Chapter Text
Rocinante wakes up-- gasping, bloody, cold-- light reflects off the snow, too bright to make out shapes, turning the world into a flat wasteland--
The room is dark.
This is Dawn Island. Law is in the bed across the room. They're in Garp's house. This is Dawn Island. They're safe. This is fine.
He rolls onto his side, taking shuddering breaths. The sheets are damp and cold with sweat. Sitting up, he peels his thin sleep shirt off with shaking hands. Standing is a careful process, trying to be both quiet enough not to wake Law and careful enough to not fall. Which would also wake Law.
Rocinante picks up a clean shirt out of his bag, not yet unpacked, and pulls it on. While Rocinante was still unconscious after Minion Island, Law laid claim to his old feather coat and has showed no willingness to relinquish it. It's a comfort, Rocinante thinks. He doesn't really understand how, but he wouldn't take it back now.
Garp gave him a new coat anyway. It's solid and sturdy, but not a uniform piece. He must have picked it up on an island, for Rocinante specifically. It's one of those oddities that Rocinante has been collecting since Garp showed up on Minion. But he's too tired to think about that now.
He picks up the coat and pulls it on. Lighter and cigarettes are tucked in the inside pocket. He heads outside to smoke.
The night air is cold and fresh. Rocinante shivers as he shuts the back door behind himself. There's a bench by the back door; he slumps down onto it and pulls out a cigarette. Tries to light it. His hands are still shaking. The fire won't catch.
There's a hand on his shoulder.
Terror lances through Rocinante as he jerks away, standing up-- but it's just Garp. Looking worried, even guilty.
Rocinante shrinks. "Sorry." He sits back down.
Garp sits beside him. Despite himself, Rocinante finds himself leaning against Garp. It's cold out here.
"Couldn't sleep?" Garp asks.
"Yeah." Not technically true. He had been sleeping.
"Nightmare?"
". . . Yeah."
Nodding, Garp looks up at the sky. There are no clouds tonight, and the stars are clear. Rocinante spent a few vacations on Dawn Island as a child. He can pick out familiar constellations when he looks up.
"So," Garp says, "decided to leave the Marines, then?"
Stiffening, Rocinante looks back down. "Garp--"
"Good," Garp says, which is so wholly unexpected that Rocinante can only blink at him for a moment. "That brat of yours-- you stole the Devil Fruit for him. You don't want them finding out about that.
Law had told Rocinante that Garp knew. That doesn't keep his blood from running cold. It's not good that anyone knows. Especially not with Garp acting so. . . unpredictably.
Rocinante tries again to light his cigarette. "You don't think I should try to convince Law to join?"
"No."
It's so sharply emphatic that Rocinante jolts, and burns his hand. He looks over at Garp. The frown set into his brows is an unfamiliar expression. Garp shakes his head, and looks back up at the stars. "I'm glad you're getting out now," he confesses. "I don't want any of the kids to join."
Rocinante pauses. He's been undercover for years. He hasn't seen Garp, or been to Marineford, in just as long. Maybe this isn't as sudden a change as it seems from his perspective. "What's happened?"
But Garp shakes his head. "Nothing," he says, "yet. But I have a bad feeling."
Rocinante would not call himself a superstitious person, usually. He's been thinking a lot lately, though, about old superstitions. The name of D. The way Garp had shown up, suddenly, exactly when he was needed. How he'd seemed to know everything, even too much. And now, his insistence that Law be kept away from the Marines-- along with his grandsons, and even Rocinante. An insistence that was far out of character, when Garp had always heartily expounded on the many and various virtues of the Marines, of Justice.
One of the last conversations Rocinante had had with Garp, before leaving for his undercover mission, was about Luffy. Even then, Garp had spoken of his dreams for Luffy, for his future as a Marine-- and he'd confided in Rocinante that he hoped that, once Luffy became a Marine, his status would shield him from any repercussions that might otherwise fall on the son of Dragon the Revolutionary. Now that Rocinante knows about Ace, he would have expected Garp to have the same plans for him.
Rocinante's instinctual reaction is suspicion. He's been gone for a while, sure, and people can change-- but this is no small thing! This is nothing less than a fundamental shift of Garp's beliefs, the things Rocinante would have said were foundational to his identity.
But a new thought had occurred to Rocinante yesterday, one he's been turning over ever since, and that is: couldn't the same thing be said about Rocinante himself?
He was a Marine. He has always been a Marine, and he always intended to be a Marine. And then he spent six months with Law, and all those deep and supposedly unalterable beliefs shattered under the weight of what had happened to the kid. What was still happening to him. To Garp, Rocinante himself should have seemed fundamentally changed.
And Garp is acting differently around him, it's true. But he is not reciprocating the suspicion which Rocinante has not quite been able to hide. Instead, he's been startlingly . . . gentle.
It's not a word Rocinante usually associates with Garp. Or one which he has ever associated with Garp. But it's what's happening. He has seen Garp acting with his usual exuberance; he seems to find Law's irritation with manhandling hilarious. His crew have been getting the usual Garp treatment. Even Red-Haired fucking Shanks has been physically scooped up and wielded like a cannonball by Garp, though he has the reflexes to avoid capture most of the time.
Around Rocinante, though, Garp has been careful. Quieter than usual. Like Rocinante might be fragile. It might just be chalked up to Rocinante's injuries, the fact that he really had been badly injured, but once it was clear he was on the mend, he had expected Garp's behavior to shift back to normal. Yet the shift has not happened.
Rocinante is beginning to think that Garp is worried about him.
And, well-- Rocinante is awake in the middle of a night, after one of the worst nightmares he's had since Minion, trying to smoke and unable to light the damn cigarette. And Garp was there, almost as soon as Rocinante stepped outside.
Yeah, Garp is worried about him.
A bad feeling, Garp says. Rocinante isn't quite ready to believe it yet. Something happened to make Garp change. Maybe something as massive and life-altering as spending six months with Law; maybe the slower change of many small somethings.
And still, that doesn't explain how he could know to be there on Minion Island.
Rocinante sighs. Tries to light his cigarette one more time. Finally, it catches. He takes a long, relieved draw, then leans back on the bench. Exhales smoke.
There's one other thing that's been bothering him. "Are you sure about the pirates?" he asks.
Garp blinks, as though he hadn't been expecting the question. "Of course," he says. "They might be a small crew, but they've got enough firepower for the New World. Shanks sailed with Roger, you know."
That's . . . interesting to know. And it does explain why Garp seemed so familiar with Shanks. But not what Rocinante was asking. "Are you sure," he says flatly, "about letting the pirates around the kids?"
"Ah." Garp understands now. He drops a heavy hand on Rocinante's shoulder. "They're not your brother."
Rocinante stiffens. "They're still pirates." And he's spent the past four years trying to keep kids from joining his brother's pirate crew, and it weighs on him like nothing else. He doesn't understand how Law doesn't hate him-- and he's too afraid to ask, afraid it will all collapse under him, like melting ice.
"Roci," Garp says, and there's that strange gentleness again. Oddly, it reminds Rocinante of nothing so much as Dragon: the careful way Dragon had approached him, when Rocinante was young and still very afraid of people. And, yes, Garp is his father-- it makes sense that Dragon would have inherited that care from him. But Rocinante has never seen Garp behave like this. Garp continues, "Shanks was raised on a pirate ship."
Further explanation is not given. Rocinante has to be the one to say, "And?"
"And so, he understands the reality of life for a child on a pirate crew," Garp says. "He won't try to recruit any of the children. He'll keep them safe."
Easy to say. Less easy to believe.
The cigarette has burned down to the filter. Rocinante doesn't notice until it also burns his fingers. He sighs, puts it out, and stands.
"If he does try anything," Garp says, standing up as well, "you have my permission to shoot him. But I don't believe he will."
"That does make me feel better," Rocinante admits, though he doubts very much that he could be much of a match for the Red Hair Pirates. Or even for their captain alone. Garp's easy, absolute backing, though-- that still matters.
"Get some sleep, Roci," Garp says. Then he grins. "You'll be meeting my other grandsons tomorrow! You need to be rested for that!"
"I can only imagine," Rocinante murmurs. Garp's bark of laughter follows as he enters the house, and head back into the bedroom. He's not sure he'll be able to sleep. There's too much on his mind now. Too many questions. Too many mysteries.
As he pushes open the door, the light from the hallway reveals Law, awake and sitting up in bed. And scowling at him.
"I'm sorry," Rocinante says. "Did I wake you?" Then he registers that the scowl isn't one of anger, but the one Law uses when he's afraid and trying to hide it.
"You were gone," Law bites out.
Stepping fully into the room, Rocinante closes the door behind himself, leaving them in the dark. He tries to decide what to say. Apologies would come off as insincere, given that he's apologized once already. "I had to have a smoke," he offers. Out loud, it sounds like an excuse.
Sure enough, Law's scowl deepens, and he pulls his knees up to his chest. But he doesn't say anything, and Rocinante crosses the room. He hesitates for a moment by the bed, but ultimately opts to crouch beside it. His first impulse is to sit beside Law but-- well, he's been overthinking every interaction with Law, lately.
Things were different, while they were travelling. Especially once Law's hatred of him eased, at almost the same time his sickness worsened. Then, it was easy to show Law as much affection as possible, trying to soothe the pain and distress of being deathly ill. Even after Minion Island, when Law had been slowly curing the Amber Lead poisoning, and Rocinante himself had been injured, it was no surprise that Law still sought him out for comfort.
But now? Rocinante knows Law hasn't simply forgotten that it was Rocinante that was his greatest tormentor in the Family. And the source of plenty of misery beyond that, dragging Law to useless hospitals, forcing him to relive the worst of Flevance's fall.
He doesn't know where the lines are, anymore. He isn't even sure whether Law will still want him around, now that the boy has options.
"Are you . . . okay?" Law asks. From his position sitting on the bed, he has to look down to meet Rocinante's eyes.
"I'm alright," Rocinante replies. "Just needed to get some air before going back to sleep."
"Then go back to sleep," Law snaps. "You're still recovering from getting shot."
Smiling, Rocinante stands and crosses to his own bed. He lays down, but before he can pull the covers up, the mattress dips as Law scrambles up onto it. Law curls up against Rocinante's chest, breaths smoothing out and evening.
He's so small. So fragile, still. Rocinante loves him so much that it hurts.
Pulling the covers around both of them, Rocinante closes his eyes.
A last thought occurs to him as he drifts off to sleep: Garp had said grandsons.
-----
The door swings shut behind Rocinante, but Garp doesn't head back in just yet. He looks back up at the stars, which distantly blink down at him.
Rocinante isn't the only one whose sleep has been troubled.
-----
He finally finds Koby's body, half-curled in a crater. The way the dirt around him is disturbed suggests that he tried to stand, to get back up, to keep fighting-- and then succumbed.
His eyes are wide and sightless. Glasses long gone. His hands are bloodied and broken.
Helmeppo lies fallen partway down the side of the crater, bullet holes in his chest. Gunned down while trying to reach his friend.
Garp kneels by Koby, and carefully rolls him onto his back, so he can look down into his face. What is the expression there? Fear? Resignation? No, Garp knows his pupil too well to believe that. It's determination. Koby would never have accepted his death, even when it had its claws in his throat.
There's an impact behind him. Someone landing on the ground.
"Guess I came too late this time." Despite the casual words, the very air trembles under the weight of Red-Haired Shanks' anger. He is, after all, the master of Conqueror's Haki.
"It was the Marines," Garp finds himself saying. "They killed him."
"Are you really surprised?" The worst part is that Shanks doesn't sound accusatory. He's almost sympathetic.
How many more children does Garp have to lose?
Shanks steps past Garp and pulls off his cloak. He covers Koby with it. Or-- not Koby. Not anymore. Just the body of a young man who only ever wanted to help people. Just one more corpse among thousands.
"We shouldn't still be here," Garp says. "They were meant to be the future. How can I outlive him? I can't--"
He's crying. When did he start crying? He muffles a sob into his hand.
"Get up," Shanks says. Still not accusatory. Just angry. And terribly, deeply sad. "Get up and fight. For the Marines or against them." He draws his sword. The sound of metal against sheath is a threat. "I'll fight you here and now, if that's what you want."
What Garp wants? What can he want anymore?
"Have you seen Luffy?" Garp asks.
Shanks shakes his head. "He's in the thick of it, I think."
Garp takes a breath. Stands. "Those brats would never forgive me," he says, "if I didn't try to protect their brother."
Ace, gone. Dragon. Sabo. Now Koby. All he has left is Luffy.
Shanks smiles, and it's an awful thing. A desperate baring of teeth and fangs. "Then it seems we're on the same side. Just this once."
-----
The Red-Haired Pirates died. Garp died. And the world ended.
And then it started again, but only for Garp.
He throws his head backs and laughs. And if tears stream down his face once again, well, who's around to see?
They're nothing more than memories, now. Cold, bitter-- but not useless. The future can be changed, so it will change.
But Koby is the reason Garp hasn't left the Marines yet. He doesn't know where the kid is, or how to find him. He doesn't even know where to start; Luffy was the one to find him last time. But if he stays in the Marines, Koby will show up eventually. Of that, Garp is certain.
The kid has always had a drive to help people. He'll try to do that in the Marines. Hopefully, this time, Garp can drive some self-preservation skills through that thick skull.
Garp has always fought for the future. They have a new one now-- but it's still in the hands of the children.
Time for bed. No point sitting up awake worrying about things that happened in another life. There's a world starting out there. Best to meet it with a good night's rest.