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Nay, wilt thou fill that place by me which is
Filled by dead eyes too tender to know change?
That's hardest. If to conquer love, has tried,
To conquer grief, tries more ... as all things prove;
For grief indeed is love and grief beside.
Alas, I have grieved so I am hard to love.
– Sonnet 35, Elizabeth Barrett Browning
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“Doctor,” Law starts, as he usually does when it’s the two of them in a rare bubble of quiet. The Polar Tang’s machine hum surrounds them, and Robin is silhouetted in the dimmed light of the lamp Law keeps on his desk, leaning forward to peer out through the porthole and into the darkness. They’re on their fifth day being submerged, and it’s late at night, not that it matters in the depths so far from the sun.
In the relative privacy of Law’s quarters, they could be the only two people in the world.
“Honorary,” she answers, the correction fonder than it usually is. Law, pleasantly aching, allows himself to linger in the details of the moment: The gleam of the lamplight in her hair, turning it to silk; the wide expanse of her skin dotted occasionally with marks that he put there and that she let him, along her neck and in the softest part of her thighs; the softness of the blanket that only barely touches his legs, that she has loosely wrapped around her like a cloak.
“Any reputable institution would have given you the title twice over by now,” he counters.
“If they didn’t hand me over to the government for execution, you mean?” He catches the curve of her smile, commits that to memory as well. Nico Robin is not a woman prone to smiles, though they suit her well; since the Straw Hats split, she has been less generous with them by far. They all have, though Law is circumspect about this observation. Not one of them would appreciate him voicing it, no matter how loudly the sniper or the carpenter might call him a friend.
“If they had more than a single vertebra between them,” Law concedes. “Maybe. Doctor Nico has a nice ring to it.”
“I prefer Miss Nico, coming from you.”
“You don’t want a doctorate you didn’t earn,” he says. Law knows it’s a deflection; Robin raises an eyebrow, but allows it. The nebulous thing between them is better for being unnamed – is easier, perhaps, to remain unnamed.
“I would prefer my hard work be rewarded,” she murmurs. “If they would like to give me one after Luffy becomes Pirate King, then I might accept it. I’ll know more than nearly anyone else, at that point.”
“Nearly anyone else?” Experimentally, Law pulls at the blanket. It slips off her shoulder entirely, pools awkwardly on his shin. With a flick of one hand, several sprout from the mattress to drag the blanket over him. She does this at times, as if she wants to see him flinch. Law, whose fruit has afforded him far worse sights than whole, hale limbs, only catches a hand in thanks before it dissolves beneath his fingers.
He rarely feels cold, but the small gesture warms him through.
“There are people at the top of the world who know far more than I do,” is all she offers, mild. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”
“It might be, Miss Nico. I’m curious, you know that already. I might want to unravel some of your mysteries.”
“A woman’s secrets are her own, Traffy,” she informs him. Law manages not to grimace at the nickname – it sounds different on her mouth than it does from her captain’s, or the swordsman’s, or any member of the crew. He hadn’t thought one ridiculous, childish derivation of his name could carry so much meaning; Law’s only prayer is that it doesn’t catch on with his own crew. So far, it hasn’t, but he’s developed an acute sense for danger, and can feel the jaws closing around him whenever Usopp and Shachi start snickering, or Penguin and Franky give him wide, identical smiles with the scent of acrid smoke coming from their makeshift, shared workshop near the engine.
“Don’t,” he mutters, knowing it to be futile.
Robin merely hums and comes to lay next to him. She doesn’t ask whether he’ll share the blanket; he shifts closer and settles precisely half of it over her anyway. This, at least, he knows how to do.
“I will. I think you like it,” she says. And then, “thank you, for that. I haven’t gotten used to how cold it gets, not yet. Silly, since we're at depths only fish and Neptunians live in, and a single mishap or poorly screwed bolt would mean sudden death. Of course it's cold.”
“You will, don’t worry,” he tells her before he can think better of it. And then he does, and the words hang between them, lending the air its own gravity.
Law refuses to take it back; a challenge given, a vulnerability bared, does not invite cowardice. Nico Robin can draw whatever conclusions she might from this.
“The human body can adapt to anything,” she says, not unkindly. Perhaps with more diplomacy than Law has grown to expect from any of the Straw Hats, but not unkindly. “Though you know more of that than I do. I had no idea someone could walk around without a heart in their chest.”
Fingers settle on his chest, a delicate touch, and trace the lines of his tattoo. Robin looks at the ceiling, not at him; if there are eyes around, he doesn’t see them. But it would take nothing for Nico Robin to have memorized a simple pattern, one Law designed and carved into his skin himself, all awkward angles and salt-stings before he had to take a break – and one traced over again by deft paws, because it turns out that medical training and a near-mythical fruit meant little to the healing process of a tattoo, when the tattooer was a novice.
“I was surprised when it worked the first time,” Law admits. “It was a lucky discovery, until I lost focus, and then it was a messy one.”
Not a failure, exactly, but far from a success. Law had applied himself as ruthlessly as always, and never once cursed himself for perfectionism.
“Now I know why your gift to the government was a hundred hearts,” she replies, dry. “You needed the practice.”
“Not all of us are prodigies.”
“You’re cute,” Robin tells him. “But false humility doesn’t suit you. Don’t do that.”
“When I suggested this alliance, I didn’t anticipate it meaning that every Straw Hat would start bossing me around.”
She laughs again, but the sound is muted.
“Are you registering a complaint?”
“Not in the slightest. I’m putting an observation on record.” He doesn't specify whose; as a captain should keep a log, so should an archaeologist note history, small and large.
“For the case study of one Trafalgar Law?” There’s hesitation in how she says his name, sometimes, with just the two of them. She hasn’t asked permission; Law has not offered it freely. No one other than him has said his full name since before his parents died in white-cloaked Flevance. He only needs one hand to count those alive and dead who know and knew: His family, Bepo, Nico Robin.
Two hands, perhaps, would be enough to add the people he would have liked to tell, the people he still might.
“A hypothetical record, then. Memoirs and autobiographies lie outside my talents.” And would be a depressing read, besides. Law holds no illusions about his own life; fiction would flinch from it, and so far, ‘and he lived, somehow, and went on to try and kill an Emperor' is a poor place to leave a story.
“You have the handwriting of a doctor,” she agrees solemnly. “Maybe that will be my next order, that you at least make it legible.”
“Bepo can read it.” Bepo cannot, and either his navigator has turned coat, or Law has become embarrassingly transparent. “And you’re still bossing me around.”
“It’s worked out well for me in the past.” Robin offers this calmly, she means to soothe. Law takes the bargain, and the bait.
“Has it?” He can’t imagine that. Law knows how people like them survive, though they took different paths to end up, more or less, in a similar place.
“It’s how I joined Luffy, after all. Well,” she pauses, her gaze distant and fond. “I asked, technically. I said it would be a debt owed, because he made me live, when I didn’t want to. Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Miss Nico, I’m starting to think that I’m obvious,” he says, helpless.
She tilts her head, and her eyes pin him in place like a delicate winged insect to a display board. Law isn’t used to this type of naked evaluation being turned on him; it takes everything he has not to squirm under the scrutiny.
“A little,” she allows. “It isn’t a bad thing, Traffy. You do know that, right?”
“It’s clear enough that I don’t. I don’t like it,” Law confesses, and Robin frowns. It isn’t quite true – Law is both a practiced and skilled liar, even to himself – but it isn’t entirely false, either. Secrets should be kept close to the chest, under the skin if possible, where no one but him can get at them. “You of all people should know why.”
“Do you think I’m obvious?” Robin sounds perfectly neutral, neither offended nor startled. Her question still feels like the coiled spring of a trap.
“No.” Law can answer this much honestly. He’s caught glimpses – seen her smile at Luffy, or scold Brook, or hold Chopper with the type of gentleness that neither of them should be able to practice –, and he knows she’s chosen to show him glimpses, too. But beyond that, much of her remains a mystery.
“There you have it, then.”
“Do I, Miss Nico? Forget doctor, you’ll never make professor if you can’t explain things clearly to your poor students.”
“You’re normally a quick study, doctor. I’m disappointed.”
“It's a good thing I am a doctor. That wounded me.” She considers him for a moment, then arms nudge him closer, until he's held neatly against her side, head against her shoulder. Law goes, but lodges a protest, “this is going to be bad for my neck.”
“So is your posture,” Robin says ruthlessly. But she keeps him close, and her fingers run through his hair. “When you focus for long enough on just surviving, you have to learn how to live afterwards. It isn't easy, but you'll have a better time of it than me. I don't doubt your crew's loyalty, but they won't be required to declare war against the world government.”
Only abstractly can Law fathom how difficult it must be to talk about.
“Your captain doesn't do anything by the halves.”
“He never knew his father, but they're remarkably alike,” Robin says lightly. It takes Law a moment to place her words, to dredge the announcement from Marineford from his memory.
“Another one with that name,” is all Law says in response. He closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of her, better than the cool, half-stale air of the Polar Tang. Salt and sex and the powdery cling of old paper, lingering spice from sandalwood, and traces of Law's own cologne, rarely used.
“Mm.” She drifts in memory for a moment, and Law doesn't interrupt. “I was saying, though. As far as learning to live, starting with Luffy is a good idea. You've already done that well enough.”
“We're only allies. After Kaido, we'll part ways, and that's assuming he doesn't crush us like he has everyone else. Doflamingo was about me, and about Dressrosa for you all, but we did make a very powerful man very angry.” It had been his one bargaining chip for the alliance – the one he was willing to use, rather than calling in a debt.
Something about that would have felt wrong.
“No need to sound so pleased about it. He could kill us in any number of horrible ways. Or his subordinates, but that's less exciting, don't you think? Crushing, mangling, torture, all of that.”
“No need to sound so thrilled about it,” he echoes.
“I like a good thrill,” Robin answers, and he can hear the smirk in her voice. “Nothing like a near-death experience to make you feel alive.”
“In that case, all my problems are solved, aren’t they? We’ll be lucky to get away with a near-death experience,” Law mutters. Blind faith is not something he’s capable of – he prefers tangible facts, plans, things he can see and touch and change as needed. He prefers to know exactly what each piece on the board is doing, that they can stick to a plan.
And yet.
“Sometimes, Traffy, you’re very funny,” Robin says, abrupt and unexpected. Law can only look at her with an expression he hopes isn’t too dumbstruck.
“Miss Nico, I hope you know you have enough clowns at your disposal,” he starts. “And that I’m not one of them.”
“More of a jester,” she offers, clearly thinking about it. “We can get you a hat.”
“I like my hat,” Law bites back. He feels scrubbed raw, tethered to a buoy that keeps disappearing under rough seas, now just waiting between one wave and the next. Robin must sense this; she strokes down his side, not unlike how one might try to soothe a small child, or skittish pet. “Robin.”
Her hands pause. “Law.”
She rarely uses his first name; they both take a moment to consider the weight of it on her tongue. Law decides he likes it, decides that he won’t say this to her. Better it be kept something secret, for the two of them. A name that is entirely hers, unmoored from history and Flevance and a will that may or may not be his own.
“If you could be clear,” he suggests. His voice is quiet, he doesn’t want to start an argument. Not when they may both say something they’ll regret later.
“Alright. I only meant to tease you,” she says. Robin often offers half-apologies in lieu of full ones, trusting Law to read between the lines. He doesn’t know if she does this with her crew. He likes to think that they know her well enough, or that she rarely does something requiring an apology.
“You can be funny, when you choose to,” Robin adds. Perhaps a quarter of an apology, then. “You’re not only allies. You’re his friend, and what I learned about living is that making friends is part of it. How fortunate, that the ones who showed me how to live might do the same for you.”
“I have other people to live for,” Law says, too seen and slightly affronted. “My crew –,”
“They mean a lot to you. I’m not diminishing that. But it’s selfless, they’re your responsibility, and the weight of that different, don’t you think? But Luffy is good at being selfish, even when it doesn’t look like it. I think I could have found a hundred different ways to live, a hundred different people to follow and pledge myself to. A hundred more Crocodiles, maybe even a Doflamingo, or one of the Emperors.”
“Full of yourself, Miss Nico,” Law murmurs, because thinking of her in Doflamingo’s clutches makes his skin crawl.
“Aware of my skillset,” she counters. “But Luffy was the one I chose to follow, and he taught me to live for myself. He didn’t mean to. It happened before either of us noticed, and then he was standing there – they were all standing there – telling me that I was their friend. That I was allowed to come with them, that I was allowed to want to live.”
Robin stops and clears her throat, her voice choked.
“He will be the king of the pirates. It’s not faith to believe that. I know it. I’ve seen him do the impossible so many times. You’ve seen the same thing. You’re allowed to believe, you know. Even if it isn’t logical.”
Law weighs his answer carefully: Belief can be earned, but not always lived up to; and he still watched Straw Hat beat Doflamingo into the ground and almost die doing it. He watched the swordsman shatter Pika, and the sniper crush Sugar, and he watched all of them, impossibly, come together to not ruin Doflamingo, but build something new. And he’d watched them all deny it.
“It’s not about logic. He’s human, just like the rest of us.” Law pauses, and then revises his statement: “Human enough. If his heart stops beating, he’ll die. If his lungs stop breathing, he’ll die. Take it from someone who’s dealt in death all their life, Miss Nico.”
“And take it from someone who’s done dying, and is now living,” she answers, sharp. “Just because someone could die, doesn’t mean that they will.”
“I know you see him as someone – invulnerable. Impossible. I’m not going against that, I just –,” he breaks off. Law doesn’t know how to say this properly. “I saved his life. I held his heart in my hands –,” he pauses again, lets her cut in because he sees her smiling, a little watery.
“Hardly a unique experience for the Surgeon of Death.”
“Very funny, Miss Nico,” Law replies. He closes his eyes, tries not to picture it again. “I didn’t – would you believe me, if I said that I couldn’t fully explain why I did it? Maybe I thought he would be useful. Maybe even then, I was planning for Doflamingo and Kaido. I was always planning for Doflamingo, after all. Maybe it was that we got away at his expense – all of yours – at Sabaody.”
Law swallows. “Maybe it’s because we share that same will.”
“Maybe,” Robin agrees, noncommittal. “Do you need to have an ulterior motive? Luffy would have helped no matter what, you know. You saved his life. It isn’t something he’s forgotten. And he is no more fragile than the rest of us. You should know that too, if you held his heart in your hands.”
Law only looks at her, half disbelieving. There’s always a motive, always a reason; he knows better – had known better – than to be ruled by whim. But back then, he’d known nothing at all, only saved Straw Hat Luffy on a whim and the vague sense that he would be interesting, later. That Cora would have liked him.
It was, and still is, the most fraught surgery Law remembers. He'd left but he had wanted to stay on that island, watch this man recover. Force him to, if need be, though there were firmer hands than his there, and he had his own business to attend to. The clear next steps emerging from the rubble of the world.
Now, it makes a cold sweat prickle along his skin to think of how close it had all been.
“He was the only one I could have asked, when it came to Doflamingo. Kaido, too. I knew his history,” Law finally says. Robin gives him a knowing look, but remains silent; he'd almost prefer she accuse him of pandering. “Crocodile. Moria. Enies Lobby, after I became a warlord. And I was there for Marineford, but Marineford was about his brother, someone he'd grown up with. We all have family that we would die for without a second thought.”
“On Punk Hazard, we told you. Luffy sees alliances differently. I suppose knowing that you saved him after Marineford explains why he trusted you so much to begin with,” Robin muses.
“He never said?”
“Not to me, but it wasn't necessary. I…managed to see some reports from Marineford, and deduced the rest.” Robin smiles down at him, her expression more open than it has any right to be. “Nami asked, and he told her. He doesn't usually worry about that kind of thing, and everyone is used to it.”
Law cannot conceive of being used to it. His crew is indulgent enough of his own whims on occasion – the alliance, leaving them at Zou, though Penguin had words for him once they'd all read the papers once the news broke – but that's trust Law earned. He takes care of them; they listen when he gives orders, and he rarely makes nonsensical demands.
Straw Hat operates differently. Law doesn't understand how it works, on a crew of the most strong-willed people he's ever met. Nico Robin, Roronoa Zoro, even their navigator – none of them seem the type for blind faith and belief.
Then, again. Dressrosa. The knowledge that Luffy would either win, or they would die together. The decision to die with him, if it came down to it.
Law doesn't know what to say. Doesn't trust himself to open his mouth either, in case something ridiculous tumbles out. Robin moves closer, the length of her arm now pressed against his. She doesn't move to take his hand, and Law is perversely grateful. He might do something like hold tight, and never let go.
He used to be good at letting go.
“It's alright, you know. When I asked to join his crew, I couldn't have – I didn't think that he would go so far for me.” Robin laughs, the sound a little wet, a little choked. Law pretends not to notice, the type of courtesy he would prefer himself. “I think I should have. After all, he threw himself into Crocodile's jaws for a woman he'd barely met, only because she was his friend. And he saved my life though I was an enemy, but I doubt he counts that. I saved his first, you see.”
She leaves it there.
“You really are a demon,” Law says finally. He understands some, and he leaves the rest unspoken;
“I don’t mind that name much, anymore. I’d gladly become one to protect the people I care about. Or to terrorize them, when they’re being ridiculous,” Robin answers. She sounds fond. “If what you want to do is to find out the truth of the world, you should. If what you want to do is bring down Kaido, you should believe in your allies a little more, because you will. We will. But don’t let yourself fall into the trap of what you should do, instead of what you want to do.”
“I see your point about selfishness. You sound just like him.”
“Of course. We all do sometimes, he’s our captain.” She beams at him, and Law swears it’s the same smile he sees on all their faces: Open, honest, unapologetically happy. He doesn’t think he’s ever smiled like that in his life.
He wonders what it might be like. Probably it would give his entire crew a heart attack. Probably they’d all start crying, Bepo first and loudest. Probably, they’d smile back.
“You’re making me think about the future an awful lot,” Law tells her. He doesn't mean planning, as he has been for the better part of his life; Kaido, Law feels comfortable with, that had been a bargaining chip he'd offered freely and, distantly, known he'd have to follow through on. But what might come after.
Now how he might die, but how he could live. And who with.
“Hm. Good. You could use the practice." He can hear the laughter in Robin's voice, and beneath that, the thread of sincerity.
"Not all of us are prodigies," Law repeats. "I could probably use it."