First of all, I really want to thank everyone for the feedback It's been amazing, and I'm very grateful! Thank you all! :)

I wrote some more, and it ended up both a bit different and shorter than I intended. However, I wanted to post something before going to work, so, this'll have to do. I haven't had time to proofread and such, so I hope it's legible at least.

For a while there was only blackness and confusion. His ears were ringing, his eyes stinging, and he was surrounded by a sickly sweet smell which reminded him of overripe fruit. It was all very disorienting. He also felt a certain discomfort. Yes, his body was hurting, but there was something else, too – an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach. It felt as if his intestines were knotted and tangled into a great, big messy ball of yarn.

A groan, strained and weak, penetrated the ringing that still filled his ears. It sounded as if it came from someone in great pain. Before he could think any more of it, a powerful wave of nausea washed over him, tightening the coiled mess of intestines further, causing him to contract into himself. He pulled his knees towards his chest and inclined his head downward, scraping his cheek on a cold stony surface in the process. As he did so the groan came again, and to his horror Law realised that the source of the distressed sound was none other than he himself.

He was in pain.

The frightening thing, though, was not the pain itself, but the nature of it. Law knew pain. He knew it well, as a matter of fact, and this was not the kind of soreness that resulted from battle. No, this type of agony was far more insidious, or perhaps the term poisonous was more appropriate. The jumbled feeling in his bowels was a certain indicator. Whether it was lethal Law could not but guess. However, the intense need to vomit could be a good sign, albeit it did not feel so at the moment.

To shift his mind of the nausea the captain tried to focus on his breathing instead. His throat, however, felt clogged up and swollen, making the supposedly effortless job of passing air through his lungs a very arduous task. The fact that his head was pounding, throbbing rhythmically to the beat of an unheard tune, only made matters worse, and the bitter, acrid bile burning in the back of his throat, already threatening to spill over, was also unpleasantly distracting. Still, it was not only the pain and nausea that were worrying either, but Law couldn't help but notice that his body felt oddly numb. It was, perhaps, this dull tingling, like that of a million small bugs dancing wildly on top of his skin, which he found worst of all.

The captain couldn't quite recall the last time he had felt this powerless – this vulnerable.

Minutes ticked by slowly, and with time Law's senses steadily normalised, although the same could not be said about the state of his body. Law did his best to lay as still as possible, every movement causing the nausea to double in force. He wasn't sure of how long he'd be able to withstand the constant urge to throw up and rid his stomach of its contents, knowing this would, most likely, make him feel better. Yet, he couldn't help but fight his reflexes, as if letting it all out would be equivalent to some huge failure. He was, loath to admit it though he was, too proud to show such weakness, especially so in the face of a potential enemy. He had to think of something else.

In his current condition chances of escape seemed low, this much Law couldn't deny, yet this was no excuse not to inspect his surroundings. For all he knew he could have been left unsupervised, implausible though it sounded. With sheer willpower, because that was the only form of power he momentarily seemed to possess, Law forced his eyes open.

Everything was somewhat of a blur at first, and the stinging of his eyes only got worse when he opened them. Nevertheless, Law resisted the urge to rub them in fear that this would upset his stomach, already bubbling sickeningly, further. Instead the captain blinked a couple of times, which naturally did not yield the same results as a good rubbing would, but it had to suffice. At least the room seemed clearer now. Either that or his mind was just starting to see things as it wanted them to be.

Law had been lucky enough to have been placed alongside one of the walls, which gave him a good view over most of the space around him. It was dim, but not pitch dark as a small fire, crackling in what seemed to be the centre of the room, emitted just enough light for the pirate to be able to make out the general outline of his captor's den. There was however, from what he could see, very little to observe.

The fire in the middle of the room, a few sacks and woven baskets that stood in a corner, and some sort of makeshift bed, made out of dried grass and hay, which he currently occupied. While these were all valid and accurate observations they mattered little, and the only thing Law really felt deserved any further attention was the crude table that stood against the wall opposite to where he was being held. Actually, it was not so much the table, but the woman who was standing in front of it, that mattered.

Doubtless it was she who was responsible for his current state. Yet, looking at her now, Law could not picture how such a small individual had managed to do him such harm. She was short and not too muscled, and although Law knew better than to judge people based on their physical being alone, the captain doubted that she'd be able to overpower him in a fair fight. Her hands were fast and skilled though, he had to give her that much credit. The way her fingers swiftly, almost effortlessly, moved across the table was definitely a skill to be associated with adept craftsmen alone. Adding to this, the pungent smell of crushed herbs mixed with the rapid chops of a knife against a wooden surface, as well as the eager thumps of a pestle hitting the bottom of a mortar, also indicated that she might possess some medical skills. Or, Law thought, slightly alarmed, she might be well ventured into the deathly art of poisoning.

That last thought was not welcome, and Law decided to push it into a far corner of his mind for the time being. Even if he had been poisoned there was little he could do about it at the moment. He was in no position to attack her. Sure, he had the element of surprise, but even if he, against all odds, managed to tackle her there would be no telling if there was backup waiting just around the corner. No, he'd have to take his chances and run (well, sneak out was perhaps a more accurate term for his escape, at least in his current condition). His only saving grace was that the woman seemed so engrossed in what she was doing that he might actually stand a chance at getting away unnoticed, even if he had to crawl out. He saw no other option.

He moved his hands till they were neatly tucked under his chest. Then, channelling all the willpower he could muster into his arms, Law pushed upward. He had to stop about halfway through the push-up like movement, resting on his elbows for a moment in order to fight the reflex to heave, before he could continue the slow process of forcing his body up from the ground. Eventually, through a great deal of pain and not any small amount of patience, Law managed to shift from his previously reclined position to one where he stood on all four.

Despite supporting his body with all four limbs Law felt hopelessly unsteady. His knees were screaming with pain and he could feel his shoulders and elbows protesting horrendously against the weight they were forced to carry. Yet, Law bit his tongue and suffered in silence. He had only one shot at getting out, and no level of distress was going to stop him. He sank his teeth into the soft flesh of his mouth, in order to muffle any unintended outbursts of discomfort, and so the dark haired captain started moving, slowly sliding one shaking hand forward.

The first step of his escape was completed, and so far all good.

Law's breakout, contrary to his own believes, was proving to be successful. That is, at least until he took his fourth wobbling, crawling step forward. At this point his right arm, the one he had injured earlier, collapsed, neatly folding in under him, successively causing the captain to fall to the ground with a soft, yet audible, thump.

The captain, although no believer, said a silent prayer, but of course this small incident – a miniscule misstep in his master plan – did not escape his captor's attention. Her shoulders tensed and her hands seized all movement, yet she didn't turn to face Law. When she finally began moving again it was simply to resume her chopping, the rhythmical sound of the knife hitting the wooden surface echoing through the otherwise silent room.

He wondered at her reaction. Was she frightened? Angry? Irritated? What was he to do now? She clearly knew he was awake, but that was all he could be certain of. The captain was unable to interpret the body language when denied all access to her facial expressions. He swallowed, finding himself at a loss. The woman might actually have played her cards well when she chose not to face him before nullifying any trace of emotion on her face, Law mused, because this really left him with very little to work with.

Law's head was a mishmash of thoughts, but the train running amok in his mind came to a sudden halt when he felt the inside of his stomach cringe violently. He had landed on his stomach when his arm gave in, and apparently said body part didn't much appreciate to be lied on. Law suppressed an all too whimper-like sound from passing his lips, and desperately racked his brains for an idea. The easiest option, by far, would be to simply flip over, so his aching belly would be facing the ceiling. The drawback, on the other hand, was that the momentum required for this single movement could bring undesired consequences. Then again, if he remained stationary in this position for too long there was no guarantee that these consequences would not strike anyway.

Running a multitude of scenarios and option through his head, Law was so caught up in his internal battle, in-fact, that it completely escaped his attention that the woman had seized her hacking. It wasn't before he could hear the shuffling of feet over stone floor that he was brought back from the deep cavities of his mind to the present, and it gave him enough of a start – perhaps energy his body had stored for a life-and-death battle – to fling his body into a sitting posture; damned be the consequences.

"Here" his captor said, kneeling in front of him, and shoved a semi-large, wooden bucket into his hands.

Law stared at her incredulously for a moment. Did she really expect him to use it? But no matter how long or hard he glared into her rust-coloured eyes they radiated nothing but seriousness.

"Trust me, or don't, but you won't start feeling any better until the poison is out of your system" she said with an amused grin playing at the corners of her pale lips. With that she retired back to her wooden table, which Law now could see was covered with green plants, flowers, and a numerous collection of various small pots and containers.

The captain didn't know whether he should feel mortified or enraged, so he settled for something in-between. He looked down the wooden bucket, as if that would help rid him of the unsettling turmoil in his gut. Law knew she was in the right though, he would, most likely, not get better until he got worse. At least the woman had the courtesy to not ogle him, or comment on whatever had to be done. The captain sighed deeply, resigning to his fate; nature would run its course, no matter what he wanted.

Afterwards he felt better. He couldn't deny that. The nausea was almost gone. The numbness from before, however, still haunted him, prickling and inching his skin. His strength wasn't returning either. Law glanced over at the woman, wondering what she was playing at. If she noticed him looking, she didn't react.

She moved quietly about the room, digging through the contents of one of the baskets Law had spotted earlier, fiddling with something by the fire, and doing some more chopping. And she went about it in the same manner as if he wouldn't have been there in the first place. The captain was just about to ask her what the hell she was up to when the woman pulled out an earthy-coloured, ceramic pot from the oddly dim, orange flames. Pale hands wrapped the pot into a time-worn cloth then proceeded to add a fistful of a very light-green, finely shredded, grass like plant into it.

Without a word she carried the pot over to where Law was seated, and he made no secret of that he was eying both her and her concoction with utter suspicion. She chose to flat out ignore the gesture. Fishing a spoon out of her pocket she dipped it into pot and started stirring its thick, sweet-smelling contents, counting under her breath as she went about it. After only a few seconds – Law believed she had reached number 16 in her number-chant – she seemed happy enough with the result, nodding curtly to herself, and held out spoonful of gunk for the tattooed pirate to feast on.

"This should help negate the remaining effects" she muttered when she saw the captain's semi-disgusted expression. Yet, strangely enough, her comment did very little to convince Law.

"Should?" he asked, warily eying the cloth-wrapped pot. He wasn't about to ingest anything this woman offered him just like that. She had, after all, poisoned him once already.

"Yes, should" she repeated, pulling an annoyed expression as the captain turned away from the spoonful she offered.

"You're not certain" he stated, bitterly, glaring her down best he could.

"No" she admitted, her voice never straying from the very matter-of-fact tone she seemed to prefer. "But, this really is your best bet, take it or leave it. It's all up to you."

Once more he could see the spoon hovering in front of his mouth, begging for entrance. It smelled sickly-sweet, and he was sure it would taste equally foul. He opened his mouth to protest, yet again, and too late he realised his mistake.

The grime did not taste as bad as it looked – it was way worse. It was like having thick, sugar-loaded syrup, with an aftertaste of what he imagine only rotted bananas could taste like, slowly seeping down his throat. He gagged. Twice. But the woman refused to give up, and left with no other choice Law, begrudgingly, swallowed.

"What the hell do you think you're you doing!" he bellowed at the pixie-haired woman, lunging at her, managing to grab hold of her forearm. She winced visibly, her eyes widening a fraction as a reaction to his sudden attack. But, just as quickly as he had caught hold of her she had wrung herself loose. She growled at him, her eyes narrowed into thin brownish-red slits, muttering something about this being the thanks she got.

Law snorted in defiance.

"You didn't tie me up" the captain smirked, "your loss."

"No," she spat, rubbing her arm, "even if I had rope to spare I wouldn't waste it on you!"

"Hmm?"

"Yeah, or do you see yourself actually being detained by mere rope, Trafalgar Law of the seven warlords, or whatever other fancy title you might pledge to your name" she said, one eyebrow slightly raised in amusement and a dangerous smile tugging at her lips.

She was not scared of him, as much was obvious. What Law wondered, however, was if he should be of her.

I'll try to update as often as I can, but with both studies and work my writing time is very limited. Also, as English isn't really my native language it takes quite the effort to produce text, and I don't want to compromise quality all too much. Anyhow, I'll do my best to keep on updating as fast as I can!

As always, thanks for reading and leave a review if you feel like it!