You stayed down in the basement for hours. You could hear the crew working upstairs to clean up the glass and start repairing the house. Your emotions were all over the place, and you weren't having an easy time trying to organize them, let alone process them.
Your heart hurt, it ached so deeply you almost wanted to rip it from your chest just to have a moment's relief. You couldn't heal it, there was no physical wound to mend to bring some sort of relief.
Eventually Emma came down with a tray of food. She didn't say anything until she was sure you had seen it.
"I'll come get it later, but I wanted you to know that you can go back to your room if you want. Or, well, anywhere in the house." There's sadness in Emma's voice and so you know the whole rest of the crew knows.
"Thanks." You respond, pulling the tray close as she leaves.
The food's warm, and it makes you feel a little better. You hadn't had a chance to eat before all hell had broke loose, and you hadn't realized how much it was making everything else sink into you.
You had no idea what you were going to do. The only thing you knew for sure was you needed to think really hard on it before you made any decisions, and sulking in the basement wasn't going to help. Not that you didn't have a right to be angry, but you didn't want to make any decisions because of your anger.
First thing, you wanted a shower, and clothes that were clean. Clothes that were actual clothes too, being in your pjs felt like a depression move and you didn't want that either.
You got up, tray in hand and head upstairs. You come out of the basement carefully, not because you're worried about another attack, but you don't know how much glass is still on the floors, or where Kid is. Right now, you're not sure if you want to see him.
He had left earlier without a word. You didn't know what expression was on his face since you couldn't bring yourself to look at anyone. You didn't know if it mattered right now, since you were still raw.
You see Killer in the kitchen, cleaning up and prepping for dinner. When you set the tray down, he turns in your direction.
"Thanks Em— er." Killer freezes in place. It's almost funny to see a guy as big and intimidating as him be so shook up by you.
"Thanks." You say, knowing he had made the food. "I'm going to my room. I... just need to think on stuff."
"Let me know when you're hungry again." He says evenly. There's a twitch in his body like he wants to reach out and say something more, but he doesn't.
"Where is he?" You ask with a sigh.
"Out. You won't run into him in the house." Killer assures you.
You nod, and head up to your room.
The stairs feel big. The open space in the middle of the staircase feels empty. The higher up you get the colder things feel. Like there's a series of walls closing between you and the entire crew with each step you take.
The window in your room is boarded up with thick planks and metal bars. Aside from the basement it might be the safest place in the whole house right now. Stepping into the bathroom, even the few small windows in here were reinforced.
You could feel your body relax.
A long shower and a longer soak in the tub were the beginning of what you needed. You used all the little creams and oils you could get your hands on and just let your mind wander. Water made it easier to think. Made it easier to be relaxed while you thought. Made it more comfortable to feel and cry, and you didn't know why it worked that way, but you were grateful for it.
When you came out of the bathroom and got dressed you realized you were far less angrier than you had been earlier, which meant you could start to sit down and think about what had happened.
And what you meant to do.
Before you could really let yourself dig in to your thoughts, your phone rings. It wasn't a number you had saved, and your stomach knotted immediately.
After a few rings it stopped, and a moment after that you got a text from the same number.
Unknown: I'm not Vander Decken, Miss (Y/N).
You look at the text in disbelief before picking up the phone and texting back.
You: Who are you?
Unknown: A benefactor. A friend of your father's.
You: I don't know who my father is, how can you? How could I even trust what you're saying?
Unknown: I have proof, but the validity of my relationship to your father is not why I'm reaching out to you. I wish to help with your stalker issue, Miss (Y/N).
You: Why now?
Unknown: I had promised your father I wouldn't directly interfere in your life. However, that brat Kid isn't handling this well enough, and I felt the need to intervene more directly.
Your brows knit. Only you were allowed to be angry at Kid right now, who did this asshole think he was bad-mouthing your "it's complicated" status update?
You: Kid's done a lot for me.
Unknown: I could do more.
You: who are you? And don't give some vague benefactor bullshit.
You: Wait, did you pay my hospital bills?
Unknown: I did.
Unknown: Go find that blonde cook of his, and then call this number. I won't divulge who I am over text, young lady.
Your blood nearly froze you in place. There was a level of knowledge coming from this unknown number that unsettled you deeply. You were also certain that it was best for Killer to know about it than for you to keep it secret, so you took your phone downstairs with you.
"Killer!" You called out, assuming he was in the kitchen. Sure enough he stepped out into the landing of the stairs as you came down to meet him. You scrolled your phone to the start of the texts and handed it to him. "Read this."
Killer's eyes were usually hidden by his hair, but you could see the light in those baby blues as the scowl on his face. He handed the phone back to you.
"Call it."
"Sure," you prompt the phone to call the number associated with the texts and after a couple rings a velvety voice fills the air between you and Killer.
"Miss (Y/N), and Killer, how nice to hear from you."
"Who are you?" You ask again, but when you look up to Killer you see his scowl deepen.
"He's a Warlord." Killer says, and you're impressed at how steady his voice is.
"I see my reputation is intact. I am Donquixote Doflamingo, young Miss (Y/N), and your father was my right-hand man."
"...What? Wait what? A Warlord?! You're a Warlord!" You nearly drop the phone, but Killer catches it as your legs buckle and you sit down on the floor with a thump.
"Indeed. Your father-."
"No. No." You put your hands up even though he can't see you. "Absolutely not. I don't want to know anything. I have enough on my plate right now, I refuse to hear one word about my father."
"... Very well. Then to the matter at hand," he says, emphasizing the last word in a way that made you flinch. "The day after tomorrow a limo will arrive at your apartment. You, young lady, will be there, and I will guarantee that it will be safe for you to be there. At that point you will do me the courtesy of making a decision."
"Eh?"
"Get into the limo and I will protect you, not only from your stalker, but from the weight of your heritage. You will want for nothing and have all that you could desire, but you will forfeit any alliance with brats like Kid and his generation. You will be a member of my family and your loyalty will not be split."
"If I don't get into the limo?"
"Then I will not intervene in any way with your life - personally or professionally." His voice isn't disappointed, and something about that unnerves you.
"What if I don't show up at all?"
"I would advise you to not snub a Warlord, young lady. You are family enough that I'm willing to give you an option, don't insult me for it." There's an edge in his voice that twists your stomach and makes your face go pale. You can almost feel the hand at your throat from the words alone.
"She'll be there." Killer says, the assurance more for you than Doflamingo.
"Indeed. Take today and tomorrow to think it over. You won't have to worry about any disturbances slipping through the cracks in the meantime. Go outside and enjoy a proper taste of freedom, Miss (Y/N)."
The line goes dead, and you just sit there for a few long minutes. After a moment, Killer sits on the floor with you, setting the phone between the two of you.
"Kid's going to blow a gasket." You say finally.
"Yup."
"Killer?"
"Hm?"
"I have questions."
"I will answer what I can."
"So you're not just a crew or gang. Y'all are the Kings of the South Blue, like how they call Luffy and his crew the Kings of East Blue."
"Yup."
"Hookay." You let out a breath and lay down on the floor. Kings were contenders from the world making their way through Grandline Metro to find the One Piece. It's why there were so many Devil Fruit users in the 600 sq km of the city. The city's underbelly was a gauntlet and took people years to get through.
Some Kings became Warlords - either because the World Government scouted them, or because they applied for the position by doing something meritorious in the eyes of the Government. Some Kings became Emperors, but that was a nearly impossible feat because the Emperors themselves were so entrenched.
Most Kings died or retired when they realized they had bashed against their dream to the point of defeat.
Kid didn't strike you as someone who quit. As a matter of fact, you were pretty sure you knew how he lost his arm. He was either going to find the One Piece, lose the race to it, or die in the attempt.
Suddenly, you were angry that Luffy and the others had educated you on all this when they were trying to recruit you.
If you became a part of Kid's crew, you'd face Luffy and the others eventually.
"Fuck." You stare up at the ceiling. "That explains a lot." You sigh. Eustass would need to fly under the radar in order to keep his foundations stable while he pushed into the city. Eventually the Marines would get mixed into things but the longer you could avoid them the better your chances.
If he had outed himself as a Devil Fruit user on the traffic cameras to save someone he didn't know, he would've sacrificed everything the crew had worked for to that point. It wasn't just a matter of having to register and pay some fines.
Even if it was just registering and paying fines, he didn't know you from the next faceless rube when the accident happened. He had no reason to risk his growing empire for you.
"Who's Doflamingo's right hand man?" You ask after a long silence.
"I don't know who is now," Killer replies. "But a year ago it was a man named Vergo."
"I'm guessing he didn't retire."
"I heard he had been posing as a Marine for a long time. Something blew his cover and he died." Killer explains.
"So then for a few months Doflamingo consolidates his losses, and eventually decides to - I guess - pay homage to his friend and tosses his daughter a bone in the shape of a really lucrative job offer." You grumble into the air. "Except a drunk guy rear ends her on the way there and utter chaos ensues."
"I don't think you're wrong." He agrees. "Doflamingo is fanatical about family, he probably wanted to do more."
Tears slip down the side of your face, but you're not sobbing. There's no pain in your heart, and you're not even sure you're truly sad, but a single thought sits in your heart as the errant tears dry on your face.
"Both my parents are dead." You say softly to no one in particular. "I never expected I'd meet my father, but... the finality of this feels heavier than I thought."
"Sorry, (Y/N)." Killer offers after a long silence.
You breathe in and let out a sigh. "It's okay. Mom did her best. I guess in a weird way, my dad did too. Sounds like he had the backing to do whatever he wanted, and that at least explains why mom was so paranoid. In the end though, he let her raise me like she wanted."
You stared at the ceiling for another long minute. "What in the hells am I going to do?" You were muttering to yourself more than anything as you sat up. "I hate to ask you this, but can you tell Kid about this? I still need to think on some stuff before I can, um... y'know."
"Sure." Killer stands up, dusting his jeans off. "Hey, uh, look I don't know that I have a right to say this, but um..."
"Fire away, Killer." You prompt, standing up as well.
"I've known Kid almost his whole life. He's gonna push you toward Doflamingo. I shouldn't say that, being who I am, but I feel like you have a right to know it won't be because he wants to."
"Being who you are?"
"... I'm his right-hand, (Y/N). It's not my place to sabotage what the Captain decides."
"Your secret's safe with me." You assure him, starting your long trek back up the steps to your room.