Chapter Text
Rouge was pregnant. Roger was dying.
Rouge was pregnant and Roger was dying.
Rouge was pregnant and Roger was dying and all the things that had seemed so simple were suddenly so much more complicated and terrifying.
He felt so much, had since she’d first told him the news earlier today, a smile on her face and worry in her eyes. He was happy (so so happy, how could he not be, a child, their child, the two of them) and sad (he’d never get to see them grow up). He was proud (he’d gotten Rouge to have a baby with him, and how had he managed that?) and guilty (he was going to leave her, she was going to have to do this alone).
Mostly, he was conflicted: wondering if he should still turn himself in, have his last hurrah and leave the world on his own terms, or if he should stick it out, try to do what he could for Rouge while he was still able to stand- gather some money together, maybe, Roger wouldn’t be leaving her much as it stood and most of her bounty hunting money was gone now.
At least if he turned himself in fast enough, Rouge might be able to hide that the baby was his, even if the idea burned him. It wouldn’t do any good for someone to figure that out.
Garp would probably get a nice pay day out of “catching” him, too- they didn’t give marines the bounties on the pirates they caught, but the man would probably still get a good bonus, maybe a promotion.
That thought, though, sparked something in Roger, and he rolled over to shake his sleeping wife awake.
She reacted the way she always did to Roger waking her up in the middle of the night: with a haki-infused fist seeking out his nose like a homing beacon.
At this point, Roger was pretty sure it wasn’t that she was expecting an enemy, she was just sick of having her beauty sleep disturbed.
And what a beauty she was, Roger thought, eyes drifting over her strawberry blonde hair, the freckles hidden in the dark of their room, to the deceptively slim frame that he knew, even now, had at least one knife hidden on it.
“Rouge, you have to turn me into the marines.” Roger told her, face lit with his D-like grin.
“What?” Rouge asked, sleepiness having evaporated at the word marines. Unfortunately that word was at the end of the sentence, so Rouge still had no idea what he’d said.
“You have to turn me into the marines.” Roger repeated, still beaming.
Rouge raised herself up properly, switching on a bedside lamp to stare at him with disbelief, illuminating their little bedroom in a soft glow. “Roger, why the hell would I do that?” She asked, “You know how I feel about this ridiculous plan of yours-“ -begrudgingly going along with it, because he was dying and Rouge understood with the same sea-salt freedom in her veins as Roger how little he wanted to waste away in a sick-bed-“so why would I involve myself in it anymore than I have to?”
“For them.” Roger said, pressing a hand against Rouge’s belly. She wasn’t showing, of course, wouldn’t be for another few months, longer if she struggled into the boned corsets she wore as armor on the waves, but she got his point nonetheless.
“How is my sending their father to his death going to help our baby?” Rouge asked him, and Roger cringed. That was her pissed voice. Last time she’d sounded like that- well, last time she’d sounded like that he’d told her he was going to turn himself into the marines, to Garp, and she’d cried for the second time in front of him, but he didn’t like to think about that- but the time before that, she’d chased him halfway across the grand line before siccing a sea king on him, stranding him on a deserted island, and stealing all his supplies.
She hadn’t even left his log pose, he’d had to wait for Raleigh to find him instead of swimming somewhere with actual food, and entertainment. She’d called it time-out.
Gods but he loved that woman. Sometimes Roger couldn’t believe he’d managed to convince her to marry him. He was pretty sure she felt the same way half the time.
“Think about it, Rouge.” Roger entreated her, “If you turn me in, you get my bounty.” Which, at five and a half billion Beri, was nothing to be sneezed at.
Rouge’s face only darkened more though, and Roger scanned back through his last few words to try and figure out what he’d said to upset her.
“So you think I’d turn the man I love in for a few Beri?” Rouge hissed, looking incensed.
Ah. Shit.
“No! No!” Roger raised his hands in surrender. “But it’s not just that! If you turned me in, you’d be a hero, the woman who stopped the Pirate King. No one could make you disappear- or our child.”
Because it was a fear that haunted Roger, some nights. Most of the time he let himself believe that the hatred for him would die with him, but sometimes the thought that it wouldn’t ate at him. Less so for Rouge, who was a terror in her own right, or Raleigh, but the less combat oriented members of his crew, his cabin boys? What would happen to them if someone decided their grudge with Roger wasn’t satisfied with his death?
And even Rouge and Raleigh would fall to a knife in the dark. They all had to sleep sometime.
As a hero, though, as someone the whole world loved and admired- even if the world government thought she might know a little too much about what was hidden on Raftel, they wouldn’t be able to just make her disappear. And why would they think that, when she would be the one who brought him down?
“The marines don’t know about us, and this way, if they ever do find out, it’ll be viewed as a trick, as you getting my guard down. You’re the best bounty hunter in the world, but I’m Pirate King, it’d be believable that you’d need that edge, even if you have turned me in a few times before.”
She’d made quite the tidy sum doing so, too, back when they were both younger: Roger’s bounty pathetically small compared to its current height, Rouge just starting out as a bounty hunter.
“Let’s talk about this in the morning, Roger.” Rouge said at last, which wasn’t a ‘No’ and they both knew it.
He had learned the value of letting his wife ‘sleep on it’, however, and so did not argue with her. It wasn’t like a few hours would make a difference, if his new plan was to be carried out.
Morning came, as it always did, and with it one of the worst conversations in Rouge’s life.
Not worse than finding out her husband was dying, but arguably worse than him declaring his intent to hand himself over to Garp the Fist, Rouge would have ranked it, had anyone asked.
But she lets Roger have his way, though it burns her. Rouge is not a pirate, but she feels that same urge to hoard and protect her treasure, but this is Roger’s Death. Rouge will respect that.
And then, things move fast.
They have to- this has to be done as quickly as possible, to keep anyone from linking Rouge’s pregnancy and Roger together, but it’s still almost alarmingly quick, leaving Roger’s head spinning.
He’s able to see Raleigh, to explain, but the rest of his crew… Raleigh will have to tell them.
Rouge is crying when she puts the chains on him. That’s the third time he’s made her cry, and he hates himself for it a little.
Hates the chains, too, but they’re necessary. Rouge had never turned him in in chains before. A cage, ropes, one memorable literally tied to a bed- Garp hadn’t been able to look him in the eye for months- but never in chains. It would have been crossing some line neither of them could name.
Now she stands with Roger in chains at her feet, his sword strapped to her waist- “spoils of war” she’d called it casually, as if she’d ever let a marine lay their hands on it- across from the fleet admiral, Marineford before them, the Gates of Justice at her back.
“Bounty hunter Hibiscus Rouge.” Kong acknowledges her, looking remarkably unruffled for a man who’s just had the Pirate King delivered to his doorstep. At his side Admiral Sengoku and some new Vice Admiral Rouge doesn’t know the name of are watching the scene. Sengoku’s poker face isn’t quite as good as his superior’s, and the Vice Admiral is wide-eyed in disbelief.
“Fleet Admiral Kong.” Rouge says, and her voice does not shake. “I believe you owe me some money.”
At Kong’s gesture, Sengoku and the Vice Admiral step forward to seize Roger, yanking him to his feet. He’s bruised to hell and back- Rouge is too, they’ve never pulled their punches before and definitely won’t now, when this needs to look as real as possible, though her stomach and lower back are untouched, neither of them willing to risk that.
It’s the cough that shakes his frame as they pull him up that hurts Rouge’s heart, though. A hacking, full body cough that has him spitting up blood.
That, and the sounds the chains make.
She doesn’t flinch. She’s not doing a lot of things, right now, flinching the least among them.
“We’ll need to run some tests, ensure you haven’t grabbed a copycat by mistake.” Kong tells her, though he sounds doubtful she would have. He’s right to be- even back when they were still rivals, Rouge could never have mistaken anyone else for Roger. Now, observation haki honed and perfected, Rouge could pick her husband’s aura out of a crowd of thousands. Blindfolded.
She supposed it’d be nice to say it was a sign of their love- in reality, though, it was more about keeping him from wandering off and starting a civil war without her. If there are civil wars being started, Rouge wants to be there too.
“Won’t you come in for tea while we wait?” Kong invites, and Rogue nods, smiles at the man who’s going to kill her husband, and follows him in to the belly of the beast.
Marineford is… incredibly boring. Rouge sees the training yard, where marine’s do sit-ups until they puke, and the long sterile corridors, and is so incredibly grateful she decided to go the infinitely more interesting route of bounty hunting. Here, even the places that they’ve tried to make beautiful- adding potted plants and pictures on walls- seems to bow under the immense pressure of conformity and regulation, the colours washed out before they have the chance to brighten the place up.
“How did you manage it, then?” Kong asks- seemingly casual, not that Rouge trusts it for a second- flipping through some reports a nervous young marine had handed him. Confirmation of what they both already know, Rouge suspects.
“He trusted me.” She tells him, voice even. It’s not a lie. Roger had trusted her. Did trust her. Just like she trusts him when he tells her he won’t be able to lie about this. “I imagine he still does. Never had much in the way of brains, and I’ve been buttering him up for a while.”
That was all true, too. Roger never had been very smart, and though Rouge is a D too, and loves getting her way, the truth of it is: Roger is dying.
She’d been letting him have his way for months now, trying to make his last days as joyful as possible. It hadn’t been much of a hardship- they fit together too well to have opposing views often. The plan with Garp had been one. This had been another. Rouge had respected his wishes on both, despite the wailing of her heart.
“Yes,” Kong remarked, flicking through pages, “Initial interrogation shows he’s still remarkably attached.”
Rouge bites her tongue until it bleeds at that, trying not to lunge forward and tear this man’s face off with her nails- her twin daggers having been confiscated upon her entry to marine headquarters- for submitting her sick husband to an interrogation. Just another word for torture, as far as the marines are concerned.
She can’t rest her hand on her stomach, can’t draw any attention to it at all, but she tries to draw strength from the tiny life inside her all the same.
Of course Roger was attached. Of course he couldn’t hide it. Dumbass had probably lunged at the first marine who commented on her tits. He’d never liked it when his people were insulted, always flew into a rage even when they didn’t care. Rouge didn’t. She knew she had great tits, and if anyone insulted her she could deck them herself.
“It’s been a while since you’ve turned in a bounty, Hibiscus Rouge.” Kong commented, peering at her.
Was he… making small talk? Or was this some hidden test?
“Well, I got bored catching fish.” Rouge replies, deciding to just try and give as little concrete information as she could. “Thought I’d go after a whale. Besides, with that bounty I figure it’s worth taking the time off.”
“Fair enough.” Agreed Kong, before telling her, “Miss Rouge, with the amount we’ll be paying out to you, I’m sure you understand that the five elder stars will want to be absolutely certain we have the right man.
While preliminary tests support your claim, we will need to perform further examination to be certain.
Those tests will likely take a few days. In the meantime, I would like to invite you to stay in Marineford, while we begin gathering your payment- I assume you’d prefer it as a lump sum?”
For all his polite words, Rouge was fairly certain this was not an offer she was allowed to refuse.
So she didn’t. “Of course, I’d be delighted to make use of your hospitality. I’ll need access to a Den Den Mushi, if this will take longer than a few days, however. There are people expecting me, you understand.” Understand they couldn’t just vanish her into the night and claim they had taken down the Pirate King themselves.
“Of course.” Kong agreed, all congeniality. He smiled. Rouge smiled back. Two predators baring their fangs, or that’s how it felt to Rouge. “I’ll have a cadet come and escort you to some unoccupied quarters. I’m sorry to say that they won’t be particularly comfortable; it’s normally only marines staying overnight here.”
“Not to worry.” Rouge assured him, “I’m sure I’ve slept in far worse.”
A short while later, standing in the doorway of what was to be her home for thee next few days, Rouge had to reconsider her earlier assertion.
She had not, in fact, slept in worse.
Oh, on paper it was fine. Sparse and cramped, with a terrible cot for a bed and a chest Rouge had nothing to put in. It even had a small private bathroom, which Rouge was grateful for. She’d have sat in her own grime otherwise, unwilling to be naked where any marines could see.
The problem was the same problem that was so pervasive across all of Marineford: it felt like a cage. Rogue, ostensibly on the right side of the law as she was, had spent remarkably little time in her wide and varied career in a cell. Certainly not enough time to sleep in one. Now, she supposed, she was going to have to figure it out, or at least fake it for several hours each night, since she had no doubt the room was bugged.
Hell, she’d briefly worried over whether it was safe to piss in the bathroom they’d provided her, or if they’d catch on to her pregnancy that way. She’d decided, in the end, that if they already suspected enough to rig her toilet then she was likely done for regardless.
It was three sleepless nights later that Kong invited her to her husband’s execution as the guest of honour- on the platform and all. With the added benefit, to the marines, that she’d be traveling on the same ship as Roger and would, presumably, be able to help keep him from escaping.
Apparently they wanted to hold the execution at Loguetown.
The ship was remarkably similar to its home port, Rouge noticed. Soulless and crushing. She wondered at what the Klaubattermann of such a ship would be like, even as she acknowledged the near-impossibility of one actually forming.
Rogue spent the trip there checking on Roger more often than she probably should have, and blaming it on her duty to keep him from escaping, as though she wouldn’t disappear with him in a heartbeat if he said the word.
Every time he saw her he beamed at her, lighting up the cell they were holding him in.
More than once he went to speak to her, and neither of them took any joy in the way she had to turn away each time, to feign disinterest, annoyance.
The trip seemed to crawl by, yet the end of it all was far too quick to come. No one attacked their ship, tried to free Roger from his chosen fate. A few souls heckled as they dragged him up the stairs to his execution platform, but no one swept in to carry the love of Rouge’s life away. Not even her, hand on his elbow as she helped him up the stairs as roughly as she could bear. No one cried out at the horror of a wife leading her husband to his death, as Rouge stood and listened to a list of charges being read. No one interrupted
Until they did. Until one of the crowd cried out a question, and Rouge supposes she should have expected her husband not to go along with any plans, not even the ones for his own execution.
She didn’t, though, and even she listens spellbound as he challenges the gathered crowd, urging them to chase the dream he once fulfilled.
She gasps when he does, one final breath as the spears cut through his lungs and heart, her only consolation that it is hidden by the roar of the crowd.
Rouge stares out, across the square. She doesn’t look down, cannot, because if she does it will be her undoing and she cannot come undone yet, not when it is more than her own life she is protecting.
She looks across the crowd, instead, does not dwell on the flash of Blue, nor Red, that she sees intermingled between the half-excited stares. Hibiscus Rouge, Hero of the Seas, the woman who captured the Pirate King, stares across the sea of faces, and smiles.