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He feels tired. His bones ache in a way they didn’t before. He wants to bury his face in his hands and go back to his bunk on the submarine. Maybe if he pretends this is not happening he doesn’t have to deal with it. The sight of Impel Down doesn’t make him feel any better. Rosinante has been putting this off for too long. He knows it full well himself.
It’s something he must do.
Rosinante is not sure if seeing his brother will make a difference. He is not even sure if he should let the bastard know he is alive after all these years. There is safety in remaining dead, but he cannot remain a dead man forever. It’s like ripping off a band-aid. His brother would know sooner or later that he is alive. Rosinante is planning on doing something rather notorious after all.
Besides Law had asked.
Asking his brother however, is like playing a game of cards knowing that the other one is cheating. The plan is this: pretend to know more than you actually do and hope he can guess the correct answer. And who else should question his brother but him?
Sengoku had not been thrilled when he showed up with his request. Or rather, he had been thrilled to see him before Rosinante asked for an audience to Impel Down.
The end result had been what he had hoped for - just the two of them on a small boat sailing towards the prison that lies beneath the sea.
The Gates of Justice, a sight to behold. A sight to be terrified of. The very existence of Impel Down bothers him. Is there justice in torture, he wants to ask his father. Is there justice in running fake trials for people when they already know the outcome. But he doesn’t want to know the answer.
It is one big theater, one big gamble. And he will do something he never really thought of seriously. Betray his father and the institution he believed in. Rosinante supposes he already did betray Sengoku once, the whole ordeal with Law. But this will be bigger, have more consequences.
Breaking in to Impel Down will be the least of his sins.
Technically they are not breaking in. But the hushed voices and Sengoku’s pointed gaze when the guards ask him if Akainu has approved the visit is telling. But who is going to stop Sengoku the Buddha?
The elevator ride down feels like it takes ages. The walls blaze with heat, turn to frozen and then back to a dull stone wall. Law had told him that Luffy once broke in to Impel Down. That kid is crazy, but then again so is his devil fruit. He wonders if Doffy knew from the start, the true nature of the fruit. He must have. Maybe Rosinante can use that tidbit of information to his advantage.
“I’m not quite sure why you want to see him,” Sengoku says, breaking the silence.
“I’m not sure I want to.” There is something cathartic about this. Maybe he needs closure. He is not sure he will get closure.
Maybe Law knows that and the only way to get him to see his brother was to make it a request. Donquixote Doflamingo is his blood after all. Not that it makes any fucking difference to him. His brother made his choices, and Rosinante made his. If Sengoku’s plan had worked out all those years ago, maybe he would have killed Doffy and not the other way around. Who can kill a Celestial Dragon but a Celestial Dragon?
Small part of him does want to strangle his brother on sight. The doors open. Most days he wishes he had managed to kill him. The amount of pain he could have saved people from. He wonders why the government keeps his brother in such high regard. What secrets does he know?
Their steps echo in the corridor.
He is not sure what he expected. He had heard the screams when they came down. He had seen the boiling bath where they dunk people as a rite of passage. But here? On the lowest level of Impel Down, it is quiet.
So quiet that Rosinante can hear the sound of his own breathing, getting labored and nervous. Taking a step forward, he can feel and hear as the fabric of his coat rustles gently. The heel of his boot hits the edge of a stone, a sharp clack in the silence. The sound bounces off the walls, and Rosinante can feel eyes turning to them.
He can sense people waking up from whatever daze they have been, he doubts people here get to sleep very much. But what is there to do in the waking world? You are surrounded by nothingness, undoubtedly becoming even more of a shell of what you used to be. There is blood running down the corridors, hand prints on the walls.
Someone tries to open their mouth to speak, he can hear the sharp intake of a breath. Surprise, undoubtedly. At him, or at the chief inspector?
Rosinante wants to snap his fingers. Make everything quiet again. But he is to show strength, make it a narrative of power. He wants to people to look and gawk. He wants to make them notice him. Making himself invisible, that would only play in his brother’s favor. Insecurity and uncertainty are not something he can show. Later, when he is back on the submarine he will curl into a ball and drink hot chocolate, he has decided. Maybe play some cards, do some target practice or spar with Law.
Rosinante can see his brother now, how he got to keep his sunglasses is beyond him. But he would rather not see his eyes after all. What is there to see? Expect rage and death? He doesn’t seem to realize who is coming to see him. Well, that suits Rosinante just fine. He is itching for a smoke, Sengoku had given him a pointed eyebrow when he toyed with his lighter in the elevator.
“Hello, brother.” He steps forward, one hand on the metal bars. One quiet snap of his fingers creating a bubble around them.
If he didn’t know Doflamingo so well he would miss it. His shoulders tensing, just the slightest surprise coloring his movements. He can sense it too, with his Haki, the slow current of something traveling through him. Shock? Surprise? Disappointment, perhaps?
Doflamingo raises his eyes from the ground, tilting his head curiously. “Well well well, little brother. Back from the dead, are you?”
“One cannot be back from the dead if you never really die.”
“So what is this? A courtesy visit? I wanted you dead years ago and now to my disappointment you are still alive.”
“Can’t say I’m sad to disappoint.” Rosinante shakes is head. “What do you think father would think? What mother would think? You have now killed - or tried to kill - almost all of your family members.”
“Only the ones who deserve it. Your loyalty should have been mine.”
“Loyalty? You never deserved my loyalty. Would you have spared mother? Is that it? Had she been in your way you would have killed her as well. We both know, brother dear, that you are incapable of love.”
Their mother has always been a sore spot. Rosinante is convinced that she might have been the only person to truly love his brother. Rosinante had loved him, once upon a time. All of that affection is long gone now.
“And why are you here? Was my attempt at killing you so weak that you just had to come to see your brother again?”
“I wanted to ask you something.”
“Then ask. Depends how badly it will fuck up the world if I answer.”
Well, here goes nothing. “The secret of Mariejois. What is it?”
“Hmm, you were too young to remember what home was like, aren’t you?”
Rosinante nods. There is no point trying to deny that.
“They fear the one with the Strawhat, I imagine you have seen him since he is now joined at the hip with your stupid kid.”
“The re-emergence of Joyboy? That’s the big secret? That is what they fear?”
“Oh, they fear that the immortal one is going to die. Just because you stop aging, doesn’t mean you can’t be killed. Above all, they fear that all their sins will become public knowledge. They fear they will lose the power they have and people will turn against them.”
The immortal one?
“And if the Gomu-Gomu fruit is finally awake? Allied with the Op-Op fruit? I would imagine that the world is going to drown in chaos. It will be a beautiful bloodshed. More than I could have ever imagined.” His brother is grinning widely. “The world we know will end and the very ground we stand on will be covered in blood. But who will be the new king? The Throne Wars, finally here. The song of the End starting. I wonder, can you hear it, little brother?”
“What I can hear are the bells of the new era. Goodbye brother. May you rot here in hell and never see daylight again.”
He turns to leave. From the edge of his vision he can see his brother standing up, opening his mouth and the surprised look on his face when he can’t make a sound.
Too used to get the last word. Taunting him with things he would never tell.
Rosinante is well aware that his brother only told him what he thought would unsettle him the most. What he doesn’t know is that they have learned something new. Someone, controlling things in the background, the immortal one. But them not being the secret of Mariejois. There is something else, something to do with the Celestial Dragons. Rosinante is sure of it.
Sengoku is frowning at him. “It has been a long time since you used the silencing spell to block me out of your conversations.”
Yes, he had done that. It hurts him to admit, but he not sure on whose side Sengoku currently truly is. Rosinante knows Sengoku would never do him and Law harm. Not anymore, not when he has family to protect. But protecting can be expressed in many rather unfortunate ways, such as preventing their plans.
Better to keep the information between himself and Law.
Rosinante nods. “Sometimes, I must do things you will not necessarily accept. You know this. You know I have pledged to support Law and his friends. Yet, I would rather not lose you as my father.”
Sengoku sighs and looks almost resigned. “Yes, I suppose you have to. Shall we head back to the world of the living then?”
With one final glance at his brother, who is furiously glaring daggers at him, Rosinante starts walking towards the exit. He has better things to do that regret the past. He can hopefully help to fix the future.