Head-canon: Whitebeard sending his nurses off before the Marineford War, submitted by Black' Victor Cachat
Rating: K
Characters: Whitebeard and an OCs of mine
Summary: Whitebeard's daughters love him just as much as his sons, but unlike the men on the Moby Dick they knew exactly what he was doing the moment he removed himself from their care

Edward "Whitebeard" Newgate stood before the group of silent women. There was not a dry eye in the room, and that included the great Emperor himself. He had made his pronouncement, and they knew, perhaps better than anyone else aboard the Moby Dick where his decision would lead.

"Pops, you…you can't!" Dorothea cried. Outspoken as she was beautiful, the feisty nurse was known for giving as much trouble as she got from the wounded men she treated. It didn't surprise Newgate that she would be the first to speak.

"I must. Ace's life is at stake."

Sweet, docile Margret broke down into tears, her shoulders shaking from the force of her sobs. With a small sigh, Whitebeard put a comforting hand on her back.

"Y-you'll die," she said, speaking aloud the words everyone else was too afraid to even think.

"Perhaps," Whitebeard conceded. "But my son needs me, and I won't let the Government take him without a fight."

Strong arms wrapped around his waist, barely long enough to encircle him. "But what about us?" Edith wailed. She was the youngest and most recently recruited of the medical staff, but that did not stop her from caring any less than the others. "We need you, too! Where else are we going to go?"

Softly, tenderly, Whitebeard broke off the embrace. "You do not," he said, his low, gravelly voice kind. "Gurarara, I've depended on your care all these years, and none of you have ever failed to take treat my idiot sons when they get themselves into trouble. Each and every one of you is smart. Capable. Able to go anywhere in the world and pursue any career you desire.

"Where I am going you cannot follow." He held one of Edith's hands in his comparatively huge one. "These hands were made to heal, not to kill. I will not place my daughters in unnecessary danger."

"But surely you'll need us after," Mary said practically. "There will be casualties."

"Await Marco's call. He will send for you when the time comes," Whitebeard said.

It felt strange to say it like that, as if it were a foregone conclusion that he would die. There was a chance he wouldn't, but for all his pride Whitebeard held no illusions about himself. Old Sengoku and his dogs were sure to have plenty of tricks up their sleeves, and on the best of days Whitebeard required constant medical attention to keep his heart beating.

This was his final stand.

One by one his medical staff left, until a single woman remained. Unlike the others, she was not young, and the passage of time had worn away the beauty of her youth. Doctor Minerva Malidy sat firmly rooted in a chair at the back of the room, watching the proceedings quietly with an unlit pipe in her mouth.

The first thing Whitebeard noticed was how weary she looked. Her white lab coat was wrinkled and one of the edges was starting to fray. Her hair, usually meticulously coiffed, was held up haphazardly by a pair of chopsticks. The crows-feet that framed her hazel eyes were deeper than he remembered, the silver strands in her dark hair more prominent. Whitebeard wasn't the only one getting old, it seemed.

"Doctor, you have your orders," Whitebeard said. "Nothing you have to say will change my mind."

Minerva nodded and chewed on her pipe. It was a gift from her late father—her biological father—who died shortly after she graduated from medical school. She was too contentious of her health ever to smoke, but outside of the operating room there were precious few places she would go without it.

"They look up to you, you know. Just as much as any of the boys."

"I know," Whitebeard said.

"I wonder if you do," Minerva said mildly, her eyebrows raising. "I know your code, even if I don't understand it. As long as there's been war there have been medical personnel out on the battlefield treating the injured. They would do that for you, for your crew, if you'd let them."

"They don't know what they're asking for. I've made sure they've stayed well away from the fighting, and that's not going to change," Whitebeard said, his tone leaving no room for compromise. "I made that clear when they boarded this ship."

"And most are grateful for your protection, but Ace is just as much their brother as he is your son. You wanted this crew to be family, and damn it if you haven't succeeded. You can't ask them…ask me…to sit back and do nothing!"

Silent tears streaked down her face, wiped angrily away with the edge of her sleeve. Minerva sniffed and looked unflinchingly into the eyes of the world's strongest man.

"I've spent fifteen years keeping you alive, and another ten before that sailing the most dangerous waters in the world treating your moronic children who can't go two seconds without getting into trouble when I could have just as easily stayed on Drum. I did that for you, because I believed in your dream. And I'm…I'm supposed to walk away from that now? Do you think so little of us? Of me?"

Whitebeard didn't have an immediate answer. He remembered the look on Minerva's face when she realized help had come too late for Thatch, the horrible realization that all the skill in the world could not bring back the dead. She had had crewmembers die in her care before, of course. You didn't sail the New World without understanding that sacrifice.

But Thatch…Thatch was different. Marshall D. Teach managed to murder him under their very noses. The betrayal and Ace's subsequent departure brought turmoil onto the Moby Dick that had never been seen before. No one was left unaffected.

"Forgive me, Minerva. Perhaps you're right, and my morals are a product of a bygone era, but as long as I live you won't step foot on Marineford."

"Then you won't be living long," she replied dully.

Whitebeard approached and tilted her head up with a finger. "My dear, I don't think you understand. This isn't the average battlefield. Sengoku and Tsuru have had weeks to plan this, and I wouldn't be surprised if a few of those upstart admirals don't have a scheme or two of their own. There will be dozens of Devil Fruit users concentrated into a small area, untold firepower…if things go poorly, I don't doubt that this island will disappear from the map."

Her face went ashen.

"It's not a question of your courage or the ability of any one of my girls, but Marineford is not the place for someone unaccustomed to battle. The men would feel obligated to protect you, and their attentions cannot be divided."

"So you're saying we'll just be a liability."

"Yes," Whitebeard said, his tone grave. "And with so many heavy hitters…"

"If anyone gets injured, likely as not they're dead, no matter what we do. I understand now." Her shoulders dropped, and she sighed heavily. "Very well. I see you're determined, and I want to see Ace rescued just as much as you do. So please, take this."

Minerva reached into her lab coat and pulled out a small bottle from one of the inside pockets. Whitebeard took it from her. It was not labeled.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Your last hurrah in pill form. Take it half an hour before the battle starts and you'll feel twenty years younger."

There was no joy in her voice, and Whitebeard decided it was best not to ask what price he would make for such power. "Thank you." Tears prickled in the corner of his eyes. He hated this, saying goodbye. "Tell me, Minerva, did I do good by you and the girls?"

Whitebeard's head doctor let out a broken laugh. "You've been the best father a daughter could ask for."

And in the end, that was was all he could have asked for.

AN: So…about that weekly update schedule…yeah. I fail. Thanks for your continued patience. I'll ask my forgiveness by requesting you guys tell me what you think about how I've presented Whitebeard here. I didn't think he'd be tough to characterize, but I had more trouble with him than I expected.

FYI, all the nurses named here are taken from famous nurses in real life:

Dorothea—Dorothea Dix, pioneer in the field of mental health

Margaret—Margaret Sanger, the founder of what would eventually become Planned Parenthood

Edith—Edith Cavell, a WWI nurse who helped Allied troops escape occupied Belgium and was eventually court-marshalled and executed for it

Mary-There are a few Marys in medicine so take your pick: Mary Eliza Mahoney (first African-American nurse), Mary Seacole (a Jamaican nurse who worked during the Crimean War despite being passed over by Florence Nightingale), Mary Breckinridge (revolutionized rural health care), etc., etc.

Minerva Malidy an old OC of mine and a minor character from a story that I'll probably never write. Minerva being the Roman goddess of wisdom and Malidy a pun on the word 'malady'. In the SBS for volume 76 Oda calls the girls on Whitebeard's ship part of his medical team, which in my mind would include doctors as well as nurses, and I think it would take someone nearly as good as Chopper to keep ol' Edward Newgate alive as long as he was.

As always, thanks for reading.