The site eats my formatting..................it's rather annoying.

Something I wrote one afternoon because:

a.) I love conspiracy theories

b.) I love 'immortal Marco' fic

c.) There had damn well better be a dragon devil fruit out there oda!!

In the Whitebeard pirates there existed certain taboos.

You didn't talk about the old man and his declining health.

You didn't ask Ace about his family, only accepted the information he chose to volunteer.

Most importantly, you never made note of the fact that Marco hadn't seemed to age since he had joined the crew. There's aging well and then there's just a bizarre denial of time. Marco didn't really like to talk about it and he was one of them so that's all there was to it.

It was Ace who raised the question originally, not out of any malice or curiosity merely an idea that Marco did admit had the heart in the right place.

It had been a good day, the seas were calm and Marco was well on his way to winning ownership of a bottle of an exceedingly rare and delicious liquor in a high stakes poker game from the other captains. He was unusually focused because the last time a bottle had turned up it had been drunk before he got a taste. Thatch had bit seawater for that one.

Ace had many skills but poker was definitely not one of them. In fact, the game was now down to just Marco and Vista. Those that had been put out were watching in interest off to either side. (not from behind because that was bad form and liable to get your ass kicked for inadvertently signalling the opponent and causing a loss. Thatch had a bad habit of that until it had been beaten out of him by the nurses of all people.)

It was then that the former Spade captain had brought up the idea.

Ace had blinked and stiffened as if struck by a bolt out of the blue and had turned to 'the pineapple headed bastard' as he had been referring to Marco not ten minutes ago for putting him out of the game.

"Oi, Marco. Are there any other mythical zoan devil fruits?"

The others looked interested by the thought. It was a possibility of course; every devil fruit had some sort of link to another. Chances were that there was someone out there whose ability was strongly inclined to battle yours. For instance, if an electrical type logia ever turned up then, according to Ace at least, Monkey D. Luffy was the rubber man to send in his (or her) direction.

"That's an idea now." Thatch hummed "I know we talk about certain devil fruits being 'rare' and all but there's still only one of each type. But there's not really a category where there's only one."

Marco glared studiously at his cards. The bottle was nearly within his grasp. He wondered how far he would get if he simply grabbed it and ran. Probably not far but maybe Vista would simply let him have it.

The man in question eyed Marco speculatively before his face split into a huge grin and Marco cursed internally.

"You know something." Vista crowed "You have met another person who had a mythical zoan type devil fruit."

Ace cheered "Tell us, then. What was their power? Were they stronger than you?"

The first commander suffered through a few moments of rib digging (stop that Thatch), blank mocking stares (Piss off, Jozu) and a few threats of unwilling make-overs (you can bloody well try trap-chan) before Vista threw down a gauntlet.

"If you tell us, I'll fold and let you have the damn liquor."

Oo, that was tempting. Marco sighed and wavered for a few moments before putting his cards down and snatching the bottle which his friends (or jerks) correctly took as a sign of victory and crowded round waiting to hear.

"a dragon."

Just one word, so much respect and awe.

Ace and Thatch immediately began flailing and ranting about how they had to chase that person down and get them to join. Marco was immediately set upon by several crewmates demanding information on strengths and weaknesses.

He sighed internally and let them gabble like a bunch of turkeys before putting a stop to it.

"Don't bother." He drawled. "It's been years since and I have no idea who has the devil fruit now."

There was a beat and then some awkward shuffling.

Thatch scratched his head "Marco, was he your friend?"

The phoenix zoan user stood up (with a damn tight grip on the bottle.)

"She was. She died and I met the old man not too long after."

He left the cabin and made his way top deck before flaring up to the crows nest and booting out the watchman.

Marco wasn't upset now, he just really didn't want to talk about people long dead and gone. It only served as a bad reminder that he was still there and they weren't. Besides, it had been more than fifty years at this point and over two hundred since they first met…..which had gone badly.

He had just parted ways with his latest crew and wasn't sorry to do in the least. They'd had some……distasteful habits and he wasn't interested in joining in. The girl, well woman really (she was definitely in her mid twenties at least) had been introduced by mien of a pirate thrown at his head. (apparently he had gotten too handsy without invitation to do so.)

A bar fight is not normally the place to meet someone new and interesting (it's normally done before or afterwards) but they managed to do so anyway. It was seriously confusing but they both ended up running away in the same direction when it turned out an Admiral had landed on this island and one thing that had never changed was you did not go play with an admiral unless it was absolutely necessary.

The minute he'd heard who was on the island he took off running. He had no interest in starting something but if he ran into that bastard he probably would have. Marco had reached the far end of the island before he noted that she had run the same direction as him.

Co-incidence only.

She had nodded politely, kept running and turned into a freaking dragon!!

A red one.

That spat serious gouts of flame.

He also found out later that she was, for all extensive purposes, fireproof when using her what was sensible (or not), he spread his wings and followed her to the next island where she was pretty interested in meeting him too after seeing his transformation.

Of all of the things he could have asked her, her age probably was the worst choice and to date she is the only person to insult him as a 'depraved flaming turkey' but it was worth it.

Because she was the same as him.

In fact, she was technically older but Marco quickly learned not to linger on this unless he was looking for an extremely brutal and drawn out fight.

For over five hundred years he had been alone.

All of the friends and lovers her had known over the years had died and gone.

After he had outlived his first wife and their sons had begun to grow white hairs while he hadn't aged a day he had taken to the seas more or less permanently. Staying in one spot, with one set of people only seemed like a determined desire to watch people die.

She was the same though. While everyone else had passed to dust, she had persevered and now the both of them still existed while everything else had passed into history.

This was enough to build a bond between the two of them.

For one hundred and fifty years they had stayed in contact. They met on and off for twenty years before eventually deciding to travel together. It was different anyway. Marco didn't think either of them had been around another person without the certainty of their eventual death since the days of their literal youth. It was reassuring in a very primitive way and they were able to become extremely close.

When she got pregnant she did try to break his nose in a rage but nonetheless they left the Grand Line and travelled to the South Blue to raise their son.

Marco had never had a family name or if he did, he didn't remember it. The sons he had with the farmers daughter he married had all taken their mothers name and the same passed for their only child. She gave him the family name that she never used anyway and they stayed there until he was grown before returning to the sea. To the best of both of their knowledge he had married and raised a family of his own on that island and never went sailing. She had shrugged at him and commented on at least he had inherited their dashing good looks and by that she meant her freckly skin tone.

It was a life they were content to share.

Even if they didn't age, even if they couldn't seem to die like ordinary humans at least there was someone who understood the same pain.

Then it all came to an end.

One day she had simply collapsed in the street.

It seemed that despite everything else, they weren't immune to disease.

The plague had no effective treatment and he had watched the one constant in his life waste away to nothing before his eyes.

The doctor had diagnosed her and run the hell away from the disease and from the response Marco had given to his suggestion of abandoning her to die alone.

It was quick, it was painful and there was nothing he could do but keep a watchful vigil in her room, flickering blue casting shadows across her wan face, as she died.

In the space of a week he had burned her body, as per her request, and left the island.

Before the disease had become too painful she had laid on her deathbed and 'laid into him' tearing verbal strips and threatening him into not doing anything stupid or letting himself stay alone.

He smiled, promised and wept because now he had to go back to being alone.

He peered down onto the deck and watched Thatch and Ace wave up at him.

Marco smirked and saluted with the bottle and they clambered up.

Ace adjusted his hat and blushed as he apologised which the older man waved off.

"Nah, it's fine. I just don't like to talk about it."

Marco passed him the bottle and Ace took a swig.

"Gah!" he gasped "It's sweet but has a serious kick to it."

Marco snickered as he rescued the bottle.

"Yeah, takes some getting used to. She introduced it to me. Got me so drunk I had to be carried home that night."

Thatch tried non too subtly to get a taste but Marco had a long memory and was damned if the blonde with the stupid hairdo was getting a taste of this bottle.

"So," he scowled and rubbed his wrist where he'd been smacked "do you want to talk about it?"

Marco hummed a rested his head against the woodwork

"Not really, not much to say. I met her, she had a dragon zoan type fruit and she contracted a disease and died." He paused "Oh, and cursed me out against doing what she termed 'terminably stupid things' before she did so."

He glanced at Ace and drummed his fingers along the bottle.

"I think," he began hesistantly "that she may have been a relative of yours, Ace."

Ace perked up.

"Really? What makes you so sure?

"Well you share the same surname for one thing and it's not exactly common."

Ace fidgeted for a moment before blurting out "It's my mothers name. My only father is Whitebeard. Do you think this woman was related to me?"

"Possibly. I know she had one son at any rate." Marco stared out at the sky "Last I heard he had married and had a kid of his own in South Blue. But that was several years back."

Thatch had finished trying for the bottle of liquor and had settled back beside Marco. He waved idly to some crewmates passing on the deck before turning to Ace.

"You don't have to tell us if you don't want to. Best way to keep secrets and all that."

"Well, I know my mother came from Baterilla anyway."

Marco snorted and coughed as half of his drink went down the wrong way. Thatch quickly beat him across the back in attempt to clear the passageways before snickering once Marco waved him off.

"Should we take that as you do in fact know his family? Small oceans aren't they?"

The first commander glared at the fourth division leader as he contemplated shoving him but Vista would take umbrage to a flying bundle of Thatch landing on his head.

Ace was giving him a serious case of the puppy dog eyes and he desperately tried to ignore them.

"Tch, fine then. It's been years so I can't remember but she's probably either your grandmother or great grandmother."

Ace cheered and leaned forward.

"What was she like?"

Marco passed the bottle to Vista as the man climbed up to join them and mused for a few moments. What should he tell him? Should he tell him? Nah, it was unnecessary information. He grinned shamelessly at the younger man.

"She had freckles."

The uproarious laughter drifted down to the deck and they finished off the bottle together.