Note: the song Ace sings is a real Irish folk song. The version I like best is sung by The High Kings and is completely worth looking up if you're into that kind of thing. I didn't use the exact lyrics they did, though, because as a folk song, there really are many different phrasings that are acceptable, and some just make more sense to me than others, not to mention that I can't actually say anyone's from Ireland in this world.

Day 92

Marco knocked on the door to his captain's quarters firmly. He had been turning a thought over in his mind for some time now and needed to air it to someone who could do something about it. If anyone could help, it would be the man he knew as his father.

"Come in," he heard from within, and pushed the door open.

"Marco, my boy. What is it you need?" the gargantuan man asked.

Marco cleared his throat. "I've been thinking… Or, I guess, it's more like I can't stop seeing it in my head… I've been thinking about the week before last."

Whitebeard's eyes focussed. "When Ace was shot."

"Yes," Marco said. "When Holli decided to retire, we never filled the position of Second Division Commander. They're our main forward guard, and I feel like we are losing powers of enforcement the longer we go without. We've seen evidence of that already; that bitch never would have aimed a gun at any of us if she had been fully aware of the consequences. Publicly, we aren't seen as strong enough any more, and that might open up every last one of us for victimisation. I know we're strong enough to protect our own, and so does everyone else on this ship. The issue is that others are starting to forget, and that is inexcusable."

"So you propose we find someone to replace Holli?" Whitebeard said.

"Yes."

"You understand, though, that no yokel off the street will do. The Second Division has similar responsibilities to yours as First Commander, but they do three times as much running around. There aren't many whom I can trust to organise it well or run it efficiently. I haven't been leaving the position open out of sheer laziness, my boy. There must be someone to fill the spot well… and I suspect from the look in your eye you already have someone in mind?"

Marco grinned. "I might."

"You don't think it's a little premature to be suggesting him?"

"Oh, it's certainly premature. I'm just saying that if all the pieces fall into place, he might be a good candidate. We know he's smart. We know he's got a good head for logistics and organisation. He can fight. He's a good man and friend. He clearly is an excellent leader – look at what he accomplished as captain of his own crew in less than a year! We could search for years and never find someone as perfect as he is," Marco said.

Whitebeard gazed down at the smaller man thoughtfully. "You're quite passionate about this, aren't you?"

Marco's face darkened. "Quite aside from wanting Ace to be Second Division Commander… What happened to him must never happen again. To anyone. I won't let it. I don't want to have to go through that again, or have someone else go through that. If it really is just a symptom of a bigger problem, as I believe it is, the threat is real. I just want to protect my brothers and sisters with everything I have, everything at my disposal. If I hold back… next time, we may not be so lucky as we were with Ace. For God's sake, next time, we might not even be there to help. When my brothers would go out on missions alone, I did nothing but worry before. Now, it's infinitely worse. This sort of thing happened on our own ship. Under all of our eyes. What will people think they can get away with when our men are alone, unaided and unprotected? This is the only way I can think of to protect them when we aren't there physically to help. If it means exercising an iron fist, or in Ace's case, counting my chickens before they've hatched, then so be it. I will not lose my family just because I was too reserved to bring my thoughts to anyone's attention."

"Well said," Whitebeard said, nodding. "I suspect you're right. I was thinking about it myself, but I admit it did not occur to me to build up our Second Division. I knew I kept you around for something."

Marco smiled widely.

"Understand that even if Ace does decide to become your brother in the end, that this will have to be a slow process. He'll need to work his way up to the office. It won't be fast or simple. Well, I expect the boy will work quickly regardless, but it won't be instantaneous. I don't hand out high-ranking positions to those who don't put forth the effort to earn them."

"I thought not. I don't mind, as long as something gets done," Marco said. "It was killing me to sit around and do nothing."


When Marco left the room, his heart felt considerably lighter. There was a plan in motion to protect his family, and though it would have to remain a secret for a time (those less familiar with Ace might be pissed that they weren't first in line for the position, given their obvious seniority), it was meritorious. There was also the small matter that Ace wasn't officially on the crew yet. A minor setback. Despite his plans for the young man, if asked any questions, Marco was determined to answer honestly and as without-bias as he was capable of being. It was an important decision that Ace should only make if he was absolutely certain, and that surety had to come from his own experiences and not the opinions of someone else. Marco genuinely believed that that was the only way to live life happily. Truly, though, he didn't think he had anything to worry about. Ace already was a good friend to many of them, and he was pretty sure he actually liked them and enjoyed spending time with the crew. He already considered Ace a brother, whether he joined the crew or not. He'd be surprised if Thatch didn't feel the same way. Ace clearly liked them, they clearly liked Ace… things would come together on their own, he was sure of it.

He'd wound his way through the halls to the infirmary. Before being quite a hallway away, he could already hear Ace's belligerent voice. Nice to know his lungs had healed well, at least.

"I'm telling you, I'm fine! It's not like I'm going to go run a goddamn marathon as soon as I leave here, so what's the big fuckin' deal?" he was saying. Well, shouting, almost.

"Listen, buttwipe, who is the one with the medical degree here, you or me? If I say you need to keep your ass in a bed for two weeks, I mean two whole fucking weeks, whether you have Restless Leg Syndrome or not," said Selma's voice.

"But that was when you thought the Sea Stone was going to dick with the recuperation process, right? I heard you say it! Well, clearly, it hasn't done that, and I feel just fine, and if I don't see the sky soon, I'm going to bloody well-"

"What? Stamp your little feet? Go on! Tell me what you're going to do! Run and tell Mommy the big, bad, lady who saved your life is being mean to you? Clearly, you must have a concussion I somehow missed. Fact is, nobody heals as fast as you claim you did. Even if you did, I don't trust that the fix is a solid one. Your rib bone got damn well shattered! That sort of shit doesn't heal in a week and a half without any weak spots!"

"It does with me!"

"Oh, now that is just bullcrap is what that is."

"I'll tell you what's bullcra-"

"So, hi," Marco said from the doorway. Both froze, and the tableau they made was an amusing one. Ace was half out of his bed, wearing nothing but some loose sleeping pants Marco had lent him and the stark white of fresh bandages wrapped around his torso. Pushing him back down with a clipboard was Selma, who was rapidly turning red as she realised what it must look like from Marco's point of view.

"Don't worry; I heard the yelling, so this isn't half as awkward as it could be," Marco chuckled.

"Still pretty awkward, though," Thatch said behind him. Marco turned to see the man sliding past him with a mug in hand of something steaming. "Brought it," he said to Selma.

"Thanks, Taichou. Now, Ace, are you going to stop being contrary and childish long enough to drink your damn tea?"

"I don't want the damn tea! No offense, Thatch."

"None taken."

"If you're not going to drink it, I'm sure I can find a funnel here somewhere."

"I'm quite sure you won't. I've hidden all of them. I learned my lesson last time! And as you can see, I'm perfectly fine getting up and walking around, so there." He stuck out his tongue smugly. Marco started wondering just what the hell he'd been thinking when he recommended Ace for Second Division Commander.

"I've got an idea," Thatch said suddenly.

"By all means," Selma said. "I've despaired of him."

"You say your lungs are up to speed again? Well, prove it. If you can prove you've got good breath control without any complications, we'll accept your claims and let you wander about. If you screw up, though, you'll have to park your ass and do whatever Selma tells you to."

"That might work," Selma mused.

"Well, that's all well and fine, but how exactly do you expect me to test-" Ace stopped. "Wait. No. Absolutely not."

"Oh, don't be such a prissy little girl."

"I'm not! I just completely refuse to humiliate myself. I can't do it well when I'm perfectly healthy, for God's sake!"

"I feel I've missed something," Marco said.

"He wants me to sing," Ace muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"Just up to the first chorus or two. I'm not asking you to belt a damn aria," Thatch said.

"Better not be."

"Oh, come on, Ace. Don't be so stingy. I've heard you sing before and you aren't half bad. Unless you're not as healed up as you've been saying and are just trying to cover your own ass now?"

"No…" Ace sighed. "Fine. But just this once! And I'm not doing the whole thing."

He breathed deeply, let it out, and began in a low key, eyes closed in concentration.

"Near Banbridge Town in the County Down

One mornin' in July

Down a boreen green came a sweet colleen

And she smiled as she passed me by

She looked so neat from her two bare feet

To the sheen of her nut-brown hair

Such a coaxing elf, I'd to shake meself

To make sure I was standing there.

From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay

And from Galway to Dublin Town

No maid I've seen like the fair colleen

That I met in the County Down.

As she onward sped and I shook my head

And I gazed with a feelin' queer

And I say, says I, to a passerby

'Who's the maid with the nut-brown hair?'

He smiled and me and with pride says he,

'She's the gem of the kingdom's crown,

She's Rosie McCann from the banks of the Bann

And the star of the County Down.'

From Bantry Bay up to Derry Quay

And from Galway to Dublin town

No maid I've seen like the fair colleen

That I met in the County Down."

The last rippling notes hung in the air like a thing alive, and only silence followed. Ace slowly opened his eyes to find that a small crowd of ten or twelve people had gathered just outside the infirmary door. At realising that he'd finished, whistles and applause resounded.

"Who the hell told you you couldn't sing?" breathed Selma.

"No shit," Thatch said. "If I'd known you could do that, I'd have conned you into this months ago."

Ace face was burning – for once, not in the literal sense, although he thought he did see some steam. He fiddled with his fingers and looked down at the praise. "Th-thanks."

"So, is this satisfactory proof of wellness, Doctor Selma?" asked Marco.

"Sure," she said. "Go nuts, I suppose. But I still want you to come back to me every three or four hours for a checkup until I say otherwise, and you're sleeping here for the rest of the week, is that clear?"

"Okay!" Ace said, brightening. "So, where'd my shirt end up?"

Thatch just walked over and draped an arm around the younger man's shoulders. "Don't worry; I'll lend you something. Yours got kind of shot. And bloody. And cut up, because of the surgery. Sorry 'bout that. But all that aside, you're coming with me. You've got to teach us all that song."

Marco just chuckled and followed behind. He already knew the song and would sing it along with Ace if it made him feel better. Tonight felt like it was going to be a good night.


(A/N): I came so close. SO FUCKING CLOSE. When Marco said something about counting his chickens before they hatched… THIS CLOSE. The joke would have been perfect, but no. It was a serious scene. It would have ruined everything. So sad. I have an incredible arsenal of horrible bird jokes I could use for Marco, but he's so damn serious, I usually have to use Thatch or my various OCs to get them voiced. I just couldn't bring myself to break his character. Or Whitebeard's. Dammit. Well, as a writer, those are the sacrifices you have to make.