Chapter Text
Benn wouldn’t say he was worried about his captain. Concerned for him, yes, but not worried. In all their years together, Shanks had hardly ever given him a reason to be worried, and recent developments were no different in that regard. Still, Benn was concerned. And with good reason, at least in his opinion. For a few weeks now, Shanks seemed distracted. Not in that youthful drunkard way, that used to be his staple back in the day. No, this distraction was caused by something different. Something private. And Benn was nothing if not respectful of his captain’s privacy. Whatever happened in Shanks’ free time was his business and his business alone, and Benn had no need to stick his nose where it didn’t belong.
At least that was, in most cases. Shanks could do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted and Benn wouldn’t say a word, that was, as long as the crew wasn’t put in harm’s way. Now, Benn did not believe that Shanks would ever actively try to harm his own crew, but it was still something that, as unlikely as it may be, could happen by accident. And as the second in command, it was Benn’s duty to make sure that things could never go that far. Which brought him back to his current predicament.
Under normal circumstances, he would have just let Shanks be. Whatever it was, that had the younger man’s mind this occupied, he clearly preferred to deal with it on his own. Otherwise, he would have asked for his friend's advice days ago. But these weren’t normal circumstances. The world was changing. Fate was rearing its head, and the great pirate era seemed to teeter on the edge of a giant wave that could send it to a watery grave if not navigated carefully. They were in the New World, and they needed each of the members of their crew to be at their best. That included their captain.
He knew that Shanks would not forgive either of them, if they were careless with their crew’s wellbeing, just because Shanks himself was too distracted, and because Benn failed to pull him back down to earth. Which was why the older man found himself standing in front of his captain’s quarters one early evening, Two glasses in one and a bottle of rum in the other hand. He knocked twice in quick succession, but didn’t wait for an answer, before allowing himself entrance to his captain’s, his friend’s, room.
Shanks had clearly noticed his arrival, even though any other person wouldn’t have been able to tell. He was standing in front of the porthole, that allowed the red light of the evening sun to sweep into the room. Benn chose not to break the silence with words. Instead, he cleared a small space on the packed table. All sorts of documents and multiple old logbooks that had long since been filled to the brim, lay in now feasible organization strewn across the aged wood. Once Benn had made sufficient room, he put the glasses down and sat on a small stool, that had once been used as a nightstand, if the residue of candle wax was any sign to go by.
Shanks still hadn’t turned around. Benn almost wondered if there was something important, he was looking at. But whatever had grabbed his captain’s attention, the first mate couldn’t make it out, when he leaned to the side to look past the Redhair out of the porthole. So, giving up on understanding the situation from visual clues alone, Benn proceeded to open the bottle. The cork came out with a satisfying plop, and soon the only noise in the room was the gurgling of liquid as Benn filled first one and then the other glass. Not too much each, he had a high tolerance, sure, but he wasn’t planning on getting drunk tonight. Apparently, these couple of noises finally pulled Shanks from his stupor.
“Are you trying to get me to break my sober streak?” he asked, a hint of humor lacing his words. Benn shrugged, even though his captain couldn’t see that with his back still turned to him.
“Those are both for me, actually. One glass just looks pathetic, so I brought two.”
Shanks chuckled. A welcome noise. It almost put Benn at ease.
“Am I turning you to the bottle, old friend?” The captain asked, and all the ease flew out of the porthole when he turned around. The face of Redhair Shanks, usually a welcome sight, looked drained. His eyes lay deep in their sockets, and the skin on his cheeks was pale and taught. So, while Benn himself wasn’t worried, Shanks clearly was.
Still, Benn tried his best to match the energy with a chuckle of his own.
“With the way you have been brooding recently? Sure. Shall I take a look around? See if you’re hiding any baby chicks in here?”
Shanks didn’t take the bait. But he did finally cross the room to take a seat on the opposite side of Benn. Who, in turn, raised one of the glasses and emptied its content down his own throat. The slight burn was familiar, and a warm feeling spread from where it settled in his stomach. It was a welcome feeling. There were two things that would never change. The cruel, merciless way of the sea and the warm burn of rum and whiskey.
Once the glass had been placed back on the table, both first mate and captain stared at each other for a little while. Neither of them was willing to continue the farce of small talk they had going before. After all, both of them were well aware of the fact, that Benn hadn’t simply come to drink.
It was Shanks, who finally broke the silence.
“What do you need from me?” he asked. As if he wasn’t fully aware that whatever created Benn’s current concerns, was at least partially his fault. Benn took a few seconds to look at his captain, to fully take in his presence. He seemed smaller than usual. Hunched. It was an uncharacteristic sight.
Benn let out a soft sigh and turned the still filled second glass in his fingers.
“Just tell me, what’s bothering you. If we are about to meet an adversary, I want to know.”
After all, there were enough people dumb enough to challenge them to a fight.
Shanks’ shook his head and, if Benn wasn’t mistaken, he saw the younger man slump even further in his chair. A heavy sigh escaped his mouth. “It's not that.” he reassured his first mate. “It is…” for a second, Benn thought Shanks was stalling, but then he saw him reach into the chest pocket of his shirt. What he pulled out of it appeared to be a burned scrap of paper. It had clearly once been bigger, if the fold lines were anything to go by, but the wear and tear of the fire, that had claimed two of its edges, had reduced it to little more than a piece of what it had once been. Shanks laid the scrap on the table and Benn could see the hastily scribbled ‘-B’ on it.
The pieces clicked into place. “A vivre card.” the first mate stated out loud. Shanks nodded. “Yes.” Indeed, Shanks had just placed a vivre card in front of him and one, whose owner wasn’t doing too good, by the looks of it. Benn wondered who it could belong to. B… B like… like…
He felt the color drain from his face. “Hold on, is that…” He didn’t have to finish the thought. Shanks did it for him and his voice was so gravely a cold shudder ran down Benn’s spine as he did so.
“Buggy’s, yes.”
Well shit. Shit. It was the worst kept secret on the Red Force that Shanks cared deeply for his old companion. In fact, he had made sure that his crew was well aware of the fact, that should they ever encounter the Buggy Pirates on any of the open seas, they would NOT attack them, under any circumstances. Even more than that. Benn had held witness to many a drunken ramble about how much Shank’s missed his old friend and how proud he was that Buggy had made a name for himself. It was cute, for the most part of it. If not a little codependent, but honestly, who was Benn to judge?
So, if this was Buggy’s vivre card, it meant that the other man was doing… badly. Very badly. And that in turn would explain why Shank’s appeared to be this lost in his thoughts all the time. Loosing Buggy, for real this time, not just to a great distance that would lay between them for years, would mean the end of his captain. Shanks would not survive Buggy’s death, or at least not the Shanks he knew. Maybe his captain would pull through, but the man who would emerge on the other side would not be the same. Benn was certain of that.
Shanks on the other hand seemed to pay little mind to his first mate’s racing thoughts. His eyes were fixed on the vivre card. Benn swallowed.
“You are thinking of going to him.” he announced, and Shanks looked at him for only a second. But it was enough to tell Benn all he needed to know. Shanks would do anything in his power to reverse whatever was happening to his old friend.
“He is in danger”, Shanks finally stated. It was obviously correct. “It has been happening again and again for a while now. I need to help him, but…” Shanks hesitated. “I can’t.”
This time Benn looked confused. “Why not?” He asked. He knew that Buggy could be a very particular man, but if he needed assistance, assistance that could save his life by all things apparent, he would clearly not throw a fuss, right? Well… maybe.
Shanks looked positively miserable as he answered the other man’s question. “He would not forgive me.”
“What?”
“If I offer my help, he will not forgive me for it. I can’t ask him to take it. He needs to demand it from me. Otherwise, otherwise, he might even hate me.”
Benn suppressed the impulse of stating that Buggy had claimed to hate Shanks before and that Shanks had clearly not paid any mind to those times either, but this was neither the time nor the place for such a reminder.
“Why would he hate you for saving him?”
“Buggy has always assumed that I was better than he. He was wrong, of course. There is so much that he can do that I can’t, but he was never able to see that. He puts me on a pedestal, because that’s what the people around us did, when we were kids. If I offer him my help from where he thinks I stand, he will think I am looking down on him.”
“But you are not.”
“Of course not. I could never. But Buggy doesn’t see that.”
Benn felt bad for his captain. Clearly the younger man felt trapped. On one hand, he wanted nothing more than to help his childhood friend, save him, if need be, but on the other, he was hesitant to overstep that carefully crafted line Buggy had laid between them. Shanks feared that either way, he was going to lose him, and that made the decision all the harder.
Benn emptied the second glass before looking into his captain’s eyes once more. He couldn’t say that he cared much for the other Emperor of the sea, but he cared about Shanks and if Shanks needed to make sure Buggy was safe, then that would be the best for their crew.
“Listen, captain. I don’t pretend to understand whatever is going on between you and him, but the way I see it, you have two options. Either you ignore it and the card either keeps burning or it doesn’t. Or you put your own mind at ease and check um on him. I mean, you don’t even have to offer your help. You can just make sure you understand the gist of what is happening and go from there.”
Shanks didn’t look too convinced by that, and Benn leaned over the table to place his hand on the younger man’s shoulder.
“Do I think it’s a good idea to sail into another Emperor's territory for this? By the seas, no. But we have probably been in worse situations. And if we need to beat some asses, we will do so. We got your back, captain.”
The sun vanished across behind the horizon with a last flash of brilliant light that colored the room in a red hue and let Shank’s hair burn. The captain nodded.
“Tell the men we are setting sail. We are going to Karai Bari Island.”
~tbc~