Disclaimer: I own nothing of One Piece.

A/N: Warning: This was written in two days so it feels a little raw. Like it needs more work. There's no dialogue. Also, the rest of the crew are asleep.

-The Treacherous Moon-


It was one of those nights. Moonlight slipped through the few portholes in the women's-quarters, silently defying the darkness of the night and calling to her to come outside and forsake her sleep. That sleep she couldn't lose herself to anyway. The navigator shifted out from under the covers of her bed and found her little robe lying on the chair. She slipped it on, its hemline just reaching her bare knees, and quietly, she left the room, closing the door as softly as possible, to not disturb her sleeping roommate. Outside, the ship lay covered in a blanket of pale light and dark shadows, the night air warm and welcoming. The navigator felt at ease as her companion, the bright moon in the sky, once again kept her company while she waited for the need for sleep to return. As she looked into the distance, a little spark of light flashed below, on the lawn deck. It was the blade of a sword. He was awake and he was down there, training in the moonlight.

The navigator squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself to leave, to return to the safety of her bed. Staying out there would only be a mistake. She couldn't deal with such moments. Moments when she couldn't escape what she really felt. Quiet moments when the only moving form on the decks was him. Slowly she opened her eyes and they absorbed the strong image of her crew mate – the swordsman, the man who had her heart but didn't know it. How could he? She covered it well. She would never tell him and he would never know. The navigator took a step closer to the railing, her eyes only on him, his bare shoulders as he wore nothing but a pair of black pants, his lower half almost moving like shadows. What she felt sat buried deep inside her. A secret pushed away, denied. She couldn't allow herself to love someone so deeply. Not again. Not after the great loss she had suffered in her life.

Far away existed someone she called family even though they were not tied by blood, but she was her family in every way that mattered. That was enough. Only one person in this life whose loss could devastate her again. And no more. No swordsman. Her heart was so eager to love him, but over and over, her mind fought it, telling it to not attach her to anyone else. To not bond her to anyone else. But it was too late. She stayed away, kept her distance. And yet, each time the figure before her went into the unknown and fought for a life, risked his own life, helplessly she felt that familiar feeling of loss hovering around her, threatening to tear down that walls that protected her fragile, scarred soul. Whenever he left, a part of her went with him and threatened to not return. She couldn't stop it. Only an empty space existed until he returned, until she saw him and knew he wouldn't leave again – at least not yet.

But moments like these challenged her resistance, her weak mind losing control over her longing heart as all she wanted was to show him what she felt and to have him hold her and keep her safe. She wrapped the robe around her, tightly, as if protecting herself from what she wanted, the belt of the robe still dangling along her sides. Below, he continued his movements, the blade of his sword sparkling as it reflected the moon so high above. She watched in awe. If she got caught, would she be accused of staring? The navigator walked to the edge of the balcony, to the side where the moon shone so brightly, her eyes barely leaving the swordsman. Her heartbeat thumped against her chest and the adrenaline pumped through her blood, telling her she was close to making another mistake. Holding the robe closed across her chest with one hand, she gripped the railing with the other, wishing she didn't have to run from what she felt. Her sad eyes strayed to the moon above as if asking, pleading why it made her come out there. Silently, it embraced her with its warm romantic glow, comforting her, intoxicating her mind, telling her it was okay to just love him. The pale light brought his moving figure to the forefront as if pointing him out to her, deceiving her into believing he was down there, waiting for her, his movements distracting in the corner of her eye. She let herself look, as if hypnotised, her head turning to the side to see him.

Her legs moved, her eyes staying on him, her sandalled feet slowly carrying her along the railing. Where was she going? Back to her room, or...? She hesitated when she found herself at the top of the stairs, her body and mind having no desire to flee to her room, only to be near him. As she stood there, the reality of what she was about to do sank in. As if, partially, waking from a daze. The stairs would lead her...straight to him. One foot touched the first step, her hand on the railing for support, his form calling to her and the moon lighting her way to him. Then she moved her other foot to the next step but...before it could touch, the navigator sank down on the top of the stairs, defeated, the trance broken. Her fears returning. As she sat, she let both her feet rest on that step, that next step she wouldn't be taking, her fear to love him – so great – taking over and possessing her mind once again. She watched him. Still he seemed oblivious of her presence. If he saw her, where she sat, exposed, what would he do? What would she do?

She waited, her figure silent on the stairs, her hand, slowly slipping off the railing. As always, being in his strong presence brought her such comfort. Being near him, gave her relief from her longing. And as always, it hurt her as well. He didn't know. He didn't know what she really felt for him. What he meant to her. How much she needed him. And if he did, would it matter to him? She believed it would but that didn't mean he felt the same way about her. She couldn't, she wouldn't tell him. She stood up again, her robe falling open as she did. She wouldn't tell him anything! The navigator left the stairs and fled the treacherous moonlight that had brought her out there only to hurt her. The door to her room closed swiftly but softly, not betraying her movements and as it did, the sparkling blade came to rest, turning dull, the moon no longer reflecting off it as it dangled from the now still hand.

The swordsman looked up to the empty balcony, to the soundless door that had just closed. He had hoped. The moonlit night had given him hope. He glanced up at the full moon, its presence no longer needed, its effects wasted. He'd continue to wait. Maybe not now but soon or sometime in the distant future, she would finally have the courage to come to him, and he would meet her half way – if she wanted. But he wouldn't be the one to make her come to him. He'd wait. He'd be patient, and he'd make sure he'd always be there, always try to return – if he could. But he wouldn't make her come to him. That would be her choice.


A/N: Oh gosh, I don't like sad endings:). I am a ZoNa shipper, after all:P. But at least they feel the same about each other and there's hope. I was just sitting and listening to 'I could fall in love' by the late and great Selena (it made me emotional like it always does) and I had the urge to put something down and this came out.

I don't know what it is with me and the stairs of the sunny and steps, lol. I always seem to be having moments on steps. If you don't like the sad ending, then maybe I'll add a second one-shot to give it a happy ending. There's another Selena song I might use for that. Otherwise, we'll let them be nothing more than crew mates just this once:). Okay?