Let's try this one more time.

Becoming emotionally attached to the Strawhats was probably the most painful thing Robin had ever done. Because now, she was anchored to these people who had tore down the walls around her heart and stormed right in as if they knew her.

They didn't know her. They would never know what it felt like to run for miles on blistered feet, to stand still for hours on end, not daring to breathe because the slightest sound would trigger gunfire, to close off yourself from the world because love and kindness was evidentally something that no longer existed.

And yet, somehow, by some damned miracle from hell, Robin found herself missing these pirates. They were her dear nakama, of course. She had established that back when they had called out her name as she wished for death.

The consequences of such human actions were beginning to show themselves as she sailed away with the Revolutionaries.

She missed the periodical shouts for meat and bright eyes that would curiously glance at whatever book she was reading with only the understanding that this was something precious to her.

She missed the clinks of metallic weights and the neither malevolent nor benevolent looks that occassionaly crossed paths with her own field of vision.

She missed the scratching of pen on paper that carried on through the nights and the smell of tangerines that permeated through the girls' cabin.

She missed the stories of fiction that she never got to drink in beforehand, because there was no time tall tales before she met them.

She missed the silly yet chivalrous antics of an honourable man who showed nothing but kindness and adoration from the very beginning.

She missed the soft pit-pat of hooves on wooden floorboards and passing down books from shelves that were much too high.

She missed the daily ruckus of invention and innovation and the sheer eccentricity that she had become so accustomed to.

She missed the gentle crooning of a violin, the melodic strumming of piano strings, the music that held all their moods in a soft cradle.

Robin hadn't felt an ache like this in years. She missed her mother and Saul and the archaeologists, of course, but after time of brutal weathering and concentration only on survival, the cries for her mother and mentors had subsided. And now the Strawhats had reawaked this ridiculously human feeling. It wasn't dependence... it was love.

Two years was much too long.