Eye of the Storm
Chapter I

"...Oi. Marco. What did you say his name was again?" Shirley muttered to the Commander of the 1st Division.

"Ace," He grunted in response. "Portgas D. Ace."

Shirley scoffed. "Sounds like a weak name," She commented. The pair stared down at the barely-adult boy, his yellow t-shirt wide open and unconscious on one of their medical bay beds. On the table next to him was a peculiar-looking orange hat with red beads circling the rim, a pair of blue evil-looking happy and sad faces sitting next to each other on the front. Sporting disheveled and unruly shoulder-length black hair and freckles dotted across his young face, Shirley had to admit he had a certain charm to him. "How many times has he tried to kill Pops again? Was it ninety?"

"More than a hundred," Marco said. "Once before Pops took him in, and I've lost count of how many times since, eh."

"What an idiot," She muttered before walking out of the sick bay and onto the deck. It was a pleasant day; the sun shone warmly on her exposed arms and legs, and she stretched her arms like a cat before leaning on the railing. She wasn't alone for long, though, for Thatch soon followed suit beside her.

"So what about that new kid, hm?" He nudged the Commander of the 2nd Division lightly. Thatch, Commander of the 4th Division, stood more than a head taller than Shirley. His auburn hair was made up in a pompadour style and he wore a light blue uniform reminiscent to that of a chef's, with the pants falling down to mid-calf and a black belt tied loosely around his waist. A thin black beard framed his chin and a stitched scar faintly outlined his left eye in a half-moon fashion.

Shirley shrugged. "What is there to think about?" She replied curtly. "He's a brat, that's it. Doesn't know his place, does he? We've already taken him and his crew – what else is there to do before he finally caves in?"

Thatch paused for a second before responding. "Well, he's got some pride, I'll give him that," He stated before drumming his fingers on the wooden railing. "His crew's still getting adjusted to us Whitebeard pirates, but it seems that they're mostly fine. It's just the captain we gotta work on."

"As if that'll happen anytime soon," Shirley muttered darkly. The last time she'd tried being friendly to Ace, it had ended up with the teen back in the doctor's office and Shirley with a large wad of spit on her left cheek, furious and blood pressure raised. All in all, it had not been a very pretty sight.

Thatch laughed jovially, clapping a large hand to her back. "Give him some time," He smiled. "I'm sure he'll come around eventually. Anyway, I gotta get back now – promised Gil I'd help him with dinner tonight." Shirley waved her hand off, dismissing him.

"Yeah, yeah," She called as he began to walk off. The woman was just about to reach into her back pocket to grab a cigarette when Marco came jogging up to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"New kid's awake," He said frankly. "Wanna go see him?" Shirley's expression darkened.

"And have him spit on my face again?" She retorted. She placed the stick between her lips and lit it with a silver lighter from her pocket. "No thanks."

Marco frowned. "Come on, give him another chance Shirls! I'm gonna try and talk to him one more time."

"You do that," She said idly. "While I stay here safe and sound from spitballs. Oh, and stop calling me that. It's a disgusting nickname."

He smirked. "I never pegged you for the weak type, Shirley."

Her eye twitched. "Who said I was weak?" She hissed. Her pride insulted, she tossed the barely-used cigarette into the ocean. "Come on, Marco," She growled, cracking her knuckles. "It's time to give this kid a talk."

-x-

He was staring up at the ceiling when Marco and Shirley re-entered the room. He didn't even bother to look up when they stood beside his bed.

"Oi, kid. Look at me." She commanded. Ace didn't mean to, but his eyes trailed instinctively to the origin of the voice. Messy coffee hair was tied hastily into a bun at the base of her neck, and she wore a simple red tank top and black shorts. A sword was strapped to her left hip, and she wore a pair of worn white sneakers that had seen better days. The thing he noticed the most, however, were her eyes. Startling green, they were bright and piercing. Flecks of brown could be seen in the orbs if he looked closely, but when he realized he was staring, he quickly looked away.

Marco sighed, scratching the back of his head. "This is gonna be harder than I thought," He muttered to Shirley, who merely rolled her eyes.

"Thanks for realizing that now, genius," She said tartly. Drawing up a chair from a nearby desk, she turned it backwards and sat down, leaning her arms on the top rail. Her eyes trailed back to his face, where he stubbornly looked up. "So." She began. "So.

"You've been here for a good five months, kid. And you haven't gotten even close to scratching Pops. So what do you propose you do now?" Shirley demanded.

"Don't butt in," Ace replied quietly. "I have no vendetta against you, just your captain. I don't want to have to get into a fight with you."

"As if you could even beat me," She scoffed. "Trust me, kid, if you know what's good for you, you'd lay low. Hell, even your crew has accepted their fate! It's not that bad here, really." She said, trailing off at the end.

Marco nodded. "Pops... he took us in when we had nothing else, eh. He didn't care about our pasts, or who our fathers were, or if we were weak or strong. He only cared about us, who we are to him. To Pops, we're his kids and he's our father, eh." He looked at Shirley, who gave him a questioning look, silently prompting her to continue. She scowled.

"I... well, when I joined, I was... about, I don't know, 18? 19? Pretty young. Around your age," Shirley started reluctantly, averting her eyes. "I wasn't in the best of shape when Pops found me; just barely escaped some bandits. The only thing I had on me was a few hundred belis and Dreamweaver," When Ace gave her a confused look, she elaborated, "My sword. I'd finally left home. My parents have been long dead, and I was... well, whatever, you don't need to know," She hastily cut herself off. "The point is, I was weak and naïve when Pops came into my life. And you know what? He didn't care that I could barely defend myself, or where I came from. He just accepted me."

Ace didn't reply. By now, he had turned on his side so that his back was facing the two Commanders. Shirley, though, was rather ticked that he chose to ignore her rather than say have some sort of reaction to her little anecdote. Twitching, she fought to contain her anger; she'd just poured out (most) of her life story to his kid who she didn't even know, who'd tried to kill her father on more than several occasions, and he had to gall to just look away!

Marco sighed, then grunted before making a move to exit the infirmary. "Well," He started by sighing, "can't say we didn't try. Let's go, Shirley. Clearly, he's not one to be swayed." The 2nd Division Commander, fuming, silently followed him out. In the end, though, she not-so-kindly slammed the door behind her, causing it to rattle in its frame.

"That... that... brat!" She burst out, letting out a frustrated scream and childishly stomping her foot on the floor. "Did you see that, Marco? He barely even looked at us! Hell, I bet he was even sleeping! What nerve!" Taking deep breaths, Shirley eventually managed to calm down, and turned to face her crewmember. "If you need me, I'm gonna be taking a nap in my room. Wake me when it's time for dinner." And with that, she strode swiftly down the hall.

-end of chapter I.

A/N: Hello to new readers, and welcome back to old readers! Thank you for reading the first chapter of Eye of the Storm :) I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review of what you think! It's been a long time since I've written anything, so I apologize if this isn't up to par... I just wanted something that would follow the canon storyline more closely.