Summary: Whitebeard's first commander vanished years ago – so long ago in fact that his existence is just a myth nowadays. When Ace is handed a rare hybrid of a bird, he has no idea how much his life is about to change and how the world will respond, sparking the end to the war on Devil Fruit users. Dystopian AU, Marco/Ace.

Pairing: Ace x Marco

Warnings: Dystopian AU, on-going rebellion, themes of oppression including scenes of forced removal of people from their normal lives. Planned to fit alongside a bigger series, but is a standalone piece.

so I could be the snake

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and still look like a dove

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Back at the beginning, Marco could remember a grinning man with a thick moustache and sea-salt encrusted coat. Each stride across the deck of his ship, the Oro Jackson, boomed like waves at sea, his steps even and boots heavy.

"You asked for an audience," Marco said, raising an eyebrow as the infamous Gold Roger laughed, shaking his head.

"I did, but not with you Marco," he said, sighing as he came to a standstill. In response, the sea around them stilled a little, gripping the Oro Jackson in her hold, calming her and waiting for the Captain to speak.

"Times are changing," Roger said and Marco looked over to the side, to the stern grimace of the Dark King. Rayleigh had never looked so serious and there was a sadness in his eyes, telling the truth that the world was about to turn upside down.

"If Newgate won't come here himself then take that warning to him. He's a wise one, someone I'm happy to call a friend, even when true friends are scarcer than gold dust." Roger let out another booming laugh and a gull overhead called back, circling the ship as if watching the proceedings.

Marco nodded, reaching out his hand. Roger looked at it with a raised brow before he smiled, taking the hand in his own and shaking it. His grip was firm, reassuring, and it was easy to see how he'd become a man worthy of respect, a man destined to stand before the oppressed and lead them through troubled waters.

Yet it felt as if that time was setting, the light Roger had provided dimming as he prepared for his last stand. Marco desperately hoped that he was wrong, but his instincts were rarely wrong.

"A word of advice for yourself," Roger said, letting Marco's hand fall from his grip. His eyes were sharp, making sure that Marco was listening for whatever he was about to say was something life-changing.

"Word on the wing has it that Shiki's looking for Zoan types, a particular creature in fact." Roger didn't say it, but Marco knew what he was getting at and swallowed thickly, nodding his head in thanks. Shiki was a slippery one, one who had been sniffing around under the guise of an alliance for a while, despite them all knowing he was the government's lap dog through and through.

The wind began to howl as Marco turned away, shaking out his arms as his wings elongated them, feet becoming talons and body erupting into eternal, blue fire. He pushed off into the air, letting the wind embrace him as he soared above the wave. He was huge, had no need to change his size when he was at sea, and he heard the cheer of voices rise as he left, from both the Oro Jackson bidding him a farewell and those on the Moby Dick welcoming him back home, anchored some way away. Roger had never been a threat, but the atmosphere around them all had changed recently and even Whitebeard had been cautious.

"What did Roger want?" Whitebeard asked, a knowing look in his eye.

"Advice," was all Marco said, smiling as Whitebeard took a gulp from the sake bottle in his hand, humming to himself.

"Advice eh," he commented and Marco left, shaking his head as he went to find his crew mates, ignoring Thatch's loud laugh and heading to take a nap.

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An execution date had been announced to the world. Gold Roger was to be executed in the town he'd been born, a small port town on the eastern side of the land. Outrage spread through their community – as it had when Roger had vanished and his crew disbanded – but this time it was far worse.

"Back off!" someone shouted and Marco wrinkled his nose as the warning came too late, a government agent shooting his gun at the pirate who'd called out.

The sky was pouring, mourning for Roger perhaps, and it did nothing to ease visibility. Even in his phoenix-shape, the light he was emitting hardly broke through the downpour and Marco was tempted to call their defence off and risk the sea just to get away from the madness plaguing the land.

Someone else made the call for him and Marco nodded at Thatch's decision. He was the only one who held a den-den mushi connected to Whitebeard and if their Oyaji was calling for them to pull back, nothing on earth would stop them returning to their home.

Marco turned and flung his body into the air, only returning to the ground to help the stragglers and the injured get to ship mates and return to the small ships they'd embarked up on the ground with. He cast a sad look for the dead, on both sides; no one deserved to die, regardless of who was commanding their actions, before he turned towards the sea.

A whistle of something flying through the air was all the warning Marco received and it was only instinct that made him take flight automatically. The wind howled though and the rain spattered against his feathers and Marco's eyes widened as he felt something tighten around his leg, where his ankle would be if he was in human form.

Desperately trying to free himself, Marco felt his strength fade as he shifted smaller and smaller. Instead of freeing his leg from the metal clamp though, it changed with him, draining his power and forcing him to go smaller and smaller, until he was smaller than a gull, closer to a garden bird. He was unsuited to fly out to sea in the state he was in and he stilled, frozen in place on the ground. His colour faded and he looked down in disgust at the sea-stone cuff he'd been caught with.

"At last," a voice said and Marco looked up to see a terribly familiar face peering down at him. He cursed his luck; never once had Marco thought that Shiki would show up here and never thought Shiki would have been able to catch him in his phoenix form.

"Whitebeard's phoenix, a Zoan type I've been looking for for years. Imagine how resourceful you'll be for my research," Shiki said, muttering to himself.

Marco wasn't giving up so easily though. He began moving off, walking through the rain and occasionally trying to become airborne. It was useless though – the rain was too heavy and the wind was against him. Even without those factors, though, the band on his leg was connected to a chain, one that Shiki held and wasn't afraid to yank, pulling Marco's feet from under him and sending him sprawling onto the floor.

He opened his wing in effort to try and balance himself, but the pull Shiki had delivered was too strong and his wing crumpled uncomfortable on the ground. Marco thought he was lucky it hadn't broken and wondered how long it would take before Shiki realised his Devil Fruit powers wouldn't work in this form with the sea-stone trapping him.

"Bring the cage!" Shiki roared, grabbing Marco and holding him tightly. Marco's instincts kicked in and he began to struggle, pecking the arm holding him and scratching with his talons. He pushed with powerful legs and struggled with his wings, but it took a lot out of him and the combination of Shiki's strong hold and the sea-stone cuff was enough to subdue him for a moment, long enough for Shiki to unload him into a cage and pack him into a car.

The first days at Shiki's lab were spent in misery and pain. Pain wasn't something Marco was accustomed to in such large doses without it fading with the burn of flame and he attacked anyone who came towards his cage. The band on his leg had been changed – they'd been able to get a lucky hit and injected him to knock him out cold for the process – to a simple band now, sea-stone dotting the inside. It wasn't as strong as the cuff he'd been wearing before, but it wasn't so weak that Marco could escape.

Shiki himself had yet to show up for any of the tests and Marco had heard whispers that he was in talks with the government over funding for a new project, no doubt one that centred on Marco and his abilities.

"Whitebeard's working up a craze," one of the technicians said one day and Marco shuffled in his cage slightly, interested in their babble for once. "Word is that he's prepared to tear the seas apart to search for his missing first division commander. Made a good start too, destroyed half a dozen small-time crews already."

Marco's heart leapt in his chest at the thought of Whitebeard searching for him. He'd known he would, but it was an entirely different thing to hear that he actually was. They'd soon find him and when they did, Marco would rip Shiki apart for what he was doing.

Marco wasn't the only one here. When he'd first been unloaded, he'd been left in a holding area, locked inside a cell despite still being in a cage. Around him had been scores of others, all Devil Fruit users from what they'd said and the thick cuffs restraining them. Shiki didn't stop at animal experimentation and even turned on his own kind, all for the government and money.

Before he'd been here, seen what Shiki was doing with his own eyes, Marco had found it easy to dismiss the rumours and act as though what Shiki was doing belonged in another world, time or place. Now he knew beyond doubt, Marco knew that he had to do something for them when he was free.

Hope bloomed that night when a figure stole into the lab. Marco could sense his haki and shuffled restlessly, unsure why he of all people would be here. The figure strode through the lab, ignoring the alarm that started to blare, sights set on Marco's cage.

"Come on then," Rayleigh muttered, unlocking the cage with haki and bundling Marco into his arms. "We've somewhere we need to be."

They moved through Shiki's compound as if Rayleigh had built it himself and knew it like the back of his hand. The few guards they came upon were disposed with Rayleigh's clean-cut skills, even cumbered down by Marco as he was. Marco hung uselessly in the crook of his elbow, legs stretched out as he breathed fresh air for the first time in days.

Rayleigh continued to a dark car outside of the lab complex, nodding at the driver. With a wide grin and a familiar straw hat, Marco chirruped as Shanks sped off, joining in the relieved laughter filling the car.

"I'll speak to you later," Rayleigh said a little while later, waking Marco from the slumber he'd fallen into. He realised the car was stationary and Shanks was looking at him with something close to sadness in his eyes, as if Marco wasn't about to set back out to sea and back home. "I'll be taking Marco with me."

And Rayleigh did, exiting the car and out onto the warm streets. The weather was mild and Marco knew by the wind across his feathers and the taste of the air that they were far from the sea. He felt discomfort, but was a little groggy from waking up that he didn't question it too much. Rayleigh could be trusted and Marco was away from Shiki now, effectively ruining whatever plans he'd had in store.

Rayleigh carried him through the alleyways of the area until he stopped at a dingy pub. He entered, despite a closed sign tacked onto the front, and Marco wasn't surprised to see someone waiting for them.

"There's a cage in the back," the old man said, letting Rayleigh pass without hesitation. Marco stiffened, despite knowing Rayleigh was the furthest a person could be from Shiki.

He was set down in the back room, Rayleigh analysing the band on his leg before shaking his head with a sigh.

"Roger's due to be executed in two days," Rayleigh said, sadness ringing in his voice. "I don't like the thought of what I'm about to ask of you, but I can't defy my captain's last orders to me."

Marco gave a nervous trill, blood running cold at the words.

"You don't have to obey," Rayleigh said, crouching on the ground. "Roger seemed to think you would accept, but I don't see why you'd have any incentive to. What I'm asking of you..." Rayleigh cut himself off and sank to a sitting position, eyes looking anywhere but at Marco.

"Shiki is after you, as you well know. Roger seems to think that if we keep you hidden, he'll lose hope and it'll destroy some of his motives. At the moment, the government has called his ideas to study a phoenix Zoan User as ridiculous." Rayleigh gave a wry smile. "Despite Sengoku's form, no one believes that a phoenix can possibly exist, even though a few people have mentioned the bright, blue light they've seen out at sea sometimes."

Marco shuffled a little, glancing down at his dark blue and off-white feathers, a far cry from his usual, burning self. Survival instinct had kicked in and he'd suppressed his powers, his immortality and his inferno, in hopes of having a greater chance to survive. Now that the sea-stone band was on his leg, there was no chance he'd be able to regain his normal form until it was removed.

"But it's not enough to put him to rest and in the unease that'll spring up from Roger's death..." Rayleigh trailed off, not needing to explain what would happen.

The seas were about to become chaos. People would run to sea and the waves would carry men and women, pirates and government workers alike flocking to the shore in Roger's absence. Through it all, Marco knew, would be Shiki, solid and constant, lapping up what he could on both sides and thriving, thriving when even Whitebeard would struggle to keep his hold on the sea.

He tilted his head, asking silently what Roger had been planning.

"He wants you to wait, to stay hidden." From the look on his face, Rayleigh was having trouble saying the words, not wanting to condemn him to imprisonment. They were both men of the sea, men who had lived their whole lives by the surf and clamour of the vast ocean and yet Roger now wanted him to remain chained.

"Even I don't fully understand his reasons, but Roger told me that we'd never be able to take down Shiki as he is now." Rayleigh clenched his fist and Marco sat down, ignoring the cool metal of the sea-stone band.

"In a decade, the world will change, he told me. Shiki wanted a phoenix more than anything he wanted before, aside from an alliance with Roger." Rayleigh looked at Marco with a regretful look. "He wants you to wait for ten years or so, stay hidden until the world has calmed down and you can strike at Shiki without abandon. You'll never get to him in the years that are about to come, even I know that."

Marco wanted to ask about Whitebeard and Thatch, about his family and even Rayleigh himself. What was he supposed to do while the rest of the world was fighting like animals just to survive? If this chaos was about to overtake them all, then Marco's skills would be needed. He couldn't just hide away with his head down.

"That's all he said. The barkeep's under instructions to set you free in a few years, even to remove the sea-stone cuff and all. It's up to you whether you stay and keep your head down for a few years or if you go join the battle now... but a lot of people are preparing to sit this one out." Rayleigh ran a hand through his hair, a desperate look in his eyes as he sighed, the entire wind of the ocean escaping his lungs with a mournful sound.

"If Shiki knew you were free and out on the ocean again, he'd stop at nothing to get to you. He doesn't like to have things taken from him and he'll be angrier now than ever before." Rayleigh let that sink in and Marco looked at him sharply, this other perspective making sense.

If he returned home, he'd be inviting Shiki to try and destroy them. He had no doubts they'd be able to hold him off, but if times were about to change, the entire force of the Whitebeard pirates would be pushed to the max. If Marco could protect them then he would do anything, even if he had to wait years before he could return home.

Roger had known that. Most likely because it was what he himself would have done, but Marco felt warmed that Roger had thought of him in his last days, planned this for Marco in hopes they'd survive where he could not.

"I know you can't talk and I don't dare risk taking the sea-stone off – the bar owner thinks you're just a bird, a rare one, but still an ordinary bird. If you... agree to what Roger planned then you'll need to stay in the cage. It's spacious enough for you, I hope, and..." Rayleigh trailed off as Marco made a beeline for the cage, hopping in without hesitation.

He had to protect his nakama and he could do that by waiting. His lifetime had already spanned so many years, extended by his powers, and while he was getting older, he was doing so slowly. Ten years was nothing and he could use the chance to reflect and plan, try to think about Shiki's weakness so he could go for the jugular the moment he was free.

"I hate this," Rayleigh said, not moving to close the cage door. "Surely there's another way, some way for you to protect them and stay with them."

There was a raw wound there, Marco could sense. No one had bought the story that Roger had been captured and it was clear from the stony quality in Rayleigh's voice that something had passed between Roger and him that was more than Roger being captured. No doubt it would fade in time, but it hurt to leave the ones you loved.

But Marco remained firm. It would kill Whitebeard and his family for Marco not to return, but if he could keep them that tiny bit safer then it was what Marco had to do. It went against everything Oyaji believed in for him to do this alone, but what other choice was there?

He pulled at the door to the cage and Rayleigh got the hint, sealing him away. He looked down sadly as Marco began to settle himself in, wishing there was some cloth or other material he could build a nest out of.

"I'm sorry," Rayleigh said, sounding torn. "It'll be a long time before we can meet again. I'll put out hints that you stayed away from the sea to help keep Shiki away from Newgate and your family."

Marco cooed gently, thanking Rayleigh in his own way. Rayleigh cast one look at him before he steeled himself and left, out to the wild and the coast no doubt.

Marco settled down, preparing his vigil. He'd make time his ally rather than an enemy and he took a deep breath, trying to find comfort in his soul and resolve the conflicts he'd felt within himself.

It wouldn't be long before he was home again.

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Except, the funny thing about human minds – normal human minds that couldn't heal from even the deadliest of wounds – was they weren't unbreakable. In fact, they were remarkably fragile and as Marco was only a bird to the barkeep, he was inconsequential.

Oh the man was kind and took the best care of him, but because he never knew otherwise and as age crept in, ten years was extended and time began to mean nothing to Marco anymore. The old man was dying, slowly and within the tresses of his own mind, but surely dying.

And Marco had forgotten what the wind felt like and what the salt-licked spray of the sea tasted like. He'd forgotten the joyous cry of the gulls and the shouts of delight of his friends as they saw his fiery form. In fact, Marco was almost certain that had been a dream, that he'd never really been human before and he was simply just a bird who'd invented a fanciful story.

The old barkeep had a daughter. She wasn't fond of him, mainly for Marco pecked any stray fingers that brushed against the bars of his cage, but they tolerated each other. When the old man became too ill to leave the bed, she took over caring for him and tending to the pub, fending off lecherous advantages with an iron fist until no man dared cross her. She earned herself a fine reputation and a niggling voice in the back of Marco's head said she would have made a fine pirate.

And then one day, the old man slipped away and the woman came to him in tears, unlatching the cage and trying to shoo Marco away, as if by getting rid of the bird she could bring her father back. Marco did leave the cage, but he flew to the woman, perching on her lap and looking up at her. Her tears paused and Marco hopped back into his cage, waiting for it to be shut again.

This cage was important, his instinct told him. He had to stay in here because something was about to change.

The next day it did all change. The woman opened the bar, leaving him in the back room. Sometimes the old man had brought him out to show the patrons, but it had always left Marco feeling too open and uneasy.

"Here's the bird," the woman's voice said suddenly and Marco looked over as the door opened, two middle-aged men in suits smiling down at him.

"According to the will," one of them said, "the bird is to be passed onto Portgas D. Ace upon the original owner's request." He looked at the woman and she nodded without hesitation.

"You can take him whenever. He deserves to go to a home where he'll be cared for. I'll have my hands rushed off by running the pub; I won't have time for the bird." The woman looked at him sadly before she frowned, turning to the two men.

"Someone came in here asking about the bird, said they worked for government?" There was a note of uncertainty to her words, as if she didn't believe they had told her the truth.

"It looks to be a rare bird, one of its kind," one of the men replied simply. The answer satisfied the woman and she passed off a folder of papers, passing Marco back out into the world and to a new home.

He was packed in a car like a suitcase, even though the men knew how high a price he could fetch. Marco tucked his neck in, staring out at the world miserably, wondering what collection he'd be passed into and whether his new owner would be an upper class man or woman, determined to keep him simply because he was rare.

So when Marco was presented to a man barely out of adolescence and with a tattoo covering his upper arm, Marco wasn't sure what to do. The man – Portgas D. Ace – took his cage with a strong grip, though from the look on his face, Marco knew this was the last thing he wanted to be doing.

The men stayed for a good hour or so, letting Marco observe his new surroundings from his cage. The flat was tidy enough, the odd article of clothing here and there and a half-eaten sandwich on a plant atop the table. There were no personal artefacts, no pictures or anything to suggest Ace had a happy life and Marco pressed his beak against the bars of his cage, wondering if he could come to like this human.

His cage was forgotten after Ace carefully places fresh food and water in. Ace paced around the living room, muttering to himself and shaking his head, staring back at Marco every now and again.

"Fuck," he muttered when he came closer. "Fuck."

He continued to pace, stopping to pick up the den-den mushi and phone someone, sounding absolutely wretched through the brief conversation. Marco looked on in interest, wondering if it was really so terrible that he was here.

The door burst open to let in a boy (he couldn't be a man, he had the innocence of a child and most likely the heart of one) who wasted no time in inspecting Marco and his home. He babbled away, sticking his hand in at one point, to which Marco reprimanded him quickly for, eyes widening slightly as the boy – Luffy – shook his hand, the skin rubbery between the two halves of Marco's beak.

The conversation between them continued, but Marco ignored it, the words filtering in the back of his mind. He only became alert again when the cage door opened. For a moment, Marco waited, then took advantage of the freedom and soared down to the ground. His new home was warm and comforting, though Marco wondered if that had to do more with the owner than the rooms.

The first thing on his agenda was to build a nest. He'd been without for so long that Marco knew this one had to be an amazing one. There was a large sofa and he hopped around, exploring and looking for building materials as the two people above him seemed to come to one conclusion or another.

A piece of bread was waved in front of him from the younger boy. Marco looked at it with disinterest – he couldn't build a comfortable nest with a piece of bread after all, but took it all the same. He wandered off, noting a few socks and other oddities that would be useful for his nest.

Rogue fingers suddenly chased him and Marco pecked at them, narrowing his eyes. He ruffled his feathers and took to the sofa as Luffy got a lucky stroke in and paused as he felt the lick of the sea against his feathers, in a line where the boy had stroked. He was a sea-farer then, a man the ocean loved, and Marco could perhaps forgive him for being as cheeky as he was.

The next hours were spent exploring his new home – every room he could, though after a quick clothing-stealing expedition, Marco had been shut out of the bedroom. The apartment was fairly small, though one man didn't need more than a bathroom, bedroom, kitchen and lounge.

One thing Marco did notice in his first day with Ace was the lack of pictures or personal momentous. Ace had mentioned that his father had died (and it made sense – Marco was supposed to go to him as Ace had no interest in keeping him) yet there weren't any pictures of family. No mention had been made of a mother, but Ace must have had one.

It was sad, as if Ace was simply a ghost caught between two worlds. And Marco could see that he hated it, hated his life with a fierce, fiery passion that he couldn't express. The bird part of Marco called it a dream, but the human part (the part that might have all been a lie) told him that Ace needed to be freed, to fly over sea and land without a care.

When dawn broke, he cried out, looking out of the window. Marco could see the coast, so far away yet there. It let out a song in his chest and he cooed, as if whispering a poem to a lover. The ocean was his everything and he could see her, imagine how she would welcome him home.

Ace broke the mood. He looked awful, deep shadows under his eyes, and he threw a few mealworms on the floor, trusting Marco to clean up the mess, before stumbling back to bed. Marco did make quick work of the dried worms, then he returned to his next, napping for a little while longer.

Later in the day, Ace flicked through some news channels. Marco ignored it until he heard Ace muttering about how corrupt things were and he cast a look, tracking a smoking crater with his eyes. Something niggled in the back of his head, but Marco couldn't remember and instead stared Ace down, preening himself when he won.

.

When the tall man entered Ace's flat, every instinct in him rose up and he had to fight everything to keep his feet on the ground and not to flee. He watched from his nest as the man who had captured and tortured him walked in unscathed, looking older and his clothes considerably more expensive. Marco wanted to lunge forwards and tear his eyes out, but a pained memory and the wind of the sea crossed his mind.

Rayleigh. Roger. Oyaji. If he attacked Shiki now, assuming these really were memories and not ust delusions, then he'd only be captured and taken away once more.

So Marco did the next best thing. Shiki wanted him, but there was no way Marco would let himself be taken. He landed heavily on Ace's shoulder, staring at Shiki and puffing out his chest. Shiki had never been able to let him out of the cage in fear for Marco leaving - with good reason – but he wanted to show Shiki that Ace was different.

At the notion that he'd become 'tame', he launched himself at Shiki, passing him by with sharp talons. Regardless whether or not his life as a human was real or not, he was still a danger and Shiki should fear him.

Marco landed with a slight frown. His feet were slightly warm, more than he'd expect, and he turned to Ace, a memory trying to rise through the anger of seeing Shiki. The ocean-boy, the one who's carried the sea n his stride, had mentioned fire… fire as in a Devil Fruit ability. Could Ace possess the power?

Impossible. No one could live so long with such a beautiful, raw power and not become angered by their life. Ace seemed content to live as he did now, not like someone who had power over fire. Marco, or so he believed in his dreams and supposed-memories, was a bird who devoured fire. He thrived on the flames, loved them with unmeasured passion, and couldn't fathom why anyone would denounce that power.

Before he could think more on it though, Marco watched as Ace shut the door behind Shiki, paused and then locked every lock available. He moved closer, not willing to admit it though Marco was concerned. Ace was pale and his hands shaking slightly.

Marco wandered close enough to let Ace stroke him. Both instinct and preference allowed a single stroke, though his finger was warm and comforting, before Marco gave a warning. He didn't like pecking, but it was just one method of self-preservation.

"Shiki wants you for something. He's willing to risk using the name Gold Roger-" and it was at that point that Marco's mind disengaged, lost in the memories of a broad man, a smiling man. How did Ace know of him? How did the pieces fit together?

Ace had already left for bed by the time Marco realised he didn't know. He returned to his nest feeling uncomfortable, as if he had so much to do yet no time to complete his tasks. The night was fitful for both of them.

.

And then, in a flurry of emotion and adrenaline, Ace removed the sea-stone band from Marco's leg and his head exploded with certainty. Blue light flooded the room and Marco called out, feeling the fire in his chest once more and the call of his family.

He left without a second thought, keeping small as he rose above the clouds. The night was thick with them and Marco let the wind guide him higher, beginning to grow slowly until he was at his peak, big enough to snatch up men from the ground and carry a few.

He avoided Whitebeard's favoured sea points, instead heading for a small land mass out in the open ocean. It was a risk, but if there was anywhere that Rayleigh would be, it would be on Sabaody.

Marco hit the ground with two feet, ignoring the way they tingled as they were exposed for the first time in two decades. Unsurprisingly, his clothes had seen better days, but he could grab something from the archipelago even if Rayleigh wasn't here.

His haki was dull from his entrapment and his head heavy from the surge of memories and the pressure he'd placed upon himself. But Marco wasn't a phoenix for nothing and he stalked through the damp grass, heading towards a closed bar.

"I would say that we're closed," a woman said, smiling as she sat at the bar. Marco had one hand on the door and the other at his side, waiting for her to finish. "But Ray-san told me to always let someone from Whitebeard's crew in."

Marco looked down at his shredded jacket top, noting that part of his tattoo was visible. He nodded his head and took at seat before the woman.

"I'm looking for Rayleigh-san," he said, throat dry. The woman passed him a glass of water and Marco sipped it gratefully.

The woman looked over as a man exited from the back room. She nodded to him and poured him a glass of rum, smiling as he sat beside Marco.

"Roger hadn't planned for me to be released after ten years, did he," Marco said softly, not bothering to make it more than a statement.

"I didn't know. But by that point, you'd made your decision and it was none of my business." Rayleigh's voice was wizened with age, yet it was mellow and warm. He'd lost he sadness and anger he'd held when he was younger and it made him someone Marco could talk to honestly.

"The old man died a few weeks ago," he continued and Rayleigh looked over in interest, swirling the rum in his glass. "I was passed onto someone else, someone Roger must have set up."

He frowned, still trying to work out the connection between Ace, Ace's father and Roger. Marco turned everything over in his mind and then came to a startling conclusion, almost dropping the glass he was holding as the pieces fell into place.

"Did Roger leave anyone behind?" Marco asked quietly, as if the world was hinging on this question. "A woman, a child… anyone?"

Rayleigh was silent for a moment, but then he downed his drink and hummed softly.

"Portgas D. Rouge was the name of a lass Roger once met. He said that if he ever had to leave the sea, he'd set sail to her side and build a family with her." Rayleigh shook his head. "But Roger died before any of that. I heard Rouge died over a year later too."

"No children?" Marco pressed and Rayleigh sent him a scrutinising look, as if he at least suspected the truth yet wasn't about to let anything spill. That wasn't good enough for Marco though and he let his glass of water slide over to the woman at the bar as he pushed it.

"Perhaps the name Portgas D. Ace might ring a bell. And maybe you'd like to know that Shiki is on his tail because of me." Marco stood up and turned away, his anger and loneliness of the past twenty years overcoming him.

"For whatever reason, I was always supposed to go to Roger's child. I was supposed to go to him and now Shiki's chasing him down. Nothing has changed and instead I've wasted twenty years doing nothing." Marco clenched his jaw and forced himself to relax, not willing to apologise yet ashamed of his outburst.

"He needs a guide, is what Roger would have said. You cannot defeat Shiki alone – I doubt anyone could in his current state. He has too much money and too much influence, but perhaps Roger thought you could kill two birds with one stone." Rayleigh looked at him with a knowing twinkle in his eye.

"The life of a phoenix is a lonely one, Marco," he said. "You can only truly love fire, for it is everything you need. As long as you have fire, I doubt you'd need even food or water."

Marco looked down, knowing the words to be true. He'd tried it when he was younger, run away from his home and remained in fledging form. He hadn't eaten, but had slept on hot coals and nestled in embers. Fire sustained him, but no one could have known Ace would have the power of fire.

"Roger didn't know," Rayleigh confirmed his thoughts. "But he planned for every eventuality and if he thought there was a chance you'd never be free of that cage, he would put you in the hands of someone he trusted."

Marco sat back down heavily, the air rushing out of his chest in a huge sigh. He gave a pathetic laugh and let his head rest on the bar, closing his eyes.

"I'm so tired Rayleigh-san," he said and felt a hand press between his shoulder blades gently. "I just want to go home and have all of this over and done with."

Rayleigh was silent for a moment and Marco knew he was smiling.

"You've said all you need to here," he said and the woman gave a gently laugh. "Your old man's been tearing up the seas. I also seem to recall one particular member of the crew who's determined to find you."

Marco smiled. "That would be Thatch," he said, so glad to hear that Thatch was doing okay despite the twenty-year gap.

"When it's all over," Rayleigh began as Marco stood and made for the door, "let Shaki and I supply the alcohol for the party, eh?"

With a grin thrown over his shoulder, Marco took to the skies, a gleaming blue beacon that would be seen for miles around. He heard people calling out in fear and delight, though none of them mattered as he negotiated the surf and rose higher, searching for the Moby Dick and his family.

The world tilted then and Marco hovered in mid-air, heart beating frantically against his ribcage as the huge ships of Whitebeard's fleet came into view.

And then he was free falling, returning home for the first time in twenty years.

.

Notes:

I'm just going to stop saying how many chapters this will be. Though I think one more Marco and one or two more to finish up the story.

Thank you so, so much for all your support! I really appreciate it so much and I'm so glad you're all enjoying. As a quick warning, I've just moved up to uni and courses are about to start so there might be a tiny delay on future updates. I'll try not to though, but I can't say I won't be busy!

Also I'd just like to say I love Mumford & Sons' latest song 'I Will Wait'. Gorgeous, gorgeous banjo.

Thank you all again and have a lovely week!