Archive of Our Own ^beta

There’s shouting, so much shouting. Screams of his name, more than one voice calling for him, begging, pleading. He knows those voices, knows those desperate shouts, has heard them before. Not this muddled together though. Zoro closes his eye. He just needs a minute. Just one minute. 

There’s the creaking of a door being opened. Or shut, Zoro can’t be sure, his thoughts won’t seem to stay with him for more than a few seconds at a time. There’s another creaking sound followed by a soft click. Open, then, he decides groggily. He falls back asleep within moments. 

There’s the sound of glass clinking together. Is Cook handing out drinks? Or maybe it’s Usopp playing with some new invention. No, it’s too quiet for that, Franky’s loud voice should be nearby. Maybe it’s Chopper with those tiny beakers of his. Zoro falls back asleep before he can ask who’s there. 

There’s a buzzing like when a fly has somehow gotten into the sleeping quarters and has set its sight on Zoro’s ear. He wants to swat it away but he’s so tired he doesn’t get that far before darkness pulls him back under once again. 

There are voices now, quiet and careful, more whispers than anything. It makes goosebumps spread over Zoro’s arms. He’s already awake, there’s no need for them to whisper. Maybe they’re not whispering at all, Zoro realizes slowly. His ears feel like they’ve been stuffed with cotton, maybe that’s why the voices sound so far away. He can sense a presence near him. No, more than one. One, two… Three, maybe? Where’s the rest of the crew? 

Sleep drags him down again and Zoro only has a moment to wonder why the hell he’s so tired before he falls back asleep. 

Whenever he wakes, just a moment or two before he’s pulled back into unconsciousness, he hears those same muffled voices. They don’t come all at once now, it’s like they’re waiting for their turn to speak. No, that’s not quite right. Does he fall asleep between each sentence? That’s not like him. He may not always pay attention to everything the crew says, but he’s not rude enough to fall asleep in every single conversation. Maybe once or twice but only if it’s not important. 

This seems important somehow… 

“Idiot swordsman.” Ah, Cook is here. He sounds odd. His voice is off somehow. Zoro’s head is spinning and he’s not sure how much time has passed when he hears another voice in Cook’s place. Because he was right here, wasn’t he? Or is Zoro dreaming of him again? It wouldn’t be the first time. 

“Why do you always do this?” Why does the witch sound almost sad? That’s not like her. Nami usually curses at him when she thinks he’s being an idiot. Which has been quite often over the years they’ve known each other. He tries to remember how many but it’s like there’s a wall in his mind and it takes far too much effort to get through it. If only he had his swords… 

Where are his swords? Where is he? 

“He’s gonna be alright, right?” Another voice, this one much softer. Is he further away? No, Zoro can feel him right next to his side. There’s no need to talk like he can’t hear, he’s just fine. Usopp always worries too much about the most useless things. Zoro wants to tell him to shut up, maybe shove him in the shoulder and knock him out of whatever’s taken hold of his mind this time. He can’t quite seem to muster up the strength though. 

Maybe if he just takes a quick nap; he’s so damn tired… 

“There’s nothing more I can do.” Chopper sounds distraught. It makes Zoro frown. Or at least he thinks he’s frowning, he can’t really tell in his half-sleeping state. 

There’s a soft touch to his head, an even softer sound of breathing. The almost eerily calm feeling in the room - because he has to be in a room, he’s just not quite sure which one - makes him think of Robin. She carries a silence with her, for good reason too, he knows this, and it always brings either calm or chaos with it. Today she’s chosen calm, it seems. Zoro doesn’t mind; his head is throbbing and so is his chest. There’s an almost itchy feeling behind his eyes and he doesn’t know how to make it stop. 

The rattling of bones pulls Zoro out of the darkness again. He’d laugh if he could find the energy; Brook can be so stealthy he’s hard to detect even with Haki but somehow he’s almost the loudest when he tries to sneak around on the ship. Zoro thinks it’s something he does purposefully so he doesn’t scare the others, even though there’s no need to worry about that. There are only really three of them who’d be truly scared and as long as Brook makes them laugh, Usopp and Chopper won’t mind anyway. Nami doesn’t scare that easily but if she does, Zoro knows it’ll be Brook who walks away bruised. Well, metaphorically speaking anyway. 

Does Brook speak to him? He’s not sure. He’s not sure of many things right now. There’s still that cotton-y feeling in his head and he can’t quite seem to stay awake. 

Why is it so dark? 

He must’ve fallen asleep again because he feels his mind jolt awake when something thumps onto his chest. The weight isn’t heavy, not really, and yet he still finds pain blooming out from where it landed on him. Oh, he’s sore. 

“Luffy!” Chopper’s little screech is adorable. He’s clearly trying not to yell at their captain but he’s doing a terrible job. 

“Why isn’t he better yet?” Luffy whines directly into Zoro’s stomach. Ah, the thing landing on him was Luffy’s head. Of course. 

They must be talking about him. Is he sick? That can’t be right, Zoro never gets sick. At least not so sick that even Luffy gets worried. He didn’t hold back when Zoro’s entire torso was cut open and yet he’s only resting his head on him this time. Something must be really wrong then. 

Why isn’t he more panicked? He knows he should be at this point, but as soon as he realizes, he’s being dragged back down into the dark. 

When he finally comes to for more than a few minutes, his head feels like it’s stuffed with sand. Did they fight Crocodile again? No, that can’t be right, they’re far away from Arabasta. Right, that was long ago, they’ve fought countless enemies since then. Enemies… Are they in danger? No, he can’t hear Luffy’s cackling laughter or the Cook screaming out his attacks. There’s no whimpering or Nami screaming out orders in a panic. So the crew’s safe at least. 

Why the hell is he not with them then? 

He wants to shake his head, try to clear his thoughts, but finds that he can’t. Did he hurt his neck? Slowly, as if waking from a particularly deep sleep, Zoro starts feeling more alert, properly awake this time. It feels like he’s been pulled from below water, finally being able to hear and feel his own body. 

He feels like he’s taken one of Luffy’s attacks full force to the head. His entire body is aching but he can’t remember having fought with his captain and usually he’s left feeling satisfied, not just sore, after one of his so-called sessions with the cook. Besides, Cook doesn’t use enough force to seriously injure him when he aims for Zoro’s head. It’s stupid, Zoro can take any and all of his attacks full force but apparently kicking a half-blind man in the head is considered foul play, if you ask the cook. Zoro doesn’t bother asking, but Cook never really needs any prompting from him to start talking nonsense anyway. 

Either way Zoro can’t recall having argued, let alone fought with Twirlybrows today. He can’t actually remember what day today is. 

It’s eerily quiet around him and it takes him a minute to realize he’s lying down somewhere dark. He can’t remember the last time it’s been this quiet around him; it must’ve been before he joined Luffy’s one-man crew, before Merry and certainly long before their crew grew into the size it is now. He thinks back to nights spent sleeping outside, up against trees or under bridges if the weather was particularly unforgiving. While he likes his peace, he’s not used to the silence that accompanies journeying alone anymore. 

Not even at night is the Sunny as silent as it is right now. Because he must be on board of Sunny, there’s that familiar, faint scent of antiseptic and cleaning supplies in the air, as well as the mouthwatering smell of baked goods from the galley. That must mean the cook is preparing dinner. Or lunch? Zoro isn’t sure what time of day it is. It isn’t until he tries to open his eye to check that he realizes it’s already open. He’s used to the initial feeling of confusion he gets once in a while when he wakes up and forgets that half his vision is gone. It doesn’t happen often anymore, it’s been well over two years since his injury which is why he’s so confused; he’s never had issues with his good eye before. 

It’s like he’s waking up inside his own head and he tries to blink but finds that he can’t. Has he been injured again? Did he lose another eye? No, that’s not quite right. While it is entirely dark, it’s not the kind of blackness that comes from blindness. Zoro knows the difference. Is something keeping his eye open then? And if so, why is it so damn dark still? And why can’t he blink? 

When he finally realizes it’s because something is covering his face, he has another moment of confusion. Why the hell is his face covered? It sets off little alarm bells in his head, memories he doesn’t want to think about flashing through his mind. A tiny body, so little and fragile, but much stronger than his own at the time. And yet it had taken nothing but one moment for the life inside to be snuffed out. He doesn’t want to remember, doesn’t want to see her covered face. He sees it enough in his nightmares. 

Zoro tries to remove whatever’s on his face, but he can’t move his arms either. What the hell is happening? He would panic if it weren’t for the years upon years of training himself out of such a response. Panicking doesn’t solve anything. Sure, it makes him sound like an emotionless asshole sometimes but at least he keeps his cool in stressful situations.

Situations like this one. 

He tries to assess his condition. It doesn’t feel like anything’s broken unless Chopper’s pain meds have gotten much better since the last time he required them. Not that he ever does but the little reindeer doesn’t really take no for an answer anymore. Zoro’s proud of him for it – and a little annoyed that he can’t just glare his way out of a shot of morphine when he’s been stabbed. Or shot. Or crushed underneath half a mountain. Or slammed against metal walls, cracking a rib or two. 

“You’re a real asshole, you know that?” Cook’s voice sounds suddenly from beside him, jolting Zoro out of his trail of thought. Shouldn’t he be in the galley? Oh, right, Zoro doesn’t know what time it is. Well, it’s not like Cook isn’t in the kitchen twenty hours in a day so he shouldn’t be here at least. 

Where is here exactly? The antiseptic smell is stronger now that Zoro is more aware of his surroundings so he must be in the infirmary. So he was injured, okay. He must’ve been hit in the head because he can’t remember a damn thing. He wants to open his mouth to ask Cook what the hell’s happened but none of his muscles seem to want to obey his brain. 

“Why can’t you ever just think about yourself? For two seconds, that’s all I’m asking, you idiot,” Cook keeps muttering under his breath and Zoro’s skin crawls with the need to see him. He sounds off somehow and it doesn’t feel right not to be able to look at him. 

“I’m gonna remove it now,” Cook says, and Zoro doesn’t understand what he means until the darkness finally lifts from his eyes. If he had any say over his facial expressions he would’ve flinched at the bright light stabbing at his eye. 

“I don’t know why I keep telling you, but Chopper says you’re probably still in there somewhere. Would be rude not to tell you I’m about to blind you, right?” Cook says with a smile that looks so wrong, Zoro would feel better if he was outright glaring. There’s no joy on Cook’s face, it’s all dark circles and pale skin. 

Zoro wants to tell the cook that a warning doesn’t actually do shit if you don’t wait for the other person to confirm that they’ve heard it but seeing as he can’t even blink, there’s a fat chance he can make his mouth open enough to push an entire sentence out. Even if he could, he’s not sure he actually would do it with Cook’s face looking so hollow and tired. 

“Here we go, Mosshead,” Cook mutters under his breath and then an even sharper light shines into Zoro’s eyes. 

He wants to blink so bad, feels his eye start to water and every fiber of his being wants to turn his head away from the small light Sanji is moving back and forth in front of his face. He doesn’t know what the cook is looking for but he’s frowning and that can’t be a good sign. 

“At least you’re still breathing.” Cook’s voice is so small and broken that Zoro barely hears the words. He wants to ask what he means by that, why he sounds like he’s the one who’s hurt, but once again his body doesn’t listen. With a louder voice, Cook keeps talking. “Pupils are reactive, eye watering but no movement.” It sounds like he’s jotting down notes as he speaks to himself – or to Zoro but expecting no answer. 

He’s moved out of Zoro’s very limited range of sight at this point and the swordsman wants to tell him to come back, to move closer so he can look at him properly. The words are stuck in his throat if they even make it that far. Why the hell can’t he speak? 

Then there’s a light pressure on his wrist and Zoro is hit with the realization of just how soft the cook’s hands are. His fingers have scars just like Zoro’s own but they’re nowhere near as rough, they don’t carry years of handling a sword on them. And from what Zoro’s seen it’s very rare that the cook nicks himself on those fancy knives of his. No, his scars are from when he was younger, clumsier, while Zoro keeps adding new ones to his hands on a monthly basis. 

Then the pressure disappears and Zoro feels a whine claw at his throat at the loss. There’s no sound though, nothing but air passing through his lips. 

“No change in your pulse,” Cook tells him. “Steady as always.” 

It doesn’t feel even remotely steady as Zoro feels his skin burn where Cook has touched him. It must be his imagination because surely the cook would notice if his skin was actually heating up, what with his weird pseudo doctor behavior. Why is it Cook who’s looking after him anyway? Where’s Chopper? It would be a lot less awkward staring into the ceiling if he didn’t feel the need to follow the cook around with his frozen eye all the time. Then again, he’d probably want to talk to Chopper too if he was the one by his side. 

At the very least he wants to ask what the hell is going on; he really doesn’t care who answers him at this point. Even if he isn’t prone to panicking, there’s a heavy weight settling in his lower stomach as he starts to realize how serious the situation is. 

“Physically there’s nothing wrong with you,” Cook says, which should be good news, but he sounds like he’s delivering a death sentence. Zoro doesn’t like it. “So why the hell won’t you wake up, you algae brain?” The insult sounds broken, and it has none of the cook’s usual bite to it. It’s killing Zoro that he can’t just move his damn head to the side. 

There’s a quiet sniffle and Zoro’s heart slams against his chest with the pure need to sit up and reach for the cook, to comfort him. He’s never heard the blond cry before, not like this, and he wants to scream. He feels like he’s trapped in a prison but at least a cell has bars he can throw himself against and it doesn’t stop him from yelling either. He feels the immense need to do both right now, to make the cook stop looking like something important has been taken from him. Because even without a full view Zoro can tell by the slump of his shoulders that he’s devastated in a way he’s never seen him before. 

Zoro is well aware that he doesn’t know everything there is to know about the crew’s cook but he’d like to think he knows enough. He knows that Cook isn’t one to let others see him break down, not like this. Not over something as silly as Zoro being hurt. It happens on a weekly basis, one or more of them being injured somehow, and while the cook cares , oh, he cares so much, it’s almost too much, he doesn’t let his own sorrow take up any space. It infuriates Zoro sometimes but he’s not exactly one to tell Cook how to deal with his emotions. Zoro has his ways, as does the rest of the crew, and he will never dictate how others process their grief. He sure as well wouldn’t want anyone to tell him how to handle the losses he’s felt over the years. 

But that’s just it, isn’t it? This isn't a loss. Zoro is right here. He just can’t fucking move or speak. He would honestly rather have his chest cut open by Mihawk again, at least he could still speak then, although it wasn’t exactly easy or painless. 

Pain he can take. Pain he’s used to. Lying here on a cot in the infirmary, useless and pathetic? He doesn’t know how the hell to handle this. Not when the cook is still sniffling quietly beside him. 

“Chopper says it’s important to let your eyes rest,” Cook mutters as he finally moves fully into Zoro’s field of view. He still looks awful, even more so than before with red rimmed eyes still shining with unshed tears. “I don’t know why I thought keeping them open would magically fix you.” He huffs out a humorless laugh. “I guess I hoped you’d get so annoyed that you’d snap out of it.” 

Cook’s hands are oh so gentle as he carefully closes Zoro’s eye, leaving him in darkness once again. 

“Sweet dreams, Zoro.” 

The sound of the light being shut off and the door’s hinges creaking before it clicks shut is all Zoro hears before he’s enveloped in silence once again. He wants to call out to Cook. Make him come back, tell him not to leave, but he can’t. He can’t do anything. 

He takes a moment to just breathe. At least he can still do that on his own. He tries to remember how he got here, what has happened, but it’s like there’s a blank space in his mind. He can remember eating breakfast, fighting Luffy off of his plate like any other day, but he can’t actually remember if that was today. This morning. Cook had looked like shit but that didn’t really mean anything; he could just be back to those nightmares of his. He always looks shitty after waking up from those; not that Zoro can blame him for that, it makes sense. Somehow he doubts that’s the reason for Cook’s pale face though and he’s back to square one: what in the world happened to land him in the infirmary? 

Cook called him an asshole but he does that every day, multiple times even, so there are no clues there. The tone was obviously different from usual but Zoro can’t remember if he’s done something to earn him a scolding, let alone a scolding followed by the cook crying . He’s pretty sure he’s still got all his limbs even though he can’t move them currently. He can feel them though, can feel both his legs, both his arms. He tries to wiggle his toes for good measure but as he expects, nothing happens. 

It’s frustrating as hell. 

Zoro knows the others make fun of him for taking naps whenever he can but this is something else. This isn’t him taking every other night watch and thus catching up on sleep during the day. This is torture. He wants to move, needs to move, if only to call out for someone to come tell him what the fuck’s happening. 

Zoro wishes Chopper would come in and start talking. Hell, he’d even welcome Nami’s loud voice if he could just get some answers. He strains his ears but he can’t hear anything but the soft waves crashing up against the sides of the ship. It must be night then. Who’s on night watch? If Cook has volunteered again, Zoro is gonna be pissed. The moron doesn’t sleep much as it is, always up before anyone else and usually the last to go to bed too. He hopes Brook is the one nestled in the crows nest. Nami will throw a fit if she has to sit up there alone and whenever it’s Robin’s turn, Franky somehow ends up keeping her company. 

Usopp would be a good choice too, although he too dislikes sitting by himself all night. The only one who somewhat enjoys the quiet of the night is Zoro and he can’t do shit when he’s stuck to the bed like this. And then he’s back to being frustrated about not being able to move. Why does it feel like his thoughts are getting jumbled together? 

His body feels heavy in a way he’s not used to. Not just because he can’t move it, that’s a given, but it feels like it’s weighed down and it’s pulling his consciousness with it. 

Zoro doesn’t know when he falls asleep but he wakes up slowly when he’s being prodded at once again. This time it’s by a tiny hoove that he would recognize anywhere. There’s a stinging to his arm that he realizes is from an IV, something he absolutely abhors. Chopper knows this and he usually respects Zoro enough to let him eat, drink and sleep on his own, even when he’s injured. At least he does when Zoro is conscious, and when he’s not, he trusts Chopper to make him better in any way he can even if it means poking him with needles. He tells himself that’s why he doesn’t even try to move but he knows it’s because he’s already uncomfortably certain that he still won’t be able to even blink on his own. 

The realization makes something tight settle in his chest. He hates being useless; he hates being unable to move, to fight, to help. He’s been awake for less than a minute and he’s already pissed off. Not a great sign, even though he can’t actually take it out on anyone. He wishes the cook was by his side, provoking him as he usually does whenever their eyes meet. Instead he hears Chopper fluttering around, moving things, knocking things over. That’s not like him at all; he’s more careful with his medical supplies than he is even with his own body. 

Then a soft noise hits Zoro’s ears. It’s a noise he’s heard many times before from Chopper. It’s the same noise he heard from the cook before he fell asleep - yesterday? - but this is different. The quiet sniffles go on for much longer and they make Zoro’s chest tighten painfully. He hates when Chopper cries and he can’t even sit up and offer the small reindeer any sort of comfort. Instead he’s just lying there, completely useless, listening as Chopper weeps softly. 

Part of him wants to tell Chopper to cut it out. Crying won’t solve anything. But mostly he just wishes he could pull the young reindeer into his arms and tell him he’s alright. Because he is alright, if you ignore the whole ‘can’t move at all’ thing. His brain is still working so something must’ve happened to his body. As soon as they fix that, he’s good as new. Probably. 

Hopefully. 

“This won’t do,” Chopper finally says, seemingly pulling himself out of his moment of self-pity. Or just plain sorrow. “What would Zoro say?” 

There’s a beat of silence and then, “Well, you’re right here but I’m not even sure you can hear me. Better safe than sorry though. What would you say, Zoro?” 

Zoro, of course, cannot answer. 

“You’d probably say something like ‘Aren’t you our doctor? You can do anything you set your mind to. Now fix me, Chopper’.” His Zoro impression is mediocre at best, but it makes Zoro’s heart swell with pride. Sure, he may not have used those exact words but the message is what he tries to tell Chopper every day. That he’s brighter and stronger than he thinks and he really can do anything he sets his mind to. 

Zoro just hopes this applies to his situation as well. He’s pretty sure he’ll go insane if he has to lie here for the rest of his life. He may enjoy listening to his crew mates chatter and talk amongst themselves but he can’t expect them to stay by his side forever, doing nothing. They have hopes and dreams to stride towards. Zoro has goals he has to achieve. He can’t just spend an eternity lying uselessly on a cot, having the others tend to him. He’d much rather just die now if that’s his fate. 

He doesn’t want to be useless, he doesn’t want to be a fucking burden they have to carry with them. Because he knows they would. Luffy would never give up on him, Chopper would never stop searching for a way to make him better. None of the crew would leave him behind, even in his sorry state. 

But he doesn’t want that. He’s never wanted that. He made Luffy a promise and he intends to keep that promise, even if it kills him. There’s no time for him to lie here and just wait. 

But what the hell can he really do when he can’t communicate at all? 

Luckily he can always count on the crew to never leave him alone for long, even in a state like this. There’s commotion outside the infirmary, loud enough that Zoro can hear it over Chopper’s constant muttering. Then a loud bang and what sounds like a group of people falling on top of each other. Zoro is willing to bet his good eye that that’s exactly what has just happened. There’s the telltale clack of Robin’s thick heels on the floor - or maybe it’s Nami, although her steps are usually heavier, filled with more emotion than Robin’s carefully planned steps. The small tsk from further away lets Zoro know that Nami is still at the door; she makes the same sound every single time she doesn’t feel the need to tell the crew outright that they’re being idiots. It’s the same sound she makes when she finds Zoro particularly annoying. 

“Zoro!” Luffy’s loud voice overpowers any other noise in the room and Zoro prepares himself for the familiar weight of Luffy’s sandaled feet smacking down on his stomach. It never comes. Instead there’s a low whine and what sounds like the dragging of feet. 

“I told you to be careful or you wouldn’t be allowed in here,” Nami scolds. 

“Chopper, are you sure it’s okay for us to be in here? What if whatever’s wrong with Zoro is contagious?” Usopp’s trembling voice sounds close to the door. He’s probably too scared to actually set foot inside the infirmary. 

“I told you it’s fine,” Chopper says quickly, a hint of annoyance in his otherwise patient voice. He’s getting better at being stern. “He’s not contagious, and he’s still here, he just-” 

“He can’t move,” Nami says as a matter of factly. Trust the witch to be level headed about this entire thing. For once Zoro is grateful that Nami can keep the rest of them calm even when they’re about to freak out. 

Her words don’t bring peace to the room, quite the opposite. They all mutter on top of each other and Zoro can’t make out much of what anyone’s saying. All he can really tell is that no one knows how to fix it. He tries to make out the different voices, trying to figure out where everybody is in the room but it’s hard with all of them speaking at once. He tries to find the one voice he can recognize even from a mile away but either Cook isn’t here or he’s keeping quiet. 

“It sounds like Mahi Mahi No Mi,” Robin’s voice sounds quietly, somehow commanding the attention of the entire room. At least that’s what Zoro figures is happening, seeing as the room goes completely silent the moment she speaks. 

Of course, Robin will know what’s happened. Is there anything she doesn’t know? 

“What’s that?” Luffy asks curiously. His captain doesn’t sound worried at all but from their time together, Zoro knows Luffy is better at hiding his emotions that he lets on. At least when he means to hide them, which isn’t often. The captain of the Strawhats doesn’t believe in lying and deceiving, after all. 

“It essentially means it captures someone in their own mind,” Robin explains patiently. More patiently than anyone Zoro has ever known; does she ever get agitated? Well, he knows she does but not in normal circumstances. “Paralyzing its victim.” 

“So he’s still in there?” Franky asks with a hopeful tint to his voice. If he’s managed to worry the cyborg enough that he’s speaking in this low of a voice, he’s really fucked. 

“I’d imagine so,” Robin says. It’s not exactly comforting when even she sounds uncertain. She’s the one with the all-knowing brain, after all. 

“Good,” Luffy says and Zoro can hear the smile in his voice. That’s his captain, alright. Nothing can knock Luffy off course. “How do we wake him up?” 

There’s a prolonged silence. 

It makes Zoro want to scream. Nobody has any ideas? All-knowing Robin? Full-of-ideas Usopp? None of them? This cannot be harder than all the other shit they’ve been through over the years. And yet nobody says anything for so long Zoro worries they never will. 

“I’ll look into it,” Robin then finally says. “But it may be like the other Paramecia fruits of similar effect.” 

“Like the slow-slow fruit,” Nami suggests. 

Ugh, Zoro doesn’t want to think about that shitty fruit. And while he can’t remember what’s happened, he’s sure he would remember if he’d been hit with a glowing beam recently. He’s not dumb enough to stand still when shit like that comes rushing towards him. 

“It’s been way more than thirty seconds though,” Usopp says, a nervous tinge to his voice. Or maybe that’s just how he always sounds. Zoro can’t be sure because someone is fiddling with his hand and it’s distracting. It’s not Chopper, he can tell by his voice that he’s further away from the bed. Is Luffy playing with his fingers to keep focused? That wouldn’t surprise him. 

“Did anyone see when he was hit?” Chopper asks. 

“Just before the end of the battle,” comes a voice right next to Zoro. It’s the person who’s been touching his hand, although they’ve stopped now. He must’ve heard wrong but it sounded exactly like… “He pushed me out of the way,” Cook says quietly. 

If Zoro could open his eye, he would have stared unblinkingly to his right. Had the cook been the one playing with his fingers, brushing gently against his calloused skin with featherlight touches? That couldn’t be right. Sure, there’s been… something there, ever since the crew reunited, maybe even before that, but they’ve never talked about it. And they certainly haven’t been in a place where they hold hands. 

They probably still aren’t, judging by how quickly the cook lets go of his hand when it’s clear the others have turned their attention to him. 

There’s a chorus of voices telling the cook it’s not his fault. It isn’t, Zoro agrees. He can’t exactly remember but as soon as Cook says it, he knows it to be true. Of course, he’d push him out of the way of an attack if it’s clear that the cook isn’t equipped to handle it. Or if he’s simply caught by surprise. It happens to the best of them. He’ll do anything in his power - and beyond - if one of his Nakama is in danger. Even more so if it’s Cook. Because he’s… Because they’re… 

Zoro is jolted out of his jumbled thoughts by Chopper’s voice. 

“So it’s already been five days,” the reindeer mutters. “Can you try to figure out how long the effects last, Robin?” 

“Of course, little doctor.” 

Zoro knows they keep talking but he’s still stuck on what Chopper just said. Five days? He’s been lying here for five days?! What the hell happened to him? He can gather as much as them having been in a fight, that’s not unusual. And it doesn’t surprise him that he’s pushed Cook out of harm’s way, that makes sense too. But being rendered to a living corpse (no offense to Brook) for five freaking days? That is not like him at all. He knows he can’t control how a devil fruit user’s abilities affect him, but he should’ve shaken it off by now. Unless it’s permanent. 

Shit, he really hopes it’s not permanent. 

There’s more noise, more moving around. Zoro can feel the air getting lighter, no doubt meaning the crew is scurrying out of the infirmary. Why they even decided to talk here is beyond him. It’s not like he can voice any opinions or tell them how he’s doing. Still, he’s grateful they include him in the talk, useless as it may be. 

There’s rustling to his left and Zoro wants to move his head, temporarily forgetting that he can’t. Who’s still here? He hasn’t heard the door swing closed yet but he can’t feel anyone else near him. It doesn’t feel like Chopper and as soon as he realizes who’s beside him, another voice rings out through the room. 

“Luffy?” It’s Cook. He sounds hesitant somehow. Zoro curses his inability to move his neck. He wants to see him. Wants to check and see if he’s still as pale as last time he was here. 

“Mmh,” their captain says. It’s his usual happy voice but there’s a tinge there, something he’s not letting show. Cook knows him just as well as Zoro though, he can more than likely hear it just as clearly even if Luffy doesn’t outright say anything. “One sec.” 

“Take your time.” There’s the soft click of the door shutting and then silence. 

All Zoro can hear is Luffy’s breathing. It’s steady. It’s always steady when he’s outside a fight or not laughing his ass off. Zoro almost wishes he’d be laughing now; his chuckles always puts Zoro’s mind at ease, no matter the situation. He knows it’s no laughing matter, and so does Luffy. But the quiet surrounding him is freaking him out. Luffy wouldn’t stay back just to stand and stare at him. Cook, maybe, but not Luffy. 

“You’re making us worry,” his captain finally says, all laughter gone from his voice. He doesn’t sound angry, Luffy seldom does, but he doesn’t sound worried either. It’s the lack of emotion that hits Zoro hard. 

His words feel like a punch to the gut. 

You’re making us worry. That’s not his job. That’s the opposite of what Zoro is supposed to do, who he’s supposed to be. He’s Luffy’s first mate, he protects the crew. He doesn’t make them worry. Not like this. 

“So keep fighting and come back.” It’s an order, not a request. 

It’s exactly what Zoro needs to hear. Feeling sorry for himself, feeling useless and pathetic for lying here isn’t going to help any of them, least of all himself. He can always count on Luffy to tell him what he needs to hear, even if his captain sometimes says the oddest things at the weirdest times. 

There’s a too-hard pat on his chest, signaling Luffy leaving. He’s never been too good at being careful around people, he gum-gums first and worries later. It’s the same this time; if Zoro had been able to move, he would’ve barely been able to keep a groan back from the force with which Luffy slams his hand down on him. If Zoro’s right, it’s probably a test to see if he really won’t make a noise of complaint from Luffy’s rough handling, because even their captain knows not to hit an injured person. Well, usually he knows anyway. 

Zoro once again wishes he could move, even if only to tell Luffy to lay off his sore stomach. But seeing as his eye is still closed because Cook had to close it for him, he doesn’t really hold out any hope of scolding Luffy verbally. 

The entire crew visits him on different times of the day - as far as Zoro can tell, anyway. They might as well come by every other day for all he really knows, but he trusts himself to be able to tell how much time has passed. Well, at least to a certain degree. It helps that he knows the sounds of the ship; knows what to listen for. The scent from the kitchen is a dead giveaway too, although it isn’t hard to tell when it’s dinner time what with Cook bellowing out his usual call for both lunch and dinner. 

Zoro isn’t left alone for too long; the longest he’s by himself is during the night and even if he wanted to stay awake, he finds that he can’t. Sleep pulls at him around every other breath and while he can distract himself when one of the others are sitting by his side, talking to him, it’s nearly impossible at night when he’s alone. He reluctantly accepts that this is what he has to do to get better; rest. It’s what Chopper constantly mutters when he walks around the room, talking to him like he expects Zoro to wake up any moment now. 

“If you slept like a normal person, I’m sure you’d be awake by now,” the little reindeer scolds him, but it’s half hearted. Zoro knows he’s worried and doesn’t know what to do about it. As much as Zoro hates being useless, being a burden and weak, Chopper hates not being able to help. Especially in the area that is his expertise. 

It isn’t just Chopper who talks to him, Zoro is surprised to find. He’s basically predicted that Chopper will try to talk his ear off on the off-chance that it’ll wake him up from pure annoyance. But what he doesn’t see coming is the visits from the rest of the crew. The visits themselves aren’t surprising; they’re a tight knit crew, even for a bunch of pirates. It’s the talking that shocks him. 

When Nami comes by, she mocks him for being an idiot. That much isn’t new, but when her small hand presses down on his larger one, Zoro’s mind screeches to a halt. 

“Did you seriously lose your way back in your own head, you moron?” She asks him quietly. He knows he should be offended - he doesn’t get lost that easily - but the soft way she speaks makes her intentions clear; she’s just as worried as the rest of them. 

Because they are worried. All of them. 

When Franky and Robin visit, it’s mostly Franky talking, which is pretty usual with those two. Except when they’re alone, Zoro has noticed in the past few months. When it’s just the two of them, Robin talks much more and Franky looks happy just to sit and listen. He doesn’t expect it to be the same here, although he honestly hasn’t expected the entire crew to take time out of their day to sit by his side when he can’t even talk back to them. 

Zoro mostly tunes out whatever elaborate tale Franky is telling but it is nice having something other than his own thoughts to listen to. When they leave, there’s a featherlight touch to Zoro's forehead. The pressure is too small to be Franky but Zoro isn’t entirely convinced Robin would lay a hand on his head for no reason. 

The reason soon becomes clear though, as her soft voice follows the touch, “Get well soon, Zoro. You have people waiting for you.” 

The way she says it makes something stir in Zoro’s chest. He knows she can’t read minds, has even asked her once or twice over the years because she always seems to just know, and yet he has the distinct feeling she’s aware who pops into his head as she talks. 

It’s not just Robin who seems to know who’s on his mind. When Usopp spends the better half of one morning fiddling with something that sounds like clunky metal by his bedside, the sniper keeps mentioning Cook. 

“Sanji is making onigiri again,” Usopp says as if Zoro has asked what’s for dinner. “He makes it every day. The least you could do is wake up and eat it. You know how much he hates wasting food.” 

Zoro can’t help the sting of bitterness that hits him. If Cook is making his afternoon snack every single day, then who the hell is eating it? It’s probably Luffy. Which is better than it going to waste, of course, but it still feels wrong. Those are for him, Cook makes those for Zoro and Zoro alone. They’re not for the others, they’re for him. 

It’s a terribly childish thought and even Zoro can tell this isn’t just about those balls of rice. He doesn’t drink those fancy colorful drinks Cook makes for Robin and Nami, he doesn’t steal away any of the pounds of meat he keeps as emergency food for Luffy after a fight. He doesn’t poke his hand in the cookie jar Cook has specifically filled with Chopper’s overly sweet favorite treats. And nobody steals the onigiri Cook makes sure to have ready for him. It’s never been an issue; even Luffy knows better than to grab someone else’s special snack. It’s just wrong. 

Sanji makes those specifically for Zoro. He makes a show of it, balancing the single plate on his hand, scowling and throwing insults, judging Zoro for his terribly simple taste, berates him for not knowing how to properly utilize Sanji’s amazing culinary skills. But he also makes them with great care; doesn’t fill them with salty fish or too sweet jams. They’re just right. Perfectly made to Zoro’s taste. 

It’s not like he can control his current state, he’s not choosing to lie around uselessly, but he still feels like he’s betraying the cook somehow. Wasting his efforts, wasting precious food, that’s been prepared just for him. It makes him want to frown, to shove through the infirmary door and go to the galley to demand his usual afternoon snack. 

Usopp’s deep sigh and the soft clunk as if he’s dropped whatever he’s been working on snaps Zoro out his thoughts. “They’ll be there for you, so please wake up soon, buddy.” 

Zoro wants to agree but is as silent as ever. 

Brook plays Bink's Sake several times in a row, keeping the volume of his singing low as if he’s trying not to disturb Zoro’s sleep, but still doesn’t want to deprive him of the comfort of a good song. The skeleton tells him about the night watches - as he’s predicted and hoped, Brook is the one taking over most of them - and tells him corny jokes that Zoro wouldn’t have laughed at even if he was able to. 

Luffy comes to see him twice. Once with Nami in tow, where he spends a few minutes whining at Zoro, slapping a rubbery hand on his chest, telling him to wake up, because his captain is bored. And then one time late at night, hours after Cook has called them all for dinner. 

Zoro only knows it’s him from the slap of his sandals. He doesn’t speak for a long while which is very unlike his captain. He sits in the same chair that everyone else does, to Zoro’s left. He doesn’t take his hand although at this point Zoro’s pretty sure he’s held hands with everyone on the crew. It’s not a bad thing, just not something he’d ever expected to be able to say. 

“Sanji’s sad,” Luffy tells him then. 

Why? Zoro wants to ask. He’s aware that the crew is worried and that they’re sad he hasn’t woken up yet. They don’t know he’s been awake this entire time, of course, so he understands their constant pleading. What he wants to know is why Luffy points out Cook’s sadness over the others’. It wouldn’t surprise him if his captain has seen right through Zoro, that his best friend knows exactly what Zoro feels - and subsequently tries not to let show - for the Cook. 

“He doesn’t sing,” Luffy says. 

It shouldn’t mean anything, because Cook isn’t a singer, he’s their cook. Cooks don’t sing, they prepare food. But Luffy and Zoro both know that Cook hums and quietly sings songs from North Blue when he cooks. It’s only when he’s stressed that he doesn’t. Luffy’s words make Zoro’s chest ache in a way that has nothing to do with sore muscles after a good fight. 

“You should tell him you want a feast when you come back.”

Luffy doesn’t say you should tell him how you feel, but that’s what Zoro hears. Leave it to his captain, the possibly most inept person when it comes to love except Zoro himself, to give him advice on romance. 

There’s an almost awkward pat on the back of his hand, that tells him Luffy has been scolded for his rough handling, most probably by Nami again. Then his captain’s sandaled feet flop across the floor and Zoro is left alone with his thoughts once again. 

He’s not exactly surprised that Luffy knows; the man is smarter than he lets on. At least in certain areas. He may be an idiot, but he’s an idiot who cares for others and is willing to put his crew before himself. He’s an annoyingly perceptive idiot at times. He’s also an idiot who hides behind a big grin. Zoro has seen how he looks at the captain of the Heart Pirates when he thinks no one’s looking. It isn’t with those big puppy dog eyes he usually wears when he’s screaming Law’s name and throwing himself at him; it’s a softer, quieter look. A look that he doesn’t show off, unlike with anything else he does. It’s a private thing, and that’s reason enough that Zoro hasn’t commented on it. Which is probably why Luffy in turn hasn’t commented on his… whatever expression he’s been showing when he looks at Cook. 

It’s different this time though. It’s not just about hiding his feelings - it’s about how it’s affecting Cook, which is the only reason why Luffy would interfere like this. Truth be told none of them know if Zoro will ever get better so there’s really no reason for Luffy to ask him to work hard; he doesn’t have much say in what’s happening. But it’s an incentive. 

Get better so the rest of the crew doesn’t have to suffer, is essentially what Luffy says. At least that’s what Zoro choses to believe. It’s not just about him and Cook, it’s about the entire crew. Which makes Zoro feel like complete and utter shit, but it also keeps the more despairing thoughts at bay. He needs to get better for his Nakama. All of them. 

He feels a renewed sort of calm settle in his gut. They’re all trying their best to find a way to wake him up; he has to work just as hard. He appreciates their visits and how they keep talking to him despite not knowing he can hear them. The entire crew visits one by one, sometimes in pairs or groups and they sit with him whenever they have the time. He’s not sure how many days go by even though he does try to keep count. 

Zoro quickly finds that even though the entire crew take turns keeping him company, most of all it’s Cook who’s there. Even more so than Chopper, because for some reason Sanji is by Zoro’s side several times a day. Sometimes he doesn’t even speak, just sits down and sighs deeply. Zoro can make out his steps before the door even opens. He rationalizes that it’s the same as with Luffy; except sandals are much more distinguished than dress shoes. But it’s not like he has to hide any of his feelings while he’s stuck, unmoving on a bed, so he lets himself admit that maybe it’s because he can pick Cook out of any crowd, even blindfolded. There doesn’t have to be noise or smells, he just knows. It’s most likely his Haki helping him out but Zoro would like to think he could find Cook even without it. 

Cook’s there every evening, as if it’s his duty to tug Zoro in. As if this is his night watch. Zoro doesn’t mind in the least. It doesn’t seem like he’s being forced to do it either; quite the opposite actually. He’s acting like it’s his duty to do a lot of things. Things Zoro has never given a single thought. Like shaving, for example. It’s not something Zoro has considered, seeing as he’s been a little preoccupied with the entire can’t move by himself thing. It shouldn’t be a priority but apparently to Cook, it is. 

“I can do it, Sanji, you don’t have to-” Nami’s voice carries through the door easily. Zoro will have to remind her how loud she talks when he’s back to normal. He’s sure it’ll make her frown, maybe even try to knock him on the head with that weird staff of hers. He’s also sure it’ll make her smile to know he’s been paying attention, even in his unmovable state. 

“Oh no, how could I ever make you wet your beautiful hands for this brute?” Cook tells her with that soft tone of his he only uses around women. “I’ll do it, don’t worry, my dear.” 

“Alright, if you’re sure,” Nami says. Zoro can imagine her squinting her eyes at Cook as she continues: “No funny business, okay? We need him back in one piece.” 

Zoro wants to scuff. Sure, he’s got feelings for the guy, but there’s no way Cook would ever win against him in a real fight. He also knows for a fact that the blond wouldn’t dare lay a hand on him when he’s unconscious. He’s too noble a man for that, for better and for worse. 

“Of course, Nami,” Cook agrees too easily. 

Zoro wonders briefly what the hell they’re talking about. He soon finds out because Cook is a talker when he thinks he’s alone. Chopper may have told them all that Zoro can still hear them but some take that more seriously than others. While Cook does technically talk to him, it’s mostly just muttering to himself. 

There’s a damp towel on Zoro’s face, dabbing and wetting his neck and chin, going over his cheeks and mouth. The movements are so careful Zoro can barely believe it’s Cook doing it. Sure, he’s skilled with his hands, even an idiot can see that, but he’s not usually so gentle when it comes to Zoro. He doesn’t need to be. 

“Imagine if I just let you grow unrestrained,” Cook says in that same voice he uses when he’s trying to provoke Zoro into a fight. “Your face will turn into a literal ball of moss. Who would want to look at that? You’d scare all the ladies away.” 

Zoro has never wanted to roll his eyes more than he does right now. It’s infuriating not being able to snap back at the cook like he usually would. 

“Can’t have you being all fuzzy when you wake up,” Cook mutters, his voice much softer this time. 

Zoro can’t help but wonder what difference it will make, if he’s unshaven or not but it’s not like he can tell Cook that he doesn’t really care. And he probably wouldn’t even if he could talk. Because those soft hands are on his face, so tender and careful as they rub shaving cream on his cheeks, his chin and his neck. 

He’s never had anyone shave him before. He doesn’t quite know how to feel about having someone take a blade to his neck, but if he’s honest with himself, he doesn’t really mind when it’s Cook. He’d never truly hurt him, not with any type of blade anyway. 

He does wish he could see Cook while he’s working though. Even if it’s as tedious a chore as shaving Zoro, there’s nothing that calms the swordsman more than watching the cook work. Whether it’s sorting out drinks, cutting up vegetables with those surprisingly capable hands of his, or even just watching him set out dishes on the table for dinner. There’s an elegance to the way he moves, something akin to a dancer, Zoro imagines. He’s sure Cook is a talented dancer. Or maybe he has two left feet. That would be glorious to witness. Especially after having been beaten half-blind by Mihawk after the Warlord found out how utterly hopeless Zoro was at even the most basic etiquette. Okay, so the beating was mostly because Zoro had gotten in his fancy stash of expensive wine, but still. 

Zoro silently vows to find out if Cook is as elegant on a dancefloor as he is in the galley. 

“Will you just wake up already?” Cook’s voice jostles him out of his thoughts. That’s been happening a lot; Zoro’s always prided himself as someone who’s well-prepared and can predict how his crew reacts. Hell, he can probably predict most of their responses to whatever he says on any given day. But without being able to see them and with his mind such a mess, he finds himself almost startled whenever anyone speaks after a prolonged silence. He should do something about that. Later though, because something’s clearly up with Cook… 

Zoro isn’t quite sure if the question was actually meant for his ears with how softly it’s spoken. There’s something almost like longing in Cook’s words and it makes Zoro try even harder to fight against that invisible force holding him down. Nothing moves by his will, obviously, seeing as he can’t even make himself breathe faster so that Cook knows he’s still here. He’s listening, he’s here. 

Cook’s voice is steadier, a little louder and more confident as he keeps talking, completely unaware of the turmoil inside Zoro’s mind. 

“I’m drowning in booze, I can barely get to anything in the pantry because of all those bottles,” Cook says as he tilts Zoro’s head to the side. The razor blade is pressed softly against his skin with a firm grip. Sanji’s hands are precise and careful as he moves the blade across Zoro’s skin. He moves as if he’s done this a thousand times before. Does he do this every time Zoro is knocked out for longer periods of time? That thought has something warm settle in Zoro’s chest. “I’m gonna throw it all out, even that sake you’ve been eyeing.” 

You wouldn’t dare, Zoro thinks. 

“If you don’t wake up and tell me to stop, I’ll pour it down the sink.” It’s the weakest threat Zoro has ever heard and he knows for a fact that Cook would never waste food - or booze - like that. Still, it says something about Cook’s mindset that he’ll even come up with such a bullshit threat. He really must mean business. 

But once again, it’s not like Zoro is choosing to stay unmoving. He’s fighting tooth and nail to try to get even the most miniscule muscle to move. At the very least he’d like to be able to open his eye so he can actually look at Cook. Maybe he’d be able to blink as communication; he’s willing to do anything at this point to let him know he’s awake and can hear everything he’s saying. 

The creaking of the infirmary door lets Zoro know Chopper arrives before the sound of his hooves across the floor reach his ears. He’s been so preoccupied with Cook’s unsteady breathing that he hasn’t even noticed him approaching. 

“You know you don’t have to monitor him every night,” Chopper says quietly.  

“I know,” is all Cook says in response. 

There’s a silence there that Zoro doesn’t understand. It’s like there’s a conversation in the air but he can’t hear it. All he can hear is Chopper’s breathing mixing in with Crook’s. The ship creaks where she floats in the sea but it’s still quieter than usual. The air in the infirmary is thick with the unspoken words and Zoro longs to open his eye or even just his mouth to ask what they’re discussing over his still body. Because it’s clear there’s some form of communication happening and he hates not being able to see it. 

“I’ll leave him to you,” Chopper finally says. It sounds like he’s putting something down - a tray maybe? There’s a subtle scent of bread in the air - and then his soft steps go back to the door. 

“Thanks,” Cook says softly and then they’re left alone once again. 

It becomes routine. Zoro knows it can’t have been more than a week but it feels both like an eternity and like no time has passed at all. Cook shaves him, washes him with a soft cloth and talks to him every evening. Zoro briefly wonders when the hell he sleeps - or cooks for that matter. It’s not like Cook to stay out of the galley for prolonged periods of time but it seems he deems Zoro’s predicament more important than cooking. 

Which really should clue Zoro in on how Cook feels about him. 

It takes him a few more days before it hits him properly and by then he’s already decided to get his shit together. If he ever gets better, if he’s ever able to move on his own again, he will grab Cook and he will have the conversation he’s been trying to avoid. 

Zoro isn’t someone who fights only when he knows he’ll win. Sure, he’s confident he’ll get through any obstacle in his way towards his dream - towards the crew’s dreams - but he’s not delusional. He knows when he’s in trouble, he knows when he’s more than likely to fail. He just doesn’t care. Because nobody can predict the future. Who says he won’t win, simply because the odds are against him? The only thing he knows is that he won’t win shit if he doesn’t fight. 

He fought Mihawk and hasn’t regretted it a day in his life since. He chose to follow Luffy in his dingy little rowboat despite having every reason to doubt the young captain’s plans. He fights and he keeps going because standing still, doing nothing is not an option for him. 

But Zoro knows when to back down too. He knows when to ask for help, even though he doesn’t enjoy doing so. He’s not too proud to take an outstretched hand - whether it be rubber or hoove - when he needs it. He trusts his crew to have his back. Just as they trust him to have theirs. 

That being said, Zoro is man enough to admit that he hasn’t done anything about these feelings of his because he isn’t sure how Cook feels. He doesn’t want to disrupt the crew’s dynamic and he doesn’t want to make Cook uncomfortable. 

Cook’s a ladies man; has never hidden that from day one. And yet Zoro sometimes catches him glancing his way when he thinks no one’s looking. He’s always thought he was projecting. Imagining things, even. But considering the soft words Cook has spoken when they’ve been alone, when he’s been thinking Zoro can’t hear him… Well, maybe it’s about time Zoro takes that first step. If he ever gets the chance to do so, anyway. 

He’s certain it’s about time when Cook sits down that evening and reaches for his hand. If Zoro had been able to move, he would’ve flinched at the surprisingly gentle gesture. He knows Sanji is gentle, has witnessed it too many times not to notice but it still surprises him when that gentleness is directed at him. 

“Can you please just come back?” Cook’s voice breaks as he pleads, and that in turn breaks Zoro’s heart. “The crew needs you, they miss you. I miss you, you big idiot.” 

A searing pain rushes through Zoro’s chest. It’s the most honest, the most raw he’s ever heard Cook sound and he wants nothing more than to sit his ass up and pull the blond into his arms. Nothing should ever make Cook so sad, least of all Zoro himself. 

He swears on everything he holds dear that he will get out of this shitty situation and when he does, he’ll pull Cook into his arms and he’ll be damned if he’ll ever let go. 

It’s like his renewed determination cracks something in the paralysation. Or maybe it’s just about time the fruit’s power wore off, but either way Zoro finds that he’s able to move. Not a lot, but enough that he knows it’s not just his imagination. The first thing he notices is that his eyelid flutters when he focuses hard enough. He still can’t wiggle his toes. He can’t explain why or how or even what’s happening, but he knows he feels his own eyelashes twitch when he tries to open his eye. It’s not much but it’s something. And something is better than nothing. 

He doesn’t want to freak the crew out so he lays still when they’re there; what’s the point in getting their hopes up when all he can do is move his eye one fourth of an inch? At night, after Cook leaves the infirmary with his usual mutter of sweet dreams and Zoro’s name so tenderly on his lips, the swordsman does what he does best. He trains, he practices and he refuses to give up. 

It starts with his eyelid; he still can’t open it completely, but there’s a crack there, a tiny sliver of light that makes him shut his eye almost immediately. But he tries again, prepared for the blinding light of a brightly lit room - don’t they ever shut the lights off? He realizes that the room is indeed not as bright as he thinks, he’s just not used to any light slipping in at all. He tries and tries again until he can open and shut his eyes without any issues. Then he feels his big toes twitch as he tries to wiggle his toes. 

It takes him more than a day before he has somewhat control of at least part of his body. He still can’t properly open his mouth, which is why he keeps quiet when Nami pokes her head in that morning. He doesn’t want her to start screaming her head off and he’s honestly exhausted from trying to move more than one finger at a time the entire night. 

He reasons with himself that he’ll let them all know as soon as he’s able to lift his own head. He’ll let Chopper know he’s awake as soon as the little reindeer gets here after breakfast. But instead the exhaustion luls Zoro into a deep sleep and it isn’t until Cook’s nightly visit that he wakes up. 

And something’s different now. 

No, not different. Something is back to normal. 

He can’t explain how he knows, he just does. He doesn’t even have to try to move his toes to know they’ll do exactly what he tells them to. He blinks up at the ceiling slowly, almost expecting Cook to curse at him for not waking up sooner until he realizes that Cook isn’t in the chair next to him. 

He lies completely still, watching Cook through his half-closed eye as he walks around the infirmary like it’s his own kitchen. Comfortable and used to any and all cracks in the floor - too used to it. Zoro doesn’t like that he’s become so accustomed to the space, when it’s not somewhere he’s supposed to be. Cook is supposed to be in the galley. He’s supposed to be dancing around, humming along to songs nobody else recognizes. He’s supposed to be cooking, not spending every day in the infirmary, taking care of Zoro. 

He’s not supposed to take care of Zoro at all, not like this. They’re supposed to be bickering and sparring. Zoro yearns to feel the heat of Cook’s flaming leg graze against his chest, his cheek, his back. He wants to hold his swords again, wants to feel the wind on his face. He wants to grin at Cook and have the stupidly beautiful man smile back at him, daring him to come closer. It’s that yearning that finally has him try and push words out through his mouth. 

“You’re gonna wear my face out if you keep staring like that.” Zoro’s pleasantly surprised by how steady his voice is, albeit a tad hoarse from not being used for nearly two weeks. At least he gathers it’s been about that long. Cook’s been glancing over his shoulder every other minute and yet he hasn’t noticed that Zoro’s been staring back. It warrants a teasing comment, if you ask Zoro. 

Something shatters on the floor. A glass, Zoro notices, as he looks to the floor right beside Cook. Maybe he should’ve waited until he’d put the cup back down on the tray. Has he been drinking his afternoon tea in here every day? Funny how Zoro never noticed that, he usually enjoys the subtle scent of Sanji’s tea. 

Four long strides, almost so fast you could call it running, has Cook standing right next to him. His right hand twitches like he wants to reach out but doesn’t. 

“Zoro,” Cook breathes out. There’s a stunned look on his face, his mouth popped open and his eyes large. How the hell has he not noticed that Zoro’s been staring at him all this time when he can’t take his eyes off him? Well, not that that really matters because he notices now. 

“Cook,” Zoro greets in turn. 

Cook recovers fast, putting on his usual face of annoyance. It’s just a second too late; Zoro has already seen the overwhelming relief that runs over his features and the way his shoulder sagged as if a weight has been lifted off them. 

“Welcome back, Mosshead,” he says, clearly trying to sound indifferent. But Zoro knows better. He’s been listening very closely to every single word Cook has said the past many nights and he’s not going to fall for any of that put-upon attitude. Besides, the way his voice wobbles gives him away immediately. 

Zoro grins. And then he does what he’s been longing to do since he woke up on this shitty bed, unable to move. Maybe even before that. No, scratch that, definitively before that. He’s been wanting to do this since he woke up on Thriller Bark. He reaches for Cook’s waist, yanking him close and not moving his hand away even when Sanji lets out a surprised yelp. 

“I’m back,” Zoro says confidently. “Missed me?” 

“As if,” Cook says with a huff. He sounds mildly confused but Zoro can’t really blame him. They’re not at a hand-holding relationship, let alone one where Zoro holds him close like this. It just turns out that Zoro very much wants them to be in that kind of relationship. And if he’s not too far off, Cook does too. 

“Wanna hear a secret?” Zoro asks then. 

“What secret could that airhead of yours possibly have?” Cook is quick to fire back. But there’s apprehension in his eyes. He’s hesitating. It’s very unlike him. Then again, Zoro’s witnessed a lot of things the past several days that aren't very like him. 

“Come closer and I’ll tell you,” Zoro tells him with a smirk. There’s no way he’ll be able to resist such a blatant invitation; Cook is a curious man by nature, after all.  

Cook narrows his eyes at him but he does lean down so Zoro can press his lips almost flush against his ear. 

“I heard every single word you said,” he says softly. 

Cook lurches in his grip, but Zoro doesn’t let go. The pale face is suddenly flushed bright red and Zoro grins menacingly. He figures he should prove his words so Cook doesn’t accuse him of lying. 

“You didn’t pour my booze out yet, did you?” He asks with a bright grin. 

“You-” 

Zoro yanks him even closer, cutting off the rest of his sentence. “Every. Single. Word,” he whispers. 

When he pulls back, Cook is looking at him with stunned eyes and a dumbfounded look on his face. His very red face. Zoro’s willing to bet if he pushes just a little more, Cook’s face will catch fire the same way his leg does when he’s preparing for an attack. Only this attack comes from Zoro, not Sanji. 

“I missed you too,” Zoro says.