Chapter Text
In the beginning was the Word.
"Pitchfork!" a displeased female voice called from a distance. "You forgot your pitchfork!"
And with that Word, the threadbare darkness finally started to fade.
*
Waking up was the most challenging part. Rocinante had no idea if he saw any dreams while being swallowed by the dark void, but even then, he had to make every possible effort to open his eyes. His head hurt as if he had spent the last afternoon drinking something cheap he managed to get at the local market before retreating from the last city they had visited. When he finally saw the dimmed light of the place he was currently in, Rocinante winced and snapped his eyes shut again. It was too much, but the time was ticking, and he had to open his eyes.
He had to sit down, check his wounds, leave this unfamiliar place, and search for someone. Instead of his memories, there was a dark void, even though it had no right to exist. Rocinante slowly raised his hands and rubbed his eyes, ignoring the sore pain in his muscles. He had no idea how long he had been lying in this place; judging by the stiff movements of his body, it certainly had been a while, and Rocinante clenched his teeth in frustration.
If it had been a while, it meant that Doffy - his brother Doffy, the memory reminded affably - had already left the island with the family, and Rocinante was beyond any danger. And if Rocinante was beyond any trouble, it meant that Law - Law - was waiting for him somewhere. Alone. Cold and abandoned. And alone.
Rocinante opened his eyes and swiftly sat up, moaning from the terrible pain in his joints and eyes. All years of marine training went for nothing because his older brother was a bloody moron, but it didn't matter. Rocinante tried to stand up but only ended up wincing, moaning, and burying his head in his hands. He knew he had to take things slowly, allowing his body short periods to relax and prepare for the next movement, and even with this knowledge, his mind screamed for specific immediate actions.
Stand up, get out, find Law, take him away. Hide him from Doffy and the rest of the world. Help him to become a better person. Do something, you stupid, clumsy shit.
His mind almost sounded like vice admiral Garp's, and Rocinante shook his head. His slumbery mind was slowly filling with images of the past, with memories he wanted to cherish and forget simultaneously. Rocinante stretched his legs and arms, trying to ignore the unpleasant feeling, and finally stood up. It hurt, but at the same time, this nasty pain reminded him of the most important thing: He was alive.
Rocinante stood straight, trying not to lose his balance; his head spun slightly, making him nauseous, and Rocinante closed his eyes. He knew he had to relax and count to ten, just like Sengoku had taught him many years ago.
One, two, three.
He was alive, even though it hurt. It was an excellent start.
Four, five, six.
Now, he had to find out where the hell he was and how he could find Law.
Seven, eight, nine.
By the way, how many hours, or even days, has it been since he succumbed to that darkness?
Ten.
Rocinante exhaled and opened his eyes. The weird, nauseating feeling was gone, and he didn't fall flat on the ground immediately, which was certainly an accomplishment. Now, he had to take a step and remind his clumsy legs how to move. Rocinante looked down and scowled, finally taking a proper look at his body. With his eyes finally used to the semi-darkness of whatever the place he woke up at was, the belated realisation that he wasn't wearing his old clothes had finally struck him. At least he was wearing something decent, a pair of simple linen trousers and a light shirt made from a similar material. He was barefoot, however, and Rocinante thought of finding someone and asking for a spare pair of shoes or even boots. Otherwise, he would get his first frostbite unless he was somehow taken away from the Minion and its nasty weather.
After all, Rocinante still had no idea how exactly he had been saved and who had saved him. It certainly wasn't someone from the Marines; they wouldn't leave him to wake up in some sort of a… barn? Rocinante looked around, checking out the hay piles and equipment sets strewn around the wooden floor. The Marines would take him to the hospital or provide him with a bed and a doctor, even in the case of future struggles regarding his disobedience. Leaving him in the random barn, however, was something unthinkable for any member of the Marines. It had to be someone from the area who gave him a place to rest after numerous injuries and get his shit together.
At least he didn't look like a captive of some sort. He didn't have any cuffs on his wrists or legs, and when Rocinante tentatively snapped his fingers, he felt the oddly familiar power around him. The soundproof barrier wasn't as good as always; perhaps the best term to describe it was wobbly, but it was there, and Rocinante grinned. Now he was ready.
He made sure the barrier was gone before leaving the barn. After all, he didn't want to sneak out like an outlaw, especially if some good people took him in. It was impolite, and Rocinante knew certain things by heart - and tried to dig them into Law's head gently but with a certain level of resolution. Hopefully, Law didn't squander them while his self-proclaimed mentor was lying unconscious in the unfamiliar barn.
Things became quite weird as soon as he got outside. To begin with, the sun was shining brightly, and it indeed wasn't snowing. It was hot out there, and Rocinante crossed out the possibility of stupid frostbite. At the same time, it meant that he woke up somewhere else; nothing outside looked like the blasted Minion Island. Rocinante felt an unpleasant pull in his stomach and scowled, mussing up his hair in disarray.
An unpleasant pull in his stomach was another thing that caught his attention. At first, he was sure it had something to do with being nervous; the feeling reminded him of all the events from his past when he was stressed out because of his numerous failures as a young Marine recruit. Rocinante wanted to brush it off and continue with his task of finding the owners of this place, but as soon as he turned around, the pull deepened as if it was trying to tug him in the opposite direction. As if there was an unseen string that was showing him the right way, and it felt unpleasantly strange. It had to be a nervous thing, or perhaps, it was just a product of his tired imagination. Rocinante snorted and looked around, finally noticing a middle-aged woman in plain clothes.
She was busy feeding her hens and other birds; perhaps her voice dragged Rocinante out of the darkness. She looked tired, but at the same time, something in her movements and expression pointed to her devotion to the farming work. Rocinante quickly looked around, noticing a green garden and a small house aside. As soon as the woman turned around, he waved his hand in greeting.
She ignored him, concentrating on her duties. It was understandable, and Rocinante shrugged, shifting his weight from one foot to another. A giant tabby cat was basking in the sunshine next to the barn door, but in the twinkle of an eye, it sprang into the air and hissed loudly, landing on all fours and showing its claws. It seemed it didn't like the intruder, and Rocinante decided not to push his luck.
"What are you doing there?" the woman shouted over her shoulder, and both cat and Rocinante winced at the loud question.
"I'm sorry, I didn't want to scare him," the man mussed his hair again, suddenly feeling guilty. The tabby cat hissed and ran away with its tail up. The woman muttered something under her nose and left, picking up a huge basket full of crops. She ignored Rocinante as if he wasn't standing next to the barn door and disappeared into the tiny house, closing the door behind her.
That was rude, Rocinante thought with a pang of hurt. Maybe she wasn't the one who saved him after all. It could be her husband who was currently away with the pitchfork he had forgotten earlier, and perhaps Rocinante's presence made this woman angry. Maybe she wanted him to leave as soon as possible, ignoring his existence and pretending he wasn't recovering in their barn. There were so many possibilities for her behaviour, but Rocinante didn't have time to pick the most likely one. He needed answers, and he needed to find Law; the woman and her weird behaviour could certainly wait.