Chapter Text
“And then this old man starts saying nonsense about Garp-”
Dragon flinches imperceptibly under his cape at the mention of his dad, his body having long been conditioned to flee at the mere mention of his name. He honestly doesn’t know how he’s lived that long with a relatively unscathed mind when he’s spent two decades in close proximity with the man.
Why relatively?
Because no one can stay completely sane after coming in contact with his father. Much less spending as much time as he did with him…
Sometimes, he really regrets not leaving sooner. He should have run away before.
…maybe he shouldn’t have left his son with Garp.
“-and how he’d take his grudge onto his son and grandson too when-”
Dragon tunes Sabo out, cursing his past self for asking Sabo to report to him about his recent mission in Dressrosa, and unknowingly unleashing the tale of Aqua Laguna proportions about his son upon him.
Now, don’t get him wrong, Dragon loves his son very much and thoroughly enjoys hearing about him in whatever capacity he can.
So he was very happy when Sabo started talking about him, a warmth he associates with his son spreading through his chest even as his face seemed to stay expressionless. He loved hearing about his tales, and how he fought in the Coliseum, and fearlessly stood his own against Doflamingo.
The first time.
This is the fifth time Sabo has recounted the events that transpired in Dressrosa to him. Today. Sabo arrived in Baltigo yesterday.
Dragon doesn’t know how to make him stop.
He tried sending him on an errand, going to a meeting, and such. Some people even came to interrupt them from time to time. Each time Sabo would stop for a while, then, once the perturbation was gone, he’d start again from the start, claiming to have forgotten where he was. Dragon swears he saw him smirk more than once, each time he ‘just had to’ restart.
He is in the middle of wondering if the Revolutionary Army can, in fact, operate without a Chief of Staff when his attention catches a new element in Sabo’s retelling.
“And when Don Chin Jao sank in the center of the ring, there was a moment of silence before everyone began to cheer “Lucy!!!” as they stood. And Luffy stood in the middle of it all with the biggest grin he could muster, through that ridiculous beard of a disguise. I don’t know why he thought I wouldn’t recognize my little brother with that beard on.” Sabo says amusedly, a fond smile adorning his face, but Dragon isn’t listening anymore.
Lucy..?
A face flashes through Dragon’s mind, and he closes his eyes through the wave of pain and longing that washes over him.
It’s been so long since he lingered on the thought of that person. Even longer since he allowed himself to feel the emotions that came with it. After breaking their promise, he didn’t feel like he had the right to.
“Take care… of Luffy...”
He’d promised to take care of Luffy.
I’m sorry…
And yet, he had given him up.
He had taken him to his father and stayed away from him, as much as he could bear to, enough that he didn’t even seem to remember him. He was a failure as a father. He wanted to be there for him each and every day, but-
Pain pulses through his veins, and Dragon has to put a stop to that train of thought.
The images from those days are still burnt into his memory. The life slowly slipping away from a body as a tiny one screamed in agony, not fully understanding what was happening yet feeling the finality of it all before dropping to the ground, unresponsive to touch or sound.
Words are not enough to describe the horror and distress Dragon went through that day, believing he had lost them both for a moment before he saw the tiny chest moving in small movements.
He couldn’t go through this again; he wouldn’t.
He didn’t think himself strong enough to watch it happen once more or be the cause of it, because he would be. He was the cause of it that time after all.
He couldn’t endanger his son anymore; he had to make sure he would be safe. Even if that meant staying away from him. If taking care of him meant painting a target on his back, then he couldn’t do it again. He had been selfish once, and it hadn’t ended well.
He couldn’t be selfish again.
I’m sorry…
I’m sorry, Lucy.