You were captured. It didn’t matter how, or when, only that you were, you and him. You are starved, tortured – you more than him – and kept in a cold, wet hold without sunlight. Your only respite is presumably at night, when you are left alone with him. You curl up together, seeking warmth, comfort, solace from the pain. The horrors you suffer have stripped your emotions bare and he whispers nonsense words of bravado that you will kick their asses when you can. But you know that will not happen, and when the end comes, you kiss his broken lips in despair.
He is defiant, in the end, cocky and acerbic as he stands, bound hand and foot, at the rail. You are on deck as a witness and you can see the fear in his eyes. You know he wants to face death with dignity and you try to hold yours in. You have the bounty, not him. He was only a plaything. You watch as he is pushed overboard in the middle of the sea, no land and no other ship in sight. You lose it. You scream incoherently, rage weakly against your captors, and are shocked into unconsciousness.
You are in the hold when you wake, alone. You cry, hard, wracking sobs that steal what little strength is left in your body. You picture his stupid eyebrows and his fancy suits and the way he smiled. You hear his voice, calling you a shitty swordsman, an idiot, marimo. You remember fighting with him physically and arguing with him over every little thing. You hated him so much. You loved him even more. And now he is gone.
You arrive at your final destination with little fanfare. You are chained hand and foot and led from the ship toward your executioner. You know this is the only point you will have to escape and accept death on your own terms. You gather every ounce of will remaining, picture him in your mind, and explode in a final flurry of movement. You throw yourself off the side of the bridge, plummeting to the water below.
The water is frigid as it encloses around you. Your heavy chains pull you downward to the inky depths. You hold your breath reflexively, even though you have chosen to die. No one comes after you, you are bound and weak and they know you will not survive. Your lungs burn. You think of all the things you haven’t done, the dreams you could not help bring to pass, and you find none of them matter, not without him by your side.
You settle on the sandy bottom, too close to an island to be at crush-depth. But it does not matter. You will not be surfacing again. Your lungs have reached the breaking point and you release your final breath with his name on your lips for the first time.
Sanji.
.
.
.
..up..
..
..
…dumb…
…
…
…me…
…
…please…
…without you, marimo…
Hell feels like someone cracking your chest and you vomit agonizing lungfuls of water. You feel yourself turned on your side and a hand rubbing between your thin shoulder blades. You hear words of encouragement and relief from a voice that you thought lost. It can’t be real. You saw him die.
You open your eyes. He is leaning over you, wearing a marine uniform, wet hair in disarray, revealing both eyes and those stupid eyebrows that curl different ways. He is flushed and teary-eyed and alive. You reach up with a weak arm to touch his face, and he captures your hand between his own and holds it tight. You can see that his hands are shredded to the bone, broken and deformed, and it pains you. You do not know how he managed to survive, but he did, and he is here with you.
“Sanji,” you say aloud this time, wanting him to know how you feel, “Sanji.”
“I love you, too, you beautiful idiot,” he says. “This is not the end.”
You do not know where you are, if you are safe, or if you will even survive the day. But you know that you are together again and that is enough. You share a kiss that is not about dying, hold him in your arms, and vow never to let him go again. You have a new dream, and it is only him. You close your eyes as tortured exhaustion seeps in, and though you try to fight it, it eventually wins. You can only hope that you will wake up again, with him.
Luffy finds you both, entangled in each other’s arms, sharing a heartbeat between you.
You both live.
End