My Heart

Summary: chapter 2/sequel to The Last Night, now that the worst has come... How will Marco cope... Who will lead the Whitebeard family... How would they live without Oyaji?

Just so you know, it may be strange to most but I refer to Whitebeard mostly as Oyaji; that's what he was to me.

There are OCs as there are over 2k members in Oyaji family and only about 20 are mentioned. Nothing can be done about it.

Flashbacks/thoughts

letter

~?~?~?~

Everything was silent as Shanks, captain of the Red Hair Pirates, and Marco, the once first mate of the Whitebeard Pirates, walked from the two, flower-lavished graves. Oyaji and Ace were dead, no longer apart of this world. There was none of happy attitude the Red Haired or Whitebeard pirates were known for. The sea seemed to be sad as well by the departure of her husband and child, lapping with no energy against the two pirates' feet as they returned to the Red Force. Without prompting, Marco followed Shanks onto the ship and into the captain's quarters.

Marco walked in first and Shanks followed, closing the door. Shanks was going to say something but Marco spoke first.

Marco's hand came up in a 'stay there' motion. "Do-don't move," he said, sounding like he was choking. "Don't move!" he said a little firmer.

The red haired captain complied, staying by the door as Marco hunched over, his form shuddering; he remained where he was as one of his oldest friend broke before him. Marco's shudders turned into gut wrenching sobs, and he fell to his knees as his legs gave out; fisting his hair as he cried tears that came from his very soul. He cried for Thatch, his first brother, for Ace, his youngest brother, and for Oyaji, his beloved father; he cried for every misfortune that'd attacked his being ever since that bastard Blackbeard let his greed take him over. He just let himself free, for one moment.

After what seemed like hours, Marco let himself fall on his rump, his back resting against a dresser. Marco pressed onto his eyes with his palms as he bit his lip, trying to contain the sounds that came from his moment of weakness. Marco sniffed sharply, trying to catch his breath as he released stuttering exhales, calming his near hyperventilation. Finally, the tears began to slow to a trickle, and then stopped altogether. Marco released a shuddering breath, removing his hands from his face to look at them with blank, red eyes.

"Here," murmured Shanks, who had been staring out the window, and gave him a yellow handkerchief.

Marco took it, staring for a moment, yellow like Thatch's, before roughly wiping his face of the stinging tears. Marco heaved a deep sigh, coughing when his breath caught on saliva in his throat before he sighed, holding his face for a moment in the cloth. Finally Marco dragged his face with his hands before looking up at Shanks, who was looking at him with a sad expression.

"You're something else," Shanks finally said. "You know they'd be there for you if you'd just open up."

Marco shook his head. "I know," he mumbled, "but they're grieving too; they need a shoulder that I have to lend. A leader."

Shanks shook his head. "They just lost their father, they don't need a replacement off the back. They just need time, and so do you."

Marco said nothing, looking at the floor and Shanks didn't continue the conversation, but he looked towards his bed side table. The captain walked towards it.

"Two weeks ago," he began, opening the drawer. "I received something from a messenger from Whitebeard to pass onto you."

Marco raised his head and looked at the other man, watching as he pulled something from the drawer. Shanks walked over to the man, holding the item in reverence.

"I think he knew something was going to happen," Shanks said quietly, giving up the item.

It was a wooden box; crudely carved and poorly painted in cheap, white paint; the side said in smudged, black charcoal 'I love Pops' with a sloppy, happy smile. Marco stroked over the wood, barely escaping a splinter in his thumb. It wasn't much, but while carving it, Marco had met Thatch, and when they finished it together, they were closer than ever. They had given it to Oyaji for their first christmas together and the man kept it as one of his greatest treasures, calling it his heart.

"Its perfect Marco," Whitebeard swore, stroking the wood. His first gift from his family. "Gurarara, and who is that behind you my little chick?"

Marco, who barely reached his shin, smiled, taking the hand of his new brunette friend. "Thatch! He's an orphan too!" the blonde pulled the other forward, who was shyly hiding behind him. "Can… can he stay? He wants a family too."

"Gurarara! Of course!"

Marco tilted his head, a melancholy smile appearing on his face and Shanks mentally sighed in relief. Marco stared at it a moment more before he silently open it, the hinge screeching slightly with rust. Inside, there revealed a few trinkets, pieces that likely held memories that Oyaji held dear, as well as a few pictures of himself with some of his 'brats'. Moving those aside, Marco paused when he saw an envelope; he picked it up and flipped it over.

To My Greatest Treasures

Marco's eyes widened briefly.

Marco nuzzled his face into his father's warm skin. "And if something does happen?" he murmured.

Whitebeard was silent for a moment. "I wrote it down in my heart a long time ago," he said.

Shanks jumped as Marco abruptly stood, staring at the envelope. "Uh- Marco?" he asked almost timidly.

Marco looked at him. "Shanks," he said, and the man jumped as he was hugged tightly. "Thanks for everything," he breathed.

Before Shanks could reply Marco released him and ran out of the room, off the ship, box in hand. Shanks stared after him before giving a small smile.

"You're welcome," he replied before following.

"Marco?"

"Marco-taicho!"

"Taicho what's wrong!?"

Marco ignored his siblings has he jogged passed them towards Ace's and Oyaji's graves, holding Oyaji's heart to his chest with both hands. Finally he was there and he took a moment to catch his breath as he looked at Oyaji's stone, a stone that stood as strong and as tall as the man it showcased.

"I love you Oyaji," Marco thought to himself, and then turned to face his curious and sad siblings.

Marco straightened his back, standing tall with his father behind him, and like clockwork, everyone else straightened as well, looking at their big brother. Marco looked at them all in silence before he held up the envelope. He cleared his throat.

"Oyaji wrote something to us," he said and the silence was broken with whisper of surprise. "I think it was meant for this day."

There was silence again as Marco, with shaky fingers, opened the letter and pulled out what must of been at least five pages. Marco cleared his throat again, looking at the familiar penmanship; written by Nymphadora, the head nurse, he noted.

"To my greatest treasures," he began,

"Once upon a time, as many of my stories begin, there was a man; a man who sailed alone with his only companion, his wife, the sea. If there was one thing that man, or rather myself, yearned for, it was for a son.

I remember," Marco paused, choking on suppressed tears before he cleared his throat again. "I remember that time, nearly three decades ago when I went to port in a no-name town, and met my little phoenix, my first son Marco. I remember our first Christmas, where I met our beloved Thatch, who barely reached my shin and I remember New Years, when Jozu threw that sake bottle at me."

By now everyone was also in tears, but they couldn't help the chuckles and giggles that left them while Jozu smirked in embarrassment.

"I remember meeting Marc-Anthony and Diamanté, as well as Cynthia and N Harmonic. I remember meeting each and everyone of you, and I remember the smiles you all gave when I asked you all to become my beloved children.

Fatherhood was not easy, there isn't a training manual hidden somewhere in my cabin but it wasn't unpleasant either. I remember the pure joy I felt when Haruta trusted me to tell me that 'she' wanted to be a he, and I remember when Ace opened his very soul to me when he told me of his greatest fears."

Everyone was smiling now, remembering their own happy memories with Oyaji.

"I loved celebrating my birthday, when everyone would come home to celebrate, and I loved telling you all my stories. I loved drinking with Marco, and teasing the nurses, my daughters," said nurses sniffled, wiping their tears with smiles,"Hell, I even tolerated that Akagami brat, who better be here." Everyone laughed. "But most all of, I love you all; My own one piece.

And so comes my end; Marco," said man paused a moment as he read silently to himself in shock. "Marco ... I leave the family to you. Lead our family and make more great adventures that create amazing stories to tell. Tell the next generation of the world's strongest man, all of you, and none of you ever stop believing in the value of family.

Sincerely, Edward Newgate, Whitebeard."

...

There was silence as everyone processed what had been said by their deceased father. Marco stared at the letter before tilting his head to see the grave. 'Oyaji...'

Finally Shanks, who was in the back, spoke. "Oi! What's with this depression everyone? Let's have a party!" he shouted.

Despite what had happened that day, everyone cheered in agreement, leaving behind their father, whom they all knew would prefer if they were happy rather than sad. Staying behind was Marco, who was watching them all leave.

"My shoulders," he murmured, "they feel heavy."

It was true. It suddenly felt like someone was standing on his back and shoulders, shoving him into the ground.

"Can I really do this...?" Marco turned to the grave. "Oyaji...?"

A hand clasped on his shoulder and Marco jumped, turning towards it sharply. He silently gasped in shock. The rest of the commanders were behind him.

"This load isn't only yours to carry sencho," Vista said.

Izou grinned. "It may ruin my kimono but I'll happily take on some of that weight Marco," he said, "for you and Oyaji."

"Me too," Haruta said, pumping his fist.

"I as well," said Jozu with a nod.

Everyone else nodded or voiced their agreements and Marco stared. These were his beloved brothers, and they were there for him. Marco smiled.

"Right," he nodded, and they all began to walk in the direction of the beach. "After the party, let's talk About getting to Water 7, we'll need a new Moby and..."

End.

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Or to be continued depending...

Wahhhh! Oyaji I miss you! TT-TT