These characters are the property of Eiichiro Oda. This story is not intended for profit.

We'll Have This Talk Again

-1"Where are they? Your nakama."

He cocked his eyebrow. He pulled the second sword out of its sheath. "I thought you were only interested in me."

She felt a hot rush of anger. She tried to take a deep breath to calm herself but she could only muster a gasp. She spat something out before she could stop herself, "Your arrogance is infuriating, Roronoa. I'm a marine. After I've defeated you, I am going to find your nakama and arrest them all."

"I can't let you do that." He held both swords by his side. They dangled, the blades loosely tapped against his legs. He tilted his head to the side, as though he were examining her. "You know, you might not want to do this. I'm just going to beat you again."

She felt another surge of anger. She was filled with rage. She pleaded with herself to calm down. All the times between Longetown and now when she had thought of her fight with him, she would become enraged. And, even though she knew that she lost that fight because of her angry and her lack of control she couldn't calm down. She stared at him. He was practically serene, just like Longetown. It was like Roronoa didn't have emotions. The only sign that he gave that he was human was at the end of the fight when he screamed such horrible things about her. She looked at his face. She had seen imagined it so many times. His mouth was always twisted into that small smile. She realized that she hated him.

"That fight didn't get to end." She said and she was proud that her voice was steady and brimming with arrogance as Roronoa's smirk.

Traces of confusion crossed his face. "You lost your sword. You backed into the wall. I had you." His voice was laced with irritation.

She would take it; irritation was better than serenity. She kept talking. "A sudden gust of wind blew you away. It saved you. I wasn't done."

When he spoke again, he no longer sounded irritated, "We both know that's not true."

She charged. He had lifted both swords to blocks hers before she crossed half the distance between them. He lifted his arms and without any effort pushed her sword off of his. She saw a flash of metal crashing into her face. She barely lifted her sword in time. She began to stretch her arms to push his sword away, but she couldn't. He was pushing downward so hard that she could barely keep her sword raised. With horror, she realized that he was stronger than last time. Her mind reeled; he was the strongest man she had ever met. She wouldn't have even thought that it was possible for him to get stronger.

She bent her legs until she was crouching. She combined all of the strength in her legs and all of the strength in her arms and this was enough to push his sword away. As soon as it was in the air, she saw something moving out of the corner of her left eye. The only things she could see were blurry. The sword was coming too fast to block it. She jumped backwards.

In the same instinct that her feet touched the ground, the right sword was inches from her face. She lifted her sword as quickly as she could. She blocked him, the impact of his sword against hers made her feet rock. She almost stumbled. She saw another flash of metal. She began to slip into panic. She knew the sword was coming too fast; she wouldn't be able to block it. She closed her eyes and tensed her neck in anticipation of the blow. She heard the cacophony of metal clashing with metal. Her whole body rocked.

She opened her eyes. He had moved directly in front of her. Everything was suddenly confusing. He didn't take his opportunity to kill her. and he had as much emotion as she did. His face was blank but not his eyes. His eyes were tumultuous. He pushed forward. He put his entire body into the push. She slid backwards. Her feet painfully ricocheted against the cobblestones. She wondered for a moment how far his push was going to send her when she stopped. Her foot caught a pothole. Her ankle twisted completely on its side. She collapsed to her knees and a high pitched yelp escaped from her lips. She looked up and saw him. He was standing above her. She couldn't believe how tall he was. He looked like he gigantic; like he was a monster.

As soon as she thought this, she was staring into his eyes again. He was on his knees. He was holding a blade against her throat. The blade felt cold and firm. It wasn't sharp. She looked away from him. She stared into the night sky.

When she spoke, her voice was heady with unwept tears and rage, "You're holding the dull side against my throat. Why?"

"I'm not going to hurt you."

She felt her lip quivering. She looked at the road. If she started crying, it was important that she not let Roronoa see it. "You've wounded me more than anyone else ever has. You've humiliated me. You've refused to kill me three times now. It's the worst thing anyone's ever done to me. I can't forgive you for this."

"Forgive me or don't. It won't change my course." His voice was flat. It was like she had no affect on him at all.

For a long moment, everything was quiet. She could hear the wind blowing. She could hear Roronoa breathing. To her surprise, she wasn't crying; she had finally started to calm down. When she spoke again her voice was as flat as his, "You can move the sword now. You've made your point. I can't fight anymore right now."

"I think you look good this way." She could practically hear him smirking.

He pulled the sword away from her neck. She sighed. "You're never going to kill me?"

"No. Stop telling me to."

Suddenly, she felt soft pressure on her temple. She turned her head to look at him. He was brushing her hair off her forehead. He hooked it behind her ear. He was staring into her face, with a look that she was positive that she was misinterpreting as fondness.

"I'm going to move your ankle now."

It was an eerie sensation. Nothing had dissipated her feelings of hatred or humiliation or despair except now she was touched. He reached his hands toward her ankles. She took a short breath in anticipation of the pain. But as he gently lifted her foot out the hole and slowly straightened it, she felt none. He cupped her ankle in his hands and scrutinized it.

"It's important that you put as little pressure on your foot as possible. Don't walk at all for a while."

"How am I going to manage that? I have job to do."

He raised his eyebrow. "This job of yours, where does begging me to kill you play into that?"

The familiar rage surged in her again. "I never begged."

"Sure," He said.

"Let go of my ankle." She said it tersely. Whatever gratitude she had felt had vanished.

"No."

The rage encapsulated her again. She tried to tug her ankle away. He moved one of his hands to her calf. She couldn't move her leg away from his grip. "You have to make me a promise. Then, I'll give your ankle back to you."

"I'm not going to promise you anything!"

"You will. Promise me that you will stop attacking me." It seemed impossible but his voice seemed soft; it sounded almost like he was pleading.

"No. A promise is sacred. I would never make one I can't keep."

He did it again. His eyes shifted across her face, examining her. "Why can't you keep this promise?"

"You're my sworn enemy. You're a pirate and you're a villain. Every time I see you I will attack you until I defeat you and take your Katanas or I die or you become an honorable man."

His face registered an emotion she wasn't sure that he had. His was offended. He scowled and looked downward. He gently placed her leg on the cobblestones. He rose to his feet. He looked down at her and his face was blank again. "We'll have this talk again," he said.

She couldn't stand the arrogance of this man. "You have no right to carry those Katanas," she told him. He acted as tough she hadn't spoke.

"The other marines, will they find you here?"

She had another reason to hate him. How dare he pretend that he care? She glared at him. "You're usually so talkative. Don't worry. I'm sure you'll be fine. Bye."

He actually nodded his head at her. He turned around. He took several steps.

She called out to him, without understanding what she was doing. "Don't go." Her voice held the slightest note of panic.

He spun around. The swords clanged against each other. He looked at her, She felt an intense air of expectation.

She didn't know why she had called him back. She thought that there must be something she wanted to tell him. She couldn't think of a single thing. Something suddenly came to her. "Where are they? The rest of them? The straw hats?"

He smirked. "I don't know. We got separated."

"Right," she scoffed, "as though I could ever trust you."

"You'll always be able to trust me." As soon as he said it, he spun around and ran into the night. But when he had said it, he had smiled, a genuine smile that showed all of his teeth and made his eyes light up. And of all the things that had happened to her that night, it was the thing that she thought about the most.