James is fishing, or at least that's what he says. It's his day off and he's settled back in a chair on the dock, hat low over his eyes, line in the water, halfway asleep. Fishing is more about the -ing than the fish, really, when you do it right.

There's a boom down the beach, and the shockwave blows by him, knocking his lunch off the dock and into the water, and the only reason his hat doesn't follow is quick reflexes.

Once the last of the wind blows past, he lurches to his feet, blinking around.

Somewhere down the beach, there's a weird explosion of sand. There are still particles drifting in the air, and the sand has been exploded out from a central point. It looks like something fell from a long distance, and James squints that way.

The dust hasn't quite settled but he can still make the shape of a person. They're small, not visibly armed, and coughing reaches his ears. "Ow," the shape says, and it's decidedly feminine.

This may not be the Grand Line, but he does know that magically appearing falling people are a whole lot of not his business. He stays exactly where he is on the dock, clutching his fishing pole, and raises his voice. "You okay?"

"Oh!" the stranger says, and stumbles towards him. She's young, is his first thought, and pretty. Her jacket is a light blue and she's got bobbled pigtails, and the hand she's waving in front of herself is gloved in the same color. "Hello?"

"Hi," James says, standing his ground. He repeats, "You okay, miss?"

"I'm—" she pauses to cough again. "I'm just a bit lost, I think? Where am I?"

"The East Side beach, by the village of Bethelia," he tells her.

"Hmm." She squares her shoulders and stands up straight. "So, not the hospital then."

No hospital has stood here for over twenty years, and likely never will again. "Not so much," he agrees.

"Okay," she says. "And where's the island of Northumbria from here?"

He clears his throat and waves a hand demonstratively.

"Hmm," she says, and puts her hands on her hips. "Okay. Is it still June, 1526?"

It is, and he tells her so.

"Great," she says, and smiles cheerfully. "So I'm in the same place and it's still the same time, so I must have landed in a different world or dimension or something."

"Uh," James says.

"It's fine," she says, waving it all away. "We hear weirder shit at the hospital all the time. I'm sure it'll be fine."

"Right," he agrees, not even a bit sure of that. "So, uh…."

"Right, in the meantime," she says. "Hm. Well, if the hospital isn't here, I guess I'm looking for Trafalgar Law."

She says it with a casual confidence, but he shudders. He's happy with his small town life and hasn't ever left his home, but even he's heard of the boogyman.

"Trafalgar Law," he repeats slowly. It's heavy in his mouth and he's careful with it because that's a name to conjure with.

This girl doesn't seem to know that, though. "Yeah!" she says brightly. "You know, the doctor?"

That's not the title James knows. "You mean the Surgeon?" He leaves off the of Death part, just because.

But the girl just beams. "Oh, it must be a different world after all, if he became a surgeon here! How wonderful for him; he always did like that part the best!"

The last James had heard, Trafalgar Law's type of surgery involved cutting out people's hearts and leaving them alive and empty. He eyes the girl in front of him and says, "...you're a terrifying young lady, aren't you?"

"Mm? No, I'm a doctor," she says, bouncing on her toes. "Just like my big brother!"

Word gets around, as word does. She hitches a ride to the next island on a passing ship, and the whispers are already building. Nothing is secret on the Grand Line, and she's counting on that.

This may be some weird other world, but Trafalgar Law still exists and still practices medicine, so he's still her big brother. He'll find her.

In the meantime, it's kinda nice to travel. She's spent so much time studying and learning that she's rarely left her home island. When they were kids, she and Law would make up stories about what the world might be like, in other Blues.

She'd wanted to have her own ship, back then. She'd wanted to set sail with a vessel fitted out like a doctor's office, and take her help to those who couldn't come to the Grand Hospital. Law had laughed at her, but he'd listened.

She smiles, now, thinking about it. She'd forgotten.

So she leans on the ship's railing and pushes her face farther into the wind. The salt on the air is almost heavy enough to taste, but the constant rocking is some kind of soothing. If this is travel, it's not bad at all.

"Where're you headed?" a hand asks her. Her name's Rika, and Lami had wrapped her sprained ankle just yesterday. Lami doesn't have much money, but most ships are happy to have a doctor hitch a ride.

"Dunno," Lami says, turning to smile at her. "I suppose I'm looking for something."

Rika laughs. "Best reason in the world, to travel. Good luck, miss, with finding it."

"Thanks," Lami says, and looks away at the horizon again.

It's endlessly blue, and she loses her breath a moment to see it.

"We'll hit Bridgefort Quay tomorrow, I think," Rika says. "It's the furthest east we're going, and the closest to the Grand Line. If you're looking to cross the Calm Belt, that should be your best bet."

"Thank you," Lami says. She's not sure if she is looking to cross the Calm Belt, but a big port with heavy traffic going many ways sounds just about perfect. "I think that'll suit me just fine."

They do make land the next day, and the island is everything Lami hoped it would be. The port city is big and loud and hot, but it's also colorful and dirty.

Everything in Flevance is clean. It's all slick and white, and the Amber Lead that makes up so much of their lives is a kind of cream that's everywhere. Here, everything is reds and browns, wood and brick, and clothes of every color. It's wonderful, as new and exciting as the sea, and Lami smiles as she sets out to make herself a reputation.

It doesn't take much, in the end. Lami is young and pretty, she knows, but she's also a Trafalgar. That name seems to mean something different here, but in her own world, the Trafalgar name carries the weight of the most famous doctors in the most famous hospital in the world. It's a standard of excellence, these days; when asked for a miracle, it's not uncommon for healers to say, what do you think I am, a Trafalgar?

It was her grandfather who started it, and her mother who carried it on. When her father married in, he worked even harder to be worthy, and they taught their children to read with anatomy texts. The name is just a name, but the reputation is a weapon.

So she doesn't give it, at first. She finds work helping a medicine peddler at a market stall, but it's not long before she's treating small injuries and helping consult, and then working intake at a private clinic, and then—

Once she's proven her skills, once they call her doctor, all on their own, then she tells them her name. There's whispers, almost immediately, and the clientele shifts. Less honest folk and more dock workers, more disreputable types, drawn by the rumors.

It doesn't matter. She's not here to make a life for herself, just a reputation.

It doesn't even take long, after that. Not even a month into her stay on Bridgefort Quay, she's having a drink at a bar one night.

It's not her favorite pastime, but Lami is a social creature and she likes dive bars. They're such fascinating studies of different types of people, and enough of the locals like having a cheap, discreet doctor around well enough that it's usually pretty safe for her. It's a guilty pleasure she can't indulge in much at home, and one that makes Law tear his hair out every time she calls him for a ride.

He always comes to get her, no matter what time of night it is.

She misses him so much. Melancholy isn't a good mood on her, though, so she sighs, pays her tab and tips generously, then grabs her half-empty bottle, slides off her stool and heads back to the shithole apartment she's renting by the week.

"Where even are you," she says to the empty street as she walks. "I need a ride home, Law."

Any and all versions of her brother fail to magically appear. She chugs the rest of the bottle and throws it against a nearby wall. The shattering noise is very loud and extremely satisfying.

"What was that?" someone asks from a nearby alley, and Lami shuts her mouth, curses mentally, and scoots over to walk against the wall, where the shadows are deeper and she's got something at her back.

"Let's find out," a second voice says, and Lami takes the first turn she can, sliding down a dirty alley, past a dumpster, and heads back towards the oceanfront. It's night and the dockworkers are rowdy, but they know her face and she can get someone to walk her home if she asks real nice.

"There!" comes yet another voice, which makes at least three. She bolts, running with her shoulders back and breathing through her stride, keeping her eyes on the ground for uneven patches or any obstacles.

She's not the fastest runner, but she's fast enough. She's not the greatest in hand-to-hand, but she knows weak spots and pressure points. She may look vulnerable, but it's not like she's unarmed.

This isn't a great situation, but it's not a terrible one either. It's more…annoying.

That doesn't stop her from being thankful when someone else interrupts the chase. "Captain, here!" another person calls, and whether they mean a Marine captain or a ship's captain, it's still someone with power.

An odd shimmer of blue coats the alley's walls and she breaks out onto the main street just as whoever's chasing her catches up. She takes a second to slip her scalpels into her hands, just in case.

She needen't have bothered; there's a sound behind her, and she dares to glance over her shoulder. It's enough that she stops and turns instead, disappearing her scalpels back up her sleeves.

The idiots fly apart and there's blood everywhere but she is a doctor's daughter, a doctor in her own right, and she doesn't flinch, not from that. The spatter is warm and familiar but she has eyes only for the back in front of her.

She knows him, even from behind. He's got a different coat but still the same hat, and she would know those shoulders and that posture, even blindfolded in the dark.

"Law," she says, and he goes stiff, then turns slowly towards her.

This Law is tall and dark and inked, and he does not have laugh lines, but none of that matters. He's family and familiar, and even with blood on his face, he's still the best thing she's seen in days.

"Law," she says again, and throws herself at him. He's stiff in her arms, for all of a second, and then he's hugging her properly, tight and not careful at all. It's a hug she knows well; it's how he hugs when he's scared.

"Lami," he says, dropping his sword and wrapping her up tight. "Lam-Lam, little Lami, how-" and his voice is shocked, sick with hope, and she buries her face in his coat and shakes.

"Law," she says, and then takes a deep breath. He smells different here, all salt and smoke and sweat, and it's not particularly pleasant but it's still grounding. "Law," she says again, and then pulls back to smile at him. "Hi."

"Hi," he breathes, looking back at her. His eyes are huge and his face is pale, and his grip is still slightly too tight. "Lami. Lami, how—"

She takes a step back, drawing him along with her, and says, "Not here, Law, c'mon—"

"Right." He wraps one large hand around her wrist, detours momentarily to grab his sword, and takes off. She keeps pace and follows him all the way out of the maze of a town and onto the docks, where he helps her clamber up onto the deck of a bright yellow submersible.

He's still bloody and not letting go of her, so when he starts shouting at the crew to cast off, no one hesitates. There's a loud swirl of quick-paced chaos and then the engines rumble to life and the ship starts moving.

Lami takes the time to breathe, calming down after the encounter and the run, and she grabs onto Law's sleeve and doesn't let go. The submersible moves pretty fast, really, and they're leaving land behind far sooner than she expected.

She doesn't look back. There's nothing she needs that's not already with her.

"Law," she says, tugging on his sleeve. "Hey, is this ship yours?"

"Yeah," he says, then turns to look at her. His hands land on her shoulders, and then slide up to cup her face. "Lami, how—? Is it really…?"

She grins at him, and steps forward to hug him. He's slightly shorter here, but broader; she has to squeeze tight to wrap her arms all the way around him. "Missed you," she tells his coat, and he makes a choked, punched-out noise he hasn't heard since the surprise birthday party when he'd turned eighteen.

"Lami," he says like a broken record, and she rocks back half a step, braces her elbow with her other arm, and rams it into his solar plexus.

"That," she says primly, "is for keeping me waiting. You're about a month overdue."

The look he gives her is wide and wounded. "I didn't—"

"What, you didn't know I was waiting?"

"No, I—"

"You didn't expect dimensions to collide and dump an alternate version of your sister in your world? A likely story."

"We were on the other side of the world—"

"Sure you were," she says, but she's still leaning into him with her entire body.

"Uh, Captain?" a thin guy in ugly coveralls and dark glasses says, and Law's arms tighten around her.

"Take us under," he says. "Back through the Calm Belt. We're heading back to Sabaody."

"Sir," the guy says, and goes off to do…that, presumably.

"You're a captain?" Lami asks Law, eyes wandering over the submersible. It's not small, and is eye-searingly yellow. "I see you never grew out of liking piss yellow," she says, pitching her voice to be heard across the deck.

There's a dip in the noise and Law stares at her. "What?" he says.

If he's expecting her to still be a sweet little girl, he's got another think coming. "I said, you may have grown a couple feet but you have failed to grow a sense of style."

"Are you—" he stops a second, all baffled. "Are you making fun of the color of the sub that's saving your life?"

"No," Lami says, reaching out her free hand to pat at the railing. "I like the sub very much. It's you I'm making fun of."

He stares at her a second longer, and then he laughs. It's not loud or long, just a rough burst of noise that shakes his entire body. "I missed you," he says, wrapping his arms tighter around her. "Lami, what happened? How did you get here?"

"I dunno," she says. She'd usually step away from a hug by now, but he obviously needs it. It's not a hardship, playing teddy bear, and her own shaking hands have nothing to do with it. "Something probably went wrong, somewhere."

He huffs, and she steps on his foot. "No," she says, rolling her eyes, "it was not my fault. I didn't blow up anything or push any buttons or—"

"Sure," he says, squeezing her one last time and letting her go. "Not your fault at all."

"It wasn't," she whined. "Maybe the world just couldn't handle all my awesome."

"That's probably it," he agrees, and he's grinning. It's an expression she knows very well, but it sits oddly on his face here.

She grins back, and then surprises them both by yawning. He huffs a noise that's not quite a laugh and she scowls at him. "What," she says, aiming for his ribs. "It's been a long day of running for my life, okay? What do you even want from me here."

"Nothing more than that," Law says, and grabs her hand. "C'mon, I got a place you can stay."

"You better," she mutters, following him and yawning again. Law may have his own place and life these days, but every single one of his places has always had a room for her.

Only this room is clearly not for her. It's a guest room, sure, but leaning more on the hospital-crash-pad side than the Lami-and-also-guest-room side. It's sterile and sharp, but the bed is comfortable enough when she faceplants into it.

She's slept on cots and at desks and grabbed naps on benches and in corners; all Trafalgars can sleep anywhere. It's not familiar, but this is, comparatively, luxury.

She inhales the comforting scent of antiseptic and hospital, and falls asleep before the door even clicks shut, and she sleeps deep and dreamless.

It might be morning, when she opens her eyes. It might be morning, or it might not; it's dark in the room and there's no clock.

There is, however, an idiot brother, sitting on the floor and slumped over onto the bed, still asleep.

"Oi," she says, and yawns. "Hey, Law. Wake up."

He snaps awake like being shocked with a defib, and he's gasping like it too. "Lami," he says, then rubs his eyes. "Lami, you're—here."

"Course I am," she says, and stretches, hearing her spine pop. "We're under water; I can't just disappear."

"It—wouldn't be the first time," he says, all large eyes and hesitant words, and it's weird seeing her big brother like this.

There's something wounded in the set of his mouth that makes her think he's referring to this world's Lami, but she ignores it with the long practice of a little sister. "I told you it wasn't my fault," she complains instead. "I don't know how it happened, okay? I swear."

He blinks at her, once, and then his head falls back into his arms, on the bed, and he starts laughing, laughing so hard he's shaking with it.

It's not really that funny, but he is, and she flops back to hide the smile growing on her own face. He laughs for too long, but it's okay.

Then there's a noise, and she makes a grumbling noise almost as loud as her stomach just did, and she flops her foot towards him in a lazy, half-hearted attempt at a kick. "Hey," she says, "m' starving. Feed me."

He looks up at her, still grinning. "Your hair is a mess."

She gives him the most unimpressed look she can manage. "Starving. Food."

"Yeah, yeah." He levers himself up and opens the door, stepping aside and gesturing for her to go through.

She crosses her arms and stares at him. "Law," she says patiently. "I'm not going first. I don't know where we're going."

"Right." He heads out and she follows, a half step behind, looking around with curiosity. There's so much hospital in this sub; it's really impressive.

There's too much hospital in the mess, though; it's just as bland and boring as she half-expected it would be. She's no stranger to the food-is-fuel mindset, but if she's not at work, she sees no reason to eat like she is.

He gestures out at the small room and she goes and picks a table. He's there in a few seconds, holding a plate and cup, and she lets him set them down before staring up at him.

He's not sitting, just fidgeting awkwardly, and neither sitting nor getting himself food. She sighs, then starts undoing her pigtails.

That's a clear enough signal for him, thankfully, and she sets to eating breakfast while he runs careful fingers through her hair and straightens the part. It's familiar and mindless for the both of them, and he French braids twin tails back in, tying them off with rubber bands.

Then he's back to dithering, and she raises her eyebrows at him. He freezes, then ducks his head and goes to get himself a mug of coffee.

She looks at his mug of coffee, then her cup of milk, and then back at him. Then she leans over and takes his mug right out of his hands and chugs the whole thing.

Law gives her the how-dare face and she smirks at him. That's more like it.

Breakfast is quiet; Lami isn't good at waking up when she doesn't need to, and Law is the same. Breakfast is always quiet because when they have to be awake in the morning, there's usually not time to eat.

But all she has right now is time, and she kicks him in the leg. "Hey," she says. "Show me around this tub of yours, won't you?"

He nods, making to leave, but she goes to the counter and grabs them both more coffee first. He raises his eyebrows at her when she shoves his into his hands, but he takes it, and she keeps her nose in the air and pretends it's not an apology at all.

He does show her around, though. They walk through the operating suites and the diagnostic rooms and the library, and on the bridge he orders them brought topside and she watches the water slough off as they breach into sunlight.

"C'mon," he says, gesturing for her to follow. "You'll love this bit."

They walk out onto the deck, and a bear Law introduces at Bepo is already laying flat in the sun. "This is the nap spot," he says, and Lami turns her face up to the bright sun and smiles.

"Let's take a nap, then," she says, and plops herself down.

His smile still isn't as familiar as her Law's it, but it lights up his face in the same way.