Chapter 42

The Queen of Spades and the Coddiwomple reached the island on the heels of a storm, both crews barely taking the time drop anchor before spilling out onto the beach.

Dark clouds covered the sky, rumbling threateningly as their feet hit the sand. No words were exchanged as they turned as one, heading towards the presence - the single presence - blazing in their minds. None of them wanted to think about what that meant.

They found Marshall further up the shore, sitting on a fallen log and chugging rum straight from the bottle. He knew they were there, and though Rouge's crew shifted anxiously, they said nothing, waiting with the Coddi's crew to be acknowledged. Finally, the man lowered the bottle, dropping it from between lax fingers to land with a muffled thump next to his feet as he stood, lifting his head and taking a deep breath.

Meeting the eyes of Rouge's crew one by one, he began to speak, "there is a rumor on the waves..."

As one, all of their expressions changed, crumbling into shock, despair and confusion. More than half of them fell to their knees, the other half clinging to each to stay standing as tears began flowing from wide, disbelieving eyes. The Coddi's crew respectfully stood back, their own faces full of pain as their captain delivered the news.

Then Kimberly screamed, the sound one of profound grief and pain. Just like that the dam burst, Rouge's crew giving voice to their pain at the loss of their captain as the storm looming over them broke, rain pouring down like the world was mourning with them.

His own crew were the only ones to notice that Marshall's face was wet before the rain began to fall, but they said nothing.

After all, it wasn't like they were any different.

Rouge's body was still inside the house, and one by one both her crew and his had gone in to say their goodbyes, emerging from the building with their faces wet with new tears.

He waited outside while they said their goodbyes, his crew gathered around in silent support as finally Claus emerged from the building carrying his captain's body.

Stopping in from of him, his sister's First Mate and navigator said, softly and sincerely, "thank you."

Those two words were like knives in his heart even as he nodded, because no thanks were necessary.

Marshall breathed through the pain, his crew pressing close in unspoken comfort that he sorely needed as they followed the procession down to the beach.

His sister's funeral was quiet and solemn, so unlike how Rouge was in life that it seemed...wrong to see her off in such a way.

As Claus tried to bring himself to say the needed words, his legs shaking on the Queen of Spades deck like they hadn't since he'd first stepped foot on a ship, Marshall stepped forward, shattering the silence.

"Enough of the solemnity; this isn't what she would want."

Rouge's crew immediately turned to glare at him, Claus's stare the most venomous of all. Mouths opening in preparation to do what, they didn't know and would never find out, the growing anger was diffused by an unexpected voice.

"He's right."

Silence, and when the crew turned to look at her, Jane repeated, voice rough from crying but firm as they'd ever heard it, "he's right, you all know what Captain was like! Hell, she's likely cursing us from the Locker for being all sad and gloomy when we should be seeing her off with a smile!"

Several tearful laughs came from the assembled crew because yes, that sounded like Rouge. Just like that, the tension was broken. Slowly, tentatively, they began to exchange stories; happy, sad, funny, all three at once, but all of them about Rouge. About the memories they made, about the whirlwind she was in their lives, about how she changed them, for the better and irrevocably so.

Portgas D. Rouge was sent off with smiles.

Marshall didn't remember much of his sister's wake, both by choice and as a consequence of the alcohol Lykan passed around.

(The strongest stuff he'd ever made, the Mink warned, then proceeded to make the first toast.)

Vague memories of music and dancing and stories told through laughing tears rose in his mind when he concentrated, but other than that those three days were a blur, drowned by grief and booze and shared pain. He was sure that he'd contributed a few stories though; the time he and Rouge hit the casinos particularly vividly in his mind. His eyes were dry and itchy and his mouth tasted like moldy cotton, but the memory made him smile.

It felt like the aftermath of one of their parties whenever the two crews met up, and the familiarity was both comforting and painful.

"Wait, you guys are splitting up?"

Wilde's surprised exclamation brought the exchange of snail numbers and destinations to a halt as eyes turned to thief, Frieda smiling sadly as she walked over to lay a hand on his arm.

"I'm afraid so, sweetheart. We had a good run of it, the Queen will always be our home, but carrying on without Captain...it just don't seem right." She sighed, several of her crewmates nodding.

"Yeah, we'll always be friends," Daisy piped up from Wildred's shoulder with the helmsman nodding along, the two having decided to leave together.

Stephen grinned wryly as he agreed, "can't be arguing with that, pixie," the sparrow-girl giggled, "and it's not goodbye, just 'see you later',"

"I figure we'll get together a few times a year, swap stories and check in and the like," Linda added, Declan and Shiban echoing the sentiment, with Shiban promises to create the best fireworks show they'd ever seen.

"And don't think that means you'll be able to slack off, dazzle-boy!" Shiban told Wilde, pointing dramatically, "next time we meet up you better be able to match me spark for spark!"

That got Wilde to perk up, and he grinned back in challenge, "just try it! You'll need all the practice you can get!"

While the pair joked and teased each other, the rest of the crews looked on and smiled. Vertara and Feral stepped forward, shaking hands and wishing them all well, Feral pointedly growling as she squeezed Andrea's hand in a way that had the other swordsman straightening and growling right back.

"It'll probably do us all good to have time to grieve in our own way," Claus admitted, pushing his glasses up as he watched the two crews mingle, turning what would have been a sad parting into a lively farewell.

Marshall silently agreed, smiling as he and his crew waved goodbye to the Queen of Spades as the ship vanished into the distance, all her crew save one aboard.

"...You're leaving, aren't you Captain?"

Vertara's oddly subdued voice made Marshall pause with one hand on the Coddi's railing, and he turned his head to see his entire crew gathered behind him. All of them smiled, sad but accepting as he walked towards them, and that made what he was going to do even more painful. "Yes, I need to," he admitted lowly, "Leaving without saying anything wasn't the best idea, I know, but I knew that if you all tried you'd be able to convince me to stay and I just...can't. Not now."

"We understand, Captain," Vertara stepped forward, smiling gently, eyes moist as she stretched out her arms in a wordless request for a hug that he was more than happy to answer. Picked up with the force of his hug, she returned the embrace with equal ferocity, sniffling quietly. "It's okay to cry, to need time to grieve, because your family died and you loved her like family should," she told him softly, the others murmuring in agreement, and something in Marshall broke.

Like a boulder worn and battered by waves until it broke, the wall he'd put around his emotions burst. He'd done his best to hold it together, to stand strong in spite of wanting to break down because there were things to do. Things no one else could do, after Garp had taken Ace and left the island. It had killed him to let the Marine go, but he'd needed to do it. Someone had needed to notify Rouge's and his crews, and he'd been the only one able to do it. He'd had to help arrange her send off...with everything to do, there'd been no time to mourn. But now...

On the Coddi's deck, surrounded by his crew, Marshall D. Teach cried.

Parting from his crew was a bittersweet pain, a splinter in his chest that dug deeper and deeper as he said his goodbyes even as they parted with the promise to meet up again. Each of them gave him their snail numbers, encouraging him to call if he needed anything, anything at all, and it was the understanding on their faces that allowed him to muster a smile as he stood in his rowboat and watched as the Coddiwomple faded into the distance.

He knew in his gut that it would probably be a long time before they met again, but...maybe not as long as he'd first thought it'd be.

Sighing to himself, he patted the side of the boat and said, lost in memories of when he'd been adrift in a rowboat much like this one, "looks like it's just you and me, buddy."

Just then, he heard some boards groan in a way that did not sound like a natural response to waves hitting the hull. Marshall paused, brought out of his thoughts as he eyed the wood beneath him suspiciously. After a few minutes of the natural noises of a boat at sea, he snorted, muttering under his breath, "I hope Coddi took the chance to give you some advice,"

He ignored the answering creak and picked up the oars, determined to not think about anything for awhile.

(The first island Marshall came to, he went to the nearest bar and drank the entire stock, doing his damndest to get drunk.

He didn't succeed, but that pretty much set the tone for the next two years.)