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So this is Vice Admiral Garp... the Will of D pretending at loyalty to mu...
As does another, on this very island - running through the forest, seeking safety
Mu need not bother extinguishing such an insect
Thou shalt do it instead, Monkey D. Garp
Domi Reversi
Garp can feel it, the moment he’s abruptly not in control anymore.
He’s still there, still able to watch as the black tendrils pull away from his body, able to feel it as his feet hit the ground and stick the landing. But his face doesn’t twitch out of the too-wide grin, even as he sputters inside his head, tries to protest whatever the hell is going on-
Kill the boy
It’s like someone took a map and plastered it over his eyeballs, Observation aimed like a cannon at a single Voice in the distance, alarmed and frantic- a Voice that Garp knows, better than his own, better than practically every marine he’s ever trained or lead-
Kill the boy
His body starts to run. Slow, at first, lumbering awkwardly, like a bear that’s just woken from hibernation and still stretching out the kinks from cold muscles. But soon enough he’s picking up speed, tearing across ravaged ground, making a beeline for the shore and the Voice he’s been aimed at and no matter what he does he can’t stop-
KILL THE BOY
Garp is howling inside his own mind, and it just gets louder when his body leaps, haki flaring wide and dangerous, fist ready for a killing blow aimed right at his kid-
A sword gets in the way.
And thank fuck, it's Roger on the other end.
Crouched on the ground just behind the pirate, covered in grime (and blood, where is he bleeding from-) Dragon stares with a stunned, stricken expression. “Dad?!”
“Not right now, he isn’t,” Roger says, right as Garp tries to throw another punch. That one gets blocked too, and then there’s a blade coming for his face, and this is okay, this is fine, Garp fights Roger all the time, enjoys it as much as anything else, he can fight Roger all day and not feel anything even hinting at remorse-
A wing, a fucking demon wing, that’s apparently coming out of him because Garp can feel it, sweeps around and catches Roger by surprise, knocking the pirate off his feet. At which point Garp turns, and Dragon is still there, he hasn’t tried to run, hasn’t even tried to stand up-
Again, Roger puts himself in the way, stopping Garp from murdering his own son. “Kid, I really think you should maybe get the hell out of here!”
“I can’t-!”
“Are your legs broken or something?!”
They yell at each other a bit more. Garp stops paying attention, throwing every bit of his mental weight into trying to slow down his hits, trip up his own feet, anything that’ll give Roger a better chance at stopping him.
Anything is better than Dragon dying at his hands.
Even if that means Garp dies himself.
And finally, finally, either he succeeds or Roger just gets in a lucky strike, but the flat of his sword blade abruptly SLAMS against the side of Garp’s head, and a much more welcome kind of darkness takes over.
...he honestly doesn’t expect to wake up again.
But that’s what happens, against all odds. Garp comes to with a snort, spends a moment blearily staring down at the chains wrapped around his chest, then remembers to panic.
“Hey,” a stern voice calls. Snapping his head up triggers a sharp burst of pain from where Roger’s sword hit, but Garp doesn’t let it show as he glares at Scobber Gabban. “You cause a fuss, I’ll get the captain down here to kick your ass again.”
“Bah!” Garp huffs. “He couldn’t kick it if I was holding still and mooning the bastard!”
For whatever damn reason, that makes Scopper grin. “I’ll be sure to tell him that. Think you can stay still a minute while I get our medic?”
“Don’t need a damn doctor,” but even as he grumbles, Garp settles back against the big crate he’s been chained to, probably in one of the Oro Jackson’s holds. Between the throbbing pain in his skull and an overall unpleasant ache in the rest of him, he doesn’t mind sitting still for a bit on his own terms.
“Well good, ‘cause he isn’t one. Certified doctor will have to wait until we toss your sorry self at a marine ship.”
“I said I don’t-” Raising his voice just makes all the throbbing worse, and for all that he’s never let a bit of pain stop him before, Garp has never quite felt this- drained, so he gives it up only four words in. “Ah, forget it.”
Scopper loses the grin. Fucker has the nerve to look concerned, but at least he doesn’t say anything else before ducking out the door. Garp shuts his eyes and simply listens to the creaking wood and muffled waves for a few minutes, trying to just- wait out the ache. Count his blessings. Try not to think of what almost happened.
(Kill the-)
Nope, NOT thinking about it, stupid Elder Star, or whatever the hell that thing had been.
For the first time in a good long while, Garp allows himself to feel regret. Not for knocking stupid Rocks D. Xebec out of the way of those tendrils; when he heard that weird Thing mention ‘wife and child’ he moved without thinking and refuses to apologize for it, even to himself. But he regrets not keeping better tabs on Dragon - when the kid decided he was ready to join the marines, he and Garp agreed, no keeping track of the brat, no meddling in his training or assignments, nothing that could make others treat him differently on account of his father. But if Garp had known Dragon was on God Valley... Well. He still would have tried to prevent Rocks getting whammied. But maybe that would have taken the shape of Garp throwing Roger in the way of the tendrils instead.
(Unless it turns out the annoying straw hat-wearing idiot ALSO has a secret wife and child, but that’s something Garp really doesn’t want to think about.)
He’s maybe kinda-sorta halfway to falling back into a nice peaceful nap, far away from the persistent aching and lurking fear, when the door of the hold creaks open, and the whole reason for that fear tentatively asks, “Dad?”
Garp’s eyes snap open.
For a brief, terrifying moment, he’s convinced those words are going to echo thunderously in his mind again, kill the boy, that wings are going to sprout and his arms will flex and this time Roger won’t be able to stop him in time- but they don’t. Nothing happens, other than Garp suddenly breathing faster. He isn’t panicking- he isn’t. So what if he’s practically gasping, if his heart is pounding, if his kid is here-
His kid is here.
His kid is right here, suddenly kneeling next to Garp on the floor, eyes wide and worried but he isn’t scared, not like before. Not like when his own father was trying to kill him.
It’s mostly instinct that makes Garp lean forward, as much as he can against the chains he isn’t going to risk breaking, and hook his chin over Dragon’s shoulder. The kid takes that for the invitation it is, and leans in close, burying his face against Garp’s collarbones, hands clutching at his torn clothing. “You okay, brat?”
Dragon makes a sound that could be a laugh, could be a sob. “Stupid old man, you- you-”
He’s shaking, clinging onto Garp like a lifeline in a storm, and there’s bandages peeking out from his shirt collar, but- but he smells clean, he’s alive, and the brat is acting more scared for Garp than of him, so-
So.
Maybe neither of them is okay just yet.
But they’ve still got a chance to get there.