Chapter Text
It so happens that, one day, Eustass ‘Captain’ Kidd finds himself in a prison cell.
It’s not terribly big, perhaps ten by twenty steps and bland as all hell to boot. Stone floors, metal bars, a corner to sleep in and a bucket to shit in, nothing fancy about it. Standard fare, not that Kidd would have much experience with that.
There’s no brig on the Victoria Punk. The Kidd Pirates don’t take prisoners.
Of course, the reasons why Kidd’s in the cell aren’t that simple. None of it has been, this whole sordid tale of alliances and betrayal and a war botched before it could even begin. It’s too late for regret, far too late yet Kidd can’t quite rid himself of it, this cloying sensation that writhes just under the surface. Like peeling back his skin is all it would take to expose the maggots and rotting flesh beneath–
Don’t be dramatic, Killer would tell him right about now and he would be right.
And yeah, perhaps Kidd is throwing himself a fucking pity party. It’s not like there’s anything else to do in this shithole, every night spent with his thumb up his ass or dreaming about things he can’t change. His wounds sting as they heal; Kidd scratches at the newly-formed scabs out of sheer boredom, watches blood well up and dry in interesting patterns.
The ones he can reach that is, chained to the wall like a mutt by his remaining hand.
Ain’t anybody here to stop him, anyways – certainly not Killer, wherever he ended up, nor Heat nor Wire or any other member of his crew. They’re lucky if they even have a ship to return to, as things stand.
Kidd laughs, loud and a little unhinged. They couldn’t have fucked themselves over any worse if they tried.
Night turns to day, the morning sun a bright smudge beyond the bars of his cell as it struggles against the haze of smoke gathering above. The guards return for another day of work, same as the last and the one before that.
Kidd gets to his feet. His stomach growls.
He’s long stopped laughing.
*
By the end of that day, things change.
It’s black as pitch outside, the movements of Kaido’s goons vague in the shadows. There’s no mistaking the sound of a body hitting the floor, though. The clinking of shackles dragging across stone, forceful steps – Kidd closes his eyes and thinks, too slow, as the door slams shut and the bars rattle with the weight of something, someone crashing against them.
Panted breaths, wet. The scent of blood, heavy in the air. Finally:
“Bastards! Come back and fight me!”
Kidd’s eyes snap open.
Ah, fuck.
*
“Hey.”
Twenty steps up, twenty steps down.
“Shithead. I’m talking to you.”
The silhouette moves, up and down, in constant motion. A beast, caged, heaving with rage.
“Strawhat.”
A growl, “What?”, the word cut short by gnashing teeth. Unflinching, Kidd meets the glare glinting amidst swathes of bandages. They’re spotted black with blood.
“Sit the fuck down. They’re not coming back.”
A minute ticks by, then two. Monkey D. Luffy relents, the dejected frown on his lips perhaps real, perhaps something Kidd imagines. It’s hard to see shit in the dead of night, especially long-lost rivals who by some unholy coincidence decided to show up in the most unlikely of places.
“Screw them.” Strawhat throws himself against the wall with all the grace of a soggy towel, close enough that Kidd hears the strained hiss he exhales under his breath. Chains rattle with every motion.
“Screw this. I would’ve sent them all flying without the Sea Stone.”
Looks like they fucked him up good – sounds like it too, Strawhat’s voice raspy like he screamed his vocal cords to shreds. Kidd watches him settle down, knees pulled up and cuffed hands hanging in-between, limp.
A pretty tragic sight, all in all, not that Kidd particularly cares.
“Think I’m sitting here for shits and giggles?” He scoffs. “Get in line, brat. I’m killing them first”, and it’s not as satisfying a thing to say without Strawhat rising to the challenge.
In fact, the guy doesn’t reply at all. Back against the wall, Strawhat’s eyes search the bit of sky they can glimpse from their spot. There’s nothing to see, Kidd knows: Udon’s nights are devoid of stars, even the moon’s gaze turned elsewhere.
Kidd doesn’t care but it’s been just himself and his thoughts down here for a week now.
Killer would probably shrug it off, if their places were reversed: All this extra time would go into thinking up a plan to get out of here – perhaps get in that nap he’s been complaining about not-getting for weeks now – and… Kidd’s not one for scheming, never had to be. Brawling and killing and fucking, that’s what he’s good at and he’s always done it with Killer by his side.
The thought makes Kidd shift in place. The chains pull taut, the raw skin of his wrist burning with it. How pathetic.
“The hell are you doing here, anyways?”
Smooth is another thing Kidd is not, and it’s good Strawhat is as dumb as the day is long. Which is very, locked in a box made of bare, uncaring rock.
“I’m not supposed to tell”, says the brat, quietly, like he’s trying to contradict every single thing Kidd remembers about him. (Which isn’t much but it’s enough. No one who has the nerve to deck a World Noble and rail against the powers that be at every turn sounds like that.)
Kidd spits, “Fuck that”, and Strawhat just… shrugs. “So you’re still sailing with Law. Didn’t think the prissy bastard would stick around that long. You aiming for Kaido or what?”
Blinking at him, Strawhat’s surprise is apparent despite the bandages. “You know?”
“Are you stupid?” (Kidd doesn’t pause, the question more than rhetorical.) “Some people read the damn paper.”
Some people being Killer, so: Yes, Kidd knows.
“Ah. Traffy won’t like that.” Strawhat rubs his chin, realizes he can’t, pulls with some measure of frustration at the gauze around his jaw. It comes loose, badly done in the first place. Unraveling in the matter of seconds. “He didn’t get caught, though. That’s good.”
There’s genuine relief there, and Kidd laughs. “You mean he turned tail and left you behind. There’s a difference, dipshit.”
Bloody bandages are thrown aside. Strawhat gives him a look, ticked off.
“Traffy’s not like that.”
“Everyone’s like that”, Kidd bites back, a little faster than he means to, and the grin drops off his painted lips. “Whatever. See if I care.”
Silence falls, then, more than tense in this limited space, and while the previous monotony was bad having Strawhat here is worse: Somehow this Strawhat is even more annoying than the bubbly fool with the devil-may-care smile he met that day at Sabaody, all sulky and seething anger yet too drained to do anything about it.
A wildly familiar feeling and isn’t that a shitty realization to have, an hour into their captivity?
It grinds Kidd’s gears enough that he turns his back to him, tugging his fur coat tighter around the bare stump of his left arm. Sleep is going to be a challenge with Strawhat’s gaze etching a sense of danger across his neck; the drag of Sea Stone will get Kidd there eventually and so he focuses on that instead.
Of course, Strawhat pipes up before he can even get close to testing that theory.
“You fought him, too. Right, Spikey? You fought Kaido.”
Spikey? Kidd’s lips press together, a tight red line Strawhat can’t see. What am I, a dog?
“Spikey.”
“I have a fucking name, Strawhat.”
Kidd might as well have said jack shit with how little Strawhat is listening. “I did. Traffy said it's a bad idea and he tried to stop me but–”
Strawhat isn’t known to hesitate like this and really, it doesn’t matter. The haunted edge to his voice tells Kidd the gist of how that hopeless endeavor went, and his memories fill out the rest.
He stares into the dark and waits all the same.
“Spikey.” A strained breath, shivering on the exhale. “Did he get your crew, too?”
The tears are silent yet Kidd knows they’re there. Knows because that was him, a week ago, beaten bloody and furious and suddenly, shockingly alone.
It shouldn’t matter, none of it should.
Crying about it won’t change the fact they’re in here and their crews are out there, dead or alive – and even after a week in this hell Kidd still hopes it’s the latter. That, wherever they are, they’re laying low and still breathing when he finds his way back to them.
Luffy sniffs, wet and disgusting. Kidd closes his eyes and sighs.
“… Go to sleep, Strawhat. You’ll need it.”