Chapter Text
“No!”
“Let-”
“We are not taking in another kid!”
The boy tightened his grip, burying his face in the red coat under him. The man holding him sighed. There was a gentle rocking motion under them, making the boy sleepy. He tried to focus on that. Not the angry and confused voices muttering ahead of them.
“I couldn’t just leave him there,” the man said quietly, the anger creeping into his tone.
A growl. “But we already have two other kids. If you had to rescue him or something, fine. But we’ll leave him somewhere safe on the next island.”
The boy flinched, letting out a whimper. Nowhere was safe.
Silence.
A loud shout from behind made the boy flinch more, shoving his face harder into the man’s shoulder. The man immediately stepped forward. “We should be leaving now.” More shouts, then gunshots, somewhere behind them and getting closer.
“What – Roger, why are there marines chasing you?!” the other man shouted, sounding utterly exasperated. Footsteps scrambled across the…wood? flooring. A breeze tugged at the boy's hair, smelling strongly of salt and water. It mingled with the strong, woodsy-smell of the coat.
He felt a deep chuckle reverberate through Roger’s chest. “I can explain.” He paused and called out, “Gaban, get us out of here!” A door opened, then the air grew cool. The rocking motion increased after a moment.
Two sets of footsteps followed Roger, and the boy tried not to wince.
The man from outside snapped, “Jackson, watch the brats.” His anger barely restrained, annoyance bled through his tone.
“Aye sir,” came a response. A set of footsteps quickened and passed, while Roger stopped and another door opened.
The boy whimpered as Roger sat down and moved him. He tried to cling to the coat, but Roger carefully pried him off.
“I’m right here. Just try to sleep,” Roger said gently, a smile stretching across his face. He was easily the largest man the boy had ever seen. Wild black hair, a thickening mustache, an enormous red and gold cloak, a straw hat with a red band on his head. There was a friendly gleam in his eyes.
He stared at Roger, eyes wide, but curled up near the top of the enormous bed after a second. He didn’t react when he was covered him with a thick blanket, but cast a brief glance at the other man.
Tall, blonde, round glasses, a scar across his eye – he was intimidating, but no more than the man who rescued him. The blonde man met the boy's gaze. He immediately broke off the stern look by covering his face with the blanket.
The unsettling harshness from the man scared him.
A sigh, then the blonde spoke. “Roger, explain.”
“They were beating him, Ray,” came the heated response. “From what I heard, that wasn’t the first time. And it sounded as if it were a regular thing.”
A sharp hiss. “They were beating a kid? Not just once, but often? He’s younger than Shanks and Buggy!”
“He’s four,” Roger told him. He went silent for a heartbeat, then said, “I didn’t just rush in this time.”
Ray snorted. “Really? What made the difference?” His voice came across sarcastic, the disbelief strong.
“Because I heard them talking about how to break him,” Roger said darkly. There was a tense pause. “I was looking for a way in, thinking they had something valuable. Maybe get some gold or something for the kids. But then…” His voice trailed off.
“But then…” Ray prompted.
Roger nearly snarled the next words; the boy flinched under the blanket. “I saw a guard of some kind beating the kid for making a mess.”
The boy shuddered. He hadn’t meant to spill his juice! His foot caught the rug and tripped him. The maids hadn’t straightened it out after sweeping not long before.
His shoulder ached, but he resisted shifting.
“A me– he was beaten because he made a mess?” Ray asked. “He’s a kid! Kids make messes!” A heavy sigh, then footsteps announced him coming closer. “Alright, I won’t be mad at you saving him.”
“I knew you wouldn’t be mad anyway, RayRay,” Roger said happily. His tone grew darker a second later. “I’m just glad you weren’t there or it would’ve been worse.”
“I’m guessing you didn’t just bust in, did you?” Ray asked, sounding disbelieving.
Roger gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Not this time. I listened to the guards walking in the halls for a while, then opened the kids' window.” A heavy pause. “I don’t think any of those…heathens knew how to treat a kid.”
Ray groaned. “But what are we going to do with him?” he asked.
The boy flinched, letting out a muffled whimper.
There was movement, then Roger’s hand lay on the boy's side. “We could always ask Whitebeard to take him.”
Ray scoffed. “Whitebeard? You really think he’d take in the kid?”
“He took in those others. He’s got, what, five now?” Fabric moved as Roger shrugged. “What’s one more?”
“Yeah, he’s got five kids, but all of them are older than ten. Hell, Marco’s the youngest and he was the first of them!” Ray said. “But they’re all under sixteen, if I remember right.”
The boy shifted a bit. Who was Whitebeard? Marco? Other people like Roger? Or more like… He didn’t let himself finish that thought.
Roger’s hand pressed down carefully, but it felt reassuring rather than painful. “We’re meeting with him in a week, right? We’ll keep the kid till then. If Whitebeard wants to take him in, then we won’t have to worry.”
“And if he doesn’t?” Ray asked.
“Then we’ll figure something out,” Roger said.
The boy let out a quiet sigh. It sounded as if they wouldn’t just abandon him at least.
Ray let out a loud breath. “Fine. Whitebeard’s a sucker for kids, he might agree. I’ll set up another bed in Shanks and Buggy’s room for now.”
The boy trembled, and Roger froze.
“He can sleep in here for now, Ray. I think he’s scared and a couple nights in here won’t hurt,” Roger said after a moment.
Ray snorted. “Either way, gotta let the kids know there’s someone new aboard.” Footsteps left, the door opened, and the boy guessed Ray must’ve left.
Roger shifted. “You’ll be fine here, kid. Nothing like that’s ever gonna happen again.”
The boy peeked out from under the blanket to see Roger watching him. His eyes darted towards the door, then back to Roger.
Roger glanced at the door. “Don’t worry about Rayleigh. He’s not as tough as he looks.” He winked. “Now, can ya tell me your name?”
The boy blinked, but didn’t answer.
Roger’s smile faded slightly after a few moments. “Can ya speak?”
The boy shook his head slowly. He could, but he didn’t want to. He cried out the night before and got slapped.
Roger might’ve taken him away from those people, but would he do that? Just because he took him away didn’t mean he was any nicer. Maybe he wouldn’t beat him, but he might do something just as bad.
Roger’s eyes glittered and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “We gotta call you something though. Ya do have a name, right?”
The boy nodded. He hated it though. Lonan. He could say the name easily, it wasn’t difficult to remember, but they always said it meanly. He didn’t want to take the chance Roger, or anyone else here, would.
Roger hummed, eyeing him.
The door opened, and Rayleigh came in, two boys in tow. “They wanted to see the kid.”
The boy looked at the older boys; one had hair like fresh blood, the other’s was bright blue. The red-haired boy watched him curiously, while the other boy pouted. Both wore nearly identical plain shirts, though the red-haired boy wore red pants and the other wore dark blue ones.
When the red-haired boy spoke, he looked at Roger. “Is he staying with us?”
“For now,” Roger told him.
The blue-haired boy crossed his arms. “Why?”
“Because he came from some place bad for him, Buggy,” Roger said carefully. “He’ll be with us at least a few days. Remember Whitebeard, Shanks?”
Shanks nodded. “Marco’s captain.”
“We’re gonna meet with him soon, and the boy might leave with him,” Roger explained.
The boy scrambled over to Roger and buried his face in the man's side. He wasn’t sure who the people he was talking about were, but he didn’t know them at all! Roger was the one who had taken him away from the guard, not them. What if they were just as bad as the people before?
Even though he didn’t know Roger really, he’d rather take his chances here than some place new.
Roger stiffened, then wrapped an arm around him.
Light footsteps made the boy look over to see Shanks standing there.
He looked at Roger. “Why can’t he stay with us?” he asked.
Rayleigh sighed. “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean he should,” he grumbled. His brow furrowed, but he watched Roger.
Shanks stayed quiet for a moment, then looked at the boy. “What’s your name?”
“He won’t answer,” Roger said. “Doesn’t want to talk.”
“Is he sick?” Buggy asked, casting a fearful glance at the boy.
Rayleigh gave Buggy a sharp look. “If he was, I wouldn’t have let you in here.”
Shanks kept his eyes on the boy. “Can you write?”
The boy shook his head. He wasn’t allowed to learn that yet.
Shanks went over to the shelves across the room and pulled down a book; it was slim, with a colorful drawing of a child hidden in a thick covering of flowers. “Maybe we can find a name in a book?”
The title, which the boy could barely read, said Silas and the Hidden Garden. There were flowers, bushes, a tree, and feathers along the bottom on the ground. A black bird sat in the corner, smiling in a very non-bird-like way.
Roger grinned. “That’s a good idea, Shanks.” He looked down at the boy clinging to him. “We could call you Silas. At least until you tell us a different name.”
Silas looked up at him and offered a hesitant smile. It was tiny, with the corner of his mouth barely twitching up, but it was enough to make Roger laugh.
Rayleigh crossed his arms while Shanks put the book back. “Buggy, Shanks, starting tomorrow, I want you two to stay with Silas. Me or Roger will be around of course, but don’t leave Silas alone. He might not look it, but he’s younger than you.”
Shanks nodded and climbed onto the bed beside Silas. He glanced at Roger. “Can we stay here tonight?”
Silas watched him warily. Other kids weren’t the friendliest, and despite the relaxed air about him and the curiosity in his dark eyes, he wasn’t sure if he wanted Shanks this close. Or around him during the night.
It helped that Silas needed very little sleep, at least compared to the other kids he met, but still.
Rayleigh shook his head. “We don’t have room for all three of you, Shanks.” Shanks pouted at him, crossing his arms tightly.
“I’ll stay in my own bed,” Buggy scowled at Silas. He mirrored Shanks, though his eyes glittered darkly.
Rayleigh frowned at him, but Silas saw the amused look he gave Roger. “I don’t want you in there alone, so I’ll stay with you tonight.”
Buggy look mollified and immediately left the room.
Rayleigh caught the door before it slammed. “I’ll call Whitebeard and let him know they’ll be more than your usual fight this time.” With that, he was gone.
Shanks smiled at Silas. “Buggy’s nicer than he looks. Do you want some toys to play with? I can share mine. I have a pirate ship and a top!” He sounded proud of them. Did he not have many? Or were those his favorites?
Silas shook his head.
Roger chuckled. “Why don’t I get us some lunch? Shanks, stay with Silas.” He carefully extracted his coat from Silas’ grip and left the room, shutting the room behind him.
Silas stared at Shanks. Surely Roger wouldn’t leave him with someone who was mean, right?
Shanks got down and grabbed the book from before. “Do you like stories?” he asked, climbing back up.
Silas just blinked. No one had ever read him a story before. He’d heard stories from the nobles of pirates, stealing treasure and people, or of the marines, rescuing people and protecting towns, but he knew reading stories was different.
Shanks opened the book and turned it so Silas could see the pictures.
Silas tried to follow along, eventually laying down, as Shanks flipped the pages. He was careful to hold the pages so Silas could see.
Shanks read slowly, hesitantly, but already Silas liked this story. Something about a boy who found a hidden world in his garden. A friendly raven, flowers, and the boy escaping to somewhere safe.
At some point, his eyes closed, and he fell asleep.