Archive of Our Own ^beta

Rocinante believes he has earned the right to say that he’s been through a lot of shit. From his father rescinding their family’s status as Celestials, being tortured and chased by villagers, and witnessing patricide, sometimes he’s amazed by his own mental stability. He had lost nearly everything in the formative years in his life and came out the other side, taking everything in stride. He’s since then survived harsh military training and countless subsequent missions, always followed by the comradery of sharing a round of drinks with the other soldiers while they all marvel that they ever manage to survive.

“Especially you,” the guy next to him nudges, “You’re so fuckin’ clumsy.”

Rocinante shrugs with a grimace, “I don’t know what you mean.” He knows exactly what he means. Today they had a debacle against a self-proclaimed devil fruit user. The guy never even showed off his power, so he wasn’t necessarily the problem. It was his abnormally large crew that made the whole encounter such a challenge. In the foreground, there was a straight up brawl between the marines and the pirates, giving Rocinante the opportunity to sneak by undetected. Take out the leader, and maybe the rest would give up. But once he got to the captain, the bastard had just smirked at him before giving a gentle push to Rocinante’s sternum. It was unexpected, and he regrets to say that he had tumbled down the hill like a damn bowling pin.

His face flushes at the memory, “That was intentional.”

“Bullshit!” Another marine cackles.

Rocinante grabs a handful peanuts and throws them at the offender, “Listen, if it weren’t for me, Bellmere wouldn’t have been able to sneak behind the son of a bitch and cuff him!”

Bellmere claps him on the back as he’s taking a gulp of his beer. He chokes on it and it spills all down his shirt.

“He was too busy laughing at your dumb ass!” Bellmere declares with a holler and the room erupts like it’s full of hyenas.

Rocinante believes he has earned the right to say that he’s been through a lot of shit. That includes getting bullied every day by his coworkers.

But even he has to admit- what he is experiencing right now is another level of absolute bullshit.

He’s fucking naked and freezing cold in some...warehouse? He doesn’t know where in the hell he is. He knows he didn’t drink enough to black out and wind up in an unknown location, but there’s no way he’d end up in a place like this from the marine base. He could be in enemy territory for all he knows.

Rocinante takes a breath and snaps himself into action, “ Calm .” He traverses several hallways, unnerved by the lack of coverage. His only saving grace is that it’s incredibly dark, meaning it’s late and whoever might be around is hopefully asleep. He turns a corner and a patch of light cuts this new hallway in two. He dares to take a peek out the window in an effort to gauge his surroundings and gasps.

There’s nothing out there but water. He’s in the goddamned ocean .

“What the hell…” He stumbles back and feels coolness against his spine. A door. Someone could be in there, but maybe he can find clothes, a weapon. Rocinante decides he needs to take the risk and swings the heavy metal open.

At first, he panics due to a lamp illuminating the room, but upon inspection, it turns out to be empty. He makes quick work rummaging through the dresser on the opposite side of the room, before cursing his large size. All of the garments here are too small. He settles for grabbing a long black coat and wrapping it around his waist, feeling properly ridiculous.

Next, he turns to the desk in the center of the room in search of a gun, a knife, hell, he’d take a letter opener at this rate. That, he does find, so he grips it firmly, continuing his search.

There aren’t any other weapons, but Rocinante does find a number of items of intrigue. Medical records of a handful of patients, books on herbal medicine, letters that seem to be sharing changing whereabouts…

But the most distressing thing here is a folder with his picture inside, from when he first joined the marines. What follows is a list of missions he was assigned to, but it’s followed by more that he has no recollection of. He double checks both the picture and the name, and his legs wobble. It’s definitely him.

The door begins sweeping open and Rocinante drops the folder, frenzied, and kneels on the floor, obscured by the desk. The door closes again, but the newcomer makes no further movements. Rocinante readies his letter opener.

“ Room. ”

Somehow, the air in the room feels tighter. Rocinante barely has time to brace himself before-

“ Shambles .”

His stomach lurches and he finds himself on his back in front of the newcomer, completely vulnerable. He angles his little letter opener in front of him, but knows it’s feeble against the long sword in the man’s hand. But his brow furrows as he observes him, seemingly frozen from drawing the sword out of its hilt, staring at him with wide eyes.

Finally, the man slides the sword back in its hilt and drops his arms with a resigned sigh. Rocinante himself feels frozen in place, utterly confused.

“Roci-ya,” the man says with a small smirk. “I think this is the youngest I’ve ever seen you.”

What the fuck.

“You can put that down. I’m no enemy of yours.” The guy tilts his head. “I assume you want proof, though.” Rocinante refuses to answer, and he continues, “Your father’s name was Homing. Your mother died when were too young, so you don’t remember her name. If that’s not enough, I can also tell you where you were born.”

That smirk is starting to piss him off, but his words shake him to his core. He’s never told anyone that. The only person who knows is…

“Fine, you know about my past. That doesn’t necessarily prove anything. Who the hell are you? How do you know me?” Rocinante doesn’t waver, holding his letter opener steady.

“I can’t tell you that. It hasn’t happened yet.”

“You fucking with me?”

“Afraid not. This is your first time, right? Travelling?”

“Why don’t you start making sense?”

“Why don’t I grab you some clothes first? It’s too weird talking to you naked,” the guy’s face scrunches up in a grimace.

“You’d seriously be nuts if you think I’m letting you out of my sight.”

“Well then come with me. Jean’s room isn’t that far.” The guy makes a point of leaving his sword behind and Rocinante stands up reluctantly to follow him, promptly not letting go of his letter opener.

When they reach this new room, the guy knocks. A man larger even than himself opens the door groggily and they whisper together briefly while Rocinante shuffles where he stands. Big new guy grumbles in his general direction before going back in his room.

“I don’t think I’m gonna fit in his clothes,” Rocinante says, despite himself.

The guy in the hat chuckles, “He has a jumpsuit that shrunk from a bad laundry attempt. They’ll fit you.”

“You seem confident about that.”

“Mhmmm.”

The door opens once more and they exchange a piece of white clothing. The hat guy promptly hands it to Rocinante before he’s walking back the way they came, while Rocinante reels from the blatant trust he’s being given. He eyes the taller man, who just rubs his eyes and yawns. They really don’t think he’d do anything to them. Why?

When Rocinante steps back in the previous room, he watches the guy clean up his desk from Rocinante’s snooping. He reluctantly puts the letter opener down to slip on the offered jumpsuit, relieved to be protected from the cold.

The sheer confusion from the situation leaves him shaking, but he truly feels no malicious intent from the man before him. More than anything, he just wants to know what the hell is going on.

“Are you Cora?” He asks, and the guy stops dead in his tracks.

“What?” His voice barely contains a shaky quality to it. It pulls at his heart a bit, for whatever reason.

“That guy, he said ‘Cora-san’ at some point. I thought maybe that’d be you.”

“Oh. No. That’s nothing.” He resumes his movements, “You didn’t read this, did you?” He holds up the folder with his marine information.

“Skimmed it.”

“Alright. You told me you’re not supposed to know things before it happens, it could screw things up.”

Rocinante exhales uneasily and leans against the wall, “Please tell me what the hell is going on.”

“You must’ve run into him fairly recently. The man with the Time-Time Fruit.”

He thinks back to the devil fruit user they had apprehended earlier, who hadn’t actually demonstrated his power. Maybe he did, and it just wasn’t apparent to them. That ever so subtle push to Rocinante’s sternum should not have made him stumble so spectacularly as it did. Maybe there was more to that encounter than he initially thought.

The guy must see the introspection on his face, since he continues, “He himself could travel through time as he pleased, and it seems that he could send others to different time periods, but it is much more unstable.”

“How so?”

“You travel back and forth, seemingly randomly, and out of your control.”

Rocinante sits quietly, attempting to process that. “ Fuck. ”

He chuckles sympathetically, “Yeah. Sorry.”

“You- you seem to know so much?”

“You told me,” he shrugs.

He wants to ask the man who he is, but as previously established, nothing will come out of it. So he shrugs back and instead tries to ask a simpler question, “You got a name?”

The guy hesitates but for a few moments. “Law.”

Rocinante suddenly feels like his body is being pulled in ten different directions. He reaches out with both hands, but is unable to grasp at anything. His eyes find Law’s.

“What’s happening?”

“You’re going back,” Law says, smile turned up with what looks like sadness. Rocinante can’t confirm for sure, as his face quickly fades out of focus. Darkness seems to descend on him and the last thing he registers is Law’s voice saying,

“See you next time.”

When the world seems to settle back in its axis, Rocinante registers that he is back in his room at the headquarters. He runs around briefly to check that everything is as it should be before collapsing on the ground in relief.

He needs to tell someone about this. Sengoku comes to mind easily, and he rushes to his quarters as fast as he can.

He pounds on the door incessantly until Sengoku opens it with a shout, “What?! Rocinante? The hell’s gotten into you?”

“Apologies, sir, but I’ve got intel on the devil fruit user we arrested today.” Rocinante shuffles where he stands. Despite all they’ve been through, he still feels like the man could scold him at any moment.

Sengoku eyes him warily before stepping aside, gesturing him to come in with an exasperated sigh. “This better be good.”

In light of Rocinante’s...condition, Sengoku benches him from standard missions, shifting his focus to intelligence gathering. Rocinante can’t help but take it personally, despite Sengoku’s insistence that it’s for his own protection. If he gets injured in the field and travels away, he might not be able to get the help he’d need.

So he spends the next year working out the intricacies of his predicament, what benefits it can give him. He remembers what Law said (will say? Ugh, too confusing) about learning things from the future, but he still can’t help but test the boundaries. He learns very quickly that as soon as he even comes close to learning anything about the times he travels to, he feels the pull and ends up back in his own present. He can’t even so much as get a date .

But what he can get are the places. Depending on how far he supposedly ends up, it proves useful in tracking down missing persons and such. Newspapers become his lighthouses traversing the rough waves of time, so long as he is careful and doesn’t stare too closely into the light and blinds himself.

He learns that the distances travelled can vary from days to years based on pictures of Marineford in the newspaper. He’s able to form a loose timeline based on the status of the building, if it’s the one he knows, practically a brand new one, or one in ruin, ravaged by some horrible attack that Rocinante can’t even begin to conceptualize. The pictures become a guiding point, despite the reasons that they shouldn’t be.

Another thing Rocinante has learned this past year? Best not to think about any of it too much. Once, when he travelled and went to the newspaper to get his bearings, he not only saw the base in complete disrepair, but a figure standing in front of it all. A splitting pain immediately hit him in his temples and he shot back into his own time, lying on the floor dizzy with his nose bleeding. Even in his own timeline, thinking about the mystery person causes residual pain in his skull.

He tries asking the man with the Time-Time Fruit shortly after that. He had managed to get access to his cell in Impel Down and upon their reunion, he can’t find it in him to feel sorry for him in any way.

The man smirks at him, revealing discolored teeth, “Enjoying your travels?”

“The hell does this do for you?” Rocinante asks, exasperated. He’s jumped back and forth through time...thrice so far today. Whatever today means anymore. “It’s more of an inconvenience than anything.”

“For some weaker of heart, it becomes truly disorienting and torturous. I find that most amusing.”

“Uh-huh. What’s the deal with Marineford?”

The prisoner’s good mood seems to evaporate nearly instantly, “You see something, pal?”

Rocinante keeps vigilant and maintains eye contact, before he decides he’s got to give some to gain some. “I know something happens to it. A big something. I’ve seen it in ruins and I’ve seen it being put back together. With all of the unspoken rules associated with this time travelling shit, I can’t figure out why I’d be prone to this information.”

The time traveller fidgets nervously, “Have you seen the kid?”

Rocinante feels his teeth grind, his own visual tell betraying him as well, “It’s a kid ?”

“Whatever it is, it’s gonna change everything as we know it. It’s like an apocalypse is imminent,” his haunted stare reaches past Rocinante, probably to the depths of time and reality as Rocinante used to know it to be.

Marine and pirate share an anxious silence.

Rocinante eventually breaks it, “Is there a reason we’re allowed to know about it?”

“I know that it means neither of us will be there. But...perhaps our knowledge of it is key to shaping its outcome.”

“What, like we won’t be there, but we affect who will be?”

The pirate smirks once more, sitting in his cell like a king despite the moment they shared before. As if the impossible knowledge he’s privy to makes him a god among men. It reminds Rocinante too much of someone else and he grimaces irritably.

“With this power, I’ve learned of the existence of many mysteries that your people have kept hidden away. You think we are to ensure a key player will be present for the fall of Marineford? You know what that sounds like to me?”

Rocinante knows what he himself has learned with this ability, so the idea of what the man who can control that ability has seen? It sends a shiver up his spine, and he feels utterly exposed. Aside from Law, he wouldn’t guess that someone would know his past, no matter what they said, but with this man’s piercing gaze, Rocinante cannot actually reason how much he knows about him. He forces himself to stay calm and the prisoner speaks once more, answering his own question.

“The Will of D.”

Rocinante can’t help the sharp inhale that escapes him. Of course, he’d been told the stories when he was young. Had feared them for most of his life. The more distance he’s put over the years from his past, the better he’s felt, but he feels that anxiety and fear creeping in with just this one reminder.

It figures that he wouldn’t be able to escape forever.

The pirate smirks at his silence smugly and Rocinante decides he’s had enough. As he turns away, he waves him off with, “Enjoy serving your time .” He grins at the guard, who just shakes his head at him. Rocinante knows he’s funny.

It’s not until a few days later that he travels again. He briefly remorses the loss of normalcy before he stumbles his way into the shadows. This is the most stability he has now. Drop into somewhere, sometime else naked, scramble for some clothing (more often than not having to settle for having most of his stomach and legs exposed, hoping it isn’t too cold), and find himself a newspaper to get his bearings.

The one he finds has no picture of Marineford. But it does reveal that the island he’s on is called Spider Miles. Rocinante is in the midst of brainstorming how this place could have significance to the Marines when he hears a voice call out a name that makes his blood run cold.

“Doffy!”

Rocinante ducks into hiding before observing where he heard the voice come from. Sure enough, his brother is standing still nearby with his head turned back, allowing a small girl to catch up to him. Rocinante’s breath quickens, morbid curiosity having him wonder if that’s his fucking niece before more and more people approach Doffy.

Way too many to take out on his own. He looks around at the lack of reaction from the townsfolk all around them, despite how obviously criminal the crowd is.

Judging by their interactions, it looks to be like Doffy is their leader. Rocinante’s stomach churns.

Aside from the young girl tugging on Doffy’s sleeve, there’s a very young boy as well. He’s here fucking recruiting kids for who knows what and despite his fears, Rocinante knows he can’t let his brother get away with this. He knows better than anyone the raw fury and power that sits in that monster’s bones, and with a resigned sigh, Rocinante knows he’s the best man for the job he’s thinking of.

Thankfully, he feels the pull back to his own time and he resolves to reach out to Sengoku as soon as possible. Doffy’s crew and the island fade, but the sight of black feathers floating through the air linger.

“Do you know the identities of any of the people you saw?” Sengoku asks once Rocinante finishes relaying his newly acquired information.

“Their leader,” Rocinante responds, but hesitates. Sengoku motions for him to continue and he swallows, “Donquixote Doflamingo.”

“Your brother?” Sengoku’s face grows worried and skeptical, so Rocinante hurries to assuage him.

“I am the best person to reach out to him as an undercover agent. He won’t trust just anyone, but he might trust me.”

The man still looks uneasy, “Why do you want this case so bad? I thought it would be best for you to put all that behind you.” His face softens as if he’s remembering the same thing Rocinante is. Him, snot-nosed and bawling but free from his brother’s influence. Sengoku, confused but distressed at the sight of this small boy desperate for help. He took Rocinante in, and that night is the only reason Rocinante is any bit of a decent man that he is now, and he’ll forever feel indebted to him.

“There’s kids, sir. He’s kidnapping kids,” Rocinante says with a plea.

“It doesn’t have to be you,” Sengoku offers.

Rocinante shakes his head, “Yes, it does.” He huffs with a bitter smile. “You know, with all the time travelling I’ve been doing? Guess it’s only fitting for my past to come back for me now.”

Sengoku eyes him before sighing in defeat, “We’ll get you a secure line for us to remain in contact. And we’ll provide you assistance should you ever need it.”

“Thank you, sir. For everything.”

The man waves him off, “Go. Prepare yourself.”

Rocinante nods and already feels heavy, like he’ll crumble under the weight of his brother’s hidden stare the moment he’s close enough to it. But he stands tall and walks out of the room briskly to collect the small amount of items he’ll take with him.

He has a feeling this will be his hardest mission yet.

These are the moments when Corazon knows this is all worth it.

He’s jumped a few years ahead, and he just happened to run across a young boy that he’d saved a few weeks ago in his time. He can see him across the road with a group of kids his age, running and laughing, and his own lips pull into the wide grin that his makeup accentuates.

Infiltrating Doffy’s family had been easier than expected. It was Sengoku who suggested he present himself as a mute (“You’re too damn earnest. It’ll hopefully keep them from asking questions and you can keep your mouth shut”). He was even able to use his encounter with the time traveller to explain it away, capitalizing on the man’s enjoyment on the descent into madness in his victims.

It keeps the family off his back when he disappears, helpful for making reports back to Headquarters, and once he explained he can’t actually witness what has yet to come, they seemed to lose their suspicion of him.

He wasn’t quite prepared for the level of trust Doffy gave him right away, giving him the Heart seat and position as right hand man. He had even showed concern that he had supposedly become mute (Although, Corazon had to regrettably go along with the makeup. Doffy thought it “complimented” this new development and Corazon didn’t want to be contradictory right at the start). It left Corazon reeling, and anxious of what was hiding in his brother’s mind. But he looks at the young boy now living happily as he should, when had initially come to the family looking for a thrill, and knows that even if this all ends in his ruin, he’s been able to save some lives.

He’s been able to terrorize most of the kids into running away again, with the exception of Baby 5 and Buffalo, the two kids he did see with Doffy when he discovered his location. This further proves that he can’t alter the future or the past, he’s just a floating observer. He mulls over how this must mean that whatever decisions he makes influenced by his travelling were meant to happen anyhow, and what if he travels through time just so he can make the decisions he’s supposed to be making? And what if-

He’s breaking one of his rules by thinking too much. His head hurts. He decides to sit in the shadows and wait out his time here until he jumps back to his own, poking at a black feather sitting near him. His clothes don’t travel with him, but these pesky things don’t seem to get the memo.

The good thing about the junkyard? Easy to find clothes when he makes his returns. The good thing about that damn feather coat? Also easy to find no matter where it ends up. Corazon gets some clothes on pretty quickly before heading up to the dining area.

He’s met with quite a shocking surprise.

There’s a boy standing before the family, and it’s Law, but young . He’s got to be Baby’s age if not a bit older. When they met, Law looked like he was in his late twenties, but there’s no doubt that this is him. They have the same weird hat and the same eyes, although the pure rage he sees in Law’s eyes now is jarring. In the submarine, Law hadn’t seemed the most friendly, but he was trusting, and maybe even a little melancholy. Corazon catches Doflamingo’s eyes on the boy now and knows they’re thinking the same thing.

This boy is the spitting image of how Doffy was as a child, filled with hate and anger and no way to channel it. Corazon watches Doffy’s smirk grow and his hands fold in his lap. Excitement at an opportunity to shape this boy however he pleases… A chill runs through Corazon’s bones. He looks at Law once more and sees him standing as tall as he can with his fists clenched, unwavering.

Corazon panics and throws him out the window.

Over the next few days, Corazon agonizes over his first meeting with Law, trying to remember if there was any indication Law’s allegiance was...will be. He needed to know if it was worth something to torment the boy as he has the other children, or if he’s already doomed to a life serving under Doflamingo.

He had only seen one other person in the submarine, so no help there. Law knew everything Corazon had hidden away; his real name, his parents, his status as a marine, yet he didn’t act hostile.

He does remember a jolly roger on the jumpsuit he was given… But he can’t for the life of him remember what it looked like. For his own sake, he hopes that he can get Law out of this place. It doesn’t bode well for him to know so much about him whilst being loyal to Doffy. Although a lot can happen in twenty years…

He takes a break from trying to remember the fucking future to light a cigarette and read the newspaper, despite Marineford not being of particular importance yet. He’s skimming through an opinion piece when he feels it- a hot pain in his side. He watches blood drip on the ground and realizes he’s just been stabbed . Just the tip of the knife has pierced through, but he’s still been impaled all the way through.

Son of a bitch .

He looks around to catch the offender, cursing himself for trusting Doffy’s blood law and letting his guard down so terribly. Buffalo is a way’s away, quite literally screaming bloody murder, and none other than Law is standing behind him with the hilt in his tiny hands. He looks up at him with a murderous grin before he’s chasing after the other boy in the distance.

Corazon falls to the ground with a shaky exhale, and of course, because life has never been fair to him, the pull of a different time period takes him away.

Cold.

The hole in his side burns, but the floor beneath him is a contrasting, metallic coldness. He forces his eyes to open and takes in his surroundings. It looks too much like Law’s submarine and his breathing quickens in a panic.

“Cora-san?”

Corazon’s head snaps to the side and sure enough, Law’s sitting there staring at him. He speaks before he can think twice about it, “You. Are a major pain in my ass.”

Law’s frowning gaze moves from his wound to his face, smirking, “Ah, I remember that. More like a pain in your kidney.”

“No, you missed that, barely.”

“Well, I’ll get better.”

Is that a threat? “Take ownership for your actions and get help, you little shit,” Corazon scowls, once again on his back and vulnerable before the kid. He looks to be a few years younger than he was in their first meeting, and he’s missing some tattoos. In response to his command, Law stands up and kneels beside him, which is when Corazon notices the jolly roger on his shirt.

He tries to move away in a panic, but his wound pulls and he hisses. Law grabs at his arms to stop him from going anywhere.

“What’s your problem?” Law asks irritably.

“My problem? That’s Doflamingo’s jolly roger. You’re gonna rat me out aren’t you?” He eyes the shirt and Law sighs, sitting back.

“It’s not his, it’s mine. Really look at it.”

Corazon does, and relaxes. It’s basically the same, with some alterations. There’s no line through it and the teeth are different. It’s enough to be its own, he supposes, but he’s still got to ask about it.

“What does Doffy think about that?”

Law looks amused, “I doubt he’s pleased, although I haven’t tried to ask him myself yet.”

Corazon matches Law’s smirk with his own, “You are a little shit.”

Law shrugs, “I live out of spite.” He eyes the wound and pulls out a couple of items from a bag behind him.

“Ow!” Corazon shrieks after Law applies pressure to his wound. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t be a baby, I’m stitching you up,” Law chides with a roll of his eyes.

“I’m not a goddamn piece of cloth, kid.”

“You want to bleed out on my floor? Looking like this?” Naked, clown makeup. Hmm. “I think that’d cause a few small problems in the timeline.”

Corazon laughs hysterically and then feels several things at once. His wound and the beginnings of Law’s stitching protesting the movement, and the hint of his present pulling him back. He grabs Law’s hand instinctively and feels the kid freeze, “Don’t joke about that, I don’t wanna go yet. I...haven’t been able to talk to anybody in a while.”

He looks at Law and their smiles soften before Law moves back to stitching his wound. Corazon watches him calmly, “You’re a doctor.”

“I don’t know if I’m allowed to talk about that,” Law responds, not pausing.

“Right.”

They sit in silence before Law gives, “My dad was a doctor. He taught me a lot before everything went to shit. Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve told you about him before, but you seemed to know. Guess this is why.”

“I try not to think about it too much.”

“I imagine not.”

“Hey. Asshole.”

“Sorry, you make it too easy,” Law’s chest shakes with suppressed laughter. Corazon marvels at his perfectly steady hands.

“All I do is get bullied.” Law’s chuckles become audible and Corazon smiles in victory. Compared to the hate-filled child who stabbed him, just coming off the traumatic experience of the fall of Flevance and left with nothing but a terminal illness, twenty year old Law seems healthier and more content, if not exhausted. The bags under his eyes are quite alarming.

“You’re cured of your illness?”

“Now I know I can’t talk about that.”

Corazon sighs despondently, “Damn it, this is annoying.”

“Be more careful of devil fruit users, don’t know what else to tell you.”

Corazon squints at the kid, “You’ve defected from my brother, but you’re also quite familiar with me.”

Law moves away and chucks his tools in his bag, looking at the other with a serious expression, looking even more drained now that the teasing has ceased, “Yes, obviously I know who you really are, I know what Doflamingo is capable of, and I’ve sided myself with you. Is it that hard for you to believe that?”

He sounds...offended. Hurt. Corazon placates, “Listen, kid, you stay suspicious, you stay alive.”

“I know,” Law immediately counters, crossing his arms. He’s borderline pouting, and it makes Corazon feel wiser beyond his years, reminding him of dealing with a new recruit back at the marine base. They’ve got to be pretty close in age like this, but there’s something about Law that has him feeling this certain way. Parental? “You’re done, by the way.” Law makes an effort to ease his harsh tone, “You’re not the first patient to come stumbling in today, I’m not running on a lot of sleep.” He rubs at his forehead, exasperated.

“No offense, but you look like you don’t get much sleep anyhow.”

Law smirks, “You’re not wrong.”

“Sorry. How’s the other guy faring?” He feels so out of depth in Law’s time, who obviously knows his immediate future? It’s incredibly unsettling.

Law stays quiet, most likely debating what he’s allowed to say, “I’ve done what I’ve can, it’s up to him now. He really shouldn’t be alive, but he’s resilient.”

Corazon nods, “So you’re a very good doctor.”

Law’s mouth twitches and he ignores the compliment, throwing a blanket over him, “I’d get you clothes, but you need to be careful with the stitching. I could only give you a temporary fix.”

Corazon wonders why, but he doesn’t ask. He thinks about his own Law and groans, “I’d love to just stay skipped to this part. You’re a lot more tolerable as an adult.”

Law stares at him, eyebrows pinched. He then shakes his head, “I’m only here because of what you will do in your future. My past. I...don’t have the luxury to wish for more.”

“This is the second time I’ve travelled to you specifically, and I’ve never travelled to anyone else like this. I don’t get why.”

“And I don’t care why. I’d rather have this than the alternative.”

Corazon frowns at that, but feels the pull of his present time coming for him before he can ask. The last thing he sees is Law’s pained expression as he gives Corazon a lazy wave.

Sure enough, as soon as Corazon gets to where his clothes were left behind and slips them back on, his stitching opens up. He curses under his breath before limping pathetically to the dining hall to ensure no one thinks he’s disappeared for too long. There, he sits mutely as Doffy’s people make crude jokes about Law’s illness. Without the boy being present, Doffy makes no effort to stop them. The brothers stew in silence, no doubt both remembering that night the townsfolk took their revenge against their family.

Corazon spares a look in Doffy’s direction, notices hands clasped together tightly. He knows that despite how monstrous his brother is, that night haunts him just the same. The only difference is that Doflamingo walked away from it dead set on revenge, a god scorned by non-believers. Corazon cannot hope to knock him off his pedestal himself, but dreams of at least being a part of his downfall one day.

Another shrewd cackle at Law’s expense reaches his ears and he tenses further. No matter the pain he currently feels in his side, Law’s just a child, having no say in the fate of the death sentence that was bestowed upon him. The only reason he was stabbed was because Law is angry and doesn’t know what to do with it. There’s nothing he can do for himself, so he lashes out at others.

He thinks about Law’s strained expressions every time he’s seen him in the future and realizes he’s still holding on to so much pain. That everything he’s experienced hurts him more than he could do to anyone else.

Corazon’s hand reaches past his wound and clenches at his chest. His heart hurts .

There’s a tiny gasp and everyone turns to acknowledge Law being carried into the room by two of Doffy’s men. The boy stares at Corazon with horror.

No, kid, you didn’t kill me , Corazon thinks, but doesn’t dare to speak of the incident.

But he has to go and fucking cough up blood. Doffy turns to him, inquiring what happened and Corazon pulls a flimsy excuse out of his ass. After glancing around, he sees that everyone’s bought it anyway, and Law keeps his mouth shut as well. They share a wary look, and Corazon hopes this means they’ve formed some sort of truce, a step toward that close bond he seems to have with Law in the future.

They might have a truce, but there’s no further development of their relationship otherwise. How the future Law acts around him might as well be a pipe dream. Corazon supposes he should have known better, since ten plus years is quite a long time to people who actually experience it linearly.

But it’s been almost two years now and he’s nowhere near close to Law. It’s almost as if Doffy is aware of his plans, the way he keeps the boy close to him, training him. Or he’s taking the idea of Law as his prodigal son alarmingly seriously, shaping him as his prince of death.

As for Law, it seems that he’s so focused on Doffy’s promise that they might find him a devil fruit that will cure him that he has sworn complete allegiance to Doffy, making Corazon’s efforts to get closer to the kid that much harder. Law’s been given the opportunity to train with the other members of the family to learn other skills, but it was universally decided that he should stay the hell away from Corazon due to his apparent hatred of children. And Corazon can’t confidently betray his image by speaking or approaching him when Law will more than likely rat him out to Doflamingo directly.

So Corazon keeps his distance, watching the kid from afar in case an opportunity rises. By some cruel twist of fate, his time travelling does not take him to Law again a single time. He observes the boy blossoming under Doffy’s tutelage and worries that he’s screwed up the timeline somehow, or will do so by just waiting like this, slowly running out of options.

On one particular day, he watches Law train with Lao G from afar. Law stumbles around towards the end of their session, his illness draining his energy more and more every day, but no one pays it any mind. Law seems to treat it as an opportunity to prove himself anyhow, and Doffy’s pleased as it keeps the kid angry and hateful.

There’s another question for Corazon to attempt to solve. The older Law has so much more color to his skin, a healthy pigment, while this boy is as white as a ghost, the spots growing large and increasing as time goes on. Do they indeed find a devil fruit at some point? And if so, who ends up eating it?

Corazon takes a long drag from his cigarette anxiously. This might be part of the mental torture that time travelling pirate loved so much, sitting here agonizing how and when something ends up happening after getting a little tease of it. Corazon thought he’d be obsessing over Marineford nonstop, but truly he can’t stop thinking about who the hell Law is, who he’ll become, and why Corazon is so exposed to several stages of his life.

Lao G and Law end up leaving the area after finishing up, but Corazon lingers, dwelling on too many things at once. Eventually, the pull of time beckons him and he sighs and goes along with it, not too upset at the prospect of a distraction.

He ends up at a bustling pier, sun shining bright. Corazon squints and curses. It’s not as easy to hide in broad daylight like this. He ducks behind a pile of cargo and tries to formulate a plan. He chances a look over the boxes to get a better look at his surroundings, and comes face to face with a white bear.

They stand staring at each other, frozen, before the Mink raises a paw to point a finger at him, mouth open wide in shock. Corazon raises his own finger to his lips in an attempt to get the Mink to stay quiet, growing more frantic as the bear inhales already quite loudly.

“CAPTAIN! COME QUICK!”

“No no no,” Corazon hisses, looking around for an escape route. He hunches over himself as the shouting for a captain continues, and he takes a closer look at the Mink’s attire- a jumpsuit…

With Law’s jolly roger on it.

“WAIT!” Corazon shouts, and the Mink finally quiets down. “You know Law?”

“He’s the captain,” The Mink grins with sharp teeth, “I’m Bepo!”

“Nice to meet you, Bepo,” Corazon responds half-heartedly, ducking back down to hide himself as much as he can. People are starting to stare. Bepo waves somebody over and Corazon follows his gaze to Law, teenaged and scrawny without any tattoos or facial hair.

He still has that weird hat, though.

Law runs over across the plaza with an energy that his younger self lacks, and Corazon can’t help the relief he feels seeing how healthy he looks, even more so than when he’s in his twenties. He’s followed by a few other guys, all wearing identical jumpsuits and he spots the particularly tall one he borrowed clothes from the first time he travelled.

“Cora-san,” Law addresses, voice suspiciously sounding broken.

“Hey, kid,” Corazon greets with a wave, embarrassed. “Clothes?”

“Yeah, he’s very naked,” a guy behind Law says, “You didn’t mention the nakedness.”

“I myself wasn’t aware you’d be naked,” Law answered, not taking his eyes off Corazon, who feels incredibly uncomfortable with a group of teenage boys surrounding him and staring him down.

“Yes, it’s very embarrassing, clothes don’t travel with me- Law .” Corazon stresses, and the boy straightens up at the tone of his voice.

“Penguin.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll find something,” the same guy who commented on his lack of clothing responds, patting Law’s shoulder. “Stay here with your weird naked clown dad.”

Both Corazon and Law flush, and the rest of the crew follows Penguin to leave them be. Law takes a seat on the ground and stares at him with awe. It’s quite unnerving, until it dawns on him.

“This is your first time seeing me time travel.”

Law nods, “I didn’t believe you, to be honest. Even when you-”

“Don’t,” he interrupts. Law’s mouth clamps shut. “I’m not allowed to know what will happen to me before it happens. It could...mess something up, and it usually makes me leave sooner.”

Law looks panicked at the notion. He’s so much more expressive than he is in the other timelines he’s seen him in, and it’s off-putting but kind of adorable. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he reaches out, not thinking, and places his hand on Law’s ankle. The kid jolts, but doesn’t otherwise reject the motion, just stares at where his hand rests. Corazon swallows, “To be honest, I’m trying not to think about that dad comment.”

Law rolls his eyes, “I never said the word dad , Penguin said it once and they all ran away with it.”

“As your father figure, I have to say I’m unnerved by you hanging out with a guy named Penguin.”

Law’s flushed cheeks and sudden avoiding of eye contact leaves Corazon knowing exactly why his crew calls Corazon dad in front of him. He grins and slaps Law’s ankle teasingly. And what kind of father figure would he be if he didn’t bring up childhood memories to embarrass him further?

“I would love to show your murderous younger self what a softie you’ve become.”

Law glares, “I’m not soft.”

Corazon slaps a palm on Law’s hat, ruffling it, “Uh-huh.”

“I wear this for you,” Law shoves his hand away, but his mouth is turned up playfully, “So you’ll recognize me.”

“Even though you claimed to not believe me? Sorry kid, you’re as soft as they come.”

Law rolls his eyes, but his persisting flush betrays him.

“Seriously though,” Corazon sighs. “I have no idea how to get through to you. My Law. I know the beginning, I know the end-” He gestures towards Law, whose eyes widen ever so slightly. “Didn’t expect the middle to be giving me so much trouble.”

Law stays quiet, eyes back on Corazon’s hand still wrapped around his ankle. He squeezes it reassuringly, despite not knowing why he feels the need to ease his mood.

“There’s a lot of middle,” Law says cryptically.

“Yeah I guess you’re right. This whole thing really has screwed up my sense of time progression. I can’t help but feel like I’m wasting it sitting around doing nothing.”

“You haven’t told him... me ...anything?”

“Well, no, presently you’re Doffy’s little prodigy. It’d be suicide for me to say anything.”

“Maybe,” Law concedes, but of course the little shit knows full well. Corazon doesn’t regret the instructions he gave to the kid, but he can still feel frustrated over having to remain in the unknown. “Maybe you’ve got to take the chance anyhow.”

“Are you suggesting that you’re just gonna believe me?” Corazon asks, skeptical.

“I can’t tell you that…” Law trails off, an amused smirk creeping in. Corazon doesn’t think it means anything good. The boy reaches into his pocket and pulls out a vivire card, scribbling something on it. He folds it to hide his writing and shoves it at Corazon, who has no choice but to hold on to it.

“What is this?”

“Proof. Something you wouldn’t know yet.”

“Law-”

He interrupts, “Don’t read it if you’re that worried. But wouldn’t I know best what you should do?”

Corazon sighs and runs his fingers over the card, as if that’ll help him understand its contents. He might just have to have faith in the kid for this. At the very least, he doesn’t feel time pulling in any direction, so they haven’t broken any rules.

Behind them, Law’s crew approaches with what looks to be a bunch of blankets. Unfortunately, Corazon can’t ask for more. Before they make their way over, he says, “So you’re a pirate.” He didn’t get to ask him last time, too busy getting stitched up.

“Seems like,” Law answers vaguely. He’s annoyingly diligent, he’ll give him that. “Sorry to disappoint.”

Corazon understands why he’d say that, given his own affiliation, but he can’t help but chuckle at Law’s tone, like he’s personally rebelling against him by siding against the marines. Hell, for all he knows, maybe he is. He smiles and accepts the blankets from Penguin, covering himself before addressing the whole crew.

“Our political world is messy,” he begins. “Doesn’t matter how far ahead I’ve travelled to, that’s still a fact. Neither side is perfect, or even close to it. I chose to be a marine because it has allowed me to do what I think is right. I’ve been able to do a lot of good, my proudest being helping young kids out of bad situations.” He looks meaningfully at Law, who seems to be having a hard time meetings his eyes now.

“If being a pirate, if being in this crew is what’s best for you and help you do what you believe is right? And that you’re free to make that choice? There’s nothing for me to be disappointed about. Just…try not to get in the marines’ way too much. I might not be able to bail you out,” Corazon finishes with playfully, but the crew smiles uneasily in response. Law fidgets, distressed and completely avoiding eye contact.

Corazon scrambles for a way to comfort the kids from whatever it is he said when Bepo speaks up. “You’re not just the captain’s dad. You’re a dad to us all.”

Oh . Corazon looks at each crew member’s face individually and sees an awe and respect that overwhelms him, He looks at Law again, chest heaving and face hidden by his hat.

“Law…”

“M’fine,” he mumbles. Corazon has to stop himself from going to him for a hug or... something because Law’s crying. For Corazon, for his crew, he can’t really decipher the reason why but it’s concerning nonetheless.

One of Law’s men, a guy with shoulder-length hair places a hand on his back in comfort and addresses the marine, “We’ll take care of him when you’re away.”

“Shachi-” Law protests, but Bepo interrupts by tackling him in a hug. Corazon looks at Shachi and nods appreciatively.

He then sighs deeply, feeling the familiar pull, “Time’s up.”

“No-” Law finally lifts his head and makes eye contact with him.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back,” he reassures before turning to the crew and tugging at the blankets covering him, “Sorry for the trouble.”

“We gotta think of a better system,” Penguin says.

Corazon huffs, amused, before pointing at the tallest one- Jean, he remembers, “Laundry.”

The crew shares looks of confusion, but Corazon pays them no mind as Law stands and gets closer to him before collapsing in his arms in a sudden embrace. He feels the boy shaking and wraps his arms around him, but the sensation is quickly fading away. Law clings to him desperately until he’s gone.

Corazon waits all but two days before he opens the vivire card, curiosity getting the best of him. It’s a good thing that he’s already sitting on his bed when he opens it, as he’s sure his knees would have given out on him.

Trafalgar D. Water Law , written in chicken scratch, but that D is unmistakable.

His head immediately starts pounding. He remembers Marineford in so many forms, the time traveller’s voice echoing in his mind. He forces himself to take deep breaths lest he pass out. This is a huge revelation. This could be exactly why he keeps traveling to Law specifically, their bond ensures something happens during, after, before Marineford? What the hell is the kid getting into, and how is Corazon, born into the Celestial society and raised as a marine whilst Law is a pirate bearing D in his name, a key part in getting him there?

Despite this game changer, the Will of D still leaves more questions than answers.

There’s also the fact that presently, they still don’t actually have anything close to a bond. Corazon travels to a future where Law has known him for years, yet comes back to a time where there isn’t even an opportunity for them to speak. It’s been jarring and unsettling, and frankly discombobulating.

Corazon’s had enough. Law gave him this card to spur him into action, and sure enough, it’s going to do its job.

He stands up suddenly, only swooning the slightest bit, stomping his way out of the room in search for the boy. He finds him by overhearing the three kids talking about their lives before the family, including their full names.

Destiny sure is something, Corazon supposes and hastens his steps. He hears Baby pestering Law to reveal his full name and nearly breaks out into a run, scooping Law up once he reaches him without pause. The kid protests with screams and hollers, but Corazon keeps vigilant until they reach an alley, dropping Law and squatting on some crate.

He lights a cigarette, musing on how he should begin, what all he should say. When he does get to talking, spilling nearly everything, he’s kind of amazed that Law even goes along with him, listening intently once he’s finished his yelling.

Until he gets to the time travelling bit anyway.

“If you won’t believe me, believe yourself,” Corazon holds out the vivire card, demonstrating that it is indeed pulling towards the boy magnetically, before Law snatches it and stares at the writing.

“This doesn’t prove anything.”

“That’s your handwriting and you know it.”

“I’m twelve, can I really have a developed writing style already?”

“Yes, because twelve ain’t that young, kid, so knock it off.”

“Don’t talk to me that way!” Law shouts petulantly, and their conversation loses all sense of comradery.

Corazon huffs irritably, “Believe it or don’t. You still shouldn’t be here with the likes of Doflamingo.” He thinks of all he’s seen in Law’s future, all that he can’t tell. “I know you’re capable of so much more.”

“Now I know you’re lying,” Law mutters darkly, “I’m going to be dead within a year.”

He steps away from Corazon, whose panic and frustration just keeps escalating, “Law-”

“And now you’ve shown your hand, and I’m going to tell Doflamingo. You’re done for.”

Law runs off before Corazon can catch him, damn his clumsiness. He stays lying on his back in the fucking garbage, staring at the sky in vain. He’s failed. He’s made the wrong choices, and now he’s doomed both Law and himself.

He walks back with his head hung low and his heart beating anxiously. He left his den-den mushi in his room, so he probably can’t reach headquarters in time anyhow. He half-wishes time would sweep him away right now, delay the inevitable and maybe even give him a sign for what he should do, but of course he’s not so lucky. The lack of travelling only makes the fear that he’s screwed up sink in his stomach even more.

But when he sees Doffy next, he gives no impression that Law has said anything at all to him.  He sees the little shit not too long after, who confirms that he’s kept the secret, “Now we’re even.”

It’s progress, but it’s not enough. Corazon feels more and more restless every day, watching Law grow weaker. Any day now, he could succumb to his illness, yet nobody pays it any mind, including Law himself.

Corazon remembers holding a teenaged Law in his arms, the feeling of him slipping away from him as he travelled to his time with a heavy heart.

One night, the memories become too convincing, and he can’t resist taking action. He steals Law away in the middle of the night and sails off into the distance.

Corazon feels at a loss. They’ve gone to every hospital in their area, they’ve hopped islands to try more hospitals, and still no luck. Every doctor takes one look at Law and shuns him as a diseased monster, and even blowing up buildings doesn’t make Corazon feel any less helpless.

He’s running on fumes now, drinking his woes away while Law continues to sleep. The kid’s been beyond exhausted all day, but he still insisted on walking on his own. Corazon compromised by taking frequent stops to let him sit and rest, pressing his large hand against Law’s forehead to check his temperature. As if he can discern more than the fact that his skin feels alarmingly clammy. They retired for the day quite early, after Corazon picked up some food and a big bottle of wine for himself. He nearly had to force feed the boy, who was swaying with his eyes closed asking to just lay down.

Corazon takes his eyes off of him sleeping away to gaze at the horizon, taking another generous gulp from the bottle he’s been nursing. He thought he felt helpless before, when he and Law weren’t on speaking terms, but now that Law’s days are truly numbered?

His eyes water, completely beyond his control, and he stumbles his way to the slumbering boy, the distance between them suddenly unbearable. He barely stops himself from placing a hand on Law’s back to comfort himself, not wanting to disturb him, but he does let everything he’s feeling spill out from his lips into the stillness of the night.

He knows there’s a part in Law that still doesn’t trust him. He knows he feels more of a kinship than Law does due to his travelling, and that Law very well may not even like him after dragging him away and forcing him to re-experience his traumas over and over again. He expresses all of this brokenly, hot tears spilling out rapidly. His chest heaves with all that he feels. It’s overwhelming, the pain he feels thinking of all Law’s been through, what it turned him into, but he had hoped he could have saved him from that. He can’t help but feel like he’s screwed up again though, given that he hasn’t even travelled once let alone seen Law in the future since their last regretful parting.

A sob escapes him and he voices all of this too. That even when Law stabbed him in anger, the only pain he felt was in his heart because he knew Law was hurting worse than he ever could.

His words start to lose coherence at that point, so he forces himself to get up and leave Law be.

Next thing he knows, he’s laying on a couch staring at a metallic ceiling. Somehow he knows it’s not Law’s submarine, it’s more like a factory if anything, and he feels the sting of disappointment, tears still welling up in his eyes. He sits up with moderate difficulty, limbs clumsier than usual, and takes a gander at his surroundings. There’s a small bar in the corner of the room, several more chairs, and a coffee table in front of him with a newspaper laying on it like it’s being spotlighted.

Corazon grabs it habitually and looks at the date, too drunk to do the math to figure out how old Law is supposed to be. Older, is all he can safely wager.

The picture on the front page isn’t of Marineford this time, but what looks to be an uncountable amount of human hearts lying in chests. He scans the article for more information, finding Law’s name amongst the jumble of words. He concentrates more than he should have to to read what’s written, mouth gaping wide in shock the more he discovers.

He startles when something comes flying at his head, white cloth blocking his vision. He pulls it away and sees that it’s Jean’s jumpsuit, inhaling sharply and whipping his head around.

“Law!” He exclaims gleefully, seeing the man standing with his arms crossed in a doorway. He steps closer to Corazon, who barely registers his grumpy expression.

“Quit reading shit that’s lying around,” Law growls, “Do you know how many times I’ve found a pile of papers and black feathers on the ground, knowing I had just missed you? All because you couldn’t follow your own damn rules?”

Corazon’s mind blanks. He’s missed seeing Law in the future before? Maybe the fact that he’s gone such long periods without seeing Law wasn’t evidence of him messing with the timeline, but a result of him up and leaving before they can run into each other. He feels guilty and saddened about this revelation, but hopeful since Law still indeed has a future he can visit.

Law collapses in a chair across from him, observing his red and dopey face and that he hasn’t made any attempt to clothe himself. “Are you drunk?”

“Yes,” Corazon responds immediately, “And you’re a Warlord!”

“Stop yelling,” Law chides, hand pressed against his forehead, “I really don’t feel like explaining you to the roommates.”

“I thought they knew about me?”

“Not my crew,” Law corrects, “Don’t worry about it.”

Corazon pouts a little, finally moving to make the effort to put the jumpsuit on. He stands up to zip it closed, eyeing the bar. He wobbles, but manages to step towards it.

“What are you doing now?” Law asks, exasperated, but he doesn’t move to get up. When Corazon focuses his vision on Law’s face, he notices that he looks just as exhausted as he did when he stitched him up, if not moreso.

Corazon squints at the sight, “Water. I wanna talk to you for reals. Scold you for your lack of sleep, mister.”

Law chuckles, “Just sit down, clumsy, you’ll hurt yourself.” He reaches over for the newspaper while Corazon falls back, watching him curiously. Law crumples up a page into a ball and throws it up in the air.  Before Corazon’s very eyes, a glass of water takes its place, and his jaw drops.

Law hands the glass over to him, and he takes it in a daze, “Magic…”

“Not quite,” Law smirks.

Corazon frowns, glancing at the newspaper. He had read something else…

“Devil fruit.”

Law says nothing, watching him carefully. Maybe to see if he’ll disappear. Once he’s satisfied that Corazon is somehow sticking around, he murmurs, “Guess your inebriation is good for something.”

“What was it called again? I just read it,” Corazon reaches for the newspaper feebly as Law keeps pulling it closer to him in amusement. Frustrated, Corazon throws up his hands, “Law! I’m worried about you, you’re dying and I don’t know how to help you!” He gives up, head in his hands.

He hears Law get up and move, feels his presence next to him on the couch, but his despair keeps him from looking back up.

“Cora-san.”

“You keep calling me that,” Cora mumbles. “Not in my time though.”

“Do you prefer Corazon?”

“No, no,” he shoots his head up, “I like it.” Now both of their faces are flushed. Law turns his head away to hide it, and Cora keeps his eyes on him. He leans over to nudge him and ends up leaving his upper body pressed against Law’s, growing solemn, “I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to waste any more time like I did before, but I just don’t know what I can do for you.”

“You have done a lot,” Law responds thoughtfully, leaning against Cora’s arm, “So as ridiculous this is going to sound, just wait. It’ll come to you.”

“I guess you’d know, right?”

“Exactly.” Cora feels Law’s head rest on him now, and he remembers how exhausted he had looked.

“What are you doing, being a Warlord?” He mumbles. “Being a pirate wasn’t enough for you?”

“I live out of spite,” Law echoes himself, just as vaguely as the first time.

“Gonna kill me with all this worrying.” Cora hiccups, the chuckles, “Or drive me to drinking.”

Law doesn’t sound as amused. On the contrary, he sounds quite serious, “There’s something I have to do.”

“Just be careful, okay, don’t overdo it.” Law nods half-committedly and Cora sighs, “I just...want the best for you. When you stabbed me, I-”

“I know,” Law sits up, interrupting. He swallows, voice breaking, “I know. He does too. Your Law.”

Cora’s drunken vision tunnels in on Law’s face, making sure their eye contact is secured. Law seems to get his intentions, because he doesn’t look or move away. He’d grasp at Law’s shoulders if he had more control of his limbs.

He summons as much conviction into his voice and his words as he can, “I want to save you. More than anything.”

If Cora had to name the expressions passing over Law’s face, he’d guess resignation and grief. An intense sadness that even twists Law’s not particularly emotive face. It makes Cora try harder to move his arms, managing to grip his upper arm.

“Maybe you should reconsider,” Law finally says.

“Why would you say that?” He asks sincerely, but Law just shakes his head.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“It does. Do you think your life isn’t worth living?”

“I think we disagree about how much it’s worth.”

“Law…”

“Don’t- don’t worry, I’m working on it.”

“Your self worth?” Cora asks, even though he’s pretty sure that’s not what Law means.

“Mhmmm.” He lies anyway.

Cora sighs heavily and decides to drop it. He has a feeling he’s going to be leaving soon anyhow. “Can I hug you?”

Law huffs, “You don’t have to ask.”

He shrugs, but pulls Law in, eyes welling up once more feeling how much smaller Law is no matter what age he is. He squeezes his arms around him, finding comfort in Law’s good health and that he can take the pressure.

Law groans painfully anyway, “You’re so drunk. Hugging people and crying.”

“Not people,” Cora argues petulantly. “You.”

Law doesn’t answer for a minute, burying his face in Cora’s sternum instead. His voice is muffled when he answers, “You better not be getting snot on my hat.”

“Cora-san, wake up. Breakfast is ready.”

Cora opens his eyes groggily, immediately squinting as the sunlight burns his retinas. He blinks away the pain, but he perks up at the smell of cooked food. Once he can open his eyes completely, he sees his Law moving about, the healthiest he’s looked in months. He wonders if he hasn’t gone back far enough, but he’s wearing the same clothes that he was wearing before he travelled (must have put them back on before passing out), and Law’s white spots are the exact same as they were the night before.

“Did you call me Cora-san?” He asks with a raspy voice, hangover leaving his throat dry.

The kid flushes and drops a plate of food in front of him, “Shut up. Eat it before it gets cold.”

“You called me Cora-san,” Cora repeats, smug but also definitely tearing up again. He picks up the plate, about to dig in when his den-den mushi chimes with a call. He eyes it warily, unsure as to whom it could be, but Law gestures for him to answer it.

“It’s me, Corazon.”

The Ope Ope Fruit. The solution to all of their problems, but with it comes a whole onslaught of new ones. They’ll be going against both Doflamingo and the Marines in its entirety. Outlaws on the run, Cora and Law against the world. Cora grins, showing off his power to the unimpressed child and can’t find it in him to give a shit at all. Law’s going to live, that’s all that matters.

When he had explained the fruit’s power to Law, he couldn’t help but shake his head in amazement. He should have put two and two together, seeing Law’s abilities in action with his own eyes, but shrugs it off as everything has worked out favorably anyhow. His only regret is the cutting of ties with Sengoku, his last words to the man he owes so much full of lies. Maybe someday they can come to an understanding.

The day they set out to depart, Law’s health takes a turn for the worse. By his predictions, they had three weeks to go, but with Law’s hands weakly grasping at his lapels as he carries him to their boat, Cora worries he won’t last to the end of the week. All he can do as their boat sails in the direction of Minion Island is hold the boy in his arms and watch him squirm in pain and discomfort, breathing labored as he attempts to sleep. He repeats, “Please hang in there,” under his breath like a prayer, pulling Law closer as desperation makes his body shake.

Despite Law’s comments that his power isn’t useful, there’s a slight glee he feels sneaking around the island in order to steal the fruit. A nostalgia that serves as its own version of time travel, he thinks that it’s just like old times. Right up until he trips down the fucking mountain.

Well, actually, that’s just like old times too.

Shot up and battered, Cora crawls his way back to Law with a determination that reminds him of those stories he used to hear about mothers. The ones who could lift buildings to save their children, that sort of thing. His mind wanders off and he muses if his own mother would have been the type, if she hadn’t fallen ill and died when he was so young. He hopes that she would have been. Maybe Doffy wouldn’t have ended up so fucked in the head, or he’d be the exact same and maybe he would have shot both of their parents instead.

Fuck , he’s lost a lot of blood.

It hardly matters, he gets to Law with no other issues and is able to force feed him the fruit. Once he sees that it has taken effect, he collapses, unfortunately allowing Law to see all of his wounds. He hadn’t meant for that, didn’t want to worry the kid, but he’s still amazed they aren’t worse off, despite everything.

Then fucking Vergo shows up.

An impossible calculation. Incredible misfortune that he’d be the one man Law would find and even bring back to try and get help for Cora. Even while slowly bleeding out, the idea puts a smile on his face. But he couldn’t stop Law from intervening, and Vergo showed no mercy even to him, that bastard. Cora get himself up to a pathetic crawl to get to the poor boy, face covered in dried tears and blood. He’s about to reach him when the scenery pulls away from him, time taking him elsewhere.

“Fuck!” He shouts, not even caring the slightest about being inconspicuous. Not now, not fucking now!

“No...nonono,” he hears a moaning beside him and turns his head. At least it’s an older Law and not an enemy, but Cora needs to get to his own kid.

He takes a deep, painful breath. Any Law is his kid, and this one sounds especially distressed. He looks distraught as well, focusing entirely on all of Cora’s wounds. He must be quite the sight.

“Hey, hey, come here. It’s okay, come here,” Cora urges, holding a hand out. Law falls to his knees and grasps at his hand with both of his own. He leans his forehead on their joined hands, inhaling and exhaling shakily. His entire being is shaking. Cora shushes and soothes him, but he notices that one of Law’s arm is completely bandaged up.

“What happened?” He inquires gently.

Law shakes his head, but makes eye contact with a determined gaze, “Please let me heal you.”

“No.”

A desperate sound rips itself from Law’s throat, “Cora-san, please .”

“You couldn’t heal the stab wound, you can’t fix this.”

“I was able to at least do something!” Law argues. Cora’s only seen him this vocal, this emotional when he was a teenager, and even then he was visibly trying to keep calm. Cora smiles, bittersweet, and the sight of it makes Law’s eyes water.

“Please. Please let me heal you. You can’t make me let you go like this, I can’t. Cora-san, you can’t…” His pleas trail off, a warning dying on his lips.

Cora slips his hand of out of Law’s tight grip to cup his cheek. Law’s hands move to cling to his forearm as he leans into the touch, eyes clenched shut.

“I know.”

Law’s eyes snap wide open, staring at Cora in despair.

“I know I’m not gonna make it out,” Cora’s voice still smooth and calm. He’s known for almost a year now. Why he could learn some things about the future; not his own, but the one after him. Why his meeting with Law’s crew felt so heartbreaking. Why, in his last meeting with him whilst drunk, he seemed so upset missing the opportunity to see him. He thinks of his conversation with the time traveller in Impel Down. The impending fate of Marineford- out of their hands, but up to someone else. Perhaps the next generation. He thinks about the Will of D.

Everything he’s done, everything that he’s been privy to has led up to his sacrifice so that Law can live and be free.

He feels his arm being squeezed and he grins at Law, “You’re good, kid, but as a spy, I’m better when it comes to gathering intel.”

“If you know, then why…”

Cora moves his thumb along Law’s cheek gently, “For you.”

Law’s face crumbles with disgust, self loathing, and he tries to pull away but Cora keeps him close, his other hand moving to grip him.

“I’m sorry for lying to you,” Cora starts and Law freezes. “About not being a marine. And...and for telling you we’d meet up on the next island.” That’s his plan anyway, to get his Law to cooperate. This Law watches him intently with wide eyes, so he continues, “I didn’t mean for you to feel like it was your fault. I would do anything for you.” He loses Law’s eyes as he looks away, but he doesn’t pause, “All I want is for you to be free and happy.

“I’m proud of your crew. I’m proud of the skills you have as a doctor,” Cora’s eyes find Law’s tattoos, particularly the one on his chest, visible even with the button down shirt. His jolly roger surrounded by a heart… While taking in the details of it, he remembers reading in that newspaper that Law is the Captain of the Heart Pirates. With a sigh, he hopes that someday Law will believe in his efforts to preserve his memory positively instead of wallowing in the pain.

“I’m proud of the man you’ve become, and I only hope for more for you.”

Law finally speaks, “Don’t be proud of me. I failed.”

“What do you mean?”

“I-” He interrupts himself, maybe piecing together what he can say, or what he wants to say. What will keep from an argument arising, perhaps? “I wanted to make it worth something. Get revenge, complete your mission... something . But I couldn’t, I failed.”

“I didn’t want you to-” Obsess. Dwell.

“I know. I know what you think of me. So I felt like I needed to do this. To be worthy,” he explains in clipped sentences. Like he’s hesitant to share this with Cora.

“Law, you don’t need to prove your worth to anybody- to anybody . You don’t need that burden, that guilt on your shoulders.” Law stews in silent disagreement, staring at the wounds decorating Cora’s chest. Probably calculating exactly what he’d need to do to fix him up. With the hand not holding Law’s face, he makes a waving gesture over the top of his head, “I absolve you.”

Law glares at him disapprovingly. Admittedly, it wasn’t his best idea to make a joke while the kid’s face has tear stains and his eyes and nose are red. But it’s not really a joke to him.

“Why won’t you believe me?” Cora asks calmly. “I’m telling you how I feel.”

“I…” Law trails off, at a loss.

Cora makes himself sit up to look Law in the eye for what he wants to say next. Law scrambles to help him up and he grips his good arm to keep himself steady. “I think you’ve let your anger and your grief consume you. Maybe not as intensely as when we first met, but…” Cora sees guilt cross Law’s face and feels no joy in being right. He inhales deeply, ignoring the pain in his bruised ribs, “I love you. That’s all that matters.”

Law’s eyes clench shut and fresh tears spill down. Cora wipes them away and grins with all of the tenderness he feels for this boy. He thinks he finally understands why Sengoku took him in, why the man was willing to do so much for him.

Now there’s an idea.

“Don’t...confirm or deny anything,” Cora requests warily, “But if Sengoku is still alive, I want you to find him and talk to him.”

Law’s eyebrows pinch, looking skeptical, “A marine?”

“Hey, we aren’t all bad,” Cora smirks and a weak smile finally reaches Law’s face. Cora’s softens to match.

“No, I’ve come across a few good ones. What was it you said? Our political world is messy? ”

“I think it’s just gonna get messier,” Cora admits, and Law looks reluctantly smug. Despite his best efforts to wallow, Cora can usually put a smile on his face. He lets out a weak laugh, which his ribs protest. He groans and presses his forehead against Law’s.

“You’re sure?” Law asks solemnly, hands hovering over his bleeding chest.

Cora nods, “Absolutely.” He begins to feel torn, physically between this time and his own, and emotionally torn between the desire to stay with this Law a little bit longer and the need to get back to his own to ensure his survival. He somehow finds it in him to fight the pull and pats Law’s arm to get his attention away from his wounds, “Hey. You are stronger than anything they can throw at you. You’re still here. I believe in you.”

Law must feel him fading, because he wraps his arms around him hastily and rests his head on his shoulder. Cora returns the embrace, “You’re gonna get blood all over you.”

“It’s fine,” Law mumbles. “Tell me one thing.”

“Hmm?”

“Am I going to see you again?”

Cora has to think about that, about all the times he’s ever come across Law in other points in time. He’s usually looked to be about this age, actually, in his twenties. Based on the words they’ve exchanged, their last meeting must have happened before this, what with the way Law talked about having something he needed to do. And he was missing tattoos when he stitched Cora’s stab wound, so that happened before this also…

But the first time he met Law? Truly? He looked around the same age this Law does, but Cora didn’t think he seemed so drained of energy, despite how late into the night it had to have been. He was more at ease than he ever saw him afterwards...was that Law finally at peace with everything he’s had to face? Maybe Law will indeed see Cora again, at least once.

“I think this is the youngest I’ve ever seen you.”

Meaning that Cora doesn’t ever meet Law past the age of thirty. His heart sinks on Law’s behalf, but he’ll be damned if he shares this revelation and let his kid waste his life waiting on the possible chance of being reunited. The best thing to do would to not answer, but he’s soft on him, he can’t help but give him something.

“I can’t tell you what hasn’t happened yet.” Law stiffens in his arms, and Cora kisses the hat under his chin as an apology.

Law pulls his head up to look Cora right in the eye, despite how much of a mess he is. They’re quite the pair, Cora thinks as he runs his tongue over where his tooth once was, but his attention is immediately drawn back when Law says, “I love you.”

His jaw drops comically. No matter how much sappy shit he can dish out, he can barely take it coming from Law. His heart might have stopped. His head feels light. Very concerning, all things considering, but all he feels is glee.

He would revel in the moment, maybe even try to get Law to say it again, but he can’t fight off the pull of time any longer. He presses their foreheads together once more. They couldn’t be any closer.

“I love you, Law.”

Law had regretted telling the crew about Cora-san after the incessant teasing they subjected him to, right until Bepo called him over to the man’s hiding spot at the pier.

He could hardly believe it. Cora could actually time travel. He feels stunned, frozen. Like if he makes himself move, he’ll collapse to his knees. Cora’s face grows redder as Penguin harps on his lack of clothing and Law sends him off to find something, thankful when the rest of the crew leaves as well.

He endures the man’s teasing, still reeling that he’s actually here - alive and smiling before his very eyes. When Cora expresses that the Law he knows is still following Doflamingo’s orders, he mentally scowls. He’d rather not remember that time, so bloodthirsty he didn’t care siding himself with the likes of that man. Until Cora almost quite literally snatched him away from that life, saving him.

Law still has that vivire card, actually- the one Cora gave him that started their whole relationship. He smirks and digs it out of his pocket, feigning writing his name that’s already written before handing it over. Although he claimed he didn’t believe Cora, it later turned into a disbelief to keep from his hopes getting too high. The idea of seeing Cora again in any aspect was too good to be true. Still, he couldn’t help but cling to that shining glimpse of hope.

Then the crew comes back and Cora gives them an actual dad speech, out of nowhere. It makes Law way more emotional than he’s comfortable with, and if it was anyone else beside Cora speaking, he’d walk away. He settles for hiding under his hat, feeling everyone’s stares weighing heavy on him.

“Time’s up.” Law feels like his insides are twisting. He just got Cora back, and now he’s leaving him again. Damn his image, damn his sense of authority, he stops holding anything inside and falls into Cora’s arms, holding on for dear life until there’s no one to support him. His forearms hit the hot ground, and he lays there for a moment, watching tear drops stain the wood of the pier. Bepo eventually scoops him back up and the crew crowds together, sharing his grief.

The Heart Pirates name spreads not too long after that. Law gets grouped in with the Worse Generation and earns the nickname “Surgeon of Death.” Shachi mocks the title, but Penguin supports it discreetly. He’s the one who goes with him to get his first batch of tattoos, grimacing when Law doesn’t as the ink is filled in on his fingers.

“Not the other hand?” Penguin inquires while Law stands up, handing the tattoo artist a wad of bills.

“No,” Law shakes his head, “Later.”

Penguin nods, not needing to ask why.

Their world expands, as well as the characters in it. Straw Hat comes and goes, leaving disaster behind him, but definitely an impression as well. Enough to compel Law to save his life after the Summit War with an impossible operation, if anyone else were to treat him. It nearly takes days , but Law gets him to pull through. Satisfied that Luffy has been stabilized, he retreats to a nearby room to rest.

He doesn’t get too much of that before Cora pops in, seemingly out of thin air. His heart starts beating rapidly, excitedly , because it’s been years since that day Cora first came back to him and Law has to really force himself to keep a cool head. He notices the blood seeping from Cora’s shirt and pieces together what time he’s from. With a plastered on smirk and resigned sigh, he moves to get to work. They’re not close in Cora’s time, nowhere near it, but the man’s suspicion of him stings worse than he could have anticipated. He longs for that embrace he was robbed of at the pier.

Cora’s confused expression digs at a sense of shame inside him, so he uses Luffy’s tiring operation to explain away his sour mood. Thankfully, the man accepts it easily, throwing around compliments and words that mean more to Law than he could possibly know. The man is gone again before too long and Law stares at the blood staining his floor, a coldness seeping into his bones as he can’t help but remember a harsh winter night and the silence ringing painfully in his ears.

He gets the other hand tattooed. Months pass gathering intel on Doflamingo’s underground operations and he gets his jolly roger done on his back. The buzzing of the needle drives out the echoes of his own cries from that cold wintry night. Jean’s hands shake every time he reads a newspaper with Doflamingo’s face on it, his days in the slave trade similarly refusing to leave him, and Law vows to become a Warlord. To lawd another title over the bastard’s head and prove that he can win against him. To take revenge against the wrongs committed against his crew mate. He collects the hearts of one hundred pirates and gets two tattooed on each shoulder in commencement. Shachi comments that he must be choosing more painful locations on purpose and Law refuses to acknowledge him.

Cora doesn’t come back. In an effort to avoid spiraling about that fact, Law gets the chest piece tattooed. This one hurts worst of all, and Bepo feebly grasps at his hand to comfort him when his breaths come out in pathetic wheezes. Law keeps his eyes clenched shut, lets the pain consume him and drive everything else away, including the absence Cora has left behind.

Then Cora does start coming back, but they keep fucking missing each other. Law will sit in whatever room of the submarine Cora was in for hours, staring at the black feathers before he investigates the papers amongst the pile, theorizing what detail could have sent Cora back each time.

He eventually bans newspapers from the vessel.

He can’t stop the rest of the world from leaving a trail, however. Caesar Clown is annoying on most days, but this particular one left Law seething, retreating into the dark corners of the factory until night fell and activity died down. It didn’t even matter what bullshit the scientist had decided to spew at him today, with an undeserved self-righteousness pleading Law to go against his own plan and hold his death over Doflamingo’s head. He had to avoid any and all interaction in order to keep his fucking sanity.

When he ventures out late at night to grab some coffee, however, he decides to at least seize Caesar’s left leg for all the trouble he has caused him today. The son of a bitch left a fucking news article lying out on the coffee table, and sure enough, Cora’s made his appearance from the past and is currently reading it. Law scoffs at the fucking irony of everything, retreating to grab the man’s designated jumpsuit before returning.

Cora hasn’t moved, eyes squinted as he continues studying what he fucking shouldn’t be, so he throws the clothing at his head. Law takes his aggression out on the man by scolding him, pissed that he hasn’t been around- or rather, he has but he didn’t have the sense to sit and wait patiently for him. But Cora stares at him with this dumb dopey face and Law finds his anger dissipating faster than Bepo’s hugs have ever calmed him down.

“Are you drunk?”

“Yes. And you’re a Warlord!”

“Stop yelling, I really don’t feel like explaining you to the roommates.” He could only imagine the disaster that would resort from Caesar finding out that Cora visits Law from the past on occasion. Something else for Doflamingo to potentially hold over him? Not a smart idea.

The article lying in between them unfortunately carries a large amount of detail on Law’s life as a pirate, including his devil fruit and status, so he doesn’t bother hiding his power to get Cora a glass of water. The way he stares at him in awe demonstrates that he’s not retaining any information anyhow, so he isn’t too concerned. Not until Cora breaks down in tears over his own Law, dying from lead poisoning. He watches silently while the man sits in despair with his head in his hands before he moves over to the couch next to him, both of them calmed by their shared space.

He’s been going nonstop for years. It hasn’t hit him until now, with Cora in such close proximity. His crew has done the best they can filling the void the man’s death left behind in Law’s heart, but he’s been separated from them for months. He knew he could handle it, had to be able to, but it’s an immense relief to have someone he loves here, to be able to lean on them and confide in that comfort.

Cora questions his status as a Warlord, makes jokes about Law worrying him to death that falls over Law like an ice-cold rain. He starts reminiscing, tries to say the same words Law overheard that night Cora tried to find answers in the bottom of a wine bottle, but he can’t hear it again. It hurts too much to know just how much Cora cares about him. That he means it when he says he’d do anything for Law and will eventually follow through on those words. He doesn’t deserve this much devotion, he wasn’t...isn’t worth Cora’s own life.

He tries to argue the point with him, but they both give up relatively quickly. Neither of them like fighting with each other. They once again part while locked in an embrace, the only solace being that Law could feel the man’s arms around him for longer this time.

Doflamingo goes down. Dressrosa is saved. There’s an emptiness where the weight sitting on Law’s shoulders once was. There was this one thing, one goal driving him through life, and now he stands in a fog, nowhere to go. The aimlessness is freeing and terrifying all at once.

He hears the Straw Hats causing a commotion outside the room and leans back against the wall, closing his eyes. They’re still too noisy, the lot of them, but it’s become calming in the same way Shachi and Penguin’s bickering did early on. A path cuts through the mist. His crew needs him, and he needs them. He reaches into his pocket for the vivire card connecting him to them, soothed by a direction remembered.

There’s a distortion to the air, and Cora appears with a frustrated shout. Law’s eyes take in the sight of him, a multitude of wounds making it apparent he has come from that night , and a chilling dread fills Law’s bones. Doflamingo held his fratricide over his head for hours , for days , while throwing him around and literally tearing him apart just to remind Law how weak he still is, how useless he’s always been, no different from back then. But Cora lying here before him, bleeding out from those wounds, face twisted in agony? That’s what breaks down the dam in Law’s heart. That’s what makes years and years of repression even after facing Cora multiple times hit him all at once and shakes him to his core. That’s what makes him fall to his knees next to Cora and fumble to grasp at his extended hand.

Cora mumbles a litany of soothing words that Law barely hears over his own erratic breathing. It’s his fault, all of this , the bullet holes scattered all over Cora’s chest, the bruises, the sprains, internal bleeding, all of Cora’s suffering for his sake is lying plainly before his eyes once more after so many years as if Law could ever forget that Cora didn’t deserve any of this.

He’s given up way too much for Law. He’s not worthy of it. He couldn’t even make himself worthy of it by killing Doflamingo. But now he has one more chance to do right for Cora.

“Please let me heal you.”

Cora stubbornly denies any help, and Law visibly breaks, pleading with him. He doesn’t care, as long as he can give Cora a chance to live.

There’s no point. The past is past, and if he could make things different, they would be already. He knows this, but he can’t send the man off to his death like he did unknowingly the first time. Cora cups his cheek and Law leans into the touch, starved for it. Then he says those two words that deprive Law of any lingering hope he might’ve had.

“I know.” Of course he did. Of course he’d predict his own death to let Law escape and still willingly go along with it. Law tries to pull away and curl in on himself, but Cora holds surprisingly steady despite the significant loss of blood. He’s so confident in telling Law everything that he refuses to believe, a conviction that he knows he’s powerless against.

“I love you. That’s all that matters.”

He lets the words sink in for once. He’s never allowed himself to dwell on the memory of Cora saying it to him the first time; everything that followed always crashes in and burns that single moment of happiness away. But Law realizes now he’s never just let that fact be . He may wish that things turned out different, even that he had died instead of Cora, but how he feels doesn’t change anything. Cora can sit here and tell Law he’d do anything for him because he loves him, and despite Law feeling the exact same way, he ignored that. He knew how Cora felt, yet he was so caught up in his desire for revenge, he shoved that aside.

And Cora called him out for it not out of anger, but out of concern. He refuses to tell him if they meet again, and although it pains Law, he knows it’s for that same reason.

It won’t be so easy for Law to accept Cora’s words, but with Doflamingo defeated and the two of them here locked in an embrace, Law feels he might be able to finally start that healing process. Cora’s warmth is easing away to be replaced by a cool absence, so he takes the chance to do the one thing he’s regretted never having the courage to do.

“I love you.”

Cora stares at him with his jaw dropped and eyes widened comically. Law rolls his eyes, hating that this is how he’s sending him off for maybe the last time, but the moment passes and Cora turns more sentimental, pressing their foreheads together and returning the statement before he’s gone.

Law allows himself only a few minutes to sit in the silence and wait for the grief to subside just enough, before he gets up and braves the streets of Dressrosa to find a certain marine.

They do meet again once more, years later.

He’s the youngest he’s ever looked, and Law gives a resigned sigh, realizing the nickname will do no good here. His suspicion of Law is easier to swallow with a face bare of makeup, there’s no way Rocinante even knows he exists, but he can still mourn the lost opportunity for a Corazon hug. He’ll have to find Bepo once Rocinante leaves.

He’ll be damned if he doesn’t make this visit last as long as possible, though.

He cleans up the mess at his desk, annoyed that Rocinante’s curiosity was an early habit formed, and subjects himself to the confused man’s questioning, answering as vaguely as he possibly can. His eyes jump to Rocinante every time he speaks, ensuring that he won’t fade away.

He nearly succeeds the investigating until Rocinante asks what his name is, and damn him if he’ll deny the man anything. Afterwards, the past pulls them apart once more, and Law smiles with melancholy, “See you next time.”

He doesn’t.