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eureka-its-zico · 1 month

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Chaos in Their Bones: Wanted

Ongoing Series

Synopsis: After the defeat of Arlong, at Arlong Park, the five of you promised to yourselves, and each other, to achieve your dreams on your way to the Grand Line helping Luffy search for the One Piece. It seems simple enough, except for the minor detail that you died. Coming back from the brink of death, Zoro and the others have noticed you haven’t been the same. You aren’t sure if it’s Death himself chasing after you or something far more sinister. But facing your inner demons won’t be the only fight you’ll have to worry about when family comes calling.

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Genre: established relationship, idiots to lovers, angst, mentions of smut, (will add stuff later) it’s an adventure, y’all!

Words: 6.3+

A/N: Hello my darlings! It is I! Your resident clown! I hope you are all doing well!! Finally, I have finished the prologue to my version of One Piece filler. I am so incredibly excited to share this with you guys while we wait for the next season of OPLA to arrive! I’m even more excited to share in this journey with all of you. This first chapter is pretty heavy and gives a brief backstory to what took place in season one with CITB, just in case anyone comes in reading this one first.. I’ll always do my best to make sure there are proper warnings in place for each chapter and, if I ever happen to miss one, please let me know. Now, let us properly get on with our new adventure. As always, I hopeyou all enjoy this! Much much love, Jenn

p.s. shout out to @deadneverlander for always being my clown bestie and the bestest editor-in-chief

Warnings: mentions of previous torture, trauma, and gore

Chaos in Their Bones Master List

It was odd how the body adjusted to change before the mind realized what was happening. How Zoro could barely remember when he’d strictly stopped thinking of just singularly him and began to think about them. The one specific goal he’d carried with him his whole life - an armor that entombed him - suddenly no longer held the same weight as it had before.

Zoro was part of a crew now. It felt unbelievable when he thought about it, but he wasn’t a part of just any crew.

Zoro was a part of Luffy’s crew - his first mate.

Kuina always told him he needed to lighten up. Get some friends. If only she could see him now. A band of misfits who’d become family.

(Except for the waiter. Zoro still wasn’t sure about that guy.)

That one word, family, bounced around the inside of his skull, shattering every ounce of the solitary life he still tried to hold on to. After Kuina died he used their promise for a solid reason for his loneliness. It protected him - shielded him from having to go out and be a part of the world. While others thought he led a lonely life, Zoro believed it was simply a life free from distractions. A life centered around one goal, a promise, and that didn’t allow room for error.

And then everything changed the minute a boy in a straw hat stumbled on him tied up in a yard. Zoro recalled how instantly he’d found Luffy annoying; a pest. A nuisance in the form of gangly limbs and possibly too much leg, until Luffy asked him one simple question: “Is that all you are? Is that all you want?”

It surprised the hell out of him when he’d considered answering him. It surprised him even more when he did. Luffy didn’t laugh when Zoro told him, either. Instead, he listened and looked at Zoro like it was more than a possibility. Anything felt possible when you were with Luffy. The words spilled out of him with such conviction he was sure they could raise Kuina from the dead. He wasn’t sure why he’d even answered Luff. Once he did there was no denying his words had solidified a belief in Luffy that Zoro’s dream wasn’t just a possibility, but that Zoro would succeed in doing it.

The only person who’d shared in his dream believed it would become a reality the harder they trained, had been Kuina. Sharing your hopes and dreams with another person was one of the deepest connections you could inadvertently make. Suddenly, just from sharing a few words, your entire being was stripped bare. Open for everyone to see down to the very marrow of your bones who you were and, because of this, Zoro didn’t share lightly. He couldn’t risk someone laughing at him or telling him he never stood a chance.

The Demon Pirate Hunter would burn the heavens down if it meant he could get what he wanted.

So, Zoro waited for Luffy to laugh in his face. To try and curse his spirit along with his dream. Instead, Luffy believed just as vehemently as Zoro believed in himself. The possibilities were endless. One distraction - addition - to his life was something he could handle.

Then Zoro stumbled upon you and having just one more distraction didn’t seem all that bad.

Suddenly, being the world’s greatest swordsman wasn’t all he wanted.

He wanted you too.

The universe seemingly conjured you into existence - a magical pain in his ass. The more he’d tried to deny his feelings, the more annoyingly louder they grew. If fate was real, it had a terrible sense of humor - reminding Zoro a little too often that even the best-laid plans carried detours.

Neither of you was willing to admit that the universe seemed to be playing a cruel joke. The universal bingo card the two of you carried, chock-full of goals and aspirations, and not a single mention of…well, not a mention of either of you were on it.

Zoro didn’t believe in fates. Magical beings who dictated your future and the outcomes of your life and the supposed powers they wielded in who entered and left. He could be incredibly stubborn. You called him hard-headed. He just liked to think of it as knowing what he wanted. The universe proved to beat him at his own stubborn game, however. He’d been a fool to try and reject what everyone saw, but Zoro and you…the two of you felt it.

Falling in love with you had been as easy as breathing.

He tried to deny it for so long - his tunnel vision widening just to catch glimpses of you - bright and warm and alive to cast sunshine into the hollowest parts of him. The ones he’d left empty ever since Kuina died. He protected himself from having to feel that overwhelming feeling of grief again. No matter what anyone said, it never got better. It didn’t get easier. You just slowly learned to live with the empty space their loss created and, because of this, Zoro never allowed people to get too close.

His drinking kept him languid and carefree.

Zoro didn’t believe in magic.

It wasn’t in his nature to believe in things he couldn’t see - couldn’t feel their weight in the palms of his hands to make or break his world. The very idea of magic alone was the biggest unseen force he could think of. But when you looked at him, cheeks rosy with a blush he gave you, he swore he’d become a believer. The world was brighter, anything was possible, and the stars in your reflected a constellation of every step you’d ever taken that led you to one another.

He didn’t think it was possible for his world to shift - to change - all over again until that night in your room.

Zoro stood there paralyzed - transfixed. Cool, remain cool were the words that darted through his head but how could he? He’d spent all day endlessly teasing you. Every chance he got to bump against you, shamelessly removing his shirt just to feel the hunger of your gaze slid over his skin, or to dip his hands low, impossibly lower, was a chance he had to take. Just to make your cheeks flush that pretty pink hue that was just for him.

He wasn’t an idiot. He didn’t miss the heat that shimmered underneath. How could he miss it when he’d felt it too? The pleasure in knowing he was the cause for every heavy breath that rose in your chest. Pupils blown wide and body preening at his touch. No matter the breath that stuttered out of you or the looks you gave, Zoro remained in control.

Perfect. Control.

Until he’d opened his door to find you covered only in a towel, droplets cascading down your skin and those eyes - god your eyes - looking at him like that.

Cool. Play it fucking cool.

He’d repeated it to himself over and over. A mantra that wasn’t much of a mantra because he was failing miserably. Even after he admitted he’d been waiting to hear you make it safely back to your room. He would’ve left it at that - teasing you one more time to have that good ol’ blush of yours see him off to bed. But then his eyes caught the way your hands protectively tightened on the towel.

The way you self-consciously hide the worst of the damage that Arlong - that fucking fishman - and his men had done. You tried so fucking hard to make everyone believe you were okay. The wounds on your body practically all but healed, while some were slowly beginning to show they’d remain as scars. He worried that you’d see yourself as less because of it. How could he get you to see that your scars were beautiful because those scars meant that you were still here. With him.

But Zoro knew the scars that plagued you the heaviest were in your mind.

You thought you were less because of them but, god you were so much more because of them. And suddenly, hiding inside the safety of his room didn’t matter anymore.

Zoro had to show you - make you understand - how remarkable you were. Arlong and his men could never take away the way his breath still caught - trapped and frantic - in his throat every time he looked at you. You’d been doing it since that first night at Kaya’s: his eyes held prisoner as his gaze helplessly followed your every move.

Even when you were a brat and stole his glass of wine.

He didn’t think it was possible for the feelings that brewed behind the safety of his walls could get worse. To overwhelm and flood his senses until what little common sense he had left evaporated completely.

He was wrong.

That night, Zoro learned the only thing prettier than your blush was the sounds you made. Just for him.

Always for him.

He knew everything changed that night in your room. And how could it not? The desire to touch you, show you with his mouth, his body, all of him, every piece of himself that you’d claimed, just how much you were a part of him. How deeply you’d woven yourself into the fabric of his being, hollowed out his bones, and made a home.

There was an unmistakable connection Zoro felt towards you. It was something new that he’d never felt. He didn’t know what to call it. Love? How could one word seem to hold so much weight? The power to plant flowers in the garden of his rage or completely shatter it. There was no fucking in between and that was frightening.

Fucking terrifying

Zoro couldn’t formulate words to describe the invisible teether that coiled around you both. Or the fear it created. A terror like a serpent that constricted tighter and tighter around his heart, more and more with every passing second. If Arlong could take you. If he could…you almost…

No no, don't fucking think it! Don’t speak it.

The reality was it could happen again.

The fear of someone taking you - hurting you - became all too real.

He’d almost lost you.

Zoro would never admit to it. Say it out loud or allow it any space during his waking day. But when he was asleep the fear threatened to slip through his control. It formed itself into nightmares that painted out every outcome that could’ve happened in vivid detail. Painted in tragic detail into the whites of his eyes on how close he’d come to saying goodbye.

Save me… pirate hunter…

He had saved you, hadn’t he?

That day haunts his waking hours even now. It’s what wrestles him awake even with your head tucked underneath his chin, his arm draped across your back, and the steady beating of your heart pulsing against his chest. He’d arrived busting through Arlong’s gate with Luffy and crew, his breath caught in his throat not knowing what they’d find.

What greeted him was the last thing Zoro thought he’d find. Your body, crucified, arms painfully splayed to make a perfect T shape. Gore. It was the only way his mind could describe it - screaming at him not to look. You were a decorated gory masterpiece. All the light and sunshine of who you were was dimmed in a blanket of blood. The stench of burned flesh clung to his nose the way the taste of chopper lodged itself in the back of his throat.

You seemed so lifeless. So fucking lifeless. Zoro felt his knees threaten to give out on him in seconds. You couldn’t be alive. It shouldn’t have been possible, but he listened as the chains chimed at your movement. A fucked up wind chime of dread and hope that carried on the wind and told him all he needed to know.

You were alive.

Zoro could still save you. With that knowledge blacking out all reason, Zoro created hell inside the walls of Arlong Park. He would do it over and over, becoming a demon, a king of monsters, to burn down the world if it meant saving you.

And yet…it almost hadn’t been enough.

There were times Zoro wondered if this is how you felt as you watched him give himself up to Mihawke. He could still remember the look of agony that bloomed across your face. The way it stole the spark Zoro loved to see in your eyes, bleeding them dry until all that was left was an emptiness that he gave you.

Zoro had willingly gone to death.

And you saved him.

You cared for him even then - when he didn’t deserve it - after everything he’d done to try and prove to you, and himself, that the universe was wrong. It was just a sick joke to believe that fate itself had woven you both from such different clothes to somehow make each other whole. Zoro gnashed his teeth, swore, and fought his own demons to try and prove he didn’t need you - want you - but he’d been a goner the second he opened the guest room door.

Plus, it didn’t hurt that you packed one hell of a punch.

Zoro could still feel your knuckles connecting perfectly on his nose. The impact of it shocked him so hard it’s what caused him to lose his grip on the well. It was a damn good hit.

He’d woken up to the emptiness of a bed Zoro shared with you. In the privacy of the cabin you both now called home, Zoro would admit dread tied his stomach in knots. That it spurred his legs to swing over the edge of the bed and his hands to furiously move around the room looking for clothes. All thoughts he used to have about pretending he wasn’t looking for you - searching for you - when he always had been, dissipated with his next breath.

Even still… Zoro had almost died and came back more or less himself. Deep down, however, In the dark recesses of his mind, a nagging voice reminded him endlessly that something was… off. Something was wrong.

Wrong with you.

Zoro hated that he even entertained the thought. In the privacy of his own head, it still felt like a betrayal. A dishonor of the trust you’d placed with him. He tried to knock the thoughts away because now wasn’t the fucking time. You were missing – again – in the middle of the night. He had to find you but no matter how hard he knocked away the nagging thoughts of growing questions, the voices persisted.

Nami was the first to notice, which wasn’t surprising. She was always carefully crafting plans and backup plans with backups to the backup plans if those fell through. Zoro came to understand the second they stepped into a room, that Nami was twelve steps ahead of everyone else. Her eyes scanned the room for marks - the weakest links in the chain of command - so that was why it wasn’t surprising, not in the least, that Nami noticed the oddities about your recent behavior first.

“She’s doing it again.” “Doing what again?” Every time Nami brought it up, Zoro couldn’t keep the irritation from shifting heavily in his tone. The annoyance at throwing around large sacks of grain that the waiter just had to have turned his mood even more sour. More than the fact Usopp somehow magically disappeared from having to help load all of this below deck. Zoro followed Nami’s gaze until it landed on you. A hand wrapped around the rope of one of the sails with your eyes turned out towards the sea. Zoro imagined a passing ship would think you were a statue the way you barely moved. Shit, he even started to worry if you were even breathing. Unlucky for them, this wasn’t the first time you’d started doing this. Your eyes focused out on the ocean, almost as if you were searching either the water or somewhere farther. “She’s just looking at the waves.” “No,” Nami replied, a shake in her head reflecting the word. Just the one word alone held a lifetime of worry as her eyes cautiously watched your head tilt. A motion that spoke volumes of words being carried on the wind and you were listening. “It’s like she’s hearing something, or someone, speaking.” “Yeah, it’s the sound of the birds above us. I think they’re called seagulls,” Zoro shot back. Zoro didn’t know why he needed to protest their concerns so much. Zoro had his own but when it came to you a protectiveness he couldn’t fathom seized every last available brain cell. Their words sent his body immediately to defend you even though Nami’s concerns only voiced the ones he was too afraid to say himself. His words earned him a glare from Nami as she moved next to him. A hand playfully smacked his shoulder, but her eyes never strayed from you. “No, you asshole, not the birds. It’s like someone is… talking to her.”

Zoro had thought Nami was crazy. She had to be. You were fine. She was just being a protective mother hen again, which she’d promised you she wouldn’t do anymore. The look on his face must have said the same thing causing her eyes to narrow in on him all before her chin jutted out towards your direction. He wanted to call Nami crazy, but when Zoro glanced back at where you stood, your head was cocked further to the side. Your lips parted, eyes focused, like you were about to reply.

A few days after that incident on the deck you began talking in your sleep. It started off as grumbles and grunts until it graduated to lazy words and, finally, short sentences that burst from between your lips in reply. Sometimes though, the voice that came out of you… it didn’t sound like your own. The words hissing and breaking from your lips in jagged whispers that raised the hairs on the back of his neck.

The worst part was, if Zoro asked you, you’d never remember or know you’d done it. Zoro had promised to save you, and he had. So, why did he feel like he’d been too late?

And that thought alone is what startled him awake.

Zoro finally located a pair of pants that he’d thrown haphazardly in his earlier haste to get into bed. Your scent was still pressed into the sheets - pressed into his skin. It was enough to inform him you’d been there beside him. He hadn’t been dreaming - not that he would since you’d both agreed that him sleeping over in your room just made sense.

He didn’t bother putting on his boots. The only thing he made sure to grab was the Wado Ichimonji that rested on his side of the bed. You’d strictly forbidden him from sleeping with it in the actual bed after you woke up with the hilt pressed against your ribs.

The sheets had long since gone cold and that told him wherever you’d gone, it’d been a while since you’d left. Zoro wasn’t known for having tact or being quiet. If he was being honest, Nami often called him a brute and she wasn’t incredibly far off. He didn’t have any plans to quietly walk out of the bedroom or make his footsteps dainty soft like a whisper. He didn’t have time for pleasantries.

He didn’t bother wasting time looking for you in the kitchen. There had only been a handful of times he’d caught you bravely traipsing around the waiter's kitchen. Banging his beloved pots and pans around like you had a death wish. Zoro wasn’t too keen on hearing him bitch later about the sanctity of a man’s kitchen and his utensils after Sanji had caught you. Zoro was, however, willing to admit the food you’d prepared that night tasted a thousand times sweeter knowing Sanji would be having a heart attack about it later.

No. By now, Zoro knew there was one place and one place only that he would find you.

With the swaying of the ship under his feet, Zoro made his way towards the stern. The Wado clutched tightly in his fist in a weak attempt to keep him grounded. He ran a hand through the mossy haphazard strands of his hair in hopes of soothing its messy state but knew he was only making it worse. His fingers tugging too violently like he could rip his thoughts out by the roots.

There was nothing he should be worried about - you were fine. He was going to walk up those stairs and find you just enjoying the night breeze. It was what he needed to see because he didn’t know what to say if he didn’t find you standing there. How he could fix it if you weren’t admiring a view; waiting to share whatever was on your mind.

One by one he released his hair from his fingers. The ache of his scalp was enough to help focus him back into the present. To ground him just enough for when his eyes finally landed on your frame.

You weren’t standing at the edge of the stern, safely behind its railing like he imagined, or admiring the view of the midnight water. Instead, your legs were precariously over the side of the Merry. So painfully close to the edge that one wrong move, a simple shift in the wind or the way you were sitting, and you’d simply go over.

An image of you going over, a sudden flash of your body disappearing into the darkness below, sent his steps widening, eager to reach you. To close the remaining distance between you, as if it would ever be enough to keep you there.

His bare feet thundered loudly across the remaining feet that were left between the two of you. The heavy thumping scraped away whatever chance he had at catching you off guard. The sound alone should’ve been enough to draw your attention but when he arrived at the edge of the banister, one hand holding on to the ashen wood while the other curled around your shirt - his shirt. After all this, you still hadn’t acknowledged him.

Your eyes were locked on a horizon of midnight - obsidian, endless, with promises of nightmares etched out of brimstone lying underneath. Your head tilted, just like before, just like it always was, listening to something none of them could hear.

Zoro wasn’t much of a praying man, but he found himself silently making one as he sucked in a breath.

“It's a little late for a midnight stroll, don’t you think, Snowdrop?”

You weren’t surprised Zoro found you.

You knew he would. Since the minute you woke up in bed curled up beside him, an arm tucked behind his head while the other draped itself loosely over your shoulders, pressing you closer, that once you left he’d be up. Maybe not right away, but it will happen. Gradually or all at once.

Even in his sleep, Zoro searched for you. His fingers stroked the curve of an arm; swirling into the crease of an elbow. His nose buried itself in your hair or the sensitive spot just under your ear. Zoro searched for you as vigorously in his sleep as he did while he was awake.

You expected him to come find you. It wasn’t a surprise when the sound of padding feet on cured wood imploded the silence you’d come in search of finding. His presence was unforgiving heat across your skin. Unspoken questions hanging between you. A part of you prayed he would ask them. Another part of you hoped he didn’t.

Maybe that was the voice that made you wish he hadn’t found you. That Zoro had stayed blissfully asleep enjoying the blanket of restful sleep instead of the restlessness of whatever you now had to offer. The thought gnawed on your nerves, brewing an annoyance that soured the comfort you’d found looking into the vast darkness of the waves.

During the day, everything was bright and inviting. The sea most of all. Its multitude of hands that rolled against ships and overlapped wave after wave to create a white froth was a silent beacon to come explore. It promised relief from the scorching heat of the sun and an endless supply of food to fill a starving sailor. Underneath all of that brightness, however, you could feel the darkness that took shape in the form of monsters underneath. Sea beasts that swallowed entire ships with crews. Sirens seducing men and women from their beds with a song - pulling them screaming, lungs heavy with water, down into the deep.

It was this darkness that began to call to you. A disease that infiltrated your body slowly, without warning so as not to cause alarm, until it completely plagued every sleepless hour. You weren’t aware it’d been happening until the third night you’d woken to the spray of the ocean on your face. You found yourself standing on the rail of the ship. The threat of a harsh wave possibly sending you over was imminent. Yet there you stood, your arms splayed out at your sides, waiting for an embrace that hadn’t come. Yet, when you opened your eyes it wasn’t terror that turned to ice in your veins. You knew the ocean wouldn’t claim you.

It couldn’t.

You didn’t belong to this graveyard. You belonged to something else. There was a power that resonated below the murky depths. A force that felt ancient and terrifying. It felt like it created the dark; and devoured it until it became whole again and again. It writhed and moaned like the damned, as it searched for more life, more souls, to devour and own. This blackness demanded worship like an old god and that same darkness was what called to you now.

You weren’t sure what you were supposed to be: a sacrifice or a sacrificer. But one thing was clear. Whatever it was, it was inside of you and it was calling you home.

Naan strived to make sure she was careful - that you were careful. She shared warnings in the forms of stories and fairytales as a child to soften the terrifying meaning that lay underneath. All this time she painstakingly put in to make you understand and, in the flash of a second, it took less time for you to choose Nazifa’s life over your own.

It’s what Naan had taught you to do: protect others. How could she ever think, or believe, that you made the wrong choice? How could you regret saving someone’s life? Saving people was who you were, who Naan raised you to be, down to the very marrow of your bones.

Naan’s trade was never forced on you. She never held you back from thoughts of going to school, leaving the island, or if you wanted to learn a different trade. It was always very clear it was your choice to spend hours in the garden and in the forest scrounging for ingredients. Your choice in agonizing over the creation of your book of remedies. It felt natural. Your whole purpose is wrapped up in easing the pain of the dying and the chill of the sick.

But this darkness…it touched what was yours. It cascaded oil thick, blackening the seas of your memories. The shared dances in Naan’s kitchen as she taught you how to move across the floor, ‘like a young lady’. The spring in her gardens, surrounded by bergamot and cardamom.

Every last memory of joy and hope and happiness was suffocated until the only thing left were nightmares. This darkness – this sickness – writhed under your skin. It changed who you believed you were, who Naan loved and cared for you to be, and stripped it all away.

Brick by brick every belief you held was knocked loose and replaced by something grotesque; vile. It whispered ways to silently kill those you loved aboard the Merry. Townsfolk and villagers whenever you stopped for supplies. It slithered black chords of strength in your muscles, seizing your hands to tear apart and break dressers. The doorknob to Luffy’s room completely caved in as you struggled and fought to not take that final step inside.

The voices were growing louder with each denial you gave them. Each life you refused to take - each villager you saved instead of maimed - turned them rabid. The whispers grow into shrieks:

Belladonna to strip a man of pride and the air from his lungs - closing up his throat with froth and screams. Mosswood burns the mouth and twists the gut making them turn liquid.

‘We can break them. Grind their bones into dust. Lay it like powder on our skin. Let us make them putrid! Skin soft and pliable like pudding - flesh that caves at the touch. One touch from us, from you, OUR TOUCH, and we can rot them from the inside out. Listen as their tongue turns liquid and they gurgle liquid sweet! Let us rot them! LET. US. ROT. THEM!’

It whispered and screamed until you thought you would go mad. It took every ounce of willpower you struggled to hold on to your sanity. Not to claw at your ears. As if it would ever be enough to make the whispers just stop.

Something inside you came back wrong. You were wrong. You thought about the possibility that you might be imagining it. This call of chaos - of sinister dread - swirled inside of you like a whirlpool threatening to suck everything down around you. The more you tried to ignore it, the louder it grew. The voices were no longer murmuring - their words were convoluted - gargled as if held underwater.

Now they were screaming, demanding to be heard, and they were always the loudest when you were sleeping.

You were so lost, so completely lost, consumed with your thoughts, these fucking voices, that you weren’t sure when your body turned to face him. Maybe Zoro had asked you a question or been asking questions. The usual mask of careless indifference he wore was there, but it was easy to spot the worry that etched itself into the fine lines around his eyes.

His brow creased, drawn tight, which reflected the dark panic that was pooling to the surface in his eyes. If you didn’t answer him soon he was going to shake an answer out of you. Just to hear something.

What could you say?

“Do you hear them too? They’re whispering for me to do things and the more I ignore them, the more their fingers seem to dig holes in my mind.”

No.

You couldn’t ask him that. It sounded crazy. You would sound crazy, and maybe you were. This whole thing felt like a waking nightmare. You thought you could keep it at bay as you attempted to work through it. There had to be a scientific explanation for something like this or at least a psychological one.

Death came to claim you. You’d felt the clutch of cold hands eager to drag you away, drag you down into the earth kicking and screaming. It felt greedy. Excited.

But you came back.

Maybe this madness was a form of penance. Maybe this truly was what it was: madness.

You couldn’t look at him anymore as you tried to swallow the bitter truth down. Underneath, however, you knew you lived in a fantastical world where boys were made of rubber, Devil Fruits existed, and so did magic.

But what did that make you? You with your voices of chaos.

Death bringer, They whispered, clamoring against your skull.

What if the part of you…the dark part Naan always feared would consume you, festered like a cordycep eating its way through your soul until there was nothing left? What if it ate and ate until you were just…gone? The only thing left was an imposter who’d taken your place.

The thought was enough to make your mouth desert dry. Your heart clamoring against the ribs in your chest demanding for you to take it back! You weren’t being eaten starting from the soul and outwards. You were in control. Perfect control.

“I’m okay.” The words croaked around an unused throat forcing you to clear it and try again. “I’m okay.”

“Who are you trying to make believe that? You? Or me?”

When Zoro looked at you, like he did now, all the world grew quiet. The sound of the ocean, her waves, and the lapping at the hull of the ship all died away. It was harder to catch a breath, the air denser somehow, as everything came grinding to a halt.

The only thing that mattered in this moment, in every moment, now and always, was the way he looked at you. But the moment didn’t last - it couldn’t - when the current underneath your feet began to pound against the hull of the ship. A seismic rhythm that vibrated through your body in earth-shattering ferocity.

You looked out across the water around you and found her unchanged. Her waves thrashed at their own speed to collide against the Merry before they rested back down into the murky midnight of the water.

“Zoro, do you feel that?”

The need for confirmation that it wasn't just you who felt this primal call was palpable. You grasped at whatever reasoning made sense but there was none. A sharp sting on your fingertips brought a hiss of pain from your lips. Your eyes darted down to find that same inky blackness that had burned the flesh of the face of the fishman like acid was crawling up your arms. You tried to swat it away as a fresh flood of panic gripped you.

“Zoro!”

Your eyes flew up to look for him beside you. You wanted to reach for him - you needed him to hold onto you - but if you touched him would you hurt him? Would you kill him?

Fear and panic constricted your throat turning your next sentence into a delirious garble of words. All attempts at civility and calmness ended when your vision centered on his body next to yours. Zoro was covered in the thick black ink - your darkness. You heard the sizzling of muscle and tissue melting away. The wet sound of flesh hitting the deck. You watched as a piece of his cheek, the top of his eyelid, slid down his face as his hand reached out for you.

“It’s going to be okay, Snowdrop.”

The horror of what you were seeing grabbed a hold of your throat and worked the earlier sounds free. It knocked them back down to be digested to allow them to come back up at something brand new.

A scream housed from despair and grief tore through your body and released itself there on that deck. A panicked heart filled with regret left you shattering into a million pieces and it wasn’t until you were sitting up in bed, thrashing around in the sheets of your shared bed, that you realized it was all just a dream.

Your eyes bolted open but the frantic terror that left your heart thundering in your chest was still there. It made you search the room like crazy, grasping for things that were real.

Zoro was standing by your desk. His hands fastened the last button of his shirt while a cool set of eyes watched over you. It was then you felt how your body was coated in sweat; your hair clinging to your neck and cheeks. The shirt you’d worn to bed sticking in thick hot clumps against your skin.

“What happened,” you rasped.

Zoro finished with his shirt but didn’t make a move to answer. The Wado was secured at his hip and you watched him drop a now free hand onto the hilt. A comfort you could only assume he needed as he showed no immediate sign of replying.

After a long pause, Zoro let out a sigh as he moved towards the bedroom door.

“I found you sleepwalking on deck. Again,” he replied. His voice was all smoke and velvet. It should’ve brought you comfort hearing him, but it wasn’t hard to notice the cracks that formed around his words. “This is the eleventh time you’ve woken up screaming, Doc.”

“Zoro–“

“After we get supplies at our next stop I’m asking Luffy if we can turn around.”

He spoke to the door. The decision he was making seemingly cost him his own grief as your own. You threw the sheets back. Your legs scrambled to make it over the side of the bed before he could completely exit the room.

“Turn around for what?”

You wanted to sound tough, demanding even. Instead, you just sounded small. Scared. Your mouth dried up around every word, every sentence, you tried to formulate. The sick idea that he was trying to say goodbye, to let you go, making it damn near impossible to even breathe around a thought.

“To find someone willing to give me some answers.”

Zoro didn’t wait for you to reply with the usual weak promise of telling him. It was only when you were ready to share and that could be never. He was tired of waiting and didn’t bother to wait to hear an even weaker response before Zoro walked out the door and quietly shut it behind him.

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