Chapter Text
Sanji turned the dial on Zeff's stovetop to heat up the chipped blue enamel kettle. Zeff had refused to give up counter space for Sanji's electric one telling him every inch of counter top was valuable real estate.
Sure, it was something his father had said before, but Sanji couldn't help but feel he was being petty too.
Like, the way there were no more dumb nicknames or rough teasing. Or how Zeff had to work on his day off when Sanji spent the day moving back in.
Or how Sanji knew Zeff decided to turn up the news so that Sanji could hear it in the kitchen.
" . . . again if you met or know someone who met with a counselor calling herself Tina Diamond, the Calaveras County Prosecutor's Office at the number on the screen. And our news team here would be very interested in hearing your side of the story."
"What a story, Alan! Can you even imagine?"
"Not at all, Maria. Not at all. Truly despicable. Now on to Sports with Craig Monroe. Craig, how's . . . "
Zeff switched the channel and turned down the volume. Sanji turned off the heat on the stove. "I'm heading outside."
Maybe his father acknowledged and maybe he didn't, but Sanji had other things on his mind. Nami didn't watch the news like some old person, but she would hear about it soon enough. Somehow and for some reason, the story about her being Tina Diamond got captured in the news cycle.
With everything else going on in the world, with all the serious events impacting people, Nami had become the villain of the week. And it felt like everyone was having fun taking their swings at her.
She made some mistakes, sure. Sanji could see that now.
But she hadn't meant to hurt anybody, and she didn't deserve the kind of cruelty being piled on her. People on social media were calling her a manipulator, a voyeur and a creep. The comments section on the news stories were even worse. They wanted to lock her up in prison and throw away the key.
They said she was heartless, but they were the ones who enjoyed bullying her.
It was sadistic how people hide behind their phones and laptops to kick a woman when she was down, acting in ways they never would in real life.
Sanji grabbed a hoodie and cautiously swiped his phone off the counter. Then he slipped out the back door and walked to the end of the yard where the storage shed stood. He took out his vape and the phone.
His attorney, an older lady highly recommended by Patty, told him not to contact Nami. She said it would help his chances of being sentenced with a possible discharge.
Possible discharge.
She was very clear that there would be charges. She was negotiating what they looked like with the prosecutor, trying to minimize the damages at the outset.
After Mihawk's human resources department notified the police about Nami, one of the prosecuting attorney's applied for and received a warrant to remove her laptop, phone, and any other recording devices.
It came as a genuine surprise to Sanji that Nami had recorded him reading Zoro's letter about Kuina. She must have had a reason to do it and just didn't have time to tell Sanji before everything came tumbling down.
But now there was a video file from Nami's laptop showing Sanji's face, close up to the camera, making sure it was arranged for the best possible viewing. Sanji watched himself sneaking glances at the camera, at Nami, during that night.
He hadn't realized how many times he had looked at her while Zoro re-lived his worst night. Sanji stared at his attorney's laptop screen while she played him the evidence, unable to look at her or at Zeff sitting next to him.
When it was over, he heard his father's angry voice next to him. "What did the man do to deserve that? Huh? Tell me that, Sanji."
Sanji shrank further down in his chair, unable to answer him. They drove him in silence afterwards, though that was not entirely true. He could hear Zeff breathing loudly through his clenched teeth every so often, as if he wanted to say something but knew he better not.
Sanji wanted to apologize to him. He wanted to tell Zeff how sorry he was that there would be no new roof for his father's house this year.
He needed his dad to know he would pay him back, every single cent, for Judy Burge, best defense attorney a middle class family could afford once they tapped out their savings or remortgaged their home.
Earlier that month when Sanji gave Zeff a check - and of course it would be a check for his father still stuck in the old ways - with the amount he would have paid in rent, Zeff folded in half and stuck it in his shirt pocket.
Then his father asked, "Are you putting anything away for Zoro? In case he sues you?"
Sanji felt his eyes widen involuntarily. "Do you think he will?"
"I think he should," Zeff answered, and Sanji understood that to mean he didn't think Zoro would.
"Yeah," Sanji responded. Zoro didn't care about money. It was ironic because that was the whole reason this mess started in the first place.
"I think he ought to kick your ass," Zeff continued.
What followed that statement was the quietest moment of silence Sanji could remember. All the air was knocked out of his lungs.
How could Zeff say such a thing knowing Sanji's life before him, when he still lived with his brothers and Judge?
"But I don't think he will," his adoptive father finished and he almost sounded disappointed.
Everyone was judging what had happened, but they weren't there. Zeff didn't need to say that about Zoro. Everyone at work didn't need to act all high and mighty. They all had jail and prison time for way worse.
And even his attorney, who was supposed to be on his side, she didn't have to show that video to him and Zeff like that.
He already "understood the seriousness of the situation" and "the potential emotional impact if seen by others." No wonder people didn't like lawyers. They talked to you like you were stupid.
Maybe he and Nami had taken it a little too far, but they had not meant to hurt Zoro. And nobody - nobody - was talking about how much better Zoro's life had actually turned out. Judy Burge wasn't even trying to bring that up as a defense.
Didn't intentions mean anything?
Nobody cared about how he was doing and nobody sure as shit cared about how Nami was feeling right now. She must be absolutely terrified. Guilt tore at Sanji's stomach.
If he hadn't bothered Nami with his petty problems about Zoro, she wouldn't be in this mess. The very least he could do was call her and check in on her.
It wasn't like old Judy was checking his phone. And he could just delete his call logs anyway if Zeff got nosy.
With a profound sense of relief, Sanji walked behind the garden shed and hit call.