and Hemlock disappeared behind the door. She pressed against the door for a second and caught her breath. Well, that could have gone better, but it was pretty good. She didn't take a second longer than necessary and quickly undid the buttons on his shirt. She entered her closet and dug around until she found what she sought. She removed the bottoms of her other outfit and put on a one-piece corset that covered as much of her chest as possible. The leaves on this one were much lighter than her usual outfits. She rushed to the mirror and saw the marks almost completely hidden. She deemed it good enough and put on a small pair of boots that only went to her ankles. She grabbed her large leather belts and pouches filled with her weapons and fastened them to her waist. She reached for the door handle but paused; she looked back at her bed where William's shirt lay. She had only been with it for a few minutes, but it had given her such a pleasant warmth, and it was such a cold morning. She walked to the bed and drooped the shirt over her shoulders like the Marines do with their justice coats. She opened the door and stepped out.
The walk to the training room was quiet. Doxie had honestly never been quiet this long. They entered a large room deprived of furniture. Half of the room had a padded floor for combat training. The two of them crossed the padded floor to the end, where a few targets were in the shape of people.
"Now, Doxie, tell me, when you throw your knives, where are you normally aiming for?" Hemlock motioned to the target. Doxie didn't say anything; just pointed at the head, throat, and chest. Hemlock nodded.
"Be a dear, and let me see one of your knives," Hemlock said. Doxie looked hesitant but handed her a knife from her belt. Hemlock took the knife and smiled at her. She moved her wrists in a circular motion as she held it and nodded. She held the knife from the center in her palm, bounced it up and down, reached for a knife in her pouch, and pulled out a straight knife of a similar size.
"Ok, Doxie. Try to kill the target that is farthest behind me." Hemlock said. The two faced each other, and the targets were perpendicular to them. Throwing the knife straight ahead was impossible. It would have to make an arch to reach the furthest target. Hemlock held her knife. On the count of three, both of them threw their knives at the targets on opposite sides of the wall from one another. Hemlock gave a nice little closed-eye smile. And motion for Doxie to follow her. The dagger had hit the target in the shoulder, right above where the armpit was. It wasn't very deep; touching it would make it fall off the wood. Still, it was in.
"Aw fucking hell," Doxie cursed as she saw where it had landed. She was becoming slightly more comfortable. Hemlock seized this opportunity.
"That was a good throw, much better than me at your age."
"Tch, like you could even remember that long ago."
Hemlock didn't acknowledge such a comment and motioned for Doxie to follow her. They walked to the opposite side of the room to see where Hemlock's knife landed. It landed just on the outside of the arm. She would have missed it entirely if she had thrown it differently. At best, it was a deep graze. Doxie eyed this and puffed out her chest with pride.
"Well, Hemy. It looks like you just can't throw these blades like I can!"
"Doxie, sweetie, what do you mean?"
"Don't be a sore loser! You barely nicked this waste man."
"Oh, but of the two, mine is dead, while yours is only aware of your presence."
"What are you going on about?"
Hemlock pulled the knife out of the wood and balanced it on her finger for a second. She flipped it in the air and caught it by the handle so that the blade was facing the floor. She twisted the bottom of the hilt and pulled out a smile vile with clear liquid in it.
"This, darling, is poison," Hemlock said as she playfully weaved the vial between her fingers so it traveled up and down her hand, "If you cut yourself slightly while sharpening a blade that has this on it. You'd be dead in thirty minutes. If you were stabbed, slashed, or even just scratched with this blade, it wouldn't even be a minute."
Doxie looked at the vial, mesmerized.
"I've been working with this stuff forever. I've been bitten by snakes hundreds of times. If you gave me a poison strong enough to kill an elephant, I could sip it like wine all night and barely get buzzed."
Doxie could only nod as she talked.
"I don't think you're quite ready for that, but this might be good." Hemlock pulled out a vile with a light purple liquid in it. She tossed it at her and effortlessly caught it with one hand.
"That is much weaker than the one I just showed you. If I were to cut you with a knife laced with this toxin, it would take several days to kill. In most cases, the person would have plenty of time to find anti-venom or cut off their arm."
Doxie looked visibly upset at this.
"That being said, it will hurt. It'll hurt a lot. In a fight, someone in immense pain is a shadow of their former self."
"What if their shadow is still larger than me?" She asked, arms crossed.
"That's why we have new targets now," Hemlock said happily. She strolled to the dummy and pulled a small charcoal pencil from her pouch. "Obviously, the head and neck are great targets, but from now on, when we aim for the chest, make sure to aim for the heart."
Doxie nodded. Hemlock then took the charcoal pencil and started circling places on the target. She circled a spot on the upper bicep of the left arm, a spot just below and to the left of the belly button, a spot on the right upper inner thigh, a spot right under the left-right breast, and a few other places. "These are major arteries and veins. This poison may be weak, but if you stick them in these spots, I guarantee you they won't live to see tomorrow."
"I don't know, Hemlock. Doesn't this seem a little cheap?"
"William said the same thing when I tried to build a mechanism in his sword that would have coated the blade in this poison."
"William said that!?"
"I was shocked, too. For someone who cheats all the time in everything, he really couldn't imagine doing something so underhanded." Hemlock said as she put the vial back in her pouch, "Personally, though, I think that he was just afraid of looking like a fool when he inevitably stabbed himself by accident."
Doxie laughed as she imagined her father banging on Hemlock's door, all embarrassed and in great pain, looking for an antidote.
"Well, that man has his devil fruit and Rokushiki techniques; a poisoned blade was just something else to have. For you, though, I will not give up as easily."
"What's that supposed to mean? I'll let you know that I'll be ten times stronger in a year or two than you and William combined." She shrugged her shoulders and sighed with fake exasperation, "William says I'm way stronger than he was at my age."
"Yes, very cute." Hemlock said, "But I will get you to carry this poison."
"I don't want it. I'm not a coward."
"Doxie, honey. Let me give you a hypothetical. What would happen if you and William split up because you don't know what room the loot is in? Jason is watching the exits, and you find yourself alone. You see three guards blocking your way and one coming back behind you. You decide to attack. You throw three knives at them in a flurry and then charge at the one behind you. Two die, but one dodged, and now you have two of them, one ahead of you and one behind. There is nowhere to hide, nowhere to stealth, nothing but a small dagger in each hand. Would you rather have a poisoned blade that could, at the very least, weaken one guard significantly or your honorable regular knife?"
There was silence. Doxie crossed her arms and looked to the floor.
"William, that bitch. I told him not to tell anyone about that."
"No shame. We're smaller women, not ten feet tall like the monsters of this world. We do what we must, and having better tools doesn't make us weak; it makes us smart."
"Well, I don't have to do it because you tell me!" Doxie hissed back at her.
"I'm sure William could be convinced. It wouldn't be that hard."
"Y-Y-You! What are you trying to say!? Pervert! William wouldn't sell out o-o-our principles for such a cheap-"
"Careful, darling. William would withstand a lot of things for the right reasons. For you, his crew, his freedom, me hopefully…But principles are not one of them."
"Well, who even cares? I don't have to listen to him anyway. He's not my real dad. You're not my mom." She said all of this very quietly and quickly, almost muttering it under her breath.
"Are you scared I'm going to take your dad?" Hemlock asked playfully. Doxie's face went red, and she started yelling aggressively at Hemlock.
"What!? Where did you even get that idea, you bitch? You don't know me, don't go saying these things! I bet you just love this! Love that he comes all this way just to fuck you, but you're crazy if you think that has anything to do with me-"
She was cut off by Hemlock, who gave her a hug while smiling very brightly. "You are so cute. You remind me of a few noisy brats I looked after when I was younger."
Doxie, whose head was currently against Hemlock's chest, struggled and ranted, though it came out so muffled that she couldn't understand what she was saying. Doxie broke away and shuttered.
"You raised those kids?! I bet they turned out annoying as shit!"
"You are definitely your father's daughter," Hemlock said wistfully. "He thought one of them was so annoying that it drove him crazy."
Doxie was going to keep talking, but the happy look on Hemlock's face was extinguishing the flame quickly. She couldn't tell if she was frustrated that her insults weren't getting to her or didn't want to say something she'd regret. Either way, Doxie took a deep breath and faced the targets. She started practicing hitting the spots that Hemlock had circled.
The two practiced in relative quiet, with Doxie's occasional curse or exclamation sprinkled in.
"Hey, you know I was joking about taking your dad away? That'd never happen." Hemlock said finally. Doxie looked at her with a raised eyebrow.
"I wasn't worried about that, besides…I don't hate you."
"Aww, that's so sweet." Hemlock said happily, "I'm quite fond of you too."
"Don't get too ahead of yourself. I don't fucking like you. I just think that if that bloody waste man had to get a woman," She looked for the right words as she made erratic hand gestures, "Look, I'm just saying he could have done much worse."
"Well, thank you. I won't involve myself if you don't want me to."
"Shut the fuck up, it's not like you guys are getting married."
"Yeah, I guess you're right."
A long silence lingered in the air. Doxie didn't know if she had hit a nerve or if this was just the natural end of a conversation. It was hard to tell with Hemlock sometimes.
"I mean, do you want to get married? Eventually, I mean," Doxie said, hastily adding the last part when she saw her eyes widen.
"I don't know. I don't know how it would go." Hemlock said, tugging at the shirt around her shoulders. "We've been together for almost a year now; we don't do much other than work and make love."
"I see you guys talking and eating all the time."
"Yeah, but it's always about operations, jobs, or whatever else is happening."
"Quit being dense; who cares? You're together."
"Listen, Doxie, I know you may not notice since you're still having your adventures, but William is at a transitional point. I can tell his old pirate life isn't enough for him, and he wants to do something big. He's told me he wants to make a difference in a way he can be proud of. I know he won't do it here, I've asked. Wherever he goes, I know he'll take you with him. I can't leave, though. I was cast into this hell, and now I want to tear it down and build my paradise. Maybe it'll wash the filth from my soul. I'm on my better path. It may run next to his, but I don't know if they'll ever merge."
Doxie listened tentatively. Hemlock had a bittersweet look on her face. It wasn't the ideal situation, but it was the foundation of their relationship. She was about to say something when they heard footsteps and a loud yawn. Both of them turned, and they saw William enter the room. He was only wearing his brown pants and belt. His hair hung over his face, and loose strands stuck out in every direction. He was wobbling as he moved, and his eyes were still getting adjusted to the light. Hemlock's face contorted in horror as she saw him while Doxie laughed loudly. William also had hickeys all over his neck and collarbone. By this point, it was half past noon.
"William!" Hemlock hissed.
"Yeah?"
"Why are you walking around topless?!"
"I couldn't find my shirt," he said, yawning again. Oh, look, there it is."
"William! We slept in your room. You didn't have any shirts lying around!?"
"Uhh, probably." By now, Doxie was on the floor, just cackling at the scene. Hemlock whirled around, hands on her hips.
"I don't see what's so funny. What if someone saw him?" she paused and slowly turned to look at him again, "Did someone see you?"
"I asked Tempest where you were. She didn't know."
If it were possible, Hemlock's face would have become even redder. Doxie's insistent laughter didn't calm down. She turned to look at her again.
"Stop laughing!"
William stumbled forward and pressed himself against Hemlock's back, wrapping his arms around her waist. He placed his chin on her shoulder and let it rest there for a second before speaking.
"Don't worry, I lied and said I had just woken up."
"Honey, there is no way she believed you."
"No," he dragged it out confidently. "You weren't there. I sold it very well. Just because I didn't have a shirt on meant nothing."
"You don't think something else gave it away?"
"What?"
"The marks on your neck!"
William paused for a second; he looked at Doxie, who only nodded while she laughed.
"Shit!"
Hemlock sighed heavily and rubbed her temple.
"Well, whatever," he said, "better Tempest than one of the kids."
"Hey! You two make me sick. Always out here getting it on!"
"Hah," He scoffed, "you're just mad that the sexy older woman I was talking about is real!"
"Yeah, but it's Hemlock. That doesn't count."
"Are you really going to stand there right now and tell me that Hemlock isn't sexy?"
"It makes sense that the two dinosaurs would get it on. Where'd you meet? The retirement home?"
"I'll burn down the retirement home."
"Self-hatred does not befit you, William."
"We are not old!"
"Old ass man getting cranky at the youth. You hate to see it."
As the two of them argued, Hemlock only listened. The stubble on Williams' jaw was starting to irritate her. William was very animated when he argued, and the movement scratched her face.
"Hold still, darling." She said, and William gave her a puzzled look. She quickly broke free of his grasp and moved behind him. She grabbed his hair and pulled it back so his chin was facing upwards. She grabbed a knife from her pouch and, in a few clean swipes, shaved every hair from his jaw except the thin beard on his chin. Sweat dripped down his brow as he heard the blades swing. When she finished, she put the knife away and fixed herself back where they were as if nothing had happened; she even put his hands back on her waist. William lifted his hand quickly and inspected his shave. He seemed satisfied and put it back with his other. Doxie, on the other hand, was freaking out.
"Hemlock! What the fuck was that?! Wasn't that the knife with the poison?! The one that would kill someone with a tiny scratch?!"
William jumped backward and started feeling his face, inspecting for any signs of blood or scratches.
"Relax. If I had nicked him, he would be in immense pain right now. Besides, I would have never cut you from this angle."
"Well, you can't just do that!" William exclaimed, "What if you had cut me?"
"I had an antidote. You may have been paralyzed, though."
William proceeded to freak out more.
"I'm sorry. Please take your shirt here. It's late. Let's go get lunch."
"But-"
"As an apology, we'll go wherever you want, my treat."
William's face lit up.
"Gravy's?"
"His restaurant is close by. All you can eat shrimp on me."
William threw on his shirt and walked forward with Hemlock. She quickly stopped and flipped the collar up to better hide his hickeys, then took his arm. The two walked towards the deck to take a smaller vessel. Doxie just looked at them, dumbfounded. If this was love, they could keep it.
