Chapter Text
“We had each other...”
...
Donquixote Rocinante owed his life to Fleet Admiral Sengoku.
Corazon, Rocinante, whoever or whatever he was, he owed his life to the Fleet Admiral.
If the Marine hadn’t taken him in after his family had been tortured, lifted and hung like targets, shot at and screamed at with a house burning behind them. After his ten year old older brother shot and killed their father, only to cut off his head with a rusty knife (saw it off, it hadn't been an easy job for the youth, the sounds; squish and squelch and squash still left him near retching), right in front of Rocinante, telling him to shut up and that this was for the best. He had then grabbed their Father's head by the hair, stained red and gloppy, and dragged the thing all the way to Marie Geoise in the hopes of returning above the Clouds. If Sengoku hadn’t taken him in... Rocinante would have been left to the hungry maws of the world. He probably wouldn’t have made it past eight.
He owed his adoptive father, his adoptive mother and siblings, he owed them everything. A debt that could never be repaid, a service that no sacrifice could ever return in kind. He had been alone, full of fear and issues. He had been an eight year old child with broken wings and a shattered soul, yet Sengoku and his wife and their two children had taken him in. Had called him their son and younger brother and been his family. Nothing could repay what they had done for him, nothing.
But…
But this child was more important than his life. Then the debt he owed his family. Trafalgar D. Water Law was more important. This boy had become, in the span of six months (or really, the three years they had known each other) someone Rocinante would - was going to - throw away his entire life for.
Corazon disliked children on principle. That wasn’t some grand act he had put on while living under his brother and the Donquixote ‘family,' He disliked how innocent and impressionable children could be, small little sponges ready and willing to soak up all the words and treatment put upon them. Little fluttering souls that would be beaten down or built up, destroyed or made, bad or evil or good or great. They were so… not like him. He was … well… he was him and Corazon had always felt that the mess he was would stain their little minds, corrupt their souls. He disliked how dependent they were on their caregivers, how much they needed to learn and see. He hated how he looked at them and knew someone out there would treat them like he had been treated. How he had been hunted after his parents had naively believed life outside Marie Geoise would be 'easy.'
He disliked children, loved to avoid them, if he saw a child he was known to cringe and turn away. Avoid their eyes, not touch them, flinch if they reached for him. His adoptive sister and brother already had children and Corazon - before he had gone ‘rogue’ - loved them, god he loved them, but hugging them or holding them was difficult for him. His own mental fucking irregularities and irrationalities forcing him to be physically distant with his own siblings kids.
Corazon disliked children. Immensely.
But abuse? Of any form toward them? He hated that more than anything.
Corazon disliked children since they were sponges that could be molded by life, a sponge he was afraid he would somehow corrupt or ruin. Abuse? Abuse was the most vile thing one could do to another, and to children no less? Death sentence, eternal torture. Corazon hated abusers and fucking loathed child abusers.
But going undercover in his brother's operation required sacrifices. So many fucking sacrifices Corazon lost his father (second father), was barely able to contact the man, lost his family, all of them probably believing him a traitor. He lost his sense of safety, the feeling of falling asleep and knowing that he wouldn't be attacked as he slept, that nightmares wouldn’t plague him, that someone he could trust would be there in the morning. He lost his Marine buddies and allies, friends and family friends. He had left behind safety, comfort, love, and friendships to join his brother's walking, talking, band of villains. He had sacrificed his entire life and reputation and soul for this undercover mission.
He sacrificed his voice, his freedom, his personality. Twisting and forming into this new person, some Doflamingo lackey, asshole fucking child hating, silent abuser.
Rocinante- Corazon, whoever he was, whatever he was, he was a bit of an asshole, but not in the typical assholish fashion. No, no. He was a kind, sweetheart of an asshole, only an ass when sarcastic, or truthful, or fucking around with friends. Other than those instances, he was someone everyone enjoyed, a good listener and a general oddball of a guy. He tripped all the time and set himself on fire by accident, he slipped on nothing and knocked over cups and vases like a disease. He was an ass, but a well liked ass.
With his brother he was … he was just an asshole. He fell into himself, hiding Rocinante until Corazon practically forgot his own name. He learned not to flinch when hitting children, or throwing them out the window, or hitting them, or tripping them, or glaring at them, or blowing smoke in their faces.
He had made the mistake, the stupid useless mistake of commenting about hating children once- only once. The words written and read before Corazon could second guess the decision. A stupid decision. Of course his brother had then given that cold, dead, sadistic smile in response and said, “How much, dear brother?”
Staring at that smile, at that face, Corazon knew, his gut clenching and rolling, that his brother wasn’t actually asking a question, oh no, that was his brother feeling out Corazon’s loyalty, his cruelty, his ability to be a sadistic asshole like him. Naturally, when the predator becomes the prey, the recently made prey had to do all it could to escape the newfound predator's grasp. For Corazon, that had been answering with some crude, hateful words, flippant in nature, almost offended his brother had to ask, and the next time the one with the bucked teeth came close to him, Corazon died inside as he backhanded the kid across the face. He did not flinch. He did not second guess. He just did what he had to, no matter how much it hurt.
No matter how much the action made him want to vomit, to throw up, to curl into a ball and cry. (No matter how much he had cried, hurling into the pristine toilet in his bathroom. Unheard and unseen as he hated himself enough to curl onto the tile and shudder as the cold seeped into his bones.)
After he had hit Buffalo, he had given it a few minutes of ‘agitated’ huffing before he promptly collapsed to the side, ass on a chair in the mansion they had just razed, and pulled out a smoke. The almost muscle movement hiding the shaking of his fingers, the burning of his eyes, the fact that if he didn’t do something with his mouth and fingers he might have just screamed. He had never smoked before his time with Doflamingo, the habit an effect of the stress and his lack of voice (to hide the smell of his own vomit he retched up almost everyday).
Corazon could not speak, he could not make noise. Smoking kept his mouth and fingers busy, it helped train him to quickly learn not to make a sound, even when in incredible pain.
The smoking helped him stay silent.
The alcohol? Well, the numbed the pain.
The alcohol helped him lose himself, cover himself in Corazon and not remember Ross - what his adoptive family had taken to calling him - or Rocinante. He drank three or four bottles a day, sometimes more, and he honestly couldn’t have cared.
Corazon was not happy, not okay, not fine. Sengoku knew that, he knew Sengoku knew, but his Father was the Fleet Admiral and Corazon was one of his Commanders. Doflamingo was gaining startling power and both Sengoku and him were desperately concerned about his brother's cruelty, abilities, and origins getting too powerful. What Doffy could do - would do - with the power and strength he was gaining.
Corazon had fallen, as time went on, deeper and deeper into the hole that was the Donquixote family, losing himself piece by piece. Until Ross and Rocinante merged with Corazon and became one, until Corazon was buried and ‘Corazon’ remained. He remade himself three times until he had found the ‘Corazon’ for him. He had lost himself, piece by piece, until he didn’t know himself anymore. He had walked in a clouded haze, doing everything his brother wanted, as if some ... some doll.
Then, one day, seemingly out of nowhere, this startling new truth about himself appeared in his head, one he had been unaware of. A thought that had showed just how deep he had fallen.
Doflamingo had given him a side hug, something of seeming affection filled warmth after almost two years of nothing and Corazon… Corazon had felt warm. His older brother, proud of him. Smiling at him in pride. Trusting him with higher grade missions and tasks, coddling him like family. His brother petting his head made him feel loved; Doffy giving him that cold smile made him happy; Doffy chiding him for his clumsiness and yet always helping him up made him almost smile; sitting beside his brother, being in his company left him content. He had become Corazon, had made Corazon a real person, had melded Rocinante and Corazon until the lines no longer blurred and both were simply one. Then he had remade that Corazon, who was him in his everything, into ‘Corazon’. The one that had no issue being a cruel asshole, the one that begged for his brother's approval and love, the one that was a Donquixote Executive and was proud to be one.
He no longer missed the Marines, he no longer resented how his friends hated him, unaware of the truth. He no longer hated how his brother was cruel, disturbed, a monster. He no longer hurt when hurting the kids or felt guilt for the abuse. He no longer stifled his cries at night as he thought of the sins and crimes he committed to uphold his cover - for he no longer had them. He had become apathetic. He was numb. He was simply drifting in a dusty sea of nothing, waiting for his brothers hand to pet his head or smile at him so he could feel something again.
He had assimilated and gone turncoat. As sad as it was, he had broken.
(Doffy had broken him.)
And the miserable part of it all? The miserable part of it all wasn't just that he had become apathetic, but that he had fallen so deep down this apathetic little hole he hadn’t felt any remorse about being one with the crew. He was sinking into the blood soaked mud of the Dolfamingo Pirates and Corazon couldn’t have given one flying fuck.
He had even lost the contemplation of killing himself - in his most desperate of times - to escape his mission. He simply forgot about deserting, forgot about keeping contact with his adopted father, and stopped doing his job. He floated in this apathetic numbness that turned him into this thing his brother could use easier than one could breathe. That lived off his brother's pride and smile.
He did not speak. Corazon forgot what it felt like to form words with his mouth. For his vocal cords to speak, to make noise. He had become ‘Corazon,' The Heart Seat. Not Corazon, the undercover Marine and man behind the whitecoat all in one.
Donquixote Rocinante was gone, buried, dead, and all that existed was ‘Corazon,' but not Corazon either. Corazon was Rocinante just by a different name. ‘Corazon’ was not Corazon for ‘Corazon’ was this fucked up apathetic abusive despot. If that made any sense at all.
He had… he had lost himself.
And then this fucking kid showed up.
No older than ten, covered in white patches. Amber Lead disease. The last survivor of Flevence.
Brutal and sad and lonely and fucked up. He was Corazon, they were the same, lost to this sea of apathetic nothing or unending rage. But somewhere in those eyes, something about them, held this little spark of resistance. As if somewhere the boy's soul kept fighting to come back, unlike Corazon’s, which rolled over whenever the demons came knocking.
It was almost like an electric shock, after being trampled on by elephants, that had been tripled in size. That little spark in Law's eyes.
That little spark was like a jolt that restarted his fucking soul. As cheesy as it sounded this kid saved him. Saved him from a life as his brothers life-sized doll.
This kid - Law, Trafalgar Law - stabbed him and where that probably should have made him angry beyond belief, all it did was jumpstart a part of him he had long forgotten. Corazon was stabbed and yet he couldn’t feel any pain over the pure suffering, hurt, and wrath held within Law's. He was stabbed and yet all he saw in a child's eyes was a desperation for someone to give a fuck, for someone to care, a soul fighting against the demons hoping to smother it.
Where the jolt had been a restart, those eyes had been an awakening. It had made Corazon swim to the surface of that apathetic ocean and pull himself, sludge covered and brutal, from the mess and back out into a fighting chance of redemption.
Suddenly, Corazon found himself whispering to himself in the mirror as he applied his make up, learning to use vocal cords soaked in dust and wretched with misuse. Suddenly, he found himself looking in the mirror and reacquainting himself with what he saw, finding himself, mouthing words and learning to speak again. Dusting out long tied down wings in a hope of one day trying to use them.
Suddenly, he was once more contacting his father regularly, actually giving information, spending time really doing his job. Doing what he had come here to do. Suddenly, all because of this dumbass child, he had gotten himself back.
And then he found out, discovered, learned.
A ‘D.'
At first, Corazon only put effort into truly befriending the kid (what he thought was befriending at least, since he had been so out of touch with basic human kindness, affection - anything really - it unfortunately didn’t come across that way), purely out of the need to get the D far away from Doflamingo. To give that restart the boy had given him, his own second chance. Then the child had grown on him, like fucking roots in the ground. The white hat, the patched skin, the scowl, all of it grew on him like an unstoppable mold.
Twisting and turning the mold and roots dug deep into Corazon's very self, until he couldn’t help but almost parent the kid, trailing him like an overbearing mother.
Corazon had been compromised by the numbness and the apathy. He had merged with the crew. He had become a pirate, through and through. He had once believed himself the most ‘marine’ out of the Marines, then he had believed nothing at all. Then Law came along and not only fucked up what he had come to know and threw him back into himself, but the kid had also made him realize a fundamental part of himself he had neglected for fear of seeming like him - for fear of seeming like his brother.
Corazon was a man wishing for freedom and justice, a man hoping to sail free, a man who had clung to the one thing he thought could give it to him.
The Marines. He had thought - believed so very much - that they could give him the freedom and weightless life he had hoped and longed for (the life his parents had wanted-).
Instead, they had sequestered him to his brother. To Doffy.
He could never forgive, nor would he forget.
Which was probably why leaving Doflamingo and his crew behind was so easy, leaving with Law in tow, to search for a cure to the incurable illness that was going to kill him just after he turned thirteen. In search of the Ope Ope no Mi. Which was probably why abandoning his Marine duty, for real this time, and the mission given to him, was so easy. To save his child, who made him feel. Who made him realise the black wings he kept curled on his back, full of dust and cobwebs, had not been clipped, nor broken.
He left his brother. Left the crew. Abandoned the Marines. He spread the wings he had kept shuttered for so long, fluffing them and preening them before he grabbed this little white and golden winged child and took to the skies, flying in search of a cure, the Ope Ope no Mi.
Eventually, Law found out he was a Marine, though neither one of them acknowledged the fact. A silent understanding between them. Shit went down hill. The kid ate the Ope Ope no mi and Corazon had the ability to make a choice. Staring down at Law choking on the Devil Fruit, he had to make a choice. Stay on the island, have Law send a message, confront his brother, save Dressrosa, and maybe get out of there alive ... or take the kid and run, probably damning Dressrosa to Doffy, but saving Law. In another life, he probably would have stayed and fought, put the people ahead of himself, in another life ... he would have stayed, would have fought, would have either won or lost. In another life ... he probably would have died.
This life… this life Corazon did not stay. This life he was selfish. Giving a silent call to his father, the man he owed his life to, Corazon tapped into Haki he didn’t use often and grabbed the kid-
His kid.
- to his chest and gathered him into his coat.
Then he took a running start and jumped, using leg strength Corazon hadn’t truly utilised in years, combined with straight Armament Haki to bolster the stability of his weak muscle, combined with a modified version of shoes he had found in some dump a while back with small wings on them to fly. He just... he just grabbed Law and ran. Just fucking left the shit he had steeped in for years behind him.
Law hadn’t questioned him, listening to Corazon explain what he was going to do, letting him wrap him in blankets and then his coat and go. Just straight up flying away. Letting Corazon just hold him, hidden in his coat, as he flew into the sky and didn’t look back. They managed to get away, for a few weeks, at least. For a few weeks him and his kid were okay, safe even.
For a month or so they were fine, they had 'made it.'
Then Diamante and Buffalo were on their trail and Corazon was hounded. Marines catching up to them with Diamante slowing them down.
Devil Fruit powers or not, Marine training or not, Doflamingo trauma or not, he was getting worn down. Corazon didn’t know if he would be able to outrun the Donquixote Family or the Marines much longer.
Corazon flew for months, pushing and pushing until he couldn’t anymore, before he said fuck it, and turned toward the East Blue, crossing waters to hit the ‘calm’ of the East. He flew for some more time after that, stopping at islands when he could, running where he had to, scrambling for some sort of hope.
Just when Corazon was coming to the end of his rope, when he and Law were done, officially done, a boat came into sight, an island behind the creaking ship. The boat was close enough that Corazon could just make it if he pushed himself, but far enough away that he knew it was his last chance at possibly allowing him and his son - because fucking hell Law was his son - to live.
His son. God, how had he gained a son?!
A giant Pirate ship. Large, full crew. If he could land there … then it was possible the Diamond Executive would either miss him on the fly by or the crew would fight them off. A half-baked, shitty cooked meal of a plan, but after almost months and months of non-stop running and flying, of island hopping and getting the snot beat out of him, this was the best he could come up with. Especially since he was more injured than an executed man being dragged to trial.
Law had an infection, a miserable, terrifying thing, making him puff small little breaths onto Corazon’s chest. The festering wound was caused by Diamante, puffy and oozing puss. Corazon’s son’s breathing was rough, the almost fourteen year old wheezing with every breath, the winds growing cold with the incoming winter. The cold winds had left spot-covered skin pale and dark eyes unconscious due to fever and malnourishment. The boy had managed to find a way to use his Devil Fruit to slowly rid himself of the Amber Lead, but he hadn’t fully mastered the Ope Ope no Mi, leaving him defenseless against an infection such as this, especially with Amber Lead still filtering around in his system.
Corazon suspected poison was at play as well, but he couldn't know for sure, not with how they were always on the move. Never not running.
His own leg was snapped in three, the femur having shards of bones peaking through as blood oozed, he probably shouldn’t have been able to move the limb. The ankle on the opposite leg was swollen, most likely badly sprained. His left shoulder was dislocated from a bad hit and a black eye had taken his sight from the left side. He was in bad shape, he was on the last of his legs.
He was honestly, completely, totally, fucked.
The Marines were four days behind him. Diamante, riding on Buffalo, was far enough behind that if Corazon spirited to the ship before him, he should have enough time to beg for help.
These last months and months had felt impossibly fast, as if Corazon had experienced his own life in fast-forward, running and running and running. As he got closer to the boat, Corazon only had a moment of hope he would make it, before one of his shoes sputtered and halted.
Shit!
It was a small halt, but just long enough to send him off course, he was no longer heading for the boat, but with the working-shoe compensating for the other, he was now heading past it. Closing his eyes, gritting his teeth and tucking himself as tight as he could around his son, Corazon braced for impact. Just past the boat was a dock, he would splatter at the speed he was going.
He only hoped Law lived and received the help he needed.
Corazon curled even closer around his boy and ... and braced for an impact that never came. The feeling of being roughly snatched from the air left him reeling, the sharp movement making his stomach laugh as an evil villain would, hands trying to push his empty stomach up and out.
His eyes blurred and he saw nothing but a world of blue, then brown, then red. Blinking, he groaned, trying his best to blink the dizziness from his, well, everything with the way his single good eye was spinning. When he managed to become coherent enough to regain at least some sense of recognition, Corazon realized his ass and back were resting on solid wood, the side of a boat and the boat's deck. Sitting, Corazon’s eyes cleared just enough to recognize a masculine figure before him.
“Help us.” He croaked, voice in no shape to speak, not after Diamante had gotten a good hit in with the hilt of his sword, not after all the running, “Please… please help us.”
Red hair. That was the red colour. Longish red hair was the red Corazon had seen in his vision, and the masculine figure, a man if the smell was anything to go by, frowned. Most likely he was taking in Corazon’s make up all smudged and dirty over his face, the destroyed clothes, and the injuries all over his body and wondering what the fuck? The guy frowned some more, making a displeased noise, either he was upset at this grunt on his deck or, maybe, worried for Corazon’s health.
Or maybe he was just weirded out by how massive Corazon was. Wouldn’t be the first, nor the last time.
He was too out of it, head still spinning, to notice someone had come to kneel by his side, to hear the sound of people rushing around the deck.
The red haired individual gave him a once over, voice deep as he stressed the last word, “Help you how?”
Corazon made to speak, to beg, but a loud laugh signalled the arrival of Diamante and Buffalo, curling himself further around his son, tugging his coat closer, a move not unnoticed by the stranger, Corazon let out a small swear. He couldn’t run from Diamante, not with him this close, he was in no condition to fight. His only hope was literally in the hands of this Pirate crew, and pirates were selfish money-wishing bastards. Corazon knew from experience - after all, he was a pirate now.
Diamante’s annoying ass voice sopke to those on the deck, preaching about how Corazon had betrayed his crew, stolen some treasure, and made off with one of their youngest members. Diamante’s lies made Corazon seethe, especially when the man went on to insinuate Corazon had taken his son - Corazon’s son, his son - for less than righteous reasons.
The growl he let out was loud enough it grabbed even Diamante's-preaching-ass attention, the noise only made more guttural by his ruined throat. Corazon struggled into a better sitting position and spit the blood gathered in his mouth on the deck, a sneer rough against his face. His stupid hat wasn’t helping his funny look, but from the faces of some of the pirates around him, he had still managed an intimidating face.
“You will never have my son!” He rasped, holding his son closer to him and wrapping his coat tighter, making sure not an ounce of Law showed. His son. His Trafalgar Law. His little Flevence survivor. His savior, “Y-you- I will never let you take him to my brother. I’ll die before I let you murder Law.”
Diamante’s laugh was cruel and Buffalo rolled his eyes, the poor disillusioned kid. He wished he could have helped Buffalo, Baby Five, he wished. “Please Corazon. You’ll be dead in five minutes.” Diamante spit, “Traitor. A double agent for the Marines. Only for you to stab not only those government dogs in the back, but also stab your only family in the back-”
"We were never family!” Corazon roared, or as much as he could with his throat destroyed. He was shaking, his wrath and exhaustion making his body shake in tremors, “We were never family! Doflamingo killed our father, after- after everything he just killed him! Dragged his head back to Marie Geoise in hopes of fucking getting back in!” Corazon wasn’t thinking straight, the pain and ache and everything muddling his brain and letting his emotions and mouth run free, “I- He- he-he’s fucking evil. Sengoku took me in, he raised me, he and his family kept me safe! I became a Marine in thanks, went undercover in the Family to try and take you down!” Corazon’s laugh was brutal, almost a sob, “Look where that got me.”
He snarled, then coughed, blood leaking out a bit as the wet cough brought phlegm to his tongue. Shit. Maybe Buffalo’s tackle had broken something, maybe even pierced something vital, “But… but my son is more important than anything. I lost my humanity under cover, to-to make sure I blended with you bastards ! L-” Corazon stumbled over the name, slumping, “Law gave me my life back. I will not allow you to take him back to Doflamingo. Ever. I will not let you murder, my boy.”
Teeth flashed in a daunting grin and Diamante snickered, “Son? Corazon, please. He’s Captain's property. He ate what he ate and that was Doffy’s. You disobeyed your brother for a boy that will help him save us all. He will never be a son-” The man laughed, especially when Corazon flinched at his next words, “-to someone like you. Law is going to help Dof-”
A humming noise interrupted Diamante, the noise almost curious, and Corazon weakly looked up at the man with red hair, noticing a scar that appeared like three talon marks through the left eye. The man's face was dangerous, dark, the way his eyes stared at Diamante had Corazon freezing, and he wasn’t even the one being stared at.
“Mister Corazon?” The red haired man said, voice deceptively light, “Is that bundle in your jacket your son?”
Corazon nodded, neck complaining at the movement. Wondering around the spinning of his head what these pirates would do after what they had heard him speak. Heard him confess to (like an absolute idiot). “Yes.” He rasped, “Not by blood but… he’s my son.”
Maybe he shouldn’t have said that. In case- when , who was he kidding, when they killed him for what he confessed, maybe they would be lenient on Law if they thought he wasn’t his son...
A soft voice called from inside his coat and the red haired man was close enough to hear it, his face darkening.
“Cora-san.” Law called, voice rough, wrecked, filled with grief, “Are you okay? I-is e-everything alright?”
Corazon forced himself to steady his breathing, ignore his thoughts, and just smile. He moved his coat just enough to flash that smile down at Law, “Yeah. We’re all fine. J-just resting. You get your sleep, okay?”
His son nodded, digging his face into his chest and grumbling something about hating bread. He laughed softly down at Law, the kid pulling his hat further down on his head, and leaned back, letting his head fall against the wood of the boat's side.
If he was gonna die. Then he was gonna die holding his son. For no one had ever made him happier than this fucking kid. Everyone always said die happy or some shit like that. He might as well take the advice.
“If you're gonna give us over to them.” Corazon said to the red haired man, with an accepting smile on his face, “Then you're smart. No need to risk your people or your boat.” Corazon snorted, “Be a smart move. And if you kill me, because I couldn’t blame you for it, just don’t hurt my son, okay? Please?”
The red haired man blinked, aura darkening. At what Corazon said, or at something else, he didn’t know. “You think so?” The man murmured.
Corazon could tell his face clearly showed he was losing all control between actual thought and adrenaline-pain high garble. He was probably bleeding internally. Maybe somewhere on the outside, other than his scrapes and bone-in-the-thigh, at least. Oops. “Yup.”
The red haired man waved his hand to a medic who took it as permission to rush to Corazon’s side. The ex-marine found himself immensely surprised when the medic started swearing, hands moving to assess Corazon’s injuries. The person that had been kneeling near him was also a medic, but one that hadn’t done much but make sure Corazon wasn’t about to die. Blinking, and failing to get rid of the fog, Corazon was far enough into the adrenaline-pained high he let the medic take his coat off his dislocated arm, exposing Law’s legs, and barely felt the man prodding at it.
He blacked out to the scene of the Red Haired man giving a truly terrifying grin to Diamante and his deep voice saying, “Get the fuck off my ship.”