Sorry for the posting confusion folks.
Anyway, I'm dedicating this chapter to a very awesome anon reviewer. They reviewed my Memories story yesterday, and what they said inspired me in a moment when I wasn't feeling so awesome. Thank you anon for your kind and thoughtful words. I needed the pick me up.
Lol, and next time, TooLazyToSignIn, sign in so I can thank you properly. :D
Hokay! So! Long chapter is LONG! I understand that the timeline is a little confusing. Just to clarify, the flashbacks happened about a month before the events of Memories (Memories takes place in late Feburary, early March of 2008). The "present day" is two years after Memories ended. So, basically it goes - Until Death Do Us Flashbacks, then about a month or two later is Memories, then two years later is the rest of Until Death Do Us. If you're still confused, sorry, I don't really know how to explain it any better without giving you a timeline on a graph.
So, one more time: This chapter is starting out in a flashback, about two months before the events of Memories.
Note: I still haven't decided if I like Law Trafalgar, or Trafalgar Law better. One the one hand, I think Law should be his last name, and on the other… I don't know. Just work with me. I'll figure it out eventually.
Edit: There is art for this chapter now! Drawn by the awesome Beccilein! (RussianVodka here on ) Link: http: / beccilein(dot)deviantart(dot)com /art/ OP-KiddLaw-Hurt- 200227710 Just remove all the spaces and (dot)s. :)
Until Death Do Us (Two)
January 11th 2008. Two years ago…
Law held his breath as his shaking fingers spread out over torn leather. He pressed his palm down where flesh gaped and watched frothy blood flow between his fingertips.
"Son of a bitch…" he growled, "Shit…shit!"
Kidd coughed wetly. His head lolled and he blinked hazy eyes up at Law, his hand gripped Law's jacket so tightly it creaked.
"Ahh…" the red head whispered, "hurts a little…"
The bullet had hit Kidd on the right side of his chest, but hadn't passed through. Law had caught him as he had fallen and pulled him through the doorway and out into the next room. Jean had slammed the door behind them and Bepo had sprinted out of the building to get the car.
"Jean!" Law shouted, "Help me get him to his feet!"
Jean came around Kidd's opposite side, and the two men lifted the large red head. Kidd leaned heavily on both of them as they headed down a dark corridor and out into the wet, windy night. Tires screeched and Bepo pulled the BMW so close, he just missed scraping the polished chrome of the front fender. Law threw Kidd in the passenger seat and sprinted around front to slip behind the wheel.
"Get in! Let's go!" he cried to Bepo and Jean, but his men shook their heads and backed towards the door.
"You gotta get outta here, boss," Jean said resolutely. "We'll make sure no one follows you guys."
Law gave his men one last pleading look, but knew it was no use. He nodded, and honored their sacrifice by pulling the door closed and slamming on the gas, reversing out of the lot, and pealing out down the street.
Kidd coughed again. He tilted his head back, his jaw clenched and his teeth bared in a painful grimace.
"Fuuuck…" he murmured.
"Put your damn hand over the wound." Law's heart was slamming into his chest with enough force to break his ribcage. "Pressure. Put pressure on it."
"Gaahh," Kidd growled. "There's no point. I can't fucking breathe."
"Do it anyway!" Law commanded, his semi-calm voice doing nothing to hide how close to hysterics he actually was.
"Traf…" Kidd murmured. "I'm not…" he coughed again, groaning softly. "Just… keep driving…" He slumped, his head falling to the side against the window.
"Kidd!" Law shouted. "Kidd, stay with me!"
Law screeched to a halt unmindful that he was still in the middle of the road. He threw the car in park and climbed over the divider. He pulled back Kidd's jacket and made a small noise in the back of his throat. The sight of his lover's dark blood saturating the white shirt and the top of the blue jeans he wore was enough to bring tears of frustration and panic to Law's eyes.
"No… no, no, no, no…" He pressed his hand once again to the seeping wound and blinked furiously. "Kidd, don't do this. Please don't do this…"
Kidd groaned again and brought up his hand to grip Law's wrist. "What are you doing? You gotta get out of here."
"We…" Law whispered as he pulled off his jacket. "We have to get out of here…"
Keeping pressure with one hand, Law pulled his knife out of his pocket with the other. He put the knife between his teeth and ripped Kidd's shirt open. Buttons flew, hitting the glass of the passenger side window and clattering to the floor.
Taking Kidd's hand, Law pressed the larger man's palm against the wound and took the knife from his teeth.
"Pressure!" he commanded again.
Kidd did as he was told. Law shoved layers of silk and finely spun wool away and felt for the hard ridges of rib bones underneath coiled muscle. Finding the spot he was looking for, Law looked up into Kidd's eyes and took a breath.
Kidd had a moment to gaze back in confusion, but then his eyes went wide, and he screamed in pain as Law's knife slipped through his ribs and into his injured lung.
"Fuck! Fuck! Son of a fucking—mother—fucking—Goddamnit—"
"Shut up, asshole! You can fucking breathe now, right!" Law shoved the arm of his leather jacket into Kidd's mouth. "Focus! Focus, damnit! Just breathe!"
The red head bit down hard, tears of pain and anger collecting at the edges of his hawk-like eyes. He breathed deep, panting breaths that rattled less and less with each intake and exhale.
"Hu-ck…" Kidd moaned, and his eyes closed in some kind of relief.
Law knew, however, that they were far from safe. Dark, frothy blood flowed from the small puncture, much more than he was comfortable with. He may have saved Kidd from drowning in his own blood, but now he was going to die from the loss of it.
He pushed Kidd to the side, leaning the red head's body against the door. He opened the glove box and dug through papers and empty cigarette packs. He let out a breath when his fingers skimmed over what he was looking for. He pulled the pen from the box and screwed the tip off between his teeth. He ripped out the ink well and stopper, leaving only the plastic tube, and carefully slid the cylinder into the small knife puncture.
Kidd groaned in pain, but he said nothing. Law took the red head's hand off the bullet wound and used the big man's palm and thumb to steady the makeshift breathing tube. Then taking the knife, Law prodded the bullet's entry. He searched, but discovered the bullet had shattered and there were several pieces lodged in places Law couldn't reach.
"Fuck…" Law moaned. Tears started to blur his vision again, and he wiped them away with a bloody hand.
When he looked up, he found Kidd watching him with cloudy, half-lidded eyes. The red head reached out his free hand and gripped Law's arm.
"'S okay…" Kidd said softly. "At least I'll die knowing someone really tried to save me."
Law's eyes squeezed shut. "You're not gonna die!" he choked.
"I said it's okay…" Kidd murmured.
Law looked up in time to watch Kidd's eyes slip closed. His heart pounded so hard, he could feel it in his throat. His chest had tightened so badly that he took a moment to think maybe he was delusional and he was in fact the one who had been shot.
Law sniffed, wiping at the tears with the back of his hand, and leaned down to rest his forehead against Kidd's.
"I love you, you know?" Law whispered. "I can't let you die…"
Kidd's eyes opened. He gazed at Law with something tender, something real and raw. Law had never seen anything like it before out of all the times Kidd had looked at him. For many years after that, Law would treasure that look. He would keep that single moment in his memory, and wish every day with everything he had, that he could see that gentle look once again.
Now, Law sat up. He pulled his cell phone from his back pocket and punched in a memorized code. Kidd had been right: they were in the middle of nowhere somewhere north of Ventura. They were at least an hour, maybe two from a hospital. There was no way Kidd was going to make it that long...
Unless they got an airlift.
This was the biggest risk Law had ever taken, and he knew that Kidd would hate him forever. It would ruin everything. But if he didn't do this, Kidd was going to die, and Law couldn't live with knowing he could have done something, but he didn't.
The response was almost instant. "Nine line medevac."
Law swallowed thickly. "This is Sergeant Trafalgar Law with the LAPD. My badge number is 338315…"
Kidd's eyes opened wide. The red head made like he was going to sit up, but Law pushed him back down gently. Every word the passed Law's lips hurt like a knife being dug into his ribs, but he pressed on, relaying their position. Saving Kidd's life.
"…priority A, litter. We have no signal except the car's headlights…"
Kidd ground his teeth, his grip started to grind the bones in Law's wrist. "You gotta be fucking kidding me," he snarled.
Law listened for confirmation and hung up. The fire in Kidd's eye became a full on blaze, but Law held him down, his hand still firmly placed on the wound.
"Don't hate me…" he pleaded softly.
"Don't hate you?" Kidd hissed. "You're a fucking cop? You're a fucking…" his eyes screwed shut then as the pain took hold. Law held on, doing his best to stem the bleeding as Kidd tried to fight him off. Thankfully, the red head was too weak for it to do any good.
Finally, Kidd slumped back in the seat, his body leaning against the door. His eyes closed.
"You son of a bitch…" he murmured softly. "You son of a bitch…"
He fell unconscious, and Law wept.
X x X x X
November 5th 2009, 8:13pm. Present day...
"All units hold your positions."
Dalton spoke smoothly into the receiver. His dark eyes flashed against car headlights and his breath steamed in the pre-dawn air.
Law stood across from the detective as they waited to board the unmarked police truck. It's engine stood idle, the white of it's exhaust gliding through the air at their feet like a wraith. As they waited for the "go" that meant the end of Law's career as an underground kingpin, Law watched the Detective order the different squads, via radio, with the confidence and poise of a seasoned veteran. He gave direction and encouraged the men like it was second nature. Dalton had served in the army for a few years before retiring to go to school, and finally police academy, but the leader in him had not been brought out by any military shaping. No, Dalton had been born to command, it was in his blood. When he gave orders, men wanted to follow.
The tactical gear was hot and scratchy, not at all like the clothes Law had grown accustomed to wearing while undercover. He pulled absently at the rough, wool of his mask.
Dalton noticed his discomfort and tried to hide a smile.
"You all right there, sergeant?"
Law nodded. "This thing's just hot."
Dalton shrugged, his eyes sympathetic. "Last mask you have to wear for a while…"
Law looked at him for a beat before he nodded, understanding the significance of the Detective's words. Dalton sighed and glanced around at the two other officers standing nearby by before he leaned in close. He spoke softly, his deep voice gentle.
"You know, you could get a desk job. Something low key, paperwork. Weekends off."
Law scoffed, shaking his head. "You know me, man. I'm not happy unless I'm up to my elbows in it."
Dalton smiled, his eyes sparkling. "Just thought I'd try. What are you going to do, anyway?"
Law busied himself with his holster but his mouth spoke before his thoughts could catch up.
"Gonna finish medical school."
The officer standing next to him, Law remembered his name was something like James or Jameson, turned surprised green eyes on him.
"You went to med school?"
"What the hell made you join the force?"
Law shrugged. "It was either the force or the military. It just felt right at the time."
The man across from Jameson, the blond with the piercing blue eyes, regarded Law with a mild amusement.
"So you're gonna leave all this behind? Go make some really money?"
Law smiled underneath the scratchy wool. "Hope so."
The blond chuckled softly in a pleasing baritone, and Law swallowed thickly. This man reminded him of another blond he had met in Seattle a few years ago. He didn't have the same physical build or that particular fire behind his gaze, but his face was similar, and his smile was almost identical.
"What's your name?" Law asked.
"Sergeant Lenny Schwarz," the blond said, offering his hand.
Law almost laughed. Schwarz… how ironic…(1) He offered his own hand and they shook. Law did not give his own name, and Lenny did not ask for it. Procedure stated that Law's identity would remain a secret until sentencing and convictions were handed out.
The radio gave off a loud crackle of static and the Captain's voice came in loud through the receiver.
"All units, we have a green light. Load 'em up."
Dalton responded and started issuing commands to get into vehicles. He ushered Lenny, Jameson, and Law into the truck, and climbed up behind them. A corporal slammed the doors, and the engine roared as they pulled out of the motor pool.
Law stared straight ahead, half listening to Lenny's excited chatter with the other officers. The gravity of Law's place in all this had never escaped him, but never before had it been put in front of him so clearly. The lives of all these men, and the outcome of what? Ten? Twenty? years of police investigation was riding on his shoulders.
Not to mention the fact that his life was being uprooted. As much as Law knew that the underworld of crime had never really been his world, it had been all that he had known for a long time. He felt he had been accepted faster and fit in better with the culture's underbelly. Where was he going to go now? He knew what he wanted to do, but where? How?
"Shrug that world off your shoulders, sergeant," Dalton's soothing voice rumbled softly beside him. "It's going to crush you."
Law turned to the large man and smiled weakly. He knew the detective couldn't see it, but he hoped that it showed in his eyes.
"Are you nervous?" Dalton asked.
Law shrugged. "Maybe a little. I wasn't really thinking about the raid though."
"Oh?" Dalton's eyebrows lifted.
The smaller man nodded before he leaned in to speak in a hushed tone.
"I think I may have done something pretty illegal," he murmured.
Dalton smiled wide, his dark eyes sparkling with humor. "Boy, I think you may have done a lot of things that are illegal."
Despite himself, Law laughed. "No, no, I mean something not related to the case or the mission. I think…" his voice turned serious. "I think I may have done something that'll get me in real trouble."
Dalton's eyes narrowed and his smile slipped away. "What did you do?"
Law breathed a sigh and leaned closer.
"I gave Kidd some money so he could disappear."
Dalton said nothing for a while, and Law waited for the larger man to start lecturing him. He knew any moment, the detective was going to go all bureaucratic on him. Dalton was cool, but he was also the straightest edge on the planet. There was no way he was going to be okay with what Law had done.
But the detective surprised him.
"Good…" Dalton said quietly.
Shocked, Law turned to him. "What!"
Dalton made a small motion with his hand to keep quiet. "I spoke to the DA, and there was no immunity deal for Kidd on the table. Nothing. They want him like they want Kizaru and Akainu. He's dead or worse if they catch him."
Law's eyes were wide as he listened. It was horrible and incredible and perfect all at the same time. "But… why? Don't they need his testimony?"
Dalton shook his head. "They only need yours, and one other's."
Dalton glanced around, making sure there was no one paying too close attention. He then leaned in and whispered directly into Law's ear.
"There's another undercover. He's so deep I didn't even know about him. After tonight, what you know, and what this guy's got is gonna put Sengoku and the rest of them behind bars for the rest of their lives."
Law was stunned. Another undercover? How long? Who could it possible be? He mentally racked his brain, faces of colleagues and underbosses flashing through his head like a fast forward slide show.
"You know him now?" Law asked.
Dalton pulled away, nodding. "I do. But you know I can't tell you."
Law looked away, resigned. The truck rumbled on, the radios blared in uneven intervals. Law's stomach tightened as they neared their destination. He tried to think of other things, like what it would be like to go back to school. He would take some refresher courses before applying for residency. He wanted to get a place close to the ocean, maybe on a rise or near some mountains. A nice house with a view and a large fireplace, maybe a yard so he could get a dog.
Of course, he would be alone. The one person Law wanted to share everything with had walked out of his life right after almost slitting his throat. Law knew that wherever he went, he would have to start over—completely over.
Scratching at his neck, Law turned back to Dalton, attempting to strike up conversation to distract himself from his current line of thought.
"I have a question, Detective."
"Mm?" Dalton turned to him.
"Your name is Dalton Drum. Why does everyone call you Detective Dalton? Why don't they call you Detective Drum?"
Dalton chuckled softly. "Because, after academy, when I first started at the precinct, my name on my paperwork was switched around. The captain and all the higher ups at the time called me Dalton, and I didn't get chance to correct them until it had already sunk in. It just sort of stuck after that."
Law smiled. "Detective Drum… Sounds weird."
"You should talk, Trafalgar."
"Hey," Law scoffed, "my mamma named me that. If I'd ever met her, I would have asked her why, but seeing as I can't… don't judge."
The two laughed together, earning them looks from the other officers. Their mirth was cut short, however, when the truck turned and slowed to a stop. Law listened to the captain issue new orders over the radio, and swallowed thickly as the tightening in his stomach returned.
"Well," Lenny said from his other side, "you ready for this?"
Law turned dark eyes on him and nodded somberly.
"Yeah, as ready as I'll ever be."
X x X x X
January 13th, 2008. Two years ago…
Law pulled himself out of the car painfully. His neck and shoulders were stiff from sleeping in the hospital room chairs, and his back protested every move he made with a sharp twinge along his spine. For the last two days, Law had sat, paced, and sat some more. He had waited thirteen hours while Kidd had been in surgery, and then another twenty-four sitting at Kidd's bedside. The doctors had told him Kidd was going to be fine, just a little out of it when he woke up, but that didn't stop Law from worrying and fretting himself into a pile of stupid. When Jean and Bepo had found him a few hours ago, they had insisted he go home, and for the love of God, take a shower.
Law had been too exhausted to argue, so he obeyed, but insisted on going alone. Bepo had practically thrown himself on the ground, begging to take Law home himself, but Law would not be swayed. The last thing he needed was a sympathetic voice in his ear, or worse, a silent friend waiting for him to break down at any moment.
Trudging up the stairs, Law shed his clothes and tossed them in the bin. It wasn't the first time his maids had see blood on his clothes, nor would it be the last. Martha, his housekeeper, was nothing short of magic when it came to suspicious stains, and could sew up knife or bullet holes as easily as mending a button.
The hot water from the shower burned the skin of his back, but it felt so good Law stood for almost forty-five minutes underneath the spray. The blood he hadn't been able to scrape from beneath his fingernails, came away easily with soap and a coarse brush. He shampooed, rinsed, and turned off the water.
Standing in the middle of his wide bathroom, Law looked at himself in the double mirror. His eyes were sunken, seated above deep, dark pockets. His tanned skin had turned ashen, and his lips were raw and chapped.
He was tired, but not enough to go to sleep. His mind was whirling, trying to decide what to do now that his secret was out. Should he call in? Get out? His cover was blown, so it really was the only reasonable thing…
He moved to the sink and took out shaving gel and a razor. Moving through familiar motions calmed him somewhat. The slide of the blade over his skin was relaxing. The rough stubble that had grown at his jaw came off easily. He trimmed the patch on his chin and washed his face.
He dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt before he moved through house down to the kitchen. He pulled a bottle of vodka from the freezer and took a long drink. He watched the sun set through the bay windows in his office. When he picked up his cell phone after retrieving it from his jacket pocket, he was ready. He slid open the faceplate and started to dial Dalton's number.
The phone rang in his hand.
Startled, Law checked the caller id. Jean's name flashed on the reader.
"Yeah?" Law's heart pounded. Kidd had probably woken up.
"Boss!" Jean cried through the phone. "It's Kidd! He's gone!"
Law stopped breathing. "Excuse me?"
"He's gone, Boss! He's not here!"
Relief slammed into Law so hard, he had to sit. His knees gave out from under him and he collapsed onto his bed. He had thought Jean had meant Kidd had died. His heart was still hammering in the back of his mouth.
"What do you mean he's gone, Jean? Where the fuck could he go?"
"I don't know, Boss. We thought Bepo was watching him, but turns out Kidd woke up and knocked him out. He's been gone over two hours!"
Law's blood froze. "T… two hours? I left a little over two hours ago…"
"I know, Boss. He probably left right when you did! We didn't even see him! I'm real sorry, Boss, I can't believe I didn't know he-"
"Jean, I'll call you back." Law cut him off and quickly hung up.
The room was suddenly cold. The calm he had felt when he decided to pick up the phone and call Dalton was gone, replaced by hyper awareness. Every movement of every shadow was sharp and vivid, every creak in the old house was clear as an afternoon bell. The carpet beneath Law's feet was electrifying, he could feel each individual thread, every fiber against his skin.
He braced himself, steeled his voice to keep it from shaking.
"You gonna kill me, or what?"
There was movement at the opposite end of the room. Kidd materialized from the shadow, his eyes dark but his face composed. He wore nothing but jeans, his shoes, and his long, fur-rimmed coat. A white dressing was taped to his chest, and gauze wrapped the lower half of his torso.
He held a gun, and the bottle of vodka from Law's freezer.
Law watched him, his body frozen tense. He prayed that Kidd hadn't already called everyone and now they were just waiting for Enel and Hawkins or Sengoku or whoever else wanted in on beating him to death. He really wanted it to just be Kidd. It would be all right if Kidd was the one to do it.
Kidd set the bottle down on the armoire. It had been three quarters full when Law had placed it back in the freezer, but now it was almost empty. The tall red head moved across the room, stopping beside the bed, a little to Law's right. He sighed, and scratched his head with the muzzle of the 45.
"So… you're a cop…" he growled, so quietly Law almost didn't understand him.
Law said nothing at first, but then turned and nodded.
Kidd lowered the gun and put a hand on his hip. He looked like he was in pain.
"And you've always been a cop, they didn't catch you and make you sing or turn you or nothing…"
Law nodded. "Started as a cop… this was my assignment."
Kidd watched the shadows of the trees outside play across the bed linens like skeleton fingers. He ground his jaw, making the muscle in his cheek dance.
"Was I an assignment?"
Law's heart broke. He turned fully, standing, reaching out to Kidd. "No! No you were never-"
"Don't touch me!" Kidd snarled as he lifted the gun. He held it trained on Law's chest. He didn't look up, only continued to watch the shadows on the bedspread.
"Don't fucking touch me…"
Law stood still, waiting for whatever came next. With Kidd one could never tell, and you had to just roll with the punches. The red head backed away, returning to scratching his head absently with the gun's barrel.
"Who are you?" he asked softly.
Law let out a breath. "I'm Trafalgar Law. I grew up in Portland Oregon in foster care. My mother abandoned me at a diner when I was a baby. I joined the force after I finished high school, and was put directly into the undercover system."
Kidd seemed like he was trying to swallow something foul tasting. His eyes were still everywhere in the room but on Law: the floor, the bed, the bookshelves. He switched the gun from one hand to the other, and spoke slowly.
"Who lives on Cherry Drive in San Diego?"
A cold, heavy lump settled in Law's stomach. Of all the things he never wanted to talk to Kidd about, this was the worst.
Kidd turned and his eyes flared at the floor by Law's feet. "Who lives there, Traf? You say your mother abandoned you, so if you're not sending your old lady money each month, who the fuck is it you're sending those checks to?"
Law didn't want to tell him, but tonight was a night of truths.
Taking a deep breath, Law let it go. "My wife…"
Anger became palpable as Kidd listened. The red head's shoulders started to shake and his grip on the gun turned white.
"My wife, Laura, lives on Cherry Drive with my daughter, Elizabeth," Law murmured, speaking as if in some surreal dream. "She's seven years old. I've never seen her."
Finally, Kidd looked at him. The fury was so hot, so intense in his eyes that Law had to take a step back. He recoiled and bumped into the dresser at his back.
"You're married…" Kidd growled. "You have a kid… you're a fucking cop…" He turned and started pacing in a short line. He turned away, then back. Turned away again.
"Then… what the fuck is this?" he gestured with the gun between himself and Law. "This was all bull-shit? Just some fucking way to get t' who you needed t' get to? I'm some fucking means to an end?"
Law stepped forward. "No. It was never like that. What happened between us is real, I swear to God-"
"How many other people are you fucking?" Kidd interrupted coldly.
"None!" Law growled. "There's no one else but y-"
Law's back exploded with pain as Kidd sent him slamming back into the dresser.
"Except your fucking wife!" he roared. "How can I believe anything you fucking say!" He came close, grabbing Law by the throat with one, strong hand. His breath smelled of the vodka. His teeth were sharp. "I should kill you right now. Let you bleed out on this carpet for Bepo or someone find you in the morning."
Law didn't struggle. He only gripped the dresser with his hands to try to steady himself.
"Kidd, if I didn't care about you-" Kidd squeezed, and shoved him back again, cutting off his air, but when the red head eased up, Law continued.
"If I didn't care about you, I wouldn't have risked everything to save your life. I could lose everything because of what I did, but I couldn't just let you die."
Kidd stood watching him, his hand still at Law's throat. His amber eyes were cold and dark, angry and betrayed.
Slowly, Kidd came close and whispered against Law's cheek.
"You told me you loved me…"
Law felt tears running down his cheeks. "I do love you, Kidd. I love you more than I've ever loved anybody, including my wife."
Kidd stared, his gaze still like heated amber.
"I swear I haven't seen Laura in years. I was sent divorce papers a long time ago, I just didn't have the courage to sign them."
Minutes passed. Kidd watched Law like a snake watches prey from the grass. He didn't move, didn't speak, and Law started to feel light headed.
Finally, Kidd shifted, and threw Law to the floor beside the bed. Law coughed and rubbed at his tender throat. When he looked up, Kidd was slipping his coat off his shoulders, a crazy fire having ignited amidst the anger that burned in his eyes.
Law sat paralyzed; he couldn't move his arms or his legs. His heart started to hammer against his ribcage. For the first time that night, Law felt true fear coil in his gut, leaving him nauseous and trembling.
"Kidd…" he pleaded. "Kidd, please…"
Kidd's hands went to his belt, and loosened the leather through the buckle.
"Shut the fuck up," his voice was guttural, not his own.
"I said shut up." The red head pulled the belt from his jeans and slapped it across his thighs.
"Get on the bed, face down. Hands behind your back."
X x X x X
November 5th 2009, 9:01pm. Present day...
Law moved over the dock around crates, keeping low. The tide was high, and the splash of the waves against the pier masked any footsteps or rattling of tactical gear. Law signaled to other officers as the squads surrounded the warehouse. Lenny stayed by his side, watching his back. Dalton brought up the rear, giving commands as they took positions.
They reached the roof. Leaning against a support, Law switched the safety off his rifle, and scooted up a few inches to peer over the cement slab and down into the open warehouse.
Below them, he spotted several faces he knew, and some he did not. Sengoku was standing in crisp white, dead center, and speaking to several men in drab, grey suits. Akainu was a few feet away, silent, watching.
"Wow…" Lenny whispered beside him. "That's a lot of firepower…"
Law nodded. The focus of the men below, was seven large crates. Each were packed with straw, and filled with various military grade weapons: RPGs, M16 rifles, AK-47s, even M1A2s. There were millions of dollars in weapons being dealt inside, and some very, very dangerous men wanting nothing more than to use them on a raid of police.
"There's Kizaru," Dalton said softly. The large man motioned to a figure standing beside the crates.
Law followed where the Detective was pointing, and spotted the Crime Lord sitting atop one unopened crate. He seemed relaxed, unhurried, and completely at home amidst men who would rather see him dead. He smoked slowly on a short cigar, blowing thick rings into the air above his head.
"Damn," Lenny grumbled. "Look at him just puffing away like he's all up in his living room. Dude's got some balls, lemme tell you. Shit I want a cigarette…"
Law turned to the blond and a small smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"You wouldn't, by chance, be related to a guy by the name of Sanji Black, would you?"
Lenny blinked at him. "The Top Chef guy? The judge?"
Law grinned, even though he knew Lenny couldn't see it. "Yeah, that guy."
Lenny rolled his eyes. "Man, my wife loves that show. Why do you ask?"
Law shrugged. "You sound like him."
Lenny smiled and shook his head. "I don't see how, guy doesn't talk much—except when he's talking about food."
Law turned as Dalton nudged him on the shoulder.
"I hate to break up your conversation," the Detective smirked, "but we're kind of in the middle of something here."
Lenny held a hand up. "Sorry, Boss."
The voices below suddenly became louder, and as Law turned to see what was happening, the doors to the open warehouse swung open with a bang. Three men entered, none wearing the expensive type suits Sengoku and the others wore. No, these men wore plain jeans and t-shirts.
One man stepped forward, his short, blond hair peering out from beneath a white head wrap, and despite the cool night, he wore no shirt beneath his leather jacket.
"Boss?" Law murmured, astonished.
Enel moved across the open warehouse, lifting a hand in greeting to a surprised Kizaru, and nodding to an even more surprised Sengoku. He spoke to Akainu and a few others as he inspected the goods in the crates.
"I thought you said Enel wasn't in on this," Dalton whispered.
Law shook his head. "He wasn't. He said he was staying out of it."
"Then, sergeant," Dalton said carefully, "could you please explain why he and the other underboss have suddenly shown up?"
Law glanced at the tall figure with the white trench coat, and long, blond hair. Hawkins was the underboss for the North Side of Enel's territory, as Law was underboss for the South. Hawkins was quiet, cool, and very reliable. Law would even be so bold as to label him a friend.
"I have no fucking idea, Detective," Law murmured. "I don't understand what's going on."
Looking to the third of the newly arrived trio, Law was at a loss. The man was tall, with a lean yet broad build, but his head and face were hidden by the hood of his black coat. There was no way to tell who he was, and Law didn't even have an idea.
Dalton turned to him. "What's wrong?"
"We got a problem." Law turned to the detective. "Sir, give me your radio."
Dalton unclipped the handheld from his belt without question, and Law silently thanked him for his trust. He brought the radio to his mouth, but before he could speak, the Captain's voice came through loud and clear.
"All units, move in. You have a green light."
"Shit!" Law spat again. He clicked the radio transmit button and spoke frantically into the receiver.
"All units stand down! I repeat! Stand down!"
The Captain's voice came through again, angry and undeterred.
"Belay that order! Move in now! Green light!"
"Fuck!" Law slammed his fist against the concrete.
"What's happening, sergeant!" Dalton grabbed his arm. "What's wrong!"
Law lifted the radio receiver once again in a final, desperate attempt.
"All units, stand down! We're walking into a trap! I repeat! We're walking into a trap!"
X x X x X
January 12th, 2008. Two years ago…
Law lay on the bed amidst the rumpled sheets. The clock read 2:38am. The sun had not yet begun to rise. He shifted his legs, sending a sharp pain up his spine. The wetness between his thighs was cool, causing gooseflesh to spread over his skin. He didn't want to look, knowing there was probably as much blood as there was anything else down there, but he knew he was going to have to get up sooner or later and wash himself.
The skin of his wrists was raw. It was even bleeding a little below his thumbs. He touched the red flesh tenderly, wondering if it would leave a scar. Hands scarred so easily after all.
Kidd had never forced himself on Law before. Law had always been the one to lead. He had always chosen the time, the place. Law would set the mood, set the pace, the rhythm… the intensity…
Kidd had hurt him, physically. He had bit and bruised and scratched, but Law knew that everything that had been done to his body, was nothing compared to the hurt Law had inflicted on Kidd's heart. Law had betrayed Kidd in the worst of ways, and he had deserved what he had gotten.
However, there was that part of him, that tiny, tiny part of him that had liked the punishment… just a little…
Was he disgusting? Was he a masochist?
He heard Kidd cough. It rattled like it had in the car a few days before. No doubt Kidd had popped a few stitches, or at least torn something in the midst of that fierce, furious rutting.
Law rolled to his back. Kidd was sitting on the floor leaning on the bed. His elbows were resting on his bent knees, and his head was buried between his muscular arms. He had been like that for an immeasurable amount of time. Just sitting… breath rattling… unmoving…
Law reached out his tattooed fingers and ran them through coarse, sweaty hair. Kidd caught them, and slipped his own fingers through Law's. He squeezed, and Law's heart broke anew at feeling the red head's body trembling.
"I'm sorry…" Kidd whispered.
Law swallowed. "Don't be…"
"You make me crazy."
A moment of silence passed, and then Kidd stood slowly and went to the bathroom. Law heard the toilet flush, and then the water in the tub. When Kidd returned, he was naked. He had even removed his bandages. He brought a washcloth, and climbed up onto the bed.
"Kidd, you don't have to-"
"Shut up." Kidd's voice was gentle, but there was no mistaking the command. "I don't want you talkin' to me right now."
So Law stayed silent as Kidd washed him and carried him to the bathtub. He was tender, apologetic, and so unlike the Kidd that everyone else knew. Law had always felt special because this side of Kidd seemed to be reserved only for him. No one else ever, nor would ever, get to see this gentle aspect of one of the most ruthless underground hit men alive.
Law's hands stopped Kidd's as they massaged his aching muscles. The slighter man laid back against the tub's reclining edge, and beckoned the red head to come to him. Kidd came without a word, and the two moved as one in the warmth of the bath's scented water. Law wrapped his legs around Kidd's thighs, and arched hard as the larger man ground their lengths together. His hands were calloused and rough. They felt so good against Law's skin and aching arousal. Kidd braced his hands on the tub's rim, and Law gripped the muscled contours of his lover's hips. They rolled together slow, but hard. The water splashed, and Law gasped as he came, shuddering and shaking as Kidd growled into his neck. The pulse of his cock was thready and long against Law's lower stomach. The two lay tangled together for several long moments, just touching and kissing each other's flesh. Submerging themselves in feel and sense.
Kidd helped Law towel dry, then the red head returned to the bedroom to retrieve his clothes.
Law watched him pull on his jeans and steal a gray t-shirt from his dresser.
"What are you going to say when you tell them?" Law asked.
Kidd shook his head, but didn't look at him.
"I'm not gonna tell anyone."
Law blinked, positive he had misheard.
"What did you say?"
Kidd turned but his eyes never left the floor.
"I said I'm not gonna tell anyone."
Law felt a tightening in his chest. "Why?"
Kidd paused a moment, but then shook his head. "I doesn't matter." He moved to pick up his coat from the floor.
Law moved into the bedroom, shedding the towel from around his shoulders. He stood before Kidd in only a pair of loose, cotton pants. He was stripped of everything down to his bare soul, and he wasn't going to let Kidd just walk away.
"It does matter," he said firmly. "It matters a lot to me. I could be the one that brings down this entire California operation. I could be the one that lands you in jail for the rest of your life! Why would you do this?"
Kidd slid his arms into his coat and finally looked up into Law's eyes. He waited a beat, watching Law stand defiantly before him. He blinked slowly, and moved close.
"I do it for you," Kidd's breath ghosted across Law's lips. "I don't care about anything else."
Law's chest tightened so hard, he couldn't breathe. He craned his neck, reaching for Kidd, but the taller man pulled away, shaking his head.
"Don't…" he whispered.
Law wanted to scream. "Why? Why not?"
Kidd took Law's hands and lowered them. "I love you. But I fucking hate you right now. You lied to me for seven years, so now, I don't know what to believe. And I sure as hell ain't gonna be your boy toy while you're undercover."
Law clenched his jaw, suddenly angry. "You're not a boy t-"
"I don't fucking believe you."
Law wrenched his hands away. "Just listen to me for Christ's sake!"
"No!" Kidd backed away. "I'm your man! I'm your right hand! I'll follow you, I'll do what you say when it's business! But for now, until I figure shit out, we—this," he gestured between them, "is fucking done." With that, he moved passed Law towards the door.
Law's blood boiled as he listened to the doorknob turn, and the familiar creak of the hinges. He called over his shoulder, fury contained but raging beneath the surface.
"I don't except this, Kidd."
He heard Kidd scoff. "Whatever, that's what happening. I also want you to know, this'll be the last time we have sex."
Law's teeth clenched.
X x X x X
November 5th 2009, 9:55pm. Present day...
Everything had gone to shit. Sengoku had obviously gotten wind of the raid. His men had been ready. More than a hundred guys had shown as the police had descended, outnumbering the law enforcement two to one. Law should have known, he should have guessed, and now, good men were going to die because of him.
Well, that was what Law had expected, anyway, but it wasn't exactly how it was going down.
Sengoku and Kizaru had known about the raid, yes, and they had planned for it. However, Enel showing up unexpected had definitely tipped the scales in police favor. How he had known to come, and how he had known about the raid, Law could only speculate, but what was really chewing the inside of Law's head was why. Why was Enel doing this? What was he thinking? What did he gain? This was suicide coming here, literally and career wise.
The casualties for Kizaru's side were substantial, and Law was pretty sure he hadn't seen a single man in tactical gear go down. It was like something out of a science fiction novel. Bullets zinged over his head as he flew down the crumbling staircase. Lenny and Jameson were at his back, but he had lost Dalton in the chaos.
He was going for Kizaru. The man had been his goal for the past seven years, and he wasn't going to let him get away. Too much had been leading up to this. Too many things had been sacrificed. Law swore as he ran over broken glass and through thick smoke, that Kizaru was leaving the building tonight in either handcuffs, or a body bag.
"On your right!" Lenny shouted.
Law turned, and unloaded three rounds into a stalky man bearing one of the crates' M16s. The man went careening backward, the rifle falling from his hands.
When Law turned back, he realized the corridor he was in was filled with smoke. He couldn't see a foot in front of him. He looked over his shoulder, and could barely see Lenny, and Jameson was completely gone. He wasn't sure where he was anymore, or which way led back to the open and the crates. Law felt panic start to well in his gut, but he pressed it down. Kizaru was going to get away, and Law's life for the past seven years was going to be for nothing.
But suddenly, Law stopped, signaling Lenny and hoping the blond could see him.
Out of the haze emerged a tall figure. His white trench coat hung past his knees, and his calm, cool eyes regarded Law with quiet interest.
Hawkins tilted his head to the side. "Looking for Kizaru?" he asked, his soft voice out of place with what was happening.
Law lowered his rifle slightly. "Yes! Where's he go?"
Hawkins pointed to a staircase heading back up into another part of the warehouse.
"Probably should hurry, he's got a pretty groovy escape plan."
Law moved passed the thin man, and glanced up the staircase. He turned back, motioning for Lenny and Jameson to follow.
"Thanks, Hawkins," Law said, "I owe you."
Hawkins shrugged. "You should have called me before you came here. I could have told you your fortune."
Law grinned underneath the mask. "Oh yeah? What'd it say?"
Hawkins shook his head. "Well, I'm not gonna tell you now. There would be no point."
Law scoffed and started up the stairs. Lenny and Jameson were waiting at the top, and Lenny was wide-eyed.
"Shit, man!" he said. "That was The Magician wasn't it!"
Law chuckled. "Yes it was. Let's go."
They stacked the door, and James kicked it in. Law went in first, moving left. They ascended a second flight of stairs, and did it again, this time Lenny kicked in the door. Law went in first.
He didn't get far.
Pain exploded at his collar bone, just above his vest. He heard the crunch of bone, and felt the searing hot of the metal bullet as it tore through his flesh. He had no chance to cry out, no chance to be shocked. Lenny grabbed the back of his jacket and pulled him down behind an unfinished wall.
"Shit!" Lenny cursed. "Jameson, cover us!"
"I'm fine!" Law gasped. He wasn't fine, but he couldn't give up now. Kizaru was still within reach. He just needed… he just needed…
"Is that you, Trafalgar?" came a deep voice.
Law froze. Lenny's eyes went wide again as his hands pressed down on Law's wound.
"I always thought you were such a nice kid," the voice continued. "So promising. I'm disappointed in hearing about your… unfortunate ties with law enforcement."
Law growled and turned to Lenny. "Sit me up. Quick, sit me up."
Lenny pulled him up, sending pain skyrocketing through Law's body. He got an arm around Lenny's shoulders, and the three slowly made their way around the unfinished wall. Jameson went first, his rifle raised and ready.
Kizaru stood in front of a long line of windows. Outside, a wide stretch of cement rooftop lay waiting. No doubt the Crime Lord had a helicopter coming and wanted to gloat. He was surrounded by several men in dark grey suits. There was no way Jameson could get a shot off without getting the three of them killed in the process.
"Aw, there he is," Kizaru said smiling. "Let's see your pretty face."
Lenny looked at Law, and Law nodded. "No reason to keep it on," he murmured.
The air was cool on his flushed face. Law breathed in deep, savoring what could possibly be his last few breaths on this earth.
"Quite a little operation you have going here," Kizaru continued. "You've been at it, what, five? Six years?"
"Seven." Law corrected.
"Seven years, wow…" Kizaru pulled the cigar from his pocket and lit the tip. He puffed slowly. "Must be so disappointing to know it was all for nothing."
Law started to shrug, but then thought better of it. "Somebody else'll come along. We'll get you someday."
Kizaru laughed. "Yes, maybe so. Someday when I'm too old to appreciate the finer things anyway." He puffed again, turning to the windows. Sure enough, a helicopter approached the cement rooftop, it's propeller shining against a black sky.
"Looks like my ride is here," the Crime Lord said. "As much as I'd like to stay and chat…"
Lenny's body tensed. "He's gonna get away."
Law whispered. "Let's just try and stay alive."
Kizaru turned to his men. "Take care of them after I leave."
"You got it boss," one of his men replied.
"What do we do?" Jameson growled over his shoulder, his rifle still trained and ready.
"Kizaru opens the door, we throw back," Law murmured. "There's hardly any space between the wall and the door. Jameson can cover us and follow."
"Got it," Lenny said.
"Well, I hope you three have a nice swim," Kizaru tipped a nonexistent hat to them and opened the door. The wind from the chopper's propeller blew in, catching them all off guard.
"See you in hell, I guess."
Law was about to give the word to go, but the figure in the doorway stopped him. The tall man who's face had been hidden by his hood was there. Kizaru stopped in his tracks. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off as the hooded man raised a 45. and shot him clean between the eyes.
The moment it took for Kizaru's body to hit the floor seemed like a year. No one moved as the Crime Lord fell. Everyone was in a state of shock.
But then the hooded figure stepped through the doorway, and took out two of Kizaru's men. Jameson was quick on the idea, and let go three perfectly placed rounds in three different spines. Lenny pushed Law behind the wall and got off a few shots as well.
Law was feeling light headed and dizzy, but he was still sure this was all actually happening. He leaned against the wall, trying to get his body to twist so he could see what was going on. His limbs were like lead weights, however, and he sat semi-paralyzed until the gunfire ceased.
Lenny was the first to his side.
"You okay, Law? It is Law, right?"
Law nodded. "I'm okay, just dizzy."
Lenny looked up. "That was fucking cool man, who the hell are you?"
Law turned as the hooded man reached up. Sure enough, blazing red hair and amber eyes were revealed and an almost-crazy half smile met his own.
"I fucking knew it…" Law chuckled.
Kidd knelt beside him and pulled the police vest off.
"You fucking told Enel, and got this whole thing fucked up."
"You were all dead if we hadn't been here," Kidd grinned.
"I hate to admit it," Jameson sighed, "but I think he's right."
Kidd shoved a piece of paper into Lenny's hands and slung Law's arm over his shoulders.
"That's the number for a disposable cell phone," Kidd explained. "You give that to Dalton, and only Dalton. Have him call it in two days. If he calls before that, I'll personally come back here and kill you."
"Thank you," Law said to Lenny, and nodded to Jameson.
"We got your back, bro," Lenny said.
Kidd slipped out the back with Law practically hanging on him. Law's chest and shoulder burned, but he said nothing as he was thrown into a car and driven away into the foggy night.
"What about Sengoku? Akainu?" Law asked.
"That Dalton guy knows his shit," Kidd answered, maneuvering the car onto the highway. "Akainu didn't have a chance, and Dalton himself tackled Sengoku to the floor and knocked his fucking nose into his brain."
Law laughed. "Awesome."
"Enel and our guys got away clean too," Kidd continued. "Hawkins set up some kind of trap door plan. I don't know. The guy's a freak."
Law laughed and the two rode in silence for a while. When Law's wound started to really ache however, Kidd pulled to the side, checked it, and ended up tying it off with the sleeves of his jacket. When they were moving again, Law watched the streetlights fly by and counted the mile markers.
"North?" he asked.
"Yeah," Kidd murmured.
Law shifted in the seat, exhausted, but content for the first time in a long while.
"Where are we going?"
Kidd pulled a cigarette out of a depleted pack and placed it between his lips. "I was thinking Seattle…"
Law smiled. "Seattle sounds good."
Neither spoke for another half hour or so. Kidd turned on the radio, and flipped to a station playing classic rock. Law cracked the window and let the cool breeze play over his face.
When they started seeing signs for Oregon State, Law turned to Kidd, a smile on his lips.
"I just want you to know, this'll be the last time one of us gets shot."
Kidd laughed, and turned the radio up.
(1) Schwarz is "black" in German. Hahaha... okay, I thought it was funny. Whatever.
All right! Please stay tuned for the 'Memories' sequel! :D