Hello. Thanks for clicking this story. I know I have another going (actually two of them) that I should get on with. But this one just seems to write itself, thinking of how it took only one week from the first idea to final layout of the first chapter.

I woke up last Sunday, thinking that it's sort of strange how, in the early chapters, back on the Baratié, Sanji gets beaten up so badly and next we meet him again outside Luffy's room, waiting for Luffy to recover. So, if this starts out like a Sanji/Zoro nakama story, it is actually a Sanji/Zeff thing, explaining what took place during the interval between Gin taking his leave and Luffy starting up and shouting for his hat.

There must be one thousand versions and more already out there (and we're about 600 chapters and two years into the future), but I hope I still found a twist - and a way to present it - that is original for you to enjoy. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own "One Piece" and/or any of its characters, and I do not make money out of this.

+++ Chapter 1: Too late for miracles+++

Going Merry (late afternoon)

On the second day after the Straw Hat's departure from Alabasta, things were settling down and by afternoon, life aboard had returned to normal routine. Luffy and Usopp were bullying a shoal of flying fish, while Chopper and Nami sat on deck with Nico Robin, getting to know their new crew member better.

Zoro and Sanji were sparring and had been at it for almost two hours. There seemed no end to the young fighters' energy and strength, as they attacked and feigned, slashed and kicked, tackled and dodged. At regular intervals, Sanji would call a time-out to light a new cigarette.

'Smo-king – ruins the – constitu-tion,' Zoro told him during one of those breaks.

Surprised, the blond cook looked up. 'Are you okay?'

'Wha-t – do – you – mean? Of course – I'm – oh-kay,' panted Zoro.

'You seem a bit winded.'

'Your – smoke's – mak-ing – me sick.' Zoro took his position, one sword between his teeth, the other two blades crossed in front of his body.

Sanji blinked, pointing his cigarette at his nakama's chest, 'Ah, marimo, you know you're bleeding?'

'A h-harm-less scratch.' Zoro attacked.

Sanji evaded the blades easily, turned full circle and countered. His kick broke through Zoro's defense and smashed into the sword fighter's ribs. Zoro was sent flying across the deck like a straw bag and crashed into the rail. The sword he had held with his teeth clattered on the floor. The others, he still clutched. Giving a strangled sound, he slid down the rail and sat on the planks.

Alarmed, the Straw Hats gathered around the choking warrior.

'Wow, Sanji,' said Luffy. 'Was that a new technique?'

'Yes – no. No!' Sanji was as baffled as anyone. 'I only countered his attack. It was nothing special.' He drew on his cigarette. 'Shitty try, though, marimo.'

'He's bleeding,' said Chopper, giving Sanji a stern "How-could-you...?" kind of look.

'He said it was harmless. A scratch,' said Sanji, starting to feel a little touchy at the reindeer's tone of voice.

'Couldn't you see he needed to catch his breath?' said Chopper. 'Couldn't you have given him a break?'

'Now, you give me a break, Chopper! Why would I worry about his needs? Why would I bother to know?' Sanji drew fiercely on his cigarette. 'He's old enough to speak up for himself.'

Zoro struggled for breath. 'Damn cigarette,' he coughed. 'Can't breathe...'

'Sparring's over for today,' said Chopper. 'Luffy, Sanji, give me a hand. We have to get him to the meeting room.'

Zoro was placed on a mattress beside the door, and Chopper set out to examine him. He checked on the swordman's pulse, he put his ear to his chest and pressed his blue nose on Zoro's brow, since his hooves were insensitive to temperature. When he was done, his cute reindeer face displayed a look of utmost concern.

The others were waiting outside, each in their own fashion: Luffy sat cross-legged on the floor right in front of the door. Sanji leaned casually against the mast, smoking, while Usopp and Nami stood on each side of the door, fiddling with slingshot and log pose. Only Robin kept a few steps off, not wanting to impose herself on the crew who hopefully would, but had not yet entirely become her friends.

'What's wrong with Zoro?' asked Nami, when Chopper stood in the door.

'It's the gunshot wound he received on that tower in Alabasta,' said Chopper. 'Remember when we finally found the bomb, and I carried Princess Vivi up to the top, using Sanji and Zoro as spring boards? He got shot in the chest then.'

'But that was five days ago,' said Usopp, scratching his head. 'Granted, we were all in a bad shape when we were taken to the palace. But we all healed, meantime.'

'Well, Zoro did not,' said Chopper simply. 'This wound is still critical. He's feverish. And he can't breathe very well.' As he talked, the reindeer made way for Sanji who strode past and stood beside Zoro. The cook put his hands to his hips, 'Oi, marimo. How long, do you think, I've got to put up with you in my galley?'

Zoro glowered at him, but said nothing. He was simply too busy fighting for air to engage in their usual bickering. Sanji countered his look in silence. As he slowly exhaled cigarette smoke, he seemed to have reached at a decision and to confirm it to himself with a long sigh.

'Sanji, for goodness' sake, don't smoke in here!' Waving his hooves, Chopper tried to snatch the cigarette away from the blonde cook.

'Be right back.' Sanji turned on his heel and left, taking his smoke with him.

'What was that about?' asked Usopp.

'Beats me,' said Luffy.

'How can Sanji-kun be so unfeeling?' said Nami, irritably. 'Everyone knows Zoro's not his favorite. But he's our nakama, for heaven's sake!'

Everyone turned their attention back to the sword fighter: Zoro breathed in shallow gasps, now laying with his eyes closed. His hands moved restlessly on the blanket Chopper had spread over him: He was looking for his swords that lay beside his mattress and well out of reach. Chopper was not as crazy as to give weapons to a delirious patient.

'I can't help him,' the reindeer said, desperately. 'Damn his ambition! I believe he worked out too hard, too soon. Sparring with Sanji, his wound reopened. He ignored the pain, but his muscles started to cramp. He had trouble breathing, and the more he struggled and ignored the problem, the worse his condition got. Until Sanji's kick to the chest finished him off.'

'The idiot's - damned - cigarette,' corrected Zoro, wheezing.

'Sorry, Zoro,' said Chopper. 'But I really don't think your trouble's got to do with anything but your obstinately disregarding the symptoms. And Sanji's counter kick.'

Zoro harrumphed and closed his eyes again.

'Can't you do anything, Chopper?' asked Luffy.

'I've got the ingredients, but I need time to prepare the medicine,' said Chopper. 'The herbs need to brew. Three to four hours at least...'

'No way. I refuse preparing dinner with the marimo huffing and puffing in my back like that.' Unnoticed, Sanji had returned and stood in the door. He held up a small green vial that was about a third full of some liquid.

'What is that?' asked Chopper.

'Cough syrup,' said Sanji, non-committally. 'Although I would not waste it on a simple cold.'

He broke the seal and offered the vial to Chopper. The reindeer sniffed. There was alcohol in it, he decided. But not much, really, and it smelled of a high-quality white wine. And fish. Chopper stuck out his tongue, 'Faugh.'

'Yes, I know,' said Sanji, guiltily. 'The smell isn't inviting. Oi, marimo. Do you hear me?'

Zoro did not respond.

'I guess that means "no",' mumbled Sanji. 'Alright, we'll have to make him swallow. Luffy, can you give me a hand and hold his – '

'I'll do it,' said Chopper. 'I know how.' He looked sternly at Sanji. 'You sure about this?'

Sanji jerked a nod.

'Alright, I'll ask for an explanation later.' Chopper leaned over Zoro and made some drops go into the swordsman's open mouth. Zoro interrupted his laborious panting to swallow. When the taste registered, he cringed, trying to sit up and quickly being held down by Usopp and Luffy. 'Faugh! Shit, Chopper! What is that crap?'

'Medicine. Open up.' Chopper checked with Sanji, who nodded again. Give him all of it. Paying no heed to Zoro's protests, Chopper repeated the procedure until the vial was empty. Sanji pocketed it as if the ancient thing had a worth in itself.

'Thanks for not telling him it was my idea,' he mumbled.

'Yes, well, we wanted him to accept it, didn't we?' Chopper replied quietly.

'Look,' said Nami, astonished. 'He's breathing more easily already.'

Zoro took a long, sighing breath, just as they all looked at him.

'...want my swords,' he mumbled and sank into sleep.

'Wow,' said Luffy to Sanji. 'I didn't know you could do medical stuff too?'

'I can't.' Sanji looked at Zoro with an unreadable expression. 'That vial was family heirloom, sort of. And you didn't know I had it, because you were asleep when it came into my possession.'

'Huh?'

'Doesn't matter.'

'Okay, everyone out,' said Chopper. 'Zoro needs to rest. I'll call for you if there's a need...'

The crew shuffled out.

'Not you, Sanji,' said Chopper, stopping the cook by touching his elbow. 'You still need to tell me what that elixir was.'

Sanji bristled. 'Shit, I don't need to tell you anything.'

Chopper studied him quietly. Then he went to the wine rack, took a bottle and two glasses and left the galley.

'Hey!' Sanji started to trot after the reindeer. 'Where are you going with that? Chopper? Wait a sec! Chopper? Chopper! Chop- Damn, that stubborn reindeer's driving me crazy!'

Ignoring the disgruntled cook, Chopper set the table on the sun deck where he'd sat with Nami and Robin. Only when he had poured the wine, he turned around.

'Make yourself comfortable,' he said friendly, yet with a doctor's authority. He held out a glass to Sanji. 'For you. You look like you could do with something stronger, but I don't know where you keep it.'

'It's that obvious, huh?' Sanji accepted the glass, but he refused to sit.

'Hmm-hmm, yes. If I wasn't so worried about Zoro, I have no doubt my doctor's instinct would zero in on you.' Chopper sat on his chair, lay back and held up his nose to the sun. 'That elixir was pretty amazing. Although it stank of fish.'

'Octopus,' said Sanji deliberately.

Chopper made a point of relishing the sun on his fur, changing to his man-shape in order to have more surface to expose. 'Well, then - octopus...' He gestured again. 'Sanji. Sit down. Please.'

'You're not going to let up, are you? You just can't leave me alone?' But Sanji was pulling back a chair.

'I don't know,' said Chopper. 'Do you want to be left alone, Sanji? I felt that maybe you wanted - '

'Wanted what?'

'To tell your story...'

'You know my story.'

'Not the part that was on your mind when you were looking at Zoro, down in the galley. The part that made you get that vial... Sanji, come on. I'm a doctor. I'm diagnosing a need to talk.'

Sanji scowled. 'More like a need to listen, isn't it? Alright...'

Fascinated, Chopper watched the blond human lift his glass and down half of its contents in one gulp. 'Easy...,' he mumbled.

'My story - ' said Sanji, setting the glass back on the table. 'My story reaches back to the day Luffy defeated Don Krieg.' Leaning forward, he engaged Chopper's gaze. Suddenly, the reindeer doubted that it had been a good idea to take it that far. But here they were, and like it or not, he was going to hear Sanji's story now.

'As you probably know, on that day I too had my share of fighting.' Sanji's voice sounded strangely flat and emotionless. 'I got wounded, not just once, but time and again. By Pearl, by that shitty idiot Gin. But I had a good reason to persist, even to die, or so I thought: I would save the Baratié, I would repay my debt to the geezer. But when combat was over, I was still alive.' Absently, Sanji nursed his wine glass, staring off into space. 'No one knew just how critical my injuries were, not even myself... it was Luffy we were worried about...'

The Baratié, day of the battle against Don Krieg (early evening)

Don Krieg's pirates had left. The Baratié was a wreck. The "errand boy" who had rescued the restaurant ship was beaten up and half drowned, and he certainly looked like he would not wake up till next sunrise at the very first. The cooks took Luffy to his guest room and tended to his wounds. Sanji was with them. His whole body ached. He felt lightheaded from blood loss. Several broken ribs forced him to walk in a stoop while clutching his side.

But it was not before Luffy was tucked in that the softest of sighs escaped the young cook's lips, drawing the other men's attention.

They had forgotten about him, but now they saw him all but collapse against the door frame. Carne and Patty, his "best foes", sprang into action and took him to his room, where he lay on his bed shaking, as his fellow cooks bustled about:

They gave him rum, they cleaned and dressed his wounds, they put pajamas on him and told him to rest. It was Baratié standard procedure after a pirate attack.

Unfortunately, things were not going according to standard this time.

The Baratié (dusk)

'Owner Zeff...'

The one-legged owner of the swimming restaurant cursed under his breath and heaved his body around on the mattress.

'Owner Zeff!' Carne insisted, louder this time. 'Please. A word with you, sir...'

'Alright, alright, I'm awake.' Checking that his hat was in place, Zeff sat up. 'What is it? What did you let boil over this time?' But even as the Baratié's head chef asked he could see that this call for help was not due to trouble in the kitchen.

'It's Sanji,' said Carne, trembling. 'Please, come and take a look...'

Sanji was sitting on his bed, clutching his sides. He hyperventilated, wheezing in rapid, hiccuping gasps as if recovering from a crying fit. Every gasp sent a stinging pain through his whole body that was feeling cold and trembled. He was pale and visibly scared as he tried in vain to get a grip on himself and understand what was happening to him. He felt that his usually so reliable body had started to behave like a ship pitching and rolling out of control and he just knew there were cliffs ahead...

'How long's he been like this?' asked Zeff.

'It started shortly after we finished treating his wounds,' said Carne. 'He complained about feeling dizzy and short of breath. We thought it was because of the broken ribs. But he got worse by the minute.'

'Sorry, sir,' howled Patty. 'I told him to lie down. But he just sits, and sits, and pants...'

Leaning on his crutches, Zeff hobbled closer to the bed. 'Oi, Sanji. You sound like a stranded fish.'

'..can't – breathe.' There was hardly a perceptible break to Sanji's gasping as he wrenched the words out. Still, Zeff was satisfied with the reaction. It meant that the lad was responsive and so far resisting to give in to panic. Zeff had little patience with men succumbing to panic.

'I know you can't breathe,' growled Zeff. 'I'd have to be blind and deaf not to notice.'

He turned back to the other two. 'This looks bad,' he said, in a hushed voice. 'He's lost too much blood. Circulation is giving out. He's gone into shock.'

'Shock?' asked Sanji. 'Me?' He sat bolt upright, yapping like a puppy on a hot day.

'Yes – you,' Zeff looked over his shoulder. 'It was bound to happen. I expected it from the time that guy, Pearl, attacked you to the neck. And later on, when Gin broke your ribs. Pray there's not one or more of them tickling your lungs. But I guess it's already too late to ask for miracles.'

'What do we do, sir?' asked Patty. 'Lay him flat on the floor and put up his feet?'

Sanji crawled backwards, shaking his head. 'No – I want to – sit...' He hugged himself, teeth rattling.

'You've got your answer, Patty,' said Zeff. 'I would trust him on that. A man usually knows what does him good.'

'But what are we to do, boss?' insisted Carne.

Yes, what were they to do? Zeff wondered. He was not a physician, but he had experienced a lot of medical emergencies during his time as a pirate. He had seen men that were twice Sanji's age and three times his weight done in by the physical effects of shock. They just seemed unable to snap out of it, lingering for hours, sometimes for days. To make matters worse, the lad's wounds and his general exhausted state boded ill: Zeff expected him to be down with a fever by dawn. And heaven have mercy on the little eggplant then...

Zeff made his decision. There was one last secret to tell, and the day had come to relate it.

'Carne. Run, and get the green vial from my bookshelf. It's on the highest shelf, behind volume three of "Two hundred and thirty-six seasonings that go with venison." '

'Do you think Sanji will die, sir?'

'Run!' said Zeff, and the answer was in his tone of voice. 'Patty. Help Sanji sit up straight.'

Patty reached out to grab Sanji's shoulders. But the young cook slapped at him. 'Hands – off, you – shit-ty – '

'Owner Zeff,' howled Patty.

Zeff straightened up and crossed his arms over his chest. It was a posture he saved for special occasions. If he stood like this, one could still see the impressive pirate the former captain had once been. 'Look at me, Sanji,' he commanded. 'That's right. Look up, straight at my face, and don't you allow yourself to slump... Look at me, little eggplant!'

Sanji didn't give a damn about "impressive". Although he did look up thus keeping himself in a more or less upright position, the defiance at being ordered around under these conditions showed clearly in his eye. Zeff wondered what the lad was thinking. He certainly looked as if he expected his boss secretly to gloat at his suffering.

A good, reassuring thing to do, Zeff knew, would be to reach out and pat Sanji's shoulder. To tell the lad that he was doing fine and that he should remain calm and keep up resisting fear.

Zeff would do neither.

From the day he had pulled the boy out of water and on to the rock that had nearly become their tombstone and grave, he had never physically touched Sanji. Except, of course, when he whacked him for being clumsy, stupid or cocky.

Especially when the boy was cocky.

It wasn't like Zeff laid down many rules for an adolescent to rebel against.

As far as the old pirate was concerned, Sanji could chase any skirt, smack any guest, smoke, swear, and steer his boat at reckless speed, as long as it did not interfere with the quality of his cooking. And Sanji reliably did all that was expected of him, and more: He collected lipstick marks, those left on white napkins and those he carefully took from used glasses, he loved riding the waves in rough weather with his sail almost parallel to the water, causing the cooks to sigh with fear just from watching him.

His creative usage of abusive language should have earned him a doctor's degree in Imaginative Linguistics.

When one day Zeff brought home a small supply of an exotic new spice made of a certain, rare kind of weed, Sanji and the precious spice box disappeared from the scene for three days. He was fifteen then, but when he eventually staggered back into the kitchen he looked like forty. The box was empty, and the same pervasive smell of burning hay that stuck to his hair and clothes had been wafting all through the ship for days. For an excuse he claimed that he'd come up with a hundred new dishes that should be prepared using his wonderful weed – if they could afford to buy more.

The cooks expected Zeff to throw a tantrum. But the old pirate merely told Sanji to keep stirring this pot of goulash soup while he, Zeff, went and got an overview on their finances. Oh, and would Sanji please taste whether the thing needed more seasoning, bacon, garlic, pepper, touch of red wine - anything? Yes, right now. It shouldn't be hard for him to decide, since he was such an adept at creating culinary delights...

Sanji was extremely sick for two days and didn't touch a cigarette for a fortnight.

Zeff had Patty pass him the information that they unfortunately could not afford more seasoning made of expensive weed, and the spoiled goulash soup waited for him, once he could hold on to his meals again. Apart from this, the old chef did not take any interest. Whether they be wise or foolish, a man's decisions were his own, after all.

At one point in his life Zeff had decided that he wasn't one for hugs and patting backs, for comforting and nursing and other sentimental stuff.

But that didn't mean he couldn't appreciate Carne's returning with the vial now. The cook was panting from exertion, albeit not nearly as badly as the lad on the bed.

Zeff accepted the vial. 'Thanks, Carne. Leave us alone, you two.'

'But, sir - '

'Close the door as you leave,' said Zeff.

When they were gone, he showed the vial to Sanji, 'Now, Sanji, what do you think this is?'

Sanji raised and dropped his shoulders: He had no clue, but he was open for suggestions.

'Consider it cough syrup.' Zeff took a step forward and handed the vial to the younger man. This action told Sanji much about how serious the old geezer assessed the situation. At any other time, Zeff would have spared himself the effort of moving and rather tossed the vial. As matters stood, he wouldn't risk worsening Sanji's condition by making him move swiftly and catch the thing out of the air.

The vial was sealed with wax to keep some kind of liquid in. Sanji broke it off with his thumb nail, then he realized that he would not be able to swallow the contents. His throat was constricted and all the panting had left him feeling nauseated so that he could not imagine forcing anything into his stomach – or make it stay down, for that matter.

He looked at Zeff, inquiringly: The old pirate did not seem inclined to help. 'Go slowly,' was all he said now. That was nothing new. Sanji had known the geezer standing just like this and watching as the young cook jumped between half a dozen boiling pots, blond hair dark and wet with steam, scalding his hands, shouting abuse and dropping a knife on his foot.

In the end, all he would say was, 'Hot, isn't it, little eggplant?'

What would he say this time, if Sanji lived to see the sun rise next morning? Something like, 'What a nuisance, the last night' ?

Sanji was determined to live and find out: He tilted the vial and let a little of the contents spill on his fingers. It was a viscous, purplish liquid that smelled of fish. He moistened his lips with it and found that by licking the stuff off he could fool his mutinous body's reflexes. A strong taste filled his mouth, like a perfect sauce ruined by putting too much tuna. If he had taken a full swig he was sure he would've retched it up again.

'Shit, geezer - what - is this?' he wheezed.

'You're a cook. You tell me,' said Zeff.

It was an old game between them, and one that Sanji had become quite proficient at.

He chewed his lip and focused. 'White wine?' he suggested. 'Onions – no more than - one, maybe - two in five litres - a touch of lemon. Parsley. Butter?'

'Go on,' said Zeff, looking satisfied with his assistant's analysis so far.

'Red pepper, salt.'

'That goes without saying,' said Zeff.

Sanji dipped a little more on his finger and sucked it off. 'Cognac. And - '

'Yes?'

Sanji turned the taste around in his mouth. 'I'm not sure. Squid?'

'Close enough,' said Zeff. 'It's octopus.'

'Octopus?'

'A small species, no bigger than my hand. They change color, of course, adapting to the color of the ground they're sitting on. But when they're afloat, they are emerald green. With spots of the color of sapphires.' Zeff sighed. 'Quite beautiful to behold, actually. But they're very rare. And they taste like seal dung – not that I've tried that before. But you get the idea.'

Sanji listened, feeling that there was more to come than just a lecture on a special kind of seafood. It occurred to him that he had ceased hiccuping for air like a fish on dry land. He was still feeling light-headed, and his heart fluttered in his chest like a streamer in a gale. But his throat seemed to have opened up a bit. Greedy for air, he filled his lungs – and winced at the stabbing pain caused by his broken ribs.

'There is only one part of this creature that can be used,' Zeff went on, seemingly oblivious of the younger man's occupation. 'And that is the jelly in its limbs. Purple stuff like jam from black currants. It's poisonous.'

Sanji looked up in alarm, 'Poisonous?!'

'Only for fish, idiot. Things that would eat the octopus otherwise. I guess the main idea is to disable small critters by paralyzing their organic functions. But to humans, guess what it does?' Zeff paused for emphasis. If he had worn glasses, he'd have looked over the rim at his audience. 'It can help you breathe if you're all cramped up with injury and pain. Your throat and tubes relax, give way, stop hurting.' He eyed Sanji keenly. 'If I'm not mistaken it's already kicked in with you, hasn't it?'

Sanji nodded. 'Can I – more?'

'I gave you the vial,' said Zeff. 'You can do whatever you like with its contents. Just don't take it all at once, or you might yet learn the hard way you're some small critter, after all.'

This time, Sanji was able to swallow directly. It still felt like there was a bone stuck in his throat, but the liquid went down and continued to work its miracle: Sanji was starting to feel warm again.

'Good,' said Zeff. 'There's some color returning to your cheeks, lil' eggplant. I take it the blood's flowing back from where it has gone into hiding.'

Not only the blood was flowing, as it turned out. The old pirate was a little amazed, but not totally surprised when the lad began to cry.

Going Merry (present day)

'Wait a second. You cried?' asked Chopper. 'But why? Things were improving, weren't they?'

Sanji took the cigarette out of his mouth and blew smoke to the darkening sky. 'I was finished,' he said, shrugging his shoulders. 'I was wounded, exhausted, weary onto death. And alone, at least that was how I felt. For all the things Zeff had done for me, there was that one gesture you simply could not expect from him: A good, hearty pat on the shoulder.' He put the cigarette back in his mouth, casually covering the lower half of his face with his hand as he did so. 'Sorry. I keep forgetting - do you get my meaning or am I talking in riddles to you?'

'Reindeer don't pat each other's shoulders,' said Chopper, understanding what his nakama meant to say. 'But now that I've experienced it a few times, I think it might've been one of the things I instinctively missed the most while I was still roaming with the herd. One of the things to be gained that made me seek human company.'

'Zeff wasn't human in that respect,' said Sanji, smiling darkly. 'He was – simply Zeff. And he had his very own ideas of how a man should act if he was worthy of the name...'

+++End of Chapter 1+++

A/N: Well, this is it, so far. Wish I could tell by traffic/reviews/followers if you enjoy reading and want to read more. Inspiration is the jumpstart, but readers are my fuel. Please, let me know what you think.