You start sucking in air like you're drowning, more sounds start going off, and you hold onto the sides of the bed you're in to stop yourself from ripping the IV out of your hand and standing up. You're hurt, physically hurt, if you let the panic flooding your mind go into your body you're going to be hurt worse.

The door opens suddenly, and a man in a doctor's coat with dark hair and a goatee steps inside. You're relieved to see a doctor, and not some madman with a gun, and you start crying, still gasping to catch your breath.

He clears the distance from the door to your bed, and grabs you by the shoulders, locking your gaze with his golden eyes, "Breathe, (Y/N)-ya, breathe and relax."

Was (Y/N)-ya your name?

He squeezes his grip and starts breathing in and out loudly and moving you with him. "Breathe with me, (Y/N)-ya, focus." He breathes in and out, in long exaggerated motions, until you fell into a rhythm with him. "Good girl, keep breathing. It's okay."

He releases your shoulders after he gets you breathing on your own and goes to work shutting off the alarms your panic had caused. You release your grip on the rails on either side of the bed, shivering from the adrenaline of the panic attack, and hugging yourself a little as you continue to steady your breathing.

"W-what happened?" You question. He flinches, but turns his attention to you, searching for something in your eyes.

"The plan went a bit sideways, (Y/N)-ya." He starts and you furrow your brows.

"The plan?"

You both seemed to be stuck in place. There was a pause, he looks at you and the wheels are turning in his head. He turns on his heel and shuts the door, there's the soft click of a lock before he comes back over to you. He looks worried, but he's trying to be as gentle as possible, you didn't know how you could tell, but you could. Something about this man was trustworthy.

"What do you remember?"

You open and close your mouth a couple times, and then look at him sheepishly. "If my name isn't (Y/N)-ya, then... not much at all, doctor."

You could see the blood drain from his face in real time. He covers his face with his hands, and you notice the tattoos. He was cute, but there was something really strained about him, like he was constantly stressed.

"You don't remember me." He finally says, and you feel your stomach sink.

"N-no, I don't. I'm sorry, are we friends?"

He nods. "Law," he says, his voice was tired, and despite his efforts to control his tone, there was a distinct sense of grief. "We should keep things simple for you while we work on getting your memory back, so just call me Law, and your name is (Y/N), no 'ya' at the end. That's just a habit of mine."

"(Y/N)." You say it and it feels more correct than before. "It sounds... comfortable." You admit.

"So, what plan went sideways?" You prompt.

Law puts a hand up. "Don't worry about that right now. Try to stay relaxed. I need to contact some people and get some tests set up for you. You've been unconscious for a week."

"Relaxed," you respond, maintaining a calm you were surprised to have, "does not pair well with 'unconscious for a week'."

There's a bittersweet smile on Law's face. "Well, your sense of self is still intact."

"That's reassuring," you put your hand around your wrist absently and felt a twinge in your heart. "I don't want to be a nuisance, Dr. Law, but uh-."

"Don't worry about that, say what's on your mind." He assures you.

"I feel like I'm missing something physical." You hold your wrist up. "My wrist feels empty, do you know why?"

"I do, and I know a real bastard who's going to be relieved to hear that." Law puts a hand over yours. "I have to make a lot of phone calls, and I have tests to prep so we can hopefully sort out what's caused your memory loss. Will you be okay if you leave you alone for a bit?"

"You don't seem to have much help, doc. I'm sure I can manage for a while." You offer with your best smile. You felt his hand twitch over yours, but his expression stays relaxed.

Law steps out after squeezing your hand reassuringly.

He didn't stay out for long though; he came back quickly with a headset on and brought you some water. He looked irritated while he spoke, and you got the sense he didn't enjoy talking on the phone at the best of times.

"Luffy-ya, put Marco-ya or Thatch-ya on the damned line. I'm not going to repeat myself for every single one of Pops' boys." Law hands you the cup with a straw in it and looks at you, "Sip, (Y/N)-ya. If you drink too fast it might come back up."

You nod, taking a sip before setting it down. Law turns and steps back out of the room. "Marco-ya, thank the gods, okay, here's the short version-." The door closes and you could only hear the muffled sounds of Law's voice, but not the words as the sound vanishes down a hall.

Luffy? Marco. Thatch. Pops. The words sat on your tongue as though you had said them before, but you couldn't put any faces to the names. They made you feel safe, like Law did, but it was weird finding comfort in names you couldn't associate with actual people.

Twenty minutes later, Law comes back in, the headset still on and a cup of Jell-o in his hand. "Did you drink more water?"

"A few more sips, yes."

"Have a spoonful of this," He held out the cup. "One. I'll take it back with me. Pops is going to be here soon, (Y/N)-ya. He's looked out for you almost your whole life," He explains, reaching into a pocket and pulling out a bracelet made of wooden beads. "Put this on, let me know how it makes your wrist feel."

You hand back the cup and take the bracelet. You run your fingers over the marble-sized beads and felt like you was forgetting something important. After a moment you put it on your wrist and nearly cry.

"Haa, it doesn't feel empty now, Law, thank you."

Law looks to the side. "You catch all that?" He was quiet as whoever was on the other end of the line responded. He looks back to you. "Lay down, (Y/N). Pops will be here soon, and he'll talk to you while I finish prepping the tests. After that you'll have one more visitor, but everyone else is going to have to let you rest. Understood?"

You nod, but you're sure that his words were for both you and the person on the line.

You fiddle with the bracelet while you wait for 'Pop' to show up. When he arrives, you nearly scamper out of the bed. He wasn't just a big guy, but his presence was massive. You felt like you had nothing to fear from him, because if he wanted you dead you wouldn't be able to do anything about it anyway. It was funny to see him try to shrink himself down to help calm you down.

"How're you feeling, lass?" He questions, his voice had a rumble like gravel and cotton. His hands looked like they could snap your soul in half, but his face and tone made it feel like he would snap the soul of anyone who tried to hurt you instead.

"A little sore." You manage, tilting your head to the side as though the new perspective would cause him to fit into your field of vision. "The doctor said you raised me, are you my dad?"

The smile that spread across his face was warm and comforting and terribly sad all at the same time.

Pops told you a lot, and none of it sounded cruel or false. He told you how his sons saved you from your biological father, how he raised you, how you lived. He talked about what he was a part of, and how you'd learned to fight and survive. He showed you pictures of the boys and put names to the faces, told you you'd see them when the doctor cleared you for it.

Pops explained that a plan had been formed to keep you in the life you wanted, and that had resulted in the injury that had addled your memory. He said you shouldn't feel guilty, and if you didn't remember you shouldn't apologize for it. However things turned out, he and the boys would be there to support you completely.

"That's the second time I've heard about a plan gone amuck." You admit with a pout. "And the second time I've been told not to worry about the details of it."

Pops smiles and pats your hand. "Probably be a few times you'll hear that, lass. The young doctor says there's a chance that your mind's blocked things out on its own. Too much too fast could do you more harm than good.

"And ye've too many people who care about you for any of 'em to risk it."

Law comes back in and had Pops help you move about the building to have a couple tests done, and then got you back to your room to rest. You weren't in a hospital, that much was painfully obvious now. Where you were, was more like a clinic with a lot of surprising bells and whistles.

With Pops gone, and Law working on analyzing the tests, you start to doze off to sleep. You dreamed peaceful dreams, even if you couldn't remember them, and when you woke up there was a man sitting beside your bed.

He was tall, though not as tall as Pops, but his presence felt just as large. He wore a tailored suit, cream colored with a light grey shirt and a pink tie. His blonde hair was brushed back and a pair of silver-rimmed rose-lensed glasses sat atop his head. You didn't know who he was, but he was undeniably attractive. Attractive in a way that felt like trouble. Good trouble, maybe, but still.

He was reading something and hadn't noticed you looking yet, or so you assumed. There was something elegant and deadly about him too. Pops had told you about him and his boys, and you felt like this man commanded something far more ruthless and efficient. He even wore red glasses to warn people away.

"If you stare like that, you'll get my hopes up." He says, glancing up at you and catching your gaze.

The things people would do for that gaze, you think absently to yourself.

"You're the 'one other visitor' that Law mentioned." You state. Suddenly you felt awful, and you could feel your eyes burn and your stomach twist. A terrible guilt grips your heart as if you'd forgotten some core part of yourself.

"Am I upsetting you?" He questions patiently. You shook your head, you were upset, but it wasn't his fault. "Then I'll stay."

Something about how he said it, made you breathe in deep and let out a shaky breath. You felt relieved that he wasn't going to leave, and yet you were still frustrated because you didn't know why.

"Can you tell me who you are to me?"

He shakes his head. "I can tell you who you am, but I can't tell you who I am to you."

Confusion crosses your face for a moment until realization dawns. Law was a friend and had said as much. Pops was family and had said as much. Both spoke about their relationship with you without reservation because those relationships were well-established. Law allowed this man into the clinic to visit to you, so he's not someone here to lie to you, which means you can trust him.

"We were... are... intimate, but the details of what kind of intimate weren't something we had talked about enough for you to be able to say where you stand with me."

His eyes widen, and a pleasant smile crosses his face. "Your intuition is as delightful as ever, my dear." His tone as he speaks makes your heart flutter. "My name is -."

"Trouble." You murmur, and this time his eyes really went wide. You put your hand over your mouth and go red. "I am so sorry, I said it without thinking and I don't know why. I didn't mean it - I mean, I meant it, but I didn't mean it bad, and-."

He puts his hand over his face and holds up another hand toward you. "It's alright, don't apologize. Just... give me a moment."

You pull the sheet up to your eyes and stayed quiet for a moment. It doesn't seem like you have upset him, at least not in a way that was making him angry, but you're worried you've hurt him.

"My name is Donquixote Doflamingo, and most people know me as the CEO of Smile, an international company." There wasn't a hint of boasting in his voice, but you were suddenly curious how you had ended up in a relationship with someone like that. "What most people don't know, is that I'm also the head of The Family, an international underground organization, not unlike what your 'Pops' is a part of. When we first met, I was in a dire situation due a traitor in my organization and you, my dear, saved my life."

You blink as his words settle into your mind, "Wait, sorry – I saved you?"

He nods, a quiet smile on his lips. "You helped me dodge my pursuers, stitched my wounds, and then left me with the safety of my family without so much as a moment to allow us to thank you. It took three days to find you so I could repay you."

"S-sorry." you murmur.

"Don't start apologizing now," His expression was difficult to interpret, like his own emotions were conflicting. "You did eventually accept." He nods toward your wrist.

Your hand goes over the bracelet unconsciously, "You... bought this?" He nods, and you give him an odd look. "No offense, Mr. Donquixote, but you don't look like someone who buys someone a wood-bead bracelet as a gift."

The chuckle that rumbles up from him pushes a bitter-sweet throb through your whole body. "You hadn't given me much choice, young lady."

Your nose crinkles, and then you yawn before you can sort out why you didn't like being called 'young lady'. You hadn't realized how exhausted you were. You'd only had a bite of jello earlier, and water while you'd talked to Pops.

Doflamingo stands up and pulls a table over the bed, setting down a bowl and pouring broth into it. As he helps you sit up, he explains.

"The young doctor requested I make sure you have some of this before resting again." His warm hand on your back was comforting, and you feel your heart twinge when he pulls his hand away.

Some part of you wants him to sit in the bed with you, to be lost in and tangled up in his long limbs. To be warm and safe and held in an embrace that was as dangerous as it was passionate. But his ties to crime kept you from reaching out.

Were you also a criminal? The word Marine slipped through your mind, but there was no context. You sip at the broth, your mind wandering while Doflamingo returned to what he was reading earlier. He'd put his shades back over his eyes, and you didn't like that, but you didn't feel uncomfortable with him around, so you weren't afraid of him. Whatever you had felt for him, you had been unsure of it enough that you hadn't told him.

"Mr. Donquixote?" You question, taking a break from spoonfuls of broth.

"Yes, young lady?"

Your nose crinkles again almost reflexively, but you stay focused. "Did... Did I promise to tell you something after, uh, 'The Plan'?"

"What makes you think that?"

You shrug, "I'm not sure. It's like how... my wrist felt empty until Law brought me the bracelet." You fidget with the bracelet; your brows furrow. "Something's chewing at the back of my brain, but I don't know why."

You could feel him staring at you, even if you couldn't see through his shades. His shades over his eyes almost look more natural for him, and you wonder how many people have seen his eyes. You feel a smile creep up on your face when you realize you had awoken to being able to see those eyes, but the smile fades quickly. You weren't sure why you weren't seeing them now.

After a few heavy moments he answers, "Yes, you had."