Chapter Text
Zoro couldn’t see. Blinded. Nothing but smoke and hellish orange light clouding his mask, his labored breaths huffing noisily through the regulator over his nose and mouth.
He was protected under layers and layers of fireproof padding in his coat and pants, but the heat was nearly unbearable, and sweat continually dripped into his eyes with no means to wipe it off his brow.
Ace, Sabo, and Marco were nowhere in sight, and Zoro wasn’t sure where he’d lost them. It was no surprise. The old hotel was a sprawling labyrinth as it was, let alone when it was on fire.
The call had come, initially, from an employee, who hadn’t sounded concerned. It had started small. A spark from an old electrical wire.
But then their firefighting team had arrived to find the entire building ablaze in a magnificently deadly display the likes of which Zoro had never seen in his years on the force. It was bad enough that they’d had to call back-up from a neighboring county’s station.
There were several dozen already evacuated, huddled fearfully on the beach, stricken, smoke-dirtied faces lit by that enormous bonfire before them.
There were many already safe.
Zoro didn’t want to think of how many weren’t.
Still, he hadn’t seen another person for a while now, as he’d traversed upper floors.
Where the hell were they? Had everyone really escaped? He couldn’t believe that, wouldn’t believe that until he was absolutely positive. He’d scour every corner of this place if he had to. Losing even one person was not an option.
Such was his thought when he heard a slam from somewhere down the hallway, clearly a door. And it had to be slammed by a person.
He took off faster towards the sound, braving sparks and smoke, ducking under sagging beams and dodging forming holes in the floor until he found himself at the end of the corridor, nowhere else to go.
Well, nowhere but the room on the left, around the corner and down a shorter hallway, which he knew he hadn’t checked.
“Is someone in there?!” he called as loud as he could, knowing it would be difficult to hear his voice beneath the mask and flames.
He didn’t wait for a response, merely hurried over and shoved himself into the door.
It opened easily though, and he entered upon what might have been a guest room or a lounge, a kitchen area to the side. It was impossible to tell now, but there was one thing for certain.
On the floor in the center of the room, lay a man, prone and unmoving, even with the danger of encroaching flames.
Zoro’s eyes narrowed with determination, adrenaline coursing through him as he rushed into the room.
He fell to his knees beside the victim, breaths coming quicker as gloved hands swiftly but carefully rolled him onto his back, away from the flames licking ever closer.
He came limply, eyes closed, and dry, chapped lips slack. Zoro could already see burns on his skin, red blistery marks along his neck and hands. The rest of him was thankfully covered in what was probably a nice suit, though it was dirty and scuffed now.
There was a discreet nametag pinned to his lapel. He worked here. Sanji was his name.
Shaggy blond hair, drenched with sweat, had plastered itself over half his face, and Zoro felt a twinge of fear shoot straight through his chest. He’d never been too late for anyone, and he prided himself on that, but….
Zoro’s eyes didn’t leave the blond, searching intently for any sign of movement even as he fumbled at his side, locating the correct clip and unhooking his spare mask from his waistband.
He had to get him out, he knew, but the sooner he could get oxygen in the guy, the better.
The second mask was hooked to his tank too, which would cut its usage time in half. He wasn’t really thinking about that though as he slid arms under Sanji, hauled him up to a sitting position and finagled the mask over his head.
A moment more, a hand pressing to the unconscious man’s chest as he listened above the crackle of flames….until he heard, with a sigh of relief, a faint movement of air hiss from the regulator, felt a hitch beneath his palm.
He was alive. And that was enough.
An arm he slid under the other man’s, shifting to crouch and pulling the man up onto his shoulders, gripping his leg with his other arm until he had him comfortably centered. It wasn’t the best method to carry him, but without another rescuer there to help him, it would have to do.
He turned, stepping over rubble to head back the way he’d come.
Finding a viable exit was easier said than done. Almost every turn was engulfed by flames, enough so that it was nearly impossible to determine which way was which. Hallways and rooms became nothing but hellish landscapes spouting smoke and flames from every crack and crevice. With the fire roaring high, the danger of a cave-in or a collapse was becoming very real.
Zoro never panicked, merely steadied himself as much as he could and kept pushing forward, even as his radio crackled, voices trying futilely to get through to him through the overpowering heat.
He couldn’t answer even if he wanted to. He had to get this guy out, and even if his teammates were trying to help, he couldn’t afford distractions at a time like this.
He wouldn’t stop. Nothing could make him stop.
“Turn….around….”
His heart thumped hard when he heard a muffled voice very close to his ear. Had he imagined it…?
“Go—the other way,” the voice said again, a little louder, only to cut off with a hoarse cough, though it tried again a few seconds later. “Take the—south stairwell. There’s a metal—door. Should’ve kept out—the flames—”
More coughing and Zoro decided to shift the man, hastily lowering him off his shoulders to the ground where he leaned heavily against Zoro’s side.
Indeed, there were lucid blue eyes barely visible through the fog between them, the man’s breaths heavy and difficult, but there was something about the way he batted at Zoro weakly, muttered, “What are you—doing? Let’s go—idiot,” that told him this guy was a fighter.
Zoro stared, a little surprised, admittedly, but he shook it off quickly and told him, “Get on my back,” already shifting his cumbersome gear pack around to the front and hoisting the man into a piggyback hold instead.
The blond lifted a hand, pointing Zoro in the right direction, so he took off, sprinting as fast as he dared, not knowing the structural integrity of where he tread.
He followed Sanji’s directions, trying not to stumble over fallen beams and send them both tumbling right into the heat.
Sanji whacked him on the helmet a few times when he apparently took a wrong turn, but before long, he’d discovered a door at the end of the hallway, a large metal door, as Sanji had said, that still swung open easily when he shoved a hip into the push bar in the center.
Immediately, the air was cooler, far less hazy in the dark stairwell. As soon as the door shut behind him, the flames licked up over the glass window, but Zoro sighed. They were a little safer for now.
“You holding up?” he said over his shoulder.
But then he got no reply, and despite the heat, a shot of cold panic ran through him, enough that he jostled the blond.
“Oi!”
A groan a second later though, Zoro’s body sagging with relief in response.
“This fucking sucks….” came a quiet mumble behind him, and Zoro couldn’t help it. He actually grinned.
“Yeah, well…we’ll both have a badass story to tell,” Zoro justified, smirking gently behind his mask.
The blond snorted.
Suddenly, there was a loud crack from the other side of the door, a shower of sparks raining down shortly after, and Zoro knew they had to move.
He hoisted the blond up on his back and started down the stairs, going as quickly as he could in heavy boots and a bulky uniform. Feet thudded heavily as he reached the lower floor, but one look out the door’s window told him that floor was likely impassable too, just as many flames roaring outside it.
“Shit,” he growled, and kept going down instead.
It was impossible to tell if the air was getting clearer with their descent, the entire place cast in that same cloudy orange and purple fog. He thought he heard shouts from somewhere, and his radio crackled again, but, holding Sanji, he couldn’t pick up. It was better to keep moving.
One more floor down, the last one, by the looks of the large number 1 printed on the wall beside the door. The stairs continued down, most likely to the basement, but Zoro stopped there, peering, with a certain amount of dread, out at the inferno blazing on that floor too. He could make it, but Sanji was completely unprotected.
“I gotta risk it,” Zoro said to him apologetically, and he felt the blond shift against his back.
“Go—straight down the hall,” Sanji stuttered out, having to stop to clear his throat. “There’ll be—another set of doors. Through that’s the main entrance. If you—get us lost, I swear to fuck...”
“M’not gonna get us lost!” Zoro assured, amazed that he could still manage to be annoyed at a time like this.
A deep breath through his regulator and he steeled his nerves.
“Okay. Home stretch,” he muttered, then burst out through the door.
As predicted, a wall of heat assaulted them. If he could feel it through his uniform, he worried immensely for Sanji, but he forced himself to press forward, breaking into a run through what was essentially a tunnel of flames at this point, very quickly closing in from all sides.
That was when his respirator beeped loudly in warning.
“Fuck!” he swore automatically.
“What was—that—?” he heard Sanji groan.
“Nothing!” Zoro assured. “We’re fine!”
They weren’t, apparent when the little gauge beeped again, more urgently. They had about five minutes left of oxygen, and with the two of them hooked to one tank, it was looking like far less.
Of course, this only made Zoro’s breathing speed up, panic and exertion taking hold, particularly when he realized the path in front of them was blocked by several flaming beams that had fallen from the ceiling, preventing them from even getting close to that distant door to salvation.
He hesitated, despite himself, knowing he could probably pull out his axe and hack his way through, but certainly not carting Sanji and not in this dwindling amount of time.
“Alright,” he huffed. “Alright, we’re finding another way. Where are there windows?”
“Billiards room,” Sanji supplied, his voice sounding breathless, but a lot clearer, though Zoro couldn’t worry about that now. “Through the—ballroom. Hallway on the—right side. Cross it and—billiards room will have—”
He stopped short, falling into choked coughing. There was no time to waste.
Zoro kicked his way through the door Sanji’s finger weakly indicated once again.
The door opened onto a sprawling open space, a ballroom that seemed to go on infinitely thanks to the floor-to-ceiling mirrors that lined every wall. Glass chandeliers hung high above, and it might have actually been quite beautiful, that flickering lighting all around, had it not been from deadly flames.
He didn’t look for long, just sprinted through while he had a clear path, past the small stage at the other end, up to a pair of doors with an illuminated ‘Exit’ sign above that must have been the right pair, considering Sanji didn’t berate him for his choice.
Through them he went, into a smaller hallway, less engulfed by fire than it was with smoke. Just as dangerous.
Oddly, his respirator hadn’t alarmed again and his breathing wasn’t yet restricted, leading him to wonder if it had gone off due to the heat, a malfunction of some sort. He wasn’t taking his chances.
This hallway was dark, the lights out, but he could just barely make out another door across the way, one that he shouldered his way through quickly.
The smoke was so thick now, forcing him to slow. His only guiding light was outside, the light of flames waving over the grounds, out the windows that were indeed across the room.
“Thank fuck,” he breathed, lifting Sanji up a little more securely, the blond’s body slumping against him. “We’re almost out!”
He trudged across the small lounge, following that light, nearly bumping into a pool table in the dark and almost knocking over a standing lamp.
He reached one of the windows though, and it wasn’t how he usually did things, but he lifted a leg and kicked at the old glass, right in the corner, causing the entire window pane to crack and fissure like a spider web that crumbled away with a second kick.
Immediately, there was a gust of cool air from outside, vacuuming smoke out with it, and he grinned.
“Okay, come on, you first,” he said, and shifted to lower Sanji to the wide window seat, expecting him to help situate himself.
But he didn’t, just fell limply into his arms, and that was when Zoro realized with absolute horror.
He’d disconnected his mask, which swung lifelessly at his side.
Just as lifeless as Sanji in his grasp, his head lolling back when Zoro shook him.
Zoro stared, frozen with shock.
“No—” Zoro stuttered with disbelief. “No, you fucking—! Why would you—?!”
That was why the oxygen levels had stabilized! With only one person using the tank, it had bought him extra time and—
A fearful noise left him, for perhaps the first time ever, followed by another stream of curses.
He moved, changing his initial plan, to prop Sanji up against the window sill, shoving himself through the window first, nearly tumbling right into a hedge. But he righted himself and pulled Sanji out backwards, heaving him into his arms bridal-style the second he was able.
Zoro ran then, through the side courtyard, past the smaller bungalows that had yet to catch fire, but were still connected to the main mansion by the covered walkways that stretched between them.
Red lights flashed over the white buildings from the fire trucks and emergency vehicles gathered in the entrance roundabout, but he was alone, all their efforts concentrated on the opposite end of the building.
Powerful water hoses were already going to work, their gushing roars prevalent over the shouts of rescue workers in the night.
Still, he ran until he was positive the flames couldn’t reach him, and then he was down, laying Sanji out on the grass, ripping off his helmet and mask to reveal a gnarled mess of sweaty green hair. Teeth ripped off his gloves frantically.
As soon as his hands were free, he jammed them to Sanji’s neck, pressing there desperately for a pulse but feeling nothing.
“Fuck!” he cursed, terrified, and he nearly yanked his radio clear off his chest when he grabbed the receiver to speak into it.
“Ace!” he called. “Sabo! Someone! I got a man down in the courtyard. Not breathing, unresponsive. Bad burns. Get the medics over here right fucking now!”
He dropped the receiver, barely registering a crackly reply of, “Roger that!” as he leaned in to tilt the blond’s head back and blow air into his lungs.
Twice, then frantic compressions, his eyes on the man’s face the whole time, the blood and soot off-setting his deathlike pallor.
He’d done this before. He knew what to do, but this time, it felt different. This was his fault. The fool had gone and saved him by removing that stupid mask, and now what the fuck was Zoro supposed to do? If he didn’t save him back, he’d be fucking useless as a fireman, useless as a person.
“Breathe, you bastard,” he growled as he went, when yet more breaths did nothing. “Come on. What about that badass story, huh? Are you seriously gonna—”
He couldn’t finish, could only continue his efforts as he panted heavily, sweat dripping down his face, his heart throbbing painfully in his chest the longer it went on. The longer nothing changed.
Eventually, paramedics came running, carrying a folded stretcher, all kinds of equipment.
Zoro backed off, reluctantly, even if his lips quivered and tingled with the taste of blood and smoke, even if his hands still trembled with the effort of pounding on the man’s chest, over that sullied dress shirt that had probably been crisply pressed just hours ago.
He should’ve rushed off to help the others, let the paramedics take over and do their job, but instead he stood there in the background, watching helplessly as their attempts went by, just as fruitless, watching as oxygen did nothing, watching as a defibrillator did nothing.
Zoro was willing Sanji with all his might to come back, cursing him out in his head, screaming for the idiot to just keep fighting. Time after time, shock after shock.
Time after time, shock after shock, the blond’s body slumped back to the ground with no response.
“Think we need to call it, Shachi,” murmured a dark-haired medic to his colleague, a tattooed hand visible as he checked his watch, two fingers sliding from the blond’s wrist with finality.
Zoro shook from head to toe as they slowly removed the oxygen mask from Sanji’s pale face, his knees nearly giving out.
The angry tears in his eyes burned hotter than the blazing hotel behind him.
Zoro had never imagined he’d set foot in that building again after that horrible night. Not after he’d found out who Sanji Black had been.
Son of the owner, who’d survived the blaze himself, but promptly sold the mansion to the historic society and left town after the fire.
Sanji had been the only one they lost that night. The only fucking one in the whole goddamn place. And he’d been just as young as Zoro. His whole life and career ahead of him.
Zoro had been responsible for him. And he’d lost him.
This was unacceptable, but it was a fact of life. And it was something he had to atone for.
This was the only explanation he could think of as to why he’d gotten in his jeep one night, months later, when the guilt and the self-hate were keeping him awake, sitting in his small apartment with a beer and nothing but his defeated thoughts to keep him in bad company.
He’d left in the dead of night, gone for a drive to clear his head, and he hadn’t intended on driving down by the shore, but he somehow found himself parked outside the charred ruins of the once-great mansion.
It was black, a literal skeleton, almost a negative image of what it had been, only small patches of its formerly white facade peeking through.
Still, its pillars stood almost untarnished, a row of long strings drawn taut, a web set to ensnare any who dared enter now.
Zoro did.
He didn’t know what he’d find inside, what he was even going to do, but before long, he’d grabbed a flashlight from his glove compartment, tossed it and a lightweight respirator mask, in case there were toxins inside, into a backpack, and headed up to the building from the parking lot. Odd things to keep in his car, but he was almost always on call. He’d rather be prepared.
The hotel was intact from the outside, and the front doors were still as strong as ever. He had to apply force to get them open, leaning against the wood heavily until they creaked open, casting bright moonlight onto the entrance hall beyond.
He’d never been inside the place before the fire, so he had nothing to compare the damage to now, but there was still something dignified and regal about the stairs that climbed up into a dark void, the shattered remnants of a chandelier leaving a pool of shimmering glass in the center of the floor.
He didn’t need his flashlight. Not yet at least, as the shattered windows let in enough jagged rectangles of light that he could still make out his surroundings.
Zoro didn’t know what he felt, standing there for minutes, taking in the shadows, the furniture, covered with white sheets, the way the breeze whistled ominously through the open halls….
It should have been frightening, but, in reality, Zoro just felt numb. He’d only experienced this place shrouded in infernal orange, now encroaching black. The black was, honestly, preferable, an emptiness like the hole losing that man had torn in his heart.
Just then, a faint noise to his right, something odd, a tapping.
His head turned, peering across the hall towards that side room, noticing a dirty gold plate over the archway that still read, ‘Check-In.’
He moved closer as the noise continued, the wood creaking beneath his feet as he passed by those veiled tables, chairs, and sofas, stepped over yet more broken glass.
The sound continued, grew a little louder, and while it could have been an animal, a mouse or something, it sounded familiar, with its stops and starts….like typing on a keyboard.
He paused, just within the threshold of the door and called out, “Hello?”
The sound ceased.
There was nothing there. No computer that could’ve made the noise, only more covered furniture, a long counter that had probably been impressive and ornate, but now sat broken and burnt.
Silence.
He was about to turn back towards the entrance when, suddenly, a voice, as clear as if someone had been standing just within the room.
“Can I help you?” the voice said, even though there was no one there.
Or at least, there wasn’t for the moment Zoro stared with disbelief at the empty space.
But then, there he was.
In an instant, the room was lit, a flash image of its former homey glory, polished furniture, potted plants, rich colors.
And behind the counter stood the blond. Not sheet white, not covered in blood. His hair was clean and shiny under the warm light, his uniform pristine and stylish, and his smile was kind and welcoming for the moment his blue eyes met Zoro’s.
And then he vanished, plunging the room back into its dilapidated state, leaving Zoro alone again.
Zoro stood there, unable to move, his chest trembling with some mix of awe, shock, and incredulity.
That had been Sanji. He was sure of it. Sanji as he should have been, alive.
But the question now remained. Had that brief vision been real? Or had it simply been his own wishful thinking, his own desire to see what he wanted desperately to be true?
Zoro didn’t believe in ghosts or an afterlife. So it had to have been the latter. Right…?
He stood there, ran a hand over his face, let it linger over his mouth, watching the empty room for any sign that what he’d seen would return.
It didn’t, which wasn’t so surprising.
“Shit, get it together,” he muttered to himself, sliding his hand around to the back of his neck as he turned from the room.
His footsteps sounded hollow as he retreated back towards the formerly grand staircase. He was unsure of where he was going, just that he didn’t want to stand there and contemplate what he’d seen for any longer. It was too painful.
What had that man’s life been like here, he wondered.
When the place had caught fire, it had been a well-known tragedy, the whole surrounding area mourning for the loss of such a historic place. Almost everyone Zoro knew, save for himself, had some sort of memory there, a wedding, a banquet….
Zoro supposed, with bitterness, he now had one too.
He stopped at the foot of the stairs, gaze focused on the mirrors that still adorned the wall at the top of the first landing, reflecting the moonlight from below.
Should he go up? It wasn’t clear how stable the upper floors would be, and judging by the patchy ceiling, the answer was probably not very.
Still, he’d started to move towards them when, from across the hall, he heard the quiet sound of doors opening. His head whipped towards it, and sure enough, there, the doors to another dark room across the hall were swinging wide open. On their own.
He didn’t know how else to react but to run, run towards it and chase the activity, chase that hunch he had that maybe this had something to do with that split-second vision.
Zoro’s eyes were wide as he ran, combat boots echoing, and then he realized what he was running towards when none other than Sanji materialized in the blink of an eye, his form almost transparent, but there nonetheless, the background misty behind where he stood.
Zoro saw Sanji’s expression morph into one of shock, just briefly. Their eyes met again. And then he was gone.
“Wait!” Zoro cried, letting out a frustrated growl when he came to a stop in the doorway where Sanji had been.
“What the fuck,” he hissed to himself, dragging a hand back through his hair.
Was he going crazy? Was this shit really happening?
A soft clatter, and a burnt cabinet across the room unexpectedly opened. Nothing came out, but he heard the sound of glass or ceramic clinking together. Why? There was nothing inside!
He hurried over to it, watched the open cabinet door, saw nothing but dust and dirt on the shelves.
Zoro never startled at things, but he came pretty damn close when the clinking sounded again, and the small table next to the cabinet rattled slightly.
Something was moving these things, and judging by what he’d seen, he was almost positive it had to be Sanji, as crazy as that sounded.
“Oi! If that’s you, give me a sign!” Zoro hissed, feeling pretty stupid for saying it out loud, but it wasn’t like there was anyone around to hear him. “Move something else or—or—I don’t fucking know. Say something!”
Frustration mounted.
But he got his wish.
A few moments after his demand, the cabinet clattered again and there was a voice, a panicked-sounding voice that was faint, but clear enough to register a distinctly human tone.
“Who’s there?!” the voice yelped, and Zoro couldn’t help it. He let out an audible sound of amazement.
“You heard that?” Zoro screeched, even though the man was nowhere in sight and he was, in fact, alone again. Or so it seemed.
He wasn’t; he could feel it, could feel another presence in the room as plain as if someone was standing there with him.
It was a weird-ass feeling to have. He was pretty sure he’d never felt anything like it, not even when he was a kid. He’d never been afraid of the dark, afraid of monsters in the closet or stupid shit like that. If anything, he’d welcomed it, if only so he could kick the monsters’ asses.
That wasn’t to say Sanji was a monster, or that he needed his ass kicked. Well, not that he knew yet, though if the guy kept up this slippery act, maybe he’d have to.
Not long though before the grate over the fireplace across the room gave a screech of metal against brick, and Zoro turned quickly to see it moving back by itself.
“The fuck are you doing…?” he muttered, crossing the dark room.
He stopped in front of the mirror above the fireplace, watching the line the grate drew in the soot coating the bricks. It was definitely being dragged. There was no doubt about it.
But then, a mere moment after, it began to drag back, something that baffled Zoro to no end. Was it supposed to be a message? Was he supposed to figure out what it meant, that back and forth movement?
He didn’t have to think about it for long though because there, in the mirror, over his own cloudy reflection, Sanji’s appeared, and the instant he noticed Zoro, their gazes met.
There he was again, looking a little more shaken than he had before, no comfortable smile in sight, but he was still fine, intact, uninjured. He stood there, completely solid in the mirror, the image so vivid, the moonlight even falling onto his face naturally.
Zoro didn’t know what to say as the moment continued, went on for far longer than the others had. It was long enough that he knew he couldn’t be imagining this. It was actually happening. By some fucking miracle, luck, whatever the hell it was, he could have a chance at this. He might be able to say to him the things he’d been wanting to ever since that night.
Sanji was the first to manage words, the blond whispering, “Who are you?”
Zoro frowned. Sanji could see him. But Sanji didn’t recognize him.
It probably made sense. He’d only seen Zoro’s face covered by a helmet and mask, but still there was something odd about his tone. He sounded fearful almost, like….like Zoro was the anomaly here….
“I know you—” Zoro insisted, but that was when Sanji vanished again, leaving him staring at his own reflection once more. He didn’t stop though, instead blurted out, “I was—the firefighter who—!”
The cabinet behind him flew open, then slammed shut, footsteps shuffling hurriedly across the floor. It was the door that closed on its own next, and again Zoro found himself running, out the door and back into the entrance hall, where he looked around frantically.
He’d run out here, right? He had to!
The sound of running footsteps again, loud, pounding on the wood towards the stairs.
Zoro followed in hot pursuit, breaths huffing out, not even thinking to pause, assess the safety of the steps before climbing them.
There used to be a carpet. He could tell by the tattered remains that still clung to the stairs in places, and he nearly tripped over a few raised pieces.
But dammit, he had to catch him, somehow, and when he saw, in the mirror on the landing, a figure quickly round the bannister, his eyes narrowed.
He sprinted up the last few steps, reached out in front of him and darted his hand out instinctively.
He wasn’t expecting it to make contact.
Zoro felt his hand touch down on something solid, fabric, a suit jacket. And it was ice cold, almost cold enough to make him yank his hand away in alarm, but he kept it there, gave a tug, and he saw, in the mirror, Sanji’s body whip around with the proper reaction.
“What do you want?!” he hissed, to which Zoro growled out, “Listen! I’m trying to talk to you! Don’t keep running!”
Sanji blinked out of existence again, as did the solid form beneath Zoro’s hand, which fell back to his side.
“Don’t...keep running,” he muttered again, shaking his head in the silence that followed.
He stood there, unmoving, listening for more footsteps, but none came, and eventually he was forced to acknowledge that, above him, at the top of the next flight of stairs, was a familiar scene. A glimpse of a long hallway, now menacing and claustrophobic in a different way.
Zoro hadn’t realized he’d climbed the stairs until he was right there in the heart of it, standing in the midst of that dark tunnel, almost pitch black without windows to light his way.
He slid his backpack down his arm, unzipped it, and rummaged inside for his flashlight, which he pulled out and flicked on, sending a bright beam of light shooting down the corridor.
A chill ran up his spine, seeing curled and peeling wallpaper casting claw-like shadows, stains of ash and soot standing like figures watching his every move.
He could smell the fire. He was there again, surrounded by flames, Sanji on his back and panic in his heart as he searched desperately for an escape route. It was powerful enough, affecting enough that he nearly turned back, nearly left all of this behind and went back downstairs.
But the return of the footsteps stopped him.
He heard them running down the hall, away from him, deeper into the blackness.
It was definitely fucking dangerous to run up here. There was no way the floorboards had held up with how strong the blaze had been.
And yet, he recklessly sprinted after him, his flashlight bobbing, illuminating broken doors, glinting off golden room numbers that still hung, some off-kilter, on the walls.
Every way his eyes looked, he thought he saw him, thought he saw the blond, running by his side, ahead of him, everywhere at once. He could have sworn he heard his breaths, labored and difficult, over his shoulder, just like that night.
The door at the end of the hallway swung open suddenly, and Zoro rushed to catch it, moonlight stretching long and cold over the dark corridor.
His flashlight shone out onto nothing. Nothing but an empty balcony.
He stopped, panting, confused about this game of cat and mouse. Where the fuck was Sanji leading him? Where did he want him to go? Where was he himself going? He’d responded to Zoro. He couldn’t be wandering aimlessly, could he? So why was he still here?
Zoro stared out into the cool night air, wanting answers but feeling like he might never get them. What if he woke up at home….all of this a dream…?
Dream or not, a small light flickered in front of him, by the balcony railing.
At first, he thought it was something in the distance, farther down the beach where a few more tiny lights still shone, despite the late hour.
The light flickered again though, and it was close, appearing and disappearing with more speed now….almost like a lighter trying to catch a flame.
Zoro’s brow furrowed and, slowly, he started to walk towards it, his flashlight beam illuminating his path.
He stopped, just in front of where he’d seen the mysterious light, waited and wondered if it would return.
Until, an instant later, Sanji appeared, directly before him, his hand shooting up, eyes squinting and lips scowling in what could only be a reaction to the bright flashlight in his face.
Zoro looked at him, the man now closer than ever before, so tangible it was incredible.
Slowly, an incredulous grin came to his face as the vision persisted, as the blond seemed to calm a little, put on a brave face to growl, “Answer me, dammit! What do you want? Who are you?”
A laugh escaped Zoro’s lips.
“You’re fucking—you’re real!” he exclaimed, eyes fixed on the blond who still wasn’t disappearing!
“Of course I’m real!” Sanji argued immediately to Zoro’s delight. “What the hell are you?!”
Zoro fumbled for words, again faced with the feeling that Sanji wasn’t clued in, that he was confused about what was happening. About why it was happening...
It took him a second, but he stuttered, “I’m—I’m Zoro—I’m—”
Sanji vanished, Zoro’s jaw dropping in response.
“I was trying to tell you! I was the firefighter who found you!” Zoro continued anyway, desperation rising in his voice, even reaching out to see if he could grab him again to no avail. “Remember?! I carried you on my fucking back! And you kept telling me I was going the wrong way and—!”
“Zoro? Is that your name?”
Sanji’s voice again. Sanji’s voice! Replying to him, even though he wasn’t visible. He could hear him!
“Did you die in a fire?” Sanji was asking. “Is that why you’re pulling all this insanity?”
“No!” Zoro shot back immediately. That confirmed it. Sanji didn’t understand what had happened. And there was something fucking awful about that. “You—You think I’m the one who—?”
He stopped himself, because it had gone dead silent again, and even if he’d been trying to come to terms with Sanji’s death since watching it happen, he still couldn’t say it out loud, especially not to Sanji himself.
On top of everything…on top of failing to save him, breaking the news of his death was…. If the man didn’t even know he was dead….how the fuck could he do it?
No. He had to, he knew.
So, fine, maybe something did happen after death. That much was clear now. So, fine, he couldn’t save him. But maybe he could help him move on.
“Think you’re gonna kill me when you find out…” Zoro breathed to himself, pinching his nose before huffing out another determined breath.
He strode away from the balcony, unsure where he was going, but wondering if maybe Sanji would follow him this time. He was sick of chasing him around.
So he went back inside the dusty hallway, decided to walk aimlessly, moving almost in a trance through the abandoned halls. There was no sign of Sanji, no feeling that he was around. Nothing but himself and the darkness surrounding him.
It grew stifling, as he walked, the air thick and musty, so he reached into his pack again and pulled out his respirator mask, slipping it over his head and situating it over his nose and mouth.
It didn’t help much, only took him right back to the fire, but still he wore it, trudging through the building, feet dragging him to an unknown destination which, by the time he stood in front of that window, turned out to be the billiards room through which he’d gotten out.
The glass was shattered, just as it had been. He knew. He’d done it himself, propped the blond against the windowsill right where his fingers now brushed.
Zoro thought of Sanji’s face. The sweat and grime. The blood and the burns. Why would he have done what he did for Zoro of all people? They didn’t even know each other. And maybe he could have made it. Maybe he could’ve done it, even with the dwindling oxygen.
Maybe….
He’d never know the answers, would he?
Sanji was gone, and the building was quiet, no slams, no footsteps.
When Zoro closed his eyes and pictured Sanji’s ghostly face, he opened them and the blond wasn’t summoned. He was nowhere. And yet Zoro was still here, in this burnt shell of a hotel, and it wasn’t fucking fair.
There was nothing he could do...
Out of nowhere, a hand clamped down on his shoulder, eliciting a sharp gasp as something whirled him around, away from the window.
Eyes wide, and there was Sanji standing there, a frantic look in his gaze as he scanned Zoro’s face.
But then, his hand fell limply to his side, shoulders slumping, a growing look of shock….and then….sadness on his face.
Zoro wasn’t sure how long the two of them stood there, eyes on each other. Nothing was said, but Zoro somehow felt like they were finally connecting. Sanji’s eyes said it all.
He knew, didn’t he. Zoro didn’t know how, but Sanji knew the truth.
“It was you…” Sanji murmured quietly.
And before Zoro could even reply, the blond’s image pulled into itself, into a bright white orb of light that hovered in front of Zoro for a moment.
Then, it too vanished.
It felt final. Just as final as when Sanji was loaded onto a stretcher, a white sheet over his body.
“Yeah….” Zoro managed, far too late. “It was me…”
The nearly full moon was high in the sky above the waves, its light reflected on the water below, softly rushing up onto the beach.
Zoro sat there on the cool sand, legs crossed beneath him, watching the ocean quietly, his back to the Baratie looming behind him.
He’d been there for a while. He should really have packed up and made his way home, the knowledge that Sanji was probably gone enough to appease his regrets.
But it didn’t feel right. Not yet, not without finally voicing aloud words he’d repeated in his head.
He didn’t know where they’d buried the man, couldn’t visit his grave, and frankly, he didn’t want to. He’d much rather stare at the ocean, teeming with life and energy, to say his piece, than a static stone slab.
“I’m sorry, you idiot,” he murmured into the night, small waves curling over themselves. “You saved me, but I couldn’t—I couldn’t save you... You shouldn’t have….shouldn’t have had to….dammit...”
Zoro trailed off, clenched his jaw and swallowed hard.
“I’m sorry,” he said again.
“Alright, I get it. Quit apologizing—it’s freaking me out.”
Zoro sucked in a breath, eyes not leaving the dark navy horizon for a long moment.
He almost didn’t dare let it out.
But then he slowly turned to look beside him, where that voice had sounded, loud and clear.
Beside him sat Sanji, a leg propped up and an arm slung over it, a cigarette burning between fingers. He no longer wore his suit jacket or tie, merely the white shirt, a few buttons undone, sleeves rolled casually up to his elbows.
His smirk was teasing when he met Zoro’s eye.
Zoro felt something in his chest clench, a pang that was both sorrowful and glad. The positive feelings won out, lips tilting up in a slow smirk of his own.
“Took you long enough to get it,” he quipped quietly.
Sanji rolled his eyes and shot Zoro a withering look.
“Yeah, I dunno why I—whatever,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Sorry I didn’t recognize you. Never saw your face.”
His expression softened then, and he looked down to study his fingers, which flicked some ash from the cigarette tip, ash that floated away and disappeared into thin air.
“Thanks for trying, anyway,” he mumbled, eyes shifting from the cigarette to Zoro’s face briefly. “Trying to save me, I mean.”
Zoro squirmed a bit. He hadn’t wanted thanks. He’d just wanted to feel okay with himself, like he’d done all he could, even given this outcome.
His gaze stayed fixed on Sanji’s face, watching wind play with his hair gently. There was no wind, he realized.
“So….where will you go now?” Zoro asked eventually, to which Sanji shrugged, finally lifting his head to look at Zoro properly again with a grin.
“Don’t think you’re supposed to know that yet.”
Oh, right. Dead things? This was still so fucking weird.
“This isn’t a dream, is it?” Zoro muttered.
“Nah,” Sanji replied.
“Are you gonna haunt me or some shit?”
The blond chuckled, quirking a brow.
“Maybe~”
Zoro made a show of scowling, even if he could admit that it might not be such a bad thing, provided the guy didn’t drive him insane.
Perhaps it could even be advantageous, to have a dead person on his side.
“If you see a girl named Kuina,” Zoro murmured after a minute, a bit more reflective as he noticed the way Sanji’s form seemed to be lowering in opacity. He was no longer completely visible beside him. “Can you tell her I’m still gonna kick her ass one day?”
Sanji looked at him again, the blue of his eyes blending into the buildings behind.
“Wow, you’re a real gentleman,” he deadpanned, unimpressed.
“Shut up,” Zoro replied, staring him down seriously. “Will you tell her?”
Sanji watched him for a few heartbeats, seemed to be calculating something, even as his body started to fade away more rapidly.
The last thing Zoro saw clearly was a genuine smile, just like the first image of him that had flashed inside the hotel.
“Sure,” Sanji agreed, his voice sounding far away. “Bye, Zoro.”
“Bye, Sanji…” Zoro murmured.
And he was alone on the beach once more.
He sat there for a long time afterwards, watching the water, thinking about how, in another life, maybe he and that blond would have been good friends.
~END~