So I've been working on this story for a while now and thought I might as well post it now and see what you guys think. I'm going to try to finish writing chapter 6 tonight and then when I get up to 8 written I'll check the feedback (reviews, favs, follows) and if you guys are enjoying it, I'll keep updating :) I'll update at the same rate I'm updating Within, so for every 2 chapters I write I'll do 1 update (at least for now) so that I have something to upload in case I can't write for a while.

Please leave a review telling me what you think! Anyways, enjoy~

Disclaimer: I, under no circumstances, own One Piece. At all. Sad but true.


A persistent ache rushed through his body, settling in his back and shoulders. Wincing, he peered blearily at the sky, his hands digging into the rock beneath him as he tried to rise. His strength failed, though, and he found himself unable to move. It was too painful.

Vaguely he could make out a head of spiky, blonde hair and slightly tanned skin. The first mate hung above him, lips moving as he formed words Ace was unable to make out. He couldn't focus—couldn't hear. Through the agonizing sharpness of his wounds he could barely feel two firm hands arrive on his shoulders, jerking him as the man's expression grew desperate. He was speaking more frantically.

For just an instance he had to close his eyes. In that moment he could finally hear.

"Hold on."

Opening them once more, Ace found the blonde was gone. Leaving not a trace, he just seemed to vanish. At first he didn't care—it didn't bother him—but as he lay there against the hard, jagged stone, he remembered where he was: a battle field. He bit his lip.

Forcing himself up, leaning back against his forearms, he peered ahead. He could see his crewmates still fighting, thrusting their swords at the enemy marines. He saw bodies, both uniformed and not, strung along the ground in pools of blood. His brothers…

And then he saw him—Akainu.

As the Admiral moved to attack him, his eyes widened. He couldn't move—couldn't escape. And then, just as the man move forward, he saw that same head of blonde hair. He saw Marco, seastone shrapnel breaking out of the skin on his back. He saw the blood trail down his discoloured flesh to land on the grey rock beneath his feet. He saw him brace himself as the Admiral pressed onward.

Eyes enlarged to twice their size, he watched the enemy's magma fist push through the first mate's torso. He saw it come clean through the other side, leaving nothing in its place. Unable to do anything—to help—he merely sat there as Marco's body went limp, held up only by the appendage that threatened his life.

When Akainu removed his arm and allowed his victim to fall to the ground, he realized that the blonde would be unable to regenerate.

He just stayed there, shocked, as the marine used all of his strength to kick the unmoving figure of the first division commander as far as he could manage. He flew through the air like he was nothing.

"M... Marc…"

And just like that, the last of his strength failed him. He collapsed back to the cold, unfeeling ground. Mind clouded and vision fading, the image of his crewmate—his older brother—being tossed aside carved itself into his mind.

Marco was dead, wasn't he?


The next time Ace woke he found himself back on the Moby Dick, safe and sound as though nothing happened. The only thing out of the norm was that he was bandaged up, laying in one of the infirmary's beds with some of the other crew members and… Marco wasn't among them.

He got the gist of what happened after he passed out; they retreated, of course. The first and second divisions had been sent to scour an island ahead of the main ship to check for marines. They found them alright. Amidst crumbling ruins and dense forest they waited for them, clearly tipped off by someone who saw that the infamous Whitebeard pirates were in the vicinity. Akainu guessed which island they were heading to and was right. The only reason they weren't completely annihilated was because Oyaji had a bad feeling and sent two divisions instead of one. If he hadn't…

"Hey," came a hesitant voice to his side. The sound was enough to break Ace away from his thoughts and he turned to face it, seeing Thatch. He made no response, though, because of the numbing pain and drowsiness that coursed through his body. "How ya feeling?"

The commander turned away from his redheaded friend, opting instead to stare at the ceiling. Ace didn't care how he was feeling. It didn't matter. "Where's Marco?" He kept his eyes off of Thatch as he said that, unwilling to see his reaction.

"Ace, he… You saw," he started as his voice trembled and tripped over the words. He didn't have to see to know that the man was clenching every muscle in his body. "…When we saw the smoke coming from the island we went to help. I was there... Nobody could survive that, Ace."

The boy felt a breath hitch in his throat. Gritting his teeth, he fought back against the stinging in his eyes. "He can't… Marco, he… he's a phoenix. He's supposed to be immortal."

He heard the other let out a shaky breath. "The seastone," he pointed out. Finishing the thought was unnecessary, he discovered, spotting the broken look in the freckled pirate's eyes. "…He's gone."

Ace cringed. Over and over he saw the blonde kicked into the air like a ragdoll, all-the-while knowing it was his fault. He was to blame. He wasn't strong enough—couldn't protect himself, much less anyone else. And forever he would have his brother's blood on his hands with the knowledge that he was powerless to save him.

"Then…" Ace prepared himself for his next question and swallowed as he drew in a panicked breath. "…Have you buried him yet?" Asking that, he finally looked at the redhead's face.

Thatch turned away. "…We didn't have time to search for him. The marines were right behind us."

Ace's eyes widened. "He's still out there?" The other gave a curt nod. Pausing, Ace thought that over in his head. "…How long?"

"Huh?"

"How long was I out?"

Thatch thought before speaking. "Two days," he replied, deciding it best to add some further information. "We're hiding in a cape on the far side of the island until you guys get back on your feet. The marines left last night, so we should be safe."

Ace nodded. "Then I'll go look for him."

"Have you seen your body? You can't even get out of bed!" he shouted frantically. After a pause he calmed and turned to a more solemn look. "I don't think I could handle losing both of you."

"I'll wait 'til tomorrow, then."

"That's not—"

"I've made up my mind." Ace's eyes narrowed as he looked up to stare once more at the wood of the ceiling. "It's my fault he…" His voice faded. "It's the least I can do. He's family, Thatch."

A long silence passed between them. The mood was thick—unsettling. Finally the redhead sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, mauling over what to say in his head. In the end he seemed to give up. "Fine, you're right. But I'm going with you."


The nighttime found Ace struggling to walk across the deck. Eventually he made it to the railing—a spot invisible to the night watch—and leaned against it, looking out into the dark cope in which the ship was settled. Finally he was alone. Finally he could cry.

The warmth of his tears swelled up in his eyes and careened down the sides of his face. He bit his lip to muffle his whimpers in a desperate attempt to hide his sorrows from any prying ears. The boy didn't want anyone to see him like that. As sure as he was many others did the same, his pride wouldn't allow him to mourn in public. But he had to let it out. Even being the type of man he was, he had to cry. That was Marco—his superior, his friend, his brother. He was one of the first to reach out to him when he was taken in by Oyaji. One of the only people Ace could open up to, Marco was just as much his family as Luffy and Sabo were, and just as much as Whitebeard still was.

Ace passed a trembling hand across his forehead and through his coal-black strands, brushing aside the sweat and dirt that had yet to be washed away. He lowered his head to allow the tiny droplets from his eyes to drip into the sea and wash away all evidence of his moment of weakness.

The pirate let his emotions run wild because he knew, come morning, he wouldn't have the chance.


Ace took a deep breath as he stared out at the lush greenery of the island and ignored his body's silent screams for him to go back to the ship. He got permission from Whitebeard to begin his search and found many of the commanders eager to assist. It at least meant that they could cover more ground. Hopefully whoever found the first commander's rotting corpse didn't become too distraught; it was sure to be quite a gruesome sight.

Putting the dark wonderings of his mind behind him, he pressed into the forest. Each step had him biting the inside of his cheek, fighting back gasps as his legs throbbed under his weight. He knew he was in no condition to be out of bed but that wasn't about to stop him. If there was one thing Ace had, it was determination—or stubbornness, depending on how it was looked at.

It was a typical summer island with a beach, forest and remnants of some failed civilization. Apart from being chillier than most, it wasn't anything special. The pirate saw places like that all of the time and there wasn't much to take in, especially considering how used to travelling through nature he was. He grew up in a mountain forest and hung out in a dump—nothing surprised him.

Hours passed with no sign of the commander's remains. Ace's legs were almost like jelly under him and he didn't know how much longer he could hold out. If he didn't make progress soon he would have no choice but to turn back for the day; his agreement with Oyaji was that he wouldn't push himself too far.

The whole time he searched all he could think about was that damned Akainu and how he shoved Marco aside like he was nothing more than trash. He supposed that's all pirates were to the marines, though. Just the thought made weak flames rise to his shoulders in anger. Marco was more than that. They all were.

Amidst his internal rant he spotted something blue poking out through the dark green foliage of the forest. His brain froze and immediately he made a dash for it, ignoring his body's protests. But he didn't find what he expected. Instead of finding some remnant of his crewmate there was a large, pale-blue eggshell. While it was an interesting sight, it had him slumping his shoulders in disappointment. He had to wonder what hatched from it. Whatever it was, if the egg was that size he didn't want to meet the mother, especially with how beat up he was. So, keeping far from the broken shell, he pressed forward.

The next time he saw something peculiar he didn't get his hopes up. Once he noted a purple object in the grass he immediately dismissed it as a plant or flower or something equally mundane. But as he neared it his interest grew—along with his dread.

There were Marco's clothes. Ripped, tattered and covered in blood, he could do nothing but gawk at the worn articles so familiar yet foreign. He could see a charred hole in what he assumed was once the blonde's shirt. Smaller burn marks generously covered rest and everything was torn apart. Nothing was left of the body, though.

Looking back to the blue eggshell, Ace couldn't help but wonder if maybe that was the cause of his comrade's disappearance—if whatever thing that egg belonged to decided that the commander's corpse would make a nice snack.

"Damn it!" Ace flung his fist into the nearest tree with not even half of his usual strength—a testament to the severity of his injuries. He clenched his jaw as his mind supplied him with graphic images of what might have happened. He couldn't help but imagine the partially-rotted flesh of his dear friend being burned away by stomach acid. Were it not for his injuries, he would have chased the beast down to exact bittersweet revenge.

With the release of a shuddering breath, he tried to calm himself. Nothing good came from getting angry. It was his temper that got him hurt in the first place—that got Marco killed. It wasn't some dumb bird or snake that was to blame. It was him.

Quiet, soft, almost-inaudible moaning met his ears. Fist still against the tree, Ace twisted his torso around in search of the culprit. The only thing there aside from the lush greenery that engulfed him was the hatched blue egg. He narrowed his eyes and watched it cautiously but when nothing happened he sighed and scratched his head. I'm paranoid.

Then he heard something more muffled than before. He couldn't make it out. As Ace steadily moved to near the large, blue eyesore, he tried to peer inside it. Closer and closer he got, shoulders tensed in case whatever it was decided to attack. He readied his flames.

When he finally got close enough to see inside the shell he froze. He thought he would find a small animal of some kind rummaging around in there. What he did not expect was to find a tiny, bare child sleeping at the bottom.

The little boy looked to be only a few years old and stirred slightly in his sleep. His skin was coloured ever so slightly, preventing him from blending in with the pale of the egg. What was most shocking was that Ace thought him familiar, if not for his features then for his unexplainable hairstyle that so closely resembled a certain tropical fruit.


A/N: I'm horrible at adding drama to stories T^T But I tried. Hope that wasn't too over-the-top for you guys. Or predictable. Okay, scratch that, it was VERY predictable. Well, I did my best. Anyways, tell me what you think and if you would like me to continue writing it and I'll see you either next update or when I post a new chapter of one of my other stories :) And if you're wondering why it's listed as 'family' and not 'friendship' it's because I thought it was more appropriate seeing as the Whitebeard pirates refer to Newgate as their father and call each other their brothers.

Adieu~