Forget Me Not - One Shot Series

Smoker - Bitter-Sweet

The vacant expression on his face was concerning. Even as his brown eyes came into focus, you understood that something was wrong. He was angry, but he wasn't reaching for his weapon.

Smoker had taken a beating, nearly paying the ultimate price for it. His men were scattered, the girl with the glasses who was always with him was no where to be seen. You'd made a completely crazy decision and had intervened.

Gotten between him and someone strong enough to have beat him so senseless. It had taken every gadget and trick you knew to escape, especially while carrying someone nearly twice your size.

Fear alone, sheer desperation, had powered your muscles and you had gotten him somewhere safe. Somewhere that you could tend to him as best as you were able.

It was a death of a thousand cuts, and nothing was mortally deep. You cleaned, stitched, sterilized, and bandaged everything you could. Once you were done you'd gotten him as comfortable as you could and fell asleep on the floor beside him.

A soft groan had woken you up, and you were relieved to see him coming around. Doubly relieved to see he wasn't running a fever. If something had infected, or if he hadn't woken up on his own, you didn't know what you were going to do.

Now, however, you had a new problem.

"What happened?" He questions groggily, grunting a little as he sits upright.

"You were, uh, injured." You begin, both of you looking at the bandages dotted over his body. "I did what I could and here we are."

"You did this?"

You nod. "The nature of your wounds limited my options, so this was the best I could do. I didn't want to risk a hospital."

"... Your being vague on the details." He points out.

"What... do you remember?"

He scowls a little, looking around and grabbing his jacket. He looks over the blood stains for a long moment before pulling a couple cigars free and lighting them.

"My name's Smoker, I'm a marine. I have a devil fruit, and I just made captain." He recites, filling the room with smoke and relaxing a little. "But my bars are scuffed and worn, like I've been captain for a good long while."

"Long as I've known you." You agree, pulling up a stool and sitting down nearby. "And I've known you," you pause and consider it. "Three years now, give or take a week."

"So I've lost that much time then." He grumbles the words, chewing on the cigars thoughtfully.

"Mm, but hey, you remember your name and your job, that's good." You say.

"... You... sound sad." He says carefully, eyes turned toward you. You feel yourself flinch a little but you shrug.

"Maybe a little." You don't see a reason to lie. You've been painfully honest with him for years at this point, no reason to stop now. "We're not enemies, but... we're not friends.

"I don't know," you mutter the words, eyes shifting to the floor as your mind wanders across three years of memories. "It'd be nice."

"To be friends?" He prompts and you laugh.

"It'd be closer that way, wouldn't it?" You say it sardonically, biting back the pain twisting in your chest. "Ah, but it is what it is."

"We're friends enough that you saved me." He points out.

You snort, it's more derisive than you mean, and so you get up and and go to pull your shoes on. "You're stable, it's been hours. You wanna look for a marine girl with dark hair and glasses-."