[It finally came.
As they knew both it would. Had felt it coming in the wind for weeks.
They had been home together. And then something in the air turned bad, brushed against his senses, and he paused, going grey in the face. Put down the mug he was drying. And turned.
To see Bepo, looking just as unsettled. And suddenly… oh god… suddenly… Law felt himself in motion. Get to his nakama. Grab him. Keep him here. No. NOT YET.
NO! DON’T TAKE HIS NAKAMA FROM HIM!
“Captain! I’m sorry!”
And then… as his fingers touch fur. And feel the warmth of his closest nakama.
Then…
Gone.
Snatched away as he was reaching out.
And then the world went black and the next thing Trafalgar Law knew was the sensation of his knees crashing to hit floor. Everything was cold.
He doesn’t know how long he stayed there like that. Perhaps hours. Probably hours. And then he gets to his feet and begins a slow, methodical sweep of the house. Bepo’s presence has been wiped clean. Bed nest – gone. Clothes – gone. Bits of fur that always collected in the shower – gone.
Drink. He needs a -
There’s Romulan Ale in the liquor cabinet.
When he finally addresses the network, there’s no life left in his voice. It might as well be a dead man speaking. Dead and numbed and slightly slurred for those sharp enough to hear:]
For those who knew him, Bepo has been returned home.
[And he shuts the journal. He’ll reply later. He does not want to hear ‘I’m sorry’ right now.
‘I’m sorry’ will haunt him the rest of his days here.]
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