Sink or Swim (Trafalgar Law x Reader)

The Surgeon of Death

This did not go according to plan. The artificial neon light hitting your retinas didn't exactly help with your blurry vision. You blinked a few times, focusing on making out your surroundings. A hospital room. A fucking hospital room. The very thing you were trying to run from and now this. Sometimes it was hard to believe the universe didn't hate you.

Your vision had finally adjusted enough to see a man cleaning medical instruments a few meters away from your position. You tried to sit up quietly but a groan of pain escaped your lips, alerting the man of your presence. He turned to you.

"You're awake," he said, turning back to his work shortly after.

What an astute observation.

"I really wish I wasn't," you mumbled.

"Well, you are," he replied, still not looking up.

"Where am I?" You asked, trying to remember how you ended up in this place.

"Get out. Get away from here," were the only thoughts your mind was able to conjure. They almost had you. It wasn't your first time doing this. You had come up with at least eight ways that wouldn't work in the past, but this time failure was not an option. This time, they wanted you dead. You needed to get to the port, then everything would work out somehow. You managed to get there, but not without a bullet in your side and leg. In the nick of time, you lucked out and found a hideout, but hiding from them would only work out for so long. They did give up after a while, but you knew they'd be back with a search party eventually.

You tried to sneak onto a ship. Hot liquid seeped out of your wounds as you hid behind some cargo that was about to be loaded. You tried to stop the bleeding, tearing off a piece of your shirt and tying it tightly around the affected areas with rather negligible success. The bleeding wasn't strong, but continuous. It had gone on for too long and didn't look like it would stop soon. You just now started to feel the effects of your slowly but steadily diminishing blood volume, growing weaker until you collapsed against a big, wooden box, slipping into unconsciousness.

"You're on board of my ship," he informed you, pulling you out of your thoughts. You scrutinized the man before you. The strange, spotted hat, the mischievous, silver gaze, the black goatee, the cocky smirk. He seemed vaguely familiar, although there was no way you could have met before. All your life you'd been locked up like a lab rat. You could only experience the outside world through pictures and words that seemed like a bad copy of something real.

Now it finally dawned on you. You knew him. This was a man you'd read about in newspapers. The infamous captain of the Heart Pirates. Trafalgar fucking Law, the guy who ripped out the beating hearts of a hundred pirates. You'd seen him on a wanted poster. Somehow, that smug smirk and determined look in his eyes spoke to you.

You'd always look at wanted posters with admiration and displayed what your superiors called "a dangerous interest in pirate affairs". Hell, you would've decorated your room in wanted posters like an obsessed fangirl if it weren't for the fact that said room was in a Marine base. Pirates were fascinating. Not because they were strong, not because they were dangerous; because they were free. As free as you wanted to be.

"I'm -"

"Trafalgar Law, the Surgeon of Death," you interrupted him, completing his sentence. He smirked, evidently used to not having to introduce himself.

"Mind telling me your name and why I found you half dead in a port?"

"My name is (y/n)." You looked down on yourself. Your right thigh was bandaged, as was your lower torso. Stitches on your left arm below your elbow. Everything hurt and what didn't hurt felt numb. Your clothes were stained with blood and ripped.