AN: It's the end, folks! It's been a long ride for me, what with the two-year leave I took way back when, and I'd actually lost hope that I'd ever finish this thing. But thanks to the unbelievably patient and supportive readers this story has seen, my inspiration was renewed, and here we are at the final chapter – four years later, would you believe it? Thank you all for sticking with me, and I hope you enjoy the conclusion!

Now, a lot of you've been asking, and so I shall provide. However, as we have yet to be given much info around The Chapter 614 Business, I'm going my own way with this, but I'll try to keep it as canon-compliant as possible.

Chapter XVII

The day the news finally came was a day quite like any other.

The sun was bright and the sky a clear, perfect blue. She'd begun her chores early, thrown the windows wide open to let the sunlight and the sea breeze in as she'd mopped the floors and wiped the tables for another day of business, wholly unremarkable but for one very important thing.

She'd been in the process of stacking clean glasses behind the bar when she'd heard the call, cutting through the soft cries of the seagulls and the early morning bustle of the village–

"Pirates! Pirates at the docks!"

–and she was out the door running before she'd had time to take her apron off.

A decade had seen that she was a girl no longer, but with her hands fisted in the fabric of her skirt Makino took off down the village path with a vigour she hadn't felt in years. Despite the earlier cry, the villagers seemed more eager than afraid, which only served to strengthen her belief that it was a familiar ship they'd spotted.

Passing the fabric shop, she caught sight of Suzume reclining in her sun-chair. Without even looking up the older woman called after her, "He's late!"

Makino grinned in return, but didn't slow her pace, weaving between villagers whose knowing smiles followed her all the way down to the shore.

"About time, Ma-chan!"

"Look at her run – it's sure been a while."

"Careful now, Makino, you're not a youngster anymore!"

The good-humoured voices trailed in her wake as she ran, but she paid them little mind, too preoccupied with what lay so clearly before her now – a reunion years overdue that had come so startlingly out of the blue. But then, she'd expected something of the like, the man himself taken into consideration.

She'd imagined it a hundred times over, every detail of his return carefully laid out and polished like golden coins across the years. She'd imagined running towards him and throwing her arms around his neck, burying her face in his throat – like the lost king returned in one of her favourite novels. She'd turned the images over and over in her head, explored them from every possible angle, measured the steps it would take her to get from the tavern to the docks from a brisk walk to an outright run.

But then she'd remember that she's over thirty years old, and him older still, and that running-into-each-other's-arms was a reunion better suited for much younger people. And as she'd grown older, the years had calmed her eager heart, and she'd imagined other scenarios – she'd be polishing her glasses one day and he'd be there in her doorway, and she'd calmly offer him a drink. Or she'd be sitting up at the hilltop under the tree and he'd come to sit down beside her, and that would be it. No irrational overflow of emotions, but a simple, quiet return.

She was entertaining some of the same thoughts as the wharf came into sight, and she faltered slightly, slowing her pace to a quick walk. Ten years had been a long time, and it might not be the same man returning who had left, and she wasn't a girl any more and was it strictly suitable for her to be running around like she had when she was young?

But then she reached the top of the slope leading down to the docks and saw him – the red of his hair bright like fire under the sun, and the familiar grin stretching wide across a dear face, and ten years had been a bloody long time. And suddenly she found she didn't give a damn about age or propriety as she broke into a desperate sprint, hair escaping her kerchief and feet aching against the strain as she covered the distance between herself and the docks, the pirates gathered stepping out of the way and allowing her to pass, some wearing expressions of surprise; others all too knowing grins. The strain of the old planks under her feet sang throughout the wharf, and the swell of feeling in her chest was almost too much to bear when their gazes finally locked, and when they collided it was with enough force to send him stumbling back a few steps. But his laughter was loud and true in her ears and the strong arm that wound around her midsection like a vice so achingly familiar, Makino couldn't have regretted her impulsive behaviour if she'd tried.

She felt him exhale as she sank against him, hands buried in the fabric of his cloak, and for a startling moment she was twenty years old again, and the ten years of their separation lifted like a physical weight off her shoulders, her old ghosts chased back to dark corners, and she pressed herself closer still, part of her afraid she'd conjured the whole thing and that she'd wake soon in her own bed, or below the tree atop the hill. But the arm pressing against her back was too real to be a moment spun to life by her own imagination, however vivid, and the fabric beneath the skin of her palms too familiar – too perfect – for a simple human memory to conceive.

"That's quite the welcome for someone who's kept you waiting so long."

The warm voice was a drum in her ears, and her answering laugh a starved breath as she pulled back enough to look up at him. Shanks grinned sheepishly, but there was genuine regret in the dark of his eyes. "Although to be fair, you did say yourself that I'd be late."

He hadn't changed much – that was the first thought that struck her, when her mind had stopped spinning long enough to catch up with the rest of her. Broader over the shoulders, and sturdier, somehow; his hair drawn back and out of his eyes. But his smile was the same – the one he reserved for her, and the well of emotion in the gaze holding her own was almost enough to make her knees buckle beneath her. And despite the fact that they were surrounded by crew-members both new and familiar, Makino realised she truly had grown up as she once again found herself not giving a damn as she threw her arms around his neck, pressing her mouth to his in a fierce kiss, fingers buried in his hair as her toes nearly lifted off the dock. Because ten years was a long time, and reunions spent on polite greetings were absolutely ridiculous, grown woman be damned.

His grin was wicked against her mouth, but she swallowed his laughter, revelling greedily in the feel of him after so long, like a mirage that was suddenly tangible before her, warm and steady beneath her trembling hands; the scruff on his jaw and the press of his nose against hers, and the way she fit against him even after a decade apart. She knew the lines of his shoulders like she knew the ridged spines of her books, and the exact distance between the crown of her head and his chin as familiar as the well-thumbed pages of her favourite paperback.

A whistle to their left had her laughing against him, and she broke away to catch a look between Ben and Yasopp, the former startlingly grey-haired, and the tears were such that all she could do was bury her face in his shirt as the laugher shook her frame, and she wondered idly if she wasn't going into hysterics. Any ideas she'd ever entertained of greeting him calmly and rationally had been thrown quite thoroughly to the four winds.

Slipping out of his grip, she made for Ben first, the wry smirk drawing her forward, and this time he accepted her embrace without hesitation. "Sorry for the delay," he deadpanned, and she laughed, before a hand on her shoulder had her spinning around, and wiry arms wound around her, pressing the breath roughly from her lungs as Yasopp tugged her in for a hug.

"You're lovely as ever, Ma-chan! Ten years did you favours," he grinned, before winking, "Unlike Cap over there. Sure ya got a good enough look when you came running down? He looks worse up close."

The clever retort at the tip of her tongue was swallowed with her yelp as she was suddenly hoisted up, feet leaving the docks completely, and she looked down into Lucky's familiar grin. "Pretty as a pork-loin! Can't tell it's been ten years, Makino!"

"The years haven't been kind to all of us," Ben added with a glance towards Shanks, who was watching the spectacle with a smile.

"Oye now, what's this mutiny you're all concocting? And that's rich coming from you, Ben!"

Ben only shrugged. "Merely stating a fact, Captain."

Shanks grumbled, "Hey, Lucky, you can put her down now."

The man only shot him a look. "You've had your turn, Boss."

Yasopp snorted. "Necking like a kid, too. And you, almost forty years old." He shook his head. "Ma-chan, you spoil him."

Makino laughed as Lucky set her back on her feet. "Oh, don't I know it," she said with a grin, tucking an errant lock of hair back into her kerchief. When she met his eyes he was looking at her with an odd expression on his face – the familiar curve of his brow and the smile curling along his mouth caught somewhere between good humour and something akin to melancholy.

She spared a look at Ben, but didn't need to say anything as he simply nodded. "The ship isn't going to unload itself, men. Get to it."

A chorus of "Aye!" rang out across the docks, before the pirates began milling in different directions, leaving them in the shade cast by the ship's hull.

"I knew there was a reason I kept him around," Shanks murmured as the crew's collective attention left them, and Makino felt the reprieve from the spotlight like a physical thing. Then he turned his gaze on her again, and the full weight of the fact that he was back settled heavily her shoulders, and she felt suddenly like sitting down, at once lethargic and out of her mind with happiness.

He must have taken note of her conflicted state of mind, because when he stepped forward all he did was draw her close, the gesture at once simple and overwhelming, and she welcomed the embrace without a word, resting her brow against his sternum and letting the din of the docks and the seagulls fade into background noise.

"Hey."

She smiled against his shirt, but didn't open her eyes. "Hey."

He shifted, and she felt his fingers tighten where they rested on the curve of her hip, warm even through the fabric of her skirt. He exhaled deeply, and she felt more than heard it, the length of him a comfortable weight to bear. And held against him, the feeling that washed over her – the safety provided by his presence alone, punctuated by the protective enclosure of his lone arm – was enough to drive her breath clean from her lungs.

"Ten years," he said then, a note of disbelief in his deep voice.

She tucked her head against his shoulder so she could look up at him. "Ten years," she agreed, the words speaking volumes in their simplicity.

He laughed – the sound like a warm thrum against her ribcage. "Is there an echo here?"

She nudged his shoulder, but joined him in his laughter, shaking her head at the whole situation. There was so much to be said between them – a decade's worth of news and tall tales and have you missed me as much as I've missed you because I haven't been able to breathe right without you, but all they could seem to get out were staggeringly mundane platitudes. But it was alright, she found, because they had time, now; time to catch up and a lifetime together if they wished, and she found that she didn't need to speak just yet if she could enjoy his presence a little longer.

But, "Come on," Shanks said then, warm fingers tugging at hers, drawing her along, "The others wouldn't want me hogging you all to myself."

"I'm surprised you're okay with that," she quipped, as she fell into step beside him.

He looked at her then, dark eyes grinning in the sunlight, "Oh, if I could have my own way, I would," he rumbled, and she marvelled at his ability to make her blush like a girl, even after a decade apart. The rest of the crew seemed to have finished with the ship, and had started trailing behind them. And as they walked the slope towards the tavern, she caught the muted murmurs of the crew-members she hadn't seen before, ebbing and swelling like the tide in their wake–

"That's one pretty lass, though. Was sure the Boss was exaggerating."

"Nah, Ben always said she was quite something, and you know he almost never agrees with the Captain."

"Who'd have thought, though? Kept her waiting ten years, and gets a greeting like that!" There was a whistle. "Makes ya wonder if this wife-business is worth a shot, even at sea like we are."

A snort. "Like you could get someone like that."

"I could!"

"–but she's really something, ain't she? If Ben's stories are true, she puts the Boss in his place like you wouldn't believe–"

"–and the Captain smitten like a teenager!"

–and found that she truly had become her Mistress' successor now, the barmaid in the backwater port whose story was known even by those who'd never met her. But as she looked up into the grinning face of the man walking at her side, his shadow large and familiar with the sun at his back, she knew her story was markedly different.

"It's good to be back," Shanks said with a wink, and she laughed with pleasure as his lone arm brushed against hers – their close proximity unmistakable where they walked at the front of the group of pirates. He'd kept her waiting, but he'd also kept his promise, and she thought then of the pirate who'd visited her ten years ago on behalf of his captain, and of her Mistress who'd been unable to wait any longer. And for all the similarities between their lives, and the choice she'd made despite Emiko's desperate request to do the exact opposite, Makino was glad she'd dared take the chance. It could have been different, she knew that very well. It could have been his crew come to give her the news of his death.

But it hadn't, and she'd count her blessings where she found them – these golden coins in her treasure of treasures. And she resolved then, walking in the shade of his familiar frame, restless heart at east for the first time in ten years, that she'd be damned if she cut her ties to this man now.

And she decided that the only reason she'd want to see Ben at her door twenty years down the line, was if he'd been personally invited.

"–and you should have seen the look on Ben's face! I swear his hair turned grey that very second."

His laughter was a contagious thing, and she dabbed at the tears of mirth clinging to the corners of her eyes as he laid before her the more memorable events of their separation, most of which involved Ben's slowly thinning patience and subsequently greying mane.

"I can't believe he let you get away with that," she said, as she refilled his glass.

He chuckled as he accepted the drink, dark eyes grinning in the candlelight. The intimate setting was a profound thing, made more so by the ease between them. "Yeah, it's a miracle he hasn't usurped me already."

Makino leaned her arms on the bar, and tilted her head as she watched him. The good humour that tugged at the corners of his mouth had chased away the shadows that had clung to his smile – the ones he'd no doubt thought she hadn't been able to spot. A few glasses of good liquor and some tall tales had loosened the tension in his shoulders somewhat, and with it, the rigid set to her own. She hadn't expected him to come back entirely unscathed, but it gave her hope that her gentle efforts could keep the ghosts at bay, and as he relaxed more as the evening turned to night and the tales more improbable with every telling. The crew had left early under a vague pretence of being tired from a long voyage, but she'd caught Ben's smile as he'd herded the pirates out of the tavern, and known the gesture for what it was. Privacy, dearly sought and deserved after ten years apart.

She didn't ask about the war, because she could see it clear in his eyes, and the papers had already painted her a pretty graphic picture. Instead she asked about obscure islands and misadventures, of him forgetting to dress with the weather and the results, until they were both gasping for air from laughter and the last decade had lifted off his shoulders like a visible weight.

"You know, we stopped by Yasopp's village on our way over," he said then, when he'd sobered up from laughing.

Makino perked up. "Oh? Did he finally get to see his family?"

Something akin to regret passed over his face at that, and he told her how they'd discovered that his wife had died a long time ago, and her excitement fell, heavy from her breast to the pit of her stomach. Then a strange smile curved along his mouth, "But you know, it was the oddest thing. They said the kid up and left to sea a few years ago...along with a young man wearing a straw-hat."

She laughed. "Really?"

He shook his head, his smile widening as he lifted the glass to his lips. "Things have a strange way of working out," he said, as he downed the drink. Makino grinned.

"They do, don't they?"

He looked at her, then – the kind of look he'd first given her ten years ago, but that she hadn't known him well enough to decipher back then. He was a man who'd seen the world, but sometimes he looked at her like he could travel the length of the Grand Line and still not find anything quite as remarkable. And for all her years of waiting, damn it all if it wasn't worth it for a look like that.

He reached for her hand, and she allowed herself to be drawn closer, until the edge of the counter was digging into her ribs, but she ignored it, and nudged the flask that sat between them out of the way as she leaned closer. She'd spent so much time after their departure imagining their return, but though the reunion had been a tad more eager than she'd have liked it to be, this at least, was not. It wasn't the desperate actions of two people who'd been too long apart, but rather those of two people who had time on their side now. And in this she felt her age, and the calmness that had settled over her shoulders – the one that allowed her to run her thumbs along the scars on his brow, and take her time reacquainting herself with the feel of him.

"Gods, I have missed you," he murmured, and his grin was the boyish sort that was so at odds with his age, but that never seemed out of place on his face, the smile she was glad time and war and death hadn't taken. And while he was the one to draw her out from behind the bar, tugging her close, it was Makino who curled her fingers around his neck, pulling him down for a kiss, and feeling his smile growing wider beneath her own.

"No interruptions this time," she pointed out glibly, and he laughed against her mouth.

"No need to hurry then," he grinned. "Unless you're unable to keep your hands to yourself. Not that I blame you – it's been ten years."

She tugged at his hair. "Don't be cheeky, Captain. You're much too old for that."

"Hey–"

"Besides," she said, cutting him off with a grin, "I've waited too long to fumble through the motions. And I seem to remember you saying something about being able to lift me?" At his darkening look she felt warmth curl pleasantly in the bottom of her stomach, but her desire was a calm, steady thing, and, "We've got time now," she reminded him.

Shanks returned the smile, and there were no shadows behind his eyes now, Makino found. And for all her joking about his age, his years seemed light on his broad shoulders. And when he reached for her next it was to tangle his fingers in her hair, and there was that look again – the one behind a gaze that had beheld five seas and a hundred islands but that was hers, regardless. The barmaid in the backwater port.

"Aye, my girl," he rumbled, thumb ghosting across her cheek with desperate tenderness. "That we most certainly do."

Two years later

"Are you all set to leave?"

He turned at the sound of her voice, a grin stretching across his face. "Almost," he said, shifting the little bundle supported by his lone arm. "You think anyone would notice if I stowed this little guy away?" he asked with a shameless wink, gently rocking the softly fussing child.

"Ben would never let you," she countered smoothly as she ran a soft fingertip over a small brow, the gesture quieting the fussing somewhat. "You know you'd leave the brunt of the work to him."

She looked up to find him smiling down at her. "Yeah, you're right. You're a natural at this – I'd have to take you both," he joked, but through the humour Makino spotted a flicker of something else in his gaze, and her look softened. "I wish I could," he added with a wry smile, and it was spoken with the keen understanding of a futile hope. They'd had this conversation before; had exhausted the subject throughout the long months of her pregnancy, an unexpected development that had put her fledgling career of piracy to an abrupt end. She might have adapted to life aboard a pirate ship, but it was no place for a baby – they'd both agreed on that, even if she could still read his half-hearted protests as far deeper things.

An idea took hold of her then, and she returned his smile fearlessly, her heart swelling with her sudden resolve. "Find me an island," she said, and at his raised brow, her grin widened. "On the Grand Line. When your part in this story is finally over, find me an island I've never heard of on the edge of the world." She ran a hand over the soft fuzz on the baby's head. "And I'll make it ours."

He cast a glance at the village sprawling at her back. "What about Fuschia?"

Makino smiled, eyes on the babe snug in the crook of his elbow. "It's my childhood home, but as much as I love it, it doesn't have to be his."

He paused at that, and some unknown emotion passed across his face, before he reached down to kiss her, the action dear and familiar now, and she breathed against him, closing her eyes against the glare of the sun. The baby cooed softly, snug between them and safe in the curve of a steady elbow, and when she broke the kiss she leaned down to place one at that small, wrinkled brow.

"I'll try to make it back as often as I can," Shanks said then, voice low in the din of the bustling wharf. Makino smiled.

"And I'll be here waiting."

He sighed. "I'd say I was sorry, but..." he looked down at his son, a strange smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I can't really make myself mean it."

She grinned. "It's okay. I'm glad. If he's anything like you, I'll have my hands full and won't have time to wait."

He smirked. "Really, now? Is this one of those cases where he'll be your son only if he behaves and mine when he doesn't?"

"Oh, on the contrary – if he's anything like me he'll be shirking his duties more often than not!"

"And run off with some book, I wager."

Makino laughed. "Careful now, or we'll have a scholar on our hands."

Shanks smiled, the corners of his eyes curving with sudden fondness. "I can't imagine there'd be anything wrong with a kid who takes after you," he said then, the honesty on his face so stark Makino started slightly.

Then she smiled, a soft laugh pulling from her lips. "Smooth-talking the mother of your child, Captain? One would almost think your intentions weren't entirely innocent."

He grinned roguishly. "Don't tempt me, woman," he said, the low quality of his voice sending shivers across her bare arms. The remark was on the tip of her tongue – that she'd done so already and that the result was tucked into the crook of his elbow, but she closed her mouth before the words could escape her. However humorously intended, she knew he carried guilt for leaving her in her current predicament, especially after what had happened to Ace's mother.

By the darkened look in his eyes, he'd been able to track the path of her thoughts, and Makino averted her gaze. "If you hear word–"

She nodded, looking up to meet his eyes. "Garp will make sure I know, if the news reach Headquarters. I'd be long gone before they even got here – Fuschia is pretty far out of their reach." She tried to smile reassuringly. "And I've got a village at my back. If anything were to happen...I'll manage, one way or another. We both will."

He nodded, but didn't seem entirely convinced. And this was another thing they'd discussed to death – the possibility of history repeating itself. It had been more for his sake than her own, Makino felt, but then he'd seen first hand what the world was capable of; how it had treated the son of a wanted man, and with his own tucked safely in the crook of his arm, the comparison carried more weight in his heart than it did in hers, she knew. The war had left more scars than simply physical ones, not just in Garp but in the man before her as well, and she wondered sometimes if what they saw when they looked at her was Ace's late mother. She hadn't tried to assure them she would be fine, or that she would be safe, because she had no sure way of knowing. All she could do was be as careful as possible, and stay out of the Government's line of sight.

She thought suddenly of the dearly freckled face she'd never see again, and something fierce took hold of her heart – a conviction so severe it shook her to her very core, that she'd do whatever it took to keep their son out of harm's way. She turned her gaze to the slumbering boy, dark eyes hidden under closed lids – hers or his, it was too soon to tell, although Shanks had jokingly said they were far too compelling to be anyone's but hers.

"Ace is a good name," she said then, stroking a thumb over a smooth cheek, freckle free but round and rosy. "I'm glad we decided on that."

Shanks smiled an odd smile. "Captain Roger would have liked it, I think. He always had an appreciation for things like that." He snorted. "Ben calls me a sentimental fool, but I think he secretly agrees. He just needs to disagree for the sake of disagreeing."

Makino laughed. "That does sound like him."

He was silent a moment, gaze on the child in his grip. "A parent's legacy is a nasty thing to live up to, so I hope this will be a good one where mine isn't."

"I can't think of a better legacy to carry on," she agreed, before curling her fingers around his in a fierce grip. "But don't you dare sell yourself short. You've done worthy things on these oceans," she said, remembering the war, and the graves he'd told her about – an old friend and a boy he'd only met once, but who'd had a bigger impact than he let on; a boy whose legacy they'd passed on to their own, now. She smiled down at him, snug in his father's hold. "And I can't imagine he'll grow up to be anything but proud."

Shanks smiled wryly but didn't correct her, even as she could see the uncertainty in his eyes.

"Captain." Ben's voice drew their attentions away from their boy, and Makino looked up at his approach. "We're all set to depart." There was a trace of something rare on his usually unreadable face as he spoke the words – regret, or something close.

Makino nodded, and tucked her knowing smile away as he came to stand beside them, peering down at their son. She seemed to be handling their impending separation better than the crew as a whole, but she wisely tucked the laughing remark away behind her cheek, revelling instead in the swell of fondness at the thought. "Take care of him for me, Ben?"

Ben smirked. "You know it."

Shanks grumbled, "You talk like you're my mother, Ben – I'm your superior."

The first mate ignored him, eyes on the babe. "He's quiet today."

Makino hummed in agreement. "He was fussing a bit earlier, but it looks like he's asleep now."

"Hey. I'm right here."

"You think he'll be running around by the time we get back?"

"That depends on how long you're away." She smiled at the thought – that a few years down the line, there'd be someone running ahead of her towards the docks. "He might."

"Between the two of you running to greet him, Captain will have his hands full," Ben echoed her thoughts, before that clever mouth quirked. "Well. Hand."

Shanks rolled his eyes. "Twelve years and we're still doing one-armed jokes? Really, Ben–"

Makino laughed. "If he's anything like me, he'll be fast on his feet. I'll have to try and keep up."

"Guys. Hey. Still right here."

Ben threw him a sideways look. "That you think we could actually tune you out astounds me."

Shanks grinned. "You're always trying, Ben – don't lie."

He snorted. "Trying, yes. Succeeding?" He shook his head, and gave Makino a meaningful look, before he turned back towards the ship. He didn't repeat his earlier reminder, but it rang loud and clear in his heavy footfalls across the dock, and for a split second she was brought back twelve years, and it shivered across her skin like goosebumps as she thought about the ocean they were departing for. Back then she'd been ignorant – had only known the New World through hearsay and the occasional newspaper article. The war had changed much, and the years had forged her innocence into something else, a wary sort of wisdom that rested, heavy at the bottom of her stomach like an anchor in the form of a single, terrible word:

Yonkou.

"Be careful," she said then, drawing his attention from where his gaze had once again been focused on the babe. "The papers–" She stopped herself. "I don't know what it's like first hand, but if the papers are any indication..." she trailed off, but found that whatever she said, he was already well aware of how dangerous the New World was, and her concerns would only be excessive. So instead she settled for a different route, "Take care. All of you." Her eyes softened with a secret smile. "That's an order, Captain."

Shanks grinned, but the smile she found in his eyes was decidedly wry. "Aye, ma'am." And his humour would have been of a different sort, Makino knew, if she'd been preparing to set sail with them, trading quick and playful remarks about her usurping of his position as they stood on deck together, watching Dawn Island disappear in the distance. But fate had dealt them an unexpected hand, and neither of them would have chosen differently – that was a truth she felt with more conviction than anything else.

"Boss!" The call drew their eyes to one of the crew-members leaning over the railing. "We're setting sail now, so unless you want us to leave you...?"

Shanks laughed at the implied suggestion. "Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. Sheesh." Turning towards her, there was a vivid reluctance to his movements as he extended his arm, and she lifted the small bundle from his grip, tucking the gentle warmth of it against her breast. The babe didn't stir, but slept on, unaware of the goings-on around him – that there existed a world beyond the protective grip of that strong arm, and the steady beat of his mother's heart.

His fingers curled below her chin then, tilting her head for a last kiss – a parting kiss, but markedly different from the one he'd given her twelve years ago. His shadow was large and familiar, but their embrace a thing of care now, ever mindful of the little shape tucked between them where there once wouldn't have been room for thought. And when he drew away she felt the tender touch of his brow against hers, a silent vow that allowed her breath to come a little easier in her chest.

Then, with a gentle touch to the small head resting against her heart, he spared her a last, fond look, before turning towards the gangway.

And there was something different about this departure, Makino found, as she watched them bustle about, before the gangway was lifted along with the anchor. She was different, older and calmer where her once reckless heart had given her so much grief. It was quiet now, snug behind her ribcage like the babe in her arms, and the knowledge of their return was as tangible as the soft cheeks and dark eyes of their son. It wouldn't be forever, she knew. It wouldn't be ten years, even. It would be time, but she was a patient woman. And he was a man worth waiting for.

"Hey, you," she murmured as Ace fussed, small nose wrinkling with displeasure. "Don't you worry. He'll be back." She smiled, as she raised a hand to shield her eyes from the sun, watching the ship as it left the docks, drifting out towards the open sea and the horizon in the distance. "He's a man who keeps his promises. And he promised me an island." She grinned then, and the eyes looking up at her blinked sleepily, dark like the bottom of the ocean but alight with the innocence of the world.

"And I'm holding him to that."

fin.

AN: And thus we have the cover page for chapter 614 (– hopefully, that is. I've still got my fingers crossed that Shanks is Makino's baby daddy). Now, I decided on 'Ace' because I'm a sentimental sap and I love him dearly, and if anyone deserves to have their legacy passed on, it's him. It's also a way for Shanks to honour his old captain, so for me it works out splendidly.

But anyway, to each and every one of you – thank you so much for reading! I hope you've enjoyed the ride, both those of you who've been around since the very beginning, and those who've found this fic just recently; it's been a pleasure writing for you all, and I hope to do so again one day.