Fandom: One Piece
Pairing: Smoker x Ace
Rating: NC-17 / M
Warnings: Language, violence and sex. All the good stuff.
Summary: Impel Down timeline; Smoker grudgingly closes off his sense of justice to save one man he shouldn't want to save.
Disclaimer: Characters from 'One Piece' series belong to Eiichiro Oda. I'm just borrowing them for fun, so don't sue, I don't have a penny. Original characters belong to me.
Author's notes: Only recently I have realized it had been a year since my last update. I mean... I knew it was a long time, but a year?
I had somewhat different view of the Impel Down and also a different ending for the story, but in the meanwhile we had actually learned about Impel Down thanks to the manga plot. I must say, I'm surprised I didn't miss the mark THAT much. Some of they key ideas in the plot were created before the Impel Down arc, so they needed some redesigning, which also threw me off the track.
Either way, here it is. I don't know when then next update is going to be (since I'm on my final year of uni and it's eating my free time) but for all of you who might be interested, I DO intend to finish this story.
- XVII -
Yamada was fuming.
Not that you could notice on a first glance, oh no. The quiet and gentle doctor never really showed any signs of anger. He chose instead to give you one of his long looks from underneath the massive, walrus-like eyebrows and sigh in resignation. It made you feel small and stupid, just like a little kid scorned by his grandparent while caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Smoker refused to look like an idiot in front of him.
So he went away under the pretense of looking at the maps and figuring out their next port. His stride out was dignified and measured, not like running away at all.
That left Yamada alone and that suited the elderly man just fine.
It amazed him how quickly Ace had woken up from the seastone coma. With the severe seastone burns that he had and the extended exposure to the cursed metal Yamada suspected that the young man wouldn't be up and around to create his usual mayhem any time soon. Instead he found out the boy awake and then passed out again after indulging in some... night activities with the Commodore.
Yamada snickered under his moustache. He could still see the quite not-there shame on his captain's face when he roughly explained what had happened to the boy that caused him to be the patient of the infirmary once more. Still, the old man could understand the need for closeness from both parties. While Yamada neither approved nor disapproved the shaky relationship that captain and the pirate had, never did he, or any member of the crew actually considered it as treason. Why the lax approach, he couldn't really tell, but one thing he knew for sure: Smoker's men were loyal to the death and if Smoker hadn't seen Ace-san as a danger, then they were willing to trust his judgment.
Then everything happened and the last couple of months weren't exactly easy on both of them. Smoker's quest for justice was shaken and to say that the captain had not been in good mood was a grave understatement.
And Ace-san…Yamada knew what was going on down in Impel Down's cells of hell levels. He knew, but chose not to dwell on it because he had a patient to think about and needed to stay focused. So yes, he could understand that the need to touch and the craving for personal contact was strong enough to dim the reasoning of two usually level-headed men.
That, plus a huge amount of hormones; with that thought the doctor smirked again to himself and turned to check on his patient.
Ace-san was a pitiful sight indeed; ribs poking out where his chest wasn't bound by thick bandages, matted and dull hair, the colorful set of bruises covering large patches of skin. And of course, there was the slash running through his upper back.
He set his tools on the table next to him and unwound the wrappings around the young man's torso. His quite keen sense of smell was assaulted with the scent of sickness and misery. The skin around the wound was hot to the touch, as well as young man's forehead. The doctor frowned, wondering how fast the infection would spread if he were to have been left alone in Impel Down any longer. Marines didn't really supply medical attention to those of the lower levels of prison, so chances were that he wouldn't even had live to his own execution.
Yamada soaked the cut in disinfectant solution, sterilized his tools and proceeded with clearing the cut from puss and congealed blood, swiping the newly-uncovered patches of healthy tissue with more disinfectant. Whatever gods were up there that might possibly have the boy under their protection, he thanked them that the young pirate was unconscious. He didn't really want to pump his body with more sedatives until he could get more antibiotics to fight off the infection.
"Do you need anything, sir?" His assistant poked his head through the door a couple of minutes later. Yamada had dismissed the boy when Smoker arrived half an hour ago with the feverish pirate.
"When will we hit the next port?" The metal tools rattled in their basin as Yamada exchanged them for a similar newly sterilized set and another portion of clear solution, not polluted by blood and puss.
"In about two hours, sir."
"Good," Yamada nodded. "When we get there, go to the shore and get me some antibiotics. Really strong ones. I'll have a list ready for you by then."
Yamada listened to the Marine leave and looked back at the unconscious boy, who seemed to be frowning even now, as if something bothered him. Making sure the cut was as clean as it could be at the moment he started the slow and gruesome task of stitching the boy up.
The slash had ragged edges, which made his job more tedious. Once again he wondered what it was caused by. His best guess was a shredded glass had dealt damage in random patterns and tore the skin instead of slicing it. The cut was pretty deep and he didn't know if it was made by accident or on purpose, but it ran diagonally between boy's shoulder blades, splitting the image of the grinning Whitebeard in almost two perfect halves.
- XVIII -
"What did you just say?"
Ace shook his head to clear up the confusion and the dark spots dancing at the edge of his vision, but in the hindsight it wasn't a good idea, since it only made his nausea stronger. The man only stared at him with blank eyes.
"You served under Wh--- Under Edward Newgate?"
The man who called himself number 34 merely shrugged, fixing his dead stare onto the wall beside him, like he expected to find something interesting. Ace had a weird feeling not everything was alright with the convict.
"All of us used to be famous, or we belonged to someone who could strike fear even in Marines," His gaze slowly slid down the wall and back to Ace's crumpled body. "I'm guessing you had your share of fame, otherwise you wouldn't be here on this level of hell. Or maybe they're just waiting for you to sing for them," Ginjiro laughed, turning to leave, but Ace's voice stopped him.
"How long have you been here?"
The inmate turned back once again, his face thoughtful and a little lost. Ace raised himself to his wobbly knees, biting back the bile that still burned in his throat. Standing up actually helped a little, even if it required strength Ace didn't have at the time.
He hadn't recognized the man's name, not even from the tales of fallen comrades he sometimes heard from pirates who had served under his captain longer then he had. If Ginjiro was here long enough to not know or forget both Whitebeard's nickname and not recognize his mark upon his back, then he might have been completely fucked.
"Too long," Ginjiro replied, scrubbing his face tiredly with a withered palm. "The bastard never tried to break me out. Even after so many years, he never gave a damn about his first mate."
- XIX -
Something wet passed on his face and Ace's forehead scrunched in thought, as he tried to recognize the feeling. Then it happened for the second time and water trickled down his cheek and neck and he snapped his eyes open, grabbing the arm that passed over his face.
--- hands squeezing his shoulders, his back and shoulder blades digging into harsh stone underneath and he couldn't even scream, he was gasping for breath and dying and ---
"Ace-san?"
His eyes focused and he moved his panicked gaze towards his own hand, where it squeezed Yamada's wrinkled wrist so hard Ace could see his knuckles turned white. Smoker was already moving across the room towards him as Ace finally snapped out of it. With a surprised gasp he released the elderly man as if his skin burned.
--- the black cloth over his face and he could see nothing, hear nothing, but his own lack of breathing and the silent scream and unforgivable murmur of water everywhere around him ---
"What the hell do you think you're doing? Pulling the same stunt all over again?" Smoker's voice was angry and a little disturbed and Ace cringed. He pulled his hand closer towards him, cradling it against his chest almost protectively.
"It's ok, Smoker-san. I'm okay. I think I might have startled Ace-san from his sleep," Yamada interjected, shrugging the incident off like nothing had happened, even though all three men could see the angry red print over his paper-thin skin where the pirate's fingers grabbed him.
"I'm--- I'm sorry, I just---"
--- the logical part of his brain died a long time ago and all that was left was his will to survive, but he couldn't do it, not when water closed around him, when it filled his lungs and he couldn't breathe and finally he screamed even though there couldn't be any air in his lungs, not anymore, not after ---
"If you're going to be sick you better tell me now, so I can grab a basin for you to puke into," Yamada's voice asked light and teasing, but Smoker could hear the worry underlining it.
"No, I'm fine," Ace took a shaky breath and closed his eyes, one bandaged hand wiping away the water from his face. He could not stand to feel it, not right now.
"Let me just check to see if you've pulled out any stitching," Yamada asked as he helped Ace to turn partially on his side, peeling away the edge of the bandage and murmuring in a pleased tone once he found his work unspoiled. "I am going to get you some antibiotics. I really don't like this fever of yours."
Smoker watched Yamada putter around his small infirmary for a while and said nothing. Ace kept his eyes closed, head turned towards the wall and it wasn't the first time Smoker thought that Ace looked way younger then he actually was.
"Care to tell me what the hell that was about?" Smoker finally asked, sitting heavily on the edge of the bed once Yamada was out of sight. He felt tired, like he hadn't slept for two days, which wasn't entirely false. One could only get so much sleep while being woken up three times during the night with a feverish and unconscious man in his bed.
Ace cleared his throat afraid his voice might fail him and slowly shook his head.
"It's nothing. The water just startled me," He passed his hand over his face again, subconsciously making sure it was dry.
"The water startled you."
--- he was trashing, water pouring down his nose and mouth and into his lungs, hands holding his arms and chest pushed him harder into the ground and he tried kicking out but his legs were firmly bound and ---
"Yeah," The pirate said as he still refused to look the man in the eye. "Yeah, it did."
Smoker did not like the haunted look the young man had now. Something urged Ace enough to go after Yamada again, fortunately this time he snapped out of it quickly enough before he could do any damage. Smoker swore he could actually hear Yamada's bones gritting together in his grip, yet the elderly man said nothing.
Something – or someone – had conditioned Ace hard enough that he was lashing out in self defense at the slightest of touches. Something made him snap at the feel of the washcloth that the doctor used to cool his fever down, over his face, He could blame it on the delirious sickness, but now that Ace was almost fully aware of his surroundings that deadly startled look still hadn't left his face.
The Marine remembered that look. He had seen a flash of it just before the boy had entered the shower in his private cabin, the night before. Smoker had taken the shaking and shivering as a sign of fatigue. The hiss that Ace released when he stepped under the spray, he blamed on the wounded back.
Smoker had an uneasy feeling those were not just because of pain and exhaustion.
"What happened?" He asked voice rough, but not angry nor demanding.
"I told you, the water---"
"What happened in Impel Down?"
Ace tensed as a brief flash of panic betrayed what he couldn't say out loud. He finally turned his gaze to the other man, not replying, just looking him in the eye and pleading without words to let him do this at his own pace.
Ace didn't say anything he didn't want to say. Smoker wouldn't push.
At least not until he knew the boy would not break.
- XX -
He had found his niche.
Really, it was only a narrow spot between the cold, damp wall and one of the larger rocks, but it was good enough for him. Ace was guarded from three sides; nothing could approach him without him seeing it first. He had a good view of the cell and the single door that he was pushed through before. His back was cramping and he could swear he was frozen solid, but the advantages of the rocky shelter won over the comforts.
It had been three days and most of the time Ace remained in that position, unwilling to move except for the slight changing of angles to temporarily relieve his aching muscles. He held his knife close and waited.
Time was non-existent in this place. The only measure of it was provided by the Marines themselves who brought in the food rations. Ace calculated that they couldn't be more then twelve hours apart, so he used that to define time and not go insane.
The first time, the food rations were dumped in the middle of the room and he had missed his chance and all of it was taken by other prisoners. There was no equality here; what you could get your hands on AND keep with you was yours. Ace knew that in this world of darkness primal instincts of survival were more valuable than keeping one's dignity.
Hell, he was all for dignity. He was honorable and loyal and did not even cheat that much while he played cards.
Dignity was good, but not when you hadn't eaten for two days and you could almost feel your stomach trying to digest itself from the hunger.
So when the next feeding time came he did not hesitate to fight for his less than fair share.
Once or twice a day he could saw armed Marines coming in taking one of the prisoners away and disappearing for hours. The first time Ace saw that, he was left thinking four hours, wondering what in the world happened, only to see the man return much later. Thrown on the ground bloody and broken like a rag doll, other prisoners using his absence to take away any possessions the man had, even if it came down to a piece of moldy bread.
When they came for him he wasn't exactly surprised.
Ace lashed out at one of them when they approached close enough, managing to swipe in and cut the man's leg quite deeply. The Marine fell down cursing through the pain and Ace strained his aching muscles to strike again, like a predator aiming for the prey's soft underbelly.
He never got his chance. A shot ran though the hall of the cell and he dropped the knife, swaggering in place. Reaching for the dart that cut deep into his thigh he tore it out, but the sedative was working quickly. Ace stumbled, reaching out to support himself on the nearby wall, but a punch sent him spiraling to the ground.
"Oh, they're going to make you sing," Through the haze of the drug he could hear Ginjiro's sing-song voice, happy like a little kid and then a somewhat insane cackle. "On pins and needles, until you bleed. Into the light, just to paint the walls red. How crude."
Ace thought that being closed in Impel Down was the worst thing that could happen to a pirate. His last thought before unconsciousness welcomed him was that being closed in prison along with the insane former mate of your own captain and equally mad and sadistic bitch for an interrogator must have been some kind of joke he didn't quite get.