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It was a miserably wet day when they took him in.
"Mr. Roronoa, for this assessment I am going to ask you some questions and I would like you to answer them honestly please."
He nodded.
"Okay. So first of all, how is your mental health making you feel?"
"It's the same old shit as always really."
"And how are you coping with the symptoms?"
He scoffed.
"I'm not."
"Have there been any instances where you acted in a way which caused harm to your health, such as self-harm or neglect?"
"Yes."
"Could you give me an example please?"
"I sometimes don't eat."
"Why do you not eat?"
"Because I don't feel like I deserve to sometimes."
"Okay." The woman took notes.
"Do you have support at home?"
"Yes, but I'm sure it's probably wearing thin by now."
"How are you coping with your daily routine?"
"My old man has banned me from working at the restaurant until I'm 'feeling better'… so that means I’ll probably never work there again."
"That's why you're here, Sanji, to get help and come out the other side happier and healthier."
She scribbled something down before moving on to the next question.
"Is anyone else relying on you for their care?"
"Sora, my son, but he has one parent that isn't fucked up so he's not totally reliant on me."
"Mr. Roronoa, I would ask that you refrain from speaking about yourself in that kind of way."
"Hmmm." He grunted uncaringly in answer.
"Okay, so what medication do you currently take?"
"Antidepressants and lithium."
"And how are you finding it?"
"It seemed like it was briefly making a difference at first but it didn't last long."
"Are you taking both regularly?"
"I was, but it wasn't doing anything so I stopped."
"Do you believe that you are a risk to yourself?"
"Meaning?"
"Have you been having suicidal thoughts?"
"Yes."
"And have you had intentions to act upon them?"
"Yes."
"Do you believe that your husband and son could be at risk if your mental health gets worse?"
"No, of course not." He fixed her with a look. “What are you implying?”
“Your husband and Father are both concerned about you. Sometimes when people have suicidal ideation they can unintentionally endanger those around them if their behaviour does become erratic.”
“My behaviour isn’t ‘erratic’, and I know that you’re skirting around what you really want to say."
"Mr. Roronoa…"
"‘Do you think you’re going to harm your son?’." He spat, disgusted at even the thought. "That's what you want to ask me. And by the way, for the record, the answer is no, because of course it’s no. Sora is one of a very small number of things that do make me happy. I would never hurt him, and I love him with everything I have. It's me that's a risk to me."
The woman nodded, closing her notebook.
"Okay, well, after hearing your answers, Mr. Roronoa, I do believe that you should be sectioned here in the mental health unit."
He scrubbed a hand through his hair as he exhaled in exasperation.
"It will be for a period of up to six months, and if that time elapses, the Doctor's will decide whether or not to discharge or recommend you stay a further six months."
"So basically, I could be stuck here forever?"
"Mr. Roronoa, you should look at this as an opportunity to improve your quality of life in an environment with trained professionals who can assist you in that journey."
What a load of crap.
There was a knock at the door before a nurse popped his head round.
"Mr. Roronoa, if you would like to follow me, I'll show you to your room."
His husband was waiting for him down the corridor.
"Has the Doctor informed you of our decision?" The nurse asked him.
Zoro nodded, looking a little green around the gills.
He could barely look at him, ashamed.
The sign they passed read 'Locked Ward', and it didn't exactly fill him full of confidence.
The nurse seemed to notice this.
"Due to the answers you gave, it was decided that for your own safety this ward would be beneficial to your recovery."
The idea of being locked away hit a little close to home and he couldn't help the shakes which wracked him.
Zoro's hand came to gently take his own and offer it a squeeze.
They were buzzed inside and showed to a room shortly after.
Left alone, he took a seat on the bed and awaited his husband's inevitable intentions to divorce.
But they never came.
Strong arms wrapped tight around him a few seconds later, and he fell into them with a pathetic desperation, burying himself against the Swordsman’s chest.
"It won't be forever, and I'll visit you every time they'll let me, okay? You're not alone in this, we're here for you."
He sniffled before nodding.
"Good."
A kiss was pressed to his crown.
The nurse returned shortly after.
"That's time I'm afraid, Mr. Roronoa still has a lot to do before lights out tonight."
He didn't want to let his husband go, but he knew he had to.
"I love you." Zoro reinforced, getting a little emotional himself.
"I love you too."
And watching the Marimo walk away was the hardest thing in the world.
Just as he'd predicted, being in a locked ward was not only terrifying, but it also set about dredging up a whole bunch of crap from his childhood.
Scared out of his mind and overcome by nightmares, he awoke during the night to find sheets beneath his wet.
His pants were drenched too.
Embarrassed beyond belief that he'd done something even their little one hadn't in years, he was overcome by shame as the nurse who responded gave him grief for causing her extra work.
They ended up forcing him to change into scratchy paper scrubs.
The nightmares didn't cease though, and he quickly realised that he just couldn't sleep without Zoro.
They'd first met as young teens before growing up together and eventually falling in love. When he fell for him, he fell hard, finding comfort and safety in him.
Zoro knew what he had survived from his childhood but didn't let that change a thing, stating that he didn't love him any less because of it.
He wanted his husband.
He wanted to hug his son.
The nurse sat watching him from a chair beside the bed just kept saying the same thing over and over.
'Just try to sleep and you will.'
But he knew he wouldn't.
Not in a room this dark.
Not in a locked ward.
Not without Zoro.
When they finally let his husband visit a month later, he barely felt like a person any more.
He also felt even worse than he had before admission, somehow the thoughts of doing something stupid to himself even more intrusive than they had been previously, which was impressive.
He watched as the door opened revealing the Swordsman who wasted no time in rushing him into a hug.
It was a credit to how much the man loved him that within seconds, he immediately knew something was wrong.
He scoffed as the inevitable question followed.
"Are you okay?"
He shook his head.
"I hate myself, Zoro… and I am struggling to find the motivation to be here."
"Motivation?" His husband recoiled. "How about staying alive for your son?!"
The door to the room was open and a passing nurse popped her head round after hearing the raised tone.
"Mr. Roronoa, please refrain from shouting and using confrontational remarks." She advised.
He took a breath.
"They took the photo of him you brought. The glass in the frame was deemed 'too dangerous' to be in my room, and they felt having a picture of my son might have ‘negative effects’ on my mental health." His voice shook a little. "I don’t think they understand that not being able to even see my son in a photograph is doing that better than anything that's happening in my brain."
"You know why I can't bring him, it's not safe."
He nodded.
"I do have some interesting neighbours…"
He didn't even want to think about the terrifying patients in the rooms next to him who screamed all day and night.
Zoro sighed.
"This isn't permanent, babe."
"Six months is a long time."
“Up to six months." His husband corrected.
He sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face.
"You don't understand what it's like in here. I'm not allowed books, or my phone, I can't cook, hell, I'm not even allowed to sleep without someone there watching me. They watch me every hour of the day and it makes my skin crawl."
Zoro took his hands and gave them a squeeze.
"It may seem tough now, but in the long run, you'll be better off for it."
He wasn't sure about that…
His therapy sessions were going as terribly as he thought they would.
The therapist was kind but she already seemed annoyed by the fact that he was refusing to talk about the abuse he suffered as a child.
His reasoning for the decision was that he already felt like shit and didn't want to be reminded of his Father on top of that.
And at the end of his twelfth week of sessions, she recommended him for ECT.
After being connected to what felt like a thousand machines, he was asked to lie back on the bed before an oxygen mask was placed over his mouth, and a cannula was inserted in his wrist.
A nurse took hold of his hand which was shaking at this point without him even realising it and gave it a squeeze.
"Zoro wanted to be here with you but unfortunately hospital policy wouldn't allow it. He's back in your room though waiting for you when you get back."
He nodded.
"We're going to give you the anaesthetic now." The Doctor announced.
He counted in his head but didn't even get to three.
"So how many times will he have it?"
"It's usually nine or ten treatments, but it's very common for patients to require more. Sanji will have his sessions twice a week."
There was a pause before footsteps approached.
"Mr. Roronoa?"
His head was killing him as he groaned.
He felt so tired, and his stomach was churning.
Opening one eye the tiniest amount, there was a nurse and a green-haired man beside the bed.
His brain felt fuzzy and he couldn't quite piece together who he was and so he turned on his side and went back to sleep.
After his last session of ECT for the week, he somehow didn't feel any better.
It wasn't a hard decision to make after that.
"Your Doctor told me you've declined your ECT treatment." His husband spoke up.
He nodded.
"I don't think that's a good idea."
Scrubbing a hand down his face, he turned to the Swordsman.
"Until someone has run electricity through your brain in an attempt to make you happy, Zoro, I don't want your opinion."
"It could help you."
"I am not being put through that again…" His hands shook.
His husband exhaled softly and took a seat next to him on the bed.
"What's got you spooked?"
"They told me about the side effects, and I could lose memories, or forget people…" His breath hitched. "I don't want to forget Sora, or you… I can't… that's literally all I have."
"Hey, hey…" Zoro cood softly.
"I want to see Sora."
His lip wobbled as tears began to stream down his cheeks uncontrollably.
"I want to see my baby."
Returning home that night, the house was quiet as he walked inside. Hanging his coat up, Zeff came to meet him in the hallway.
"How was he?"
He shook his head.
The old man's expression fell.
"He wants to see Sora." He glanced around, noticing a lack of small child. "Has he been okay?"
"Quiet, but that's hardly new."
He sighed.
"Thanks, Zeff."
"I've told you a million times, I don't need thanks for doing my job as a Grandpa." The old man replied before a forced smile came to his face. "I'll see you tomorrow, kid."
He gave a nod.
"See you tomorrow."
As Zeff let himself out, he peered his head round the doorframe into the living room.
Sora's play kitchen remained untouched where it sat at the corner of the open space, the kid having not touched it since Sanji left.
Heading upstairs, he found their little boy in his room.
"Hey, kiddo."
A head popped up from the book he was reading.
"Hi, Daddy."
He walked over and took a seat on the edge of the mattress, reaching out to gently stroke the kid's soft blonde hair.
"I saw Papa today, and he wanted to know if you'd like to go and see him sometime?"
Sora's expression was nervous as he avoided eye contact, eyes going back to his book.
"I don't want to."
He found himself taken aback a little by the unexpected reply.
"Why don't you want to visit Papa?"
No answer.
"Sora?"
Their little boy shrugged.
"I just don't want to."
He knew he couldn't force him, and so he didn't.
"Okay, kiddo. Now come on, time for bed."
And as he tucked their little boy in to sleep, he was overwhelmed with dread about how to break the news to his husband.
He arrived at the facility early the next day.
Sanji's therapist didn't seem too shocked to hear that Sora had said no.
'It's just as hard for kids as it is for us adults sometimes.'
She also confirmed that he shouldn't tell Sanji about Sora under any circumstances.
He knew that was going to be hard though. After all, the Cook had been so excited.
They were half-an-hour into his visit and they'd talked about literally everything but Sora during that time.
His husband was not an idiot though, and it was clear that he'd slowly begun to realise the truth he wasn't being told.
And then finally…
"He doesn't want to see me, does he?"
His heart wrenched.
"Sanji…"
He watched as his husband tried to force a smile.
"It's okay. This whole thing is so hard for him, and he's only little…"
"Sanji…" He tried again.
"I mean, I must look horrible, maybe it is better if he doesn't see me like this, I wouldn't want to scare him."
Tears began to trickle down the blonde's cheeks, his husband seemingly unaware that he was even crying.
"You deserve better than this, so does Sora."
"We just want you to get better."
"And what if I don't get better, what then?"
Words froze in his throat.
Sanji reached out and placed his hand on his cheek.
"You… are the most incredible person I've ever met, and it's criminal that you're stuck with me."
"I'm not stuck with you, Cook, I love you."
"Zoro, I'm not worth this… just leave and find someone who isn't a fucking screw-up."
"Sanji…"
"You can keep the house, I don't want to make things any worse for Sora, I'll move back in with Jiji, if I ever get out of here, then Sora can keep his room. Hopefully the old man will still want me around."
"How can you say all that so casually?!" He asked, horrified by those words.
"It's what's best."
"Not for you!"
"I. Don't. Matter… but Sora does, and I don't want to mess him up… I won't." The blonde motioned to himself. "I mean, look what happened to me."
"It's not the same, Cook."
"I'd rather take myself out of the equation then hurt my son any more than I already have."
"Leaving us won't make him better."
"It might."
Gripping his husband tight by the arms, he shook him.
"STOP IT! STOP IT!"
The nurses came and wrestled him away soon after.
He stopped taking his medication.
The nurses caught on faster than he would have liked.
Restrained by a sickening amount of hands, he gagged as he was forced to take the colourful pills.
He felt numb afterwards, the trauma of his youth coming back full force to kick him when he was down.
Unaware that he was freaking out, they tried to keep him down on the bed, but he scratched and clawed to dislodge their grip, and received a sedative for his troubles.
The next time he visited, he found his husband curled up on the bed staring at nothing in particular.
"Sanji!" He gasped, rushing over.
His eyes immediately fell to the bruises on his wrists and arms, dark purple and finger-shaped.
A tear trickled down the blonde's cheeks as his lip wobbled, realisation kicking in as to his presence in the room before he found himself comforting his sobbing husband, holding him tight in his arms.
"What happened?"
The fearful squeak which broke from his lips left him wanting to hit someone.
"My anorexia flared and I wasn't hungry, but they made me eat."
His anger rose.
"This was torture."
The door clicked open and in walked the Doctor.
"Mr. Roronoa."
"Explain, now!"
"Sanji was making himself very ill, so unfortunately we had to resort to stronger methods."
He felt sick.
The call came through in the early hours of the morning.
Dropping Sora off with his Grandpa en route, he'd broken the speed limit in his haste to get to the facility.
Sanji had been attacked by another patient and was currently hospitalised.
The sight of his husband had been a grim one, covered in blood and bruises, and the description of his injuries from the Doctor hadn't made him feel any better.
The recovery was quick, but the effect of the attack on Sanji outweighed the physical injuries he'd received from it.
His husband was now scared of his own shadow and constantly overwhelmed with anxiety.
He didn't sleep, refused to eat or take his medications, and barely talked.
He knew the staff were getting desperate now, and that Sanji's condition was deteriorating with every day that passed, but the Doctor still reassured him that they had everything under control.
In hindsight, he shouldn't have listened.
The phone rang at one AM.
It was the Doctor.
Sanji had tried to kill himself.
When he and Zeff arrived, they were told that his husband was still sedated from having lashed out at the staff who'd tried to stop him.
Made to wait in the family room, he couldn't think straight.
The old man walked over and crouched down in front of him, clapping him on the shoulder.
"We'll work something out."
His tear-drenched eyes rose to meet his equally emotional gaze.
"W-what if he tries again?"
Zeff screwed his eyes closed for a few seconds before forcing himself to speak.
"We won't let there be a next time, I promise you that."
When Sanji awoke, he refused to see them and so they reluctantly left the facility and headed back to the house.
That was where Zeff told him of his plan.
"I have savings put away from the Baratie's profits, we'll use that to get him transferred into a private mental health hospital.
He'd never felt so useless.
"Kid?"
"He's my husband, and I can't even help care for him financially…"
The old man shut that train of thought down quickly though.
"The money doesn't matter, and the amount means nothing if it keeps my son alive. However much they need, I'll find it, because I won't live without him."
He was transferred two days later into a specialised hospital.
The place was bright with lots of windows, a beautiful garden, and only a handful of patients compared to where he'd been previously.
Because of this, the Doctors and nurses had vastly more time to focus on the patients in their care, something which he hoped would benefit Sanji.
He still hadn't spoken to his husband, but he understood why, knowing fine well the blonde probably needed some space to get his head around the last few days.
In the meantime though, he'd been finding out more about the hospital and talking to his husband's new therapist.
His immediate thought was that the patients were much calmer and less terrifying. Unlike the other facility, he felt far more comfortable about the idea of bringing Sora with him, if he could finally persuade the kid to come of course.
It was a week later when his husband finally allowed him to visit. He was there on the dot of noon and taken to the blonde's room shortly after.
Entering inside, his eyes immediately took in the sight of his husband.
Despite the thick bandages which were still wrapped around his wrists, Sanji immediately looked healthier than he'd seen him in months.
"Zoro!"
The blonde rushed from the bed and collided with him, thin arms wrapping around him.
He collected his husband up in a tight hug, never wanting to let go ever again.
"'M sorry…." Sanji whimpered. "'M sorry…"
"Shh, shh, shh… it's okay… you're okay…"
Ten minutes later when the blonde had calmed down, he took a seat next to him on the bed.
"How are we affording this?"
Caught off-guard by the question, he turned to his husband.
"None of that matters, the only thing that does, is you."
Sanji ducked his head, cheeks blushed.
He glanced around at his room.
The walls were painted a light yellow, and the whole place had a lovely glow to it.
Even with Sanji being admitted as a high risk patient, you wouldn't think so judging by how wonderful his new environment was compared to the old facility.
He'd been overjoyed to hear from the Doctor that his husband had been eating and taking his medication without any issues.
The blonde had gotten some of the colour back that he'd lost, and most noticeably of all, he had started to put some weight back on.
He couldn't be more proud.
"You're doing amazing."
The Cook looked unsure.
"Are you sure?"
Leaning closer, he pressed a kiss to his husband's lips.
"One-hundred percent."
And a beautiful smile followed.
Sat outside quite happily reading his book in the glorious sunshine, a nurse approached.
"Sanji, you have visitors."
Placing the paperback down on the table, he turned towards the doors.
"Hey, Cook." Zoro greeted.
His attention, however, was elsewhere.
There, tucked in close behind his husband's leg, was...
"Sora." He gasped breathily, his throat barely able to form the name. His lip wobbled as he forced back tears at the sight of their son.
Zoro nudged their little boy forward.
"Go on."
But Sora was very nervous.
Crouching down a short distance away, he smiled softly.
"Hi, baby."
Their son tilted his head to the side before walking closer to him, raising a hand to wipe away a tear which had trickled down his cheek.
"Don't cry, Papa."
He chuckled emotionally, scooping their little boy up into his arms and holding him tight.
"Ohhh, I have missed you so much, baby."
Sora's head came to rest against his shoulder.
"I've missed you too, Papa."
"Thank you for coming to see me."
"Daddy says that I can come whenever I want. Is that okay?"
He looked to his husband who looked equally as emotional himself before his own smile grew.
"Yes…" He finally forced out, struggling to speak. "Yes, I would love that very much."
Sora grinned.
Sanji was assigned a new therapist shortly after, one who specialised in childhood abuse.
When he came to visit after his first batch of sessions, Sanji had wordlessly buried himself against his chest, clearly needing the comfort.
And so they'd stayed like this until his husband had pulled away with a smile on his face and planted a soft kiss to his lips.
Sanji's risk level went down not long after, meaning that he was cleared to visit daily.
His husband was also allowed more freedom because of it, being allowed to participate in the cooking classes and gardening workshops the hospital held for its patients.
Thanks to the mixture of medication and therapy, the blonde was improving with each day that passed, and although he still occasionally struggled with his anorexia, and sometimes had to be fed with a NG tube, the experience wasn't anywhere close to the traumatic hell he was subjected to at the old hospital.
And then, three months later…
"He- he can come home?"
The Doctor smiled.
"Yes."
And he'd broken down crying right there in his office, sobbing into his hands.
Sora had begged to come with him, and he was powerless to refuse the little guy's request.
Entering the hospital, he smiled at the sight of his husband dressed in his home clothes in the lobby waiting for them, bag packed and ready to go.
"PAPA!" Sora cried as he raced over, immediately being scooped up into the blonde's arms and kissed to death.
"My baby… Papa loves you so much."
"I've missed you." Their little boy whimpered, close to hyperventilating.
"I've missed you too, baby."
Blinking away tears, he walked closer to his two boys and was pulled into a family hug seconds later.
"Please don't leave again, Papa."
And he could feel his husband's heart ripping apart.
"I won't."
"Promise?" Sora held out his pinky.
The blonde smiled, wrapping his own pinky around it.
"Promise."
Burying his head into the Cook's shoulder, he tried to fight the thoughts that this was all just nothing more than a dream.
Gentle fingers rose to play with his hair.
"Let's go home."
Pulling away slightly, he was met with his husband's bright smile.
Overwhelmed, he nodded.
Taking the blonde's hand in his own, he gave it a squeeze before walking out of the hospital.
And all was well.