Warning: Injury with some blood.

Hope you'd like it!


There was a fire in front of him, warm and inviting, and he was laughing.

No, he wasn't the only one, they were there as well. They were all laughing with him, relishing in each other's presence. The air was chilly, but they make do, in a little hut with the food they gather by themselves.

On one side, he saw a smiling face, happy and cheerful, so young and bright. He gazed upon that face with so much affection and love, mouth smiling even as it devoured food after food, and even as grubby hands tried to eat his share. He fends off those hands, turning to the other source of laughter in his other side. Toothy grin met his, blue eyes and hands that reached for his. He extended his own hand, wishing to grasp those tiny ones and never letting go.

But he never did. Those hands disappeared like a wisp of smoke.

It was cold all of the sudden, a sensation that was foreign to him.

He searched for those tiny hands reaching for his. He searched, ran, shouted for it, but they never appeared. He tried to extend his hands one more time, hoping that they'll take it, that he'll be able to reach it.

But all there was nothing.

And he was falling, falling, falling, a silent name on the tip of his tongue.

He kept on falling, until he wasn't. There's no fire, no illumination at all, but something held his hand, the hand that kept on searching. He could tell immediately that the hands that held his were not the same as the one he's looking for, but even as he shook them off, they would not let go. They held on with a strong grip, and after a while he stopped struggling. There's no point, he told himself, because he couldn't fight them away.

The hands enveloped both of his. They're warm, replacing the one he had lost so abruptly, and they're nothing like the one he had lost, but he liked these ones just as much.


Ace woke up by opening his eyes blearily.

His surrounding was still dark, but there's a ray of light across the wooden ceilings on top of him, and just out of the line of his sight, he could see flickers of what might be a candle.

As he took in a deep breath, Ace found that there's a heavy weight on top of his chest, and as soon as it register, so does that fact that the weight did not stop on his chest, but rather pressed closely to his side. After one slow blink, he shifted his upper body slightly, trying to catch a glimpse of what may be the culprit.

The first thing that he noticed was a tuft of gold, splayed across his chest. It was connected to what seems to be a head, also resting on his chest.

It took him blinking a couple more times to be able to make sense of the sight.

It was Marco, Ace finally concluded, based on the blonde head of hair and the scratchy feeling of stubble across his stomach. He was sitting on a chair - a chair Ace could see came from his work desk - while he laid half of his upper body on the bed in the most stiff and awkward position Ace had ever seen. Despite that, he seems to be in a deep slumber, snoring loud enough that the vibration sent tickling sensation across Ace's naked skin.

"Marco," he called out softly, undecided whether he should just let the older sleep on or wake him up so he can move to a better position - will regeneration take care of neck crick? - and was trying to raise his hand up when he realized he couldn't. Something was weighing his hand down, both of them in fact. He shifted his gaze, and realized that his hands wer held tightly in Marco's own, both adjacent on either sides of him, fingers intertwining on top of the bedsheets.

Heat rose to the young man's cheeks. Bits and pieces of his dream began to return to him, and he was torn between experiencing a pang of heartache for the distant memory and the realization that the warmth hadn't been a dream after all. He tried to tug his hands away, but even he could tell that his attempt was half-hearted at best and Marco's grip was stronger. Plus, he could risk waking the older man without meaning to.

With a sigh, Ace plopped his head back down to the pillow.

How long has it been since he last seen Luffy? Since he left Foosha in the dead of night, promising him to meet again in the sea as pirates? The last time he had this sort of dream, any dream involving him was the night before it, when the two of them was curled around each other, Luffy trying his best not to revert back to his crybaby habit, and Ace clutching the only brother he had left, one that he will soon have to leave behind to realize their dream.

He tried to tug his hand free again, but to no avail. Marco's snore stuttered, and Ace thought he was finally awake before it resumed. Again, he sighed. His tattoo had been the only reminder, something that he would gaze upon in time of doubt and loss of what to do, but even that he found he had done less and less these days. This dream had caught him off guard, and there is a pang on his chest when he realized that he actually missed it, bleak and sorrowful as it was.

And then, there's the fact that the dream never quite ended like that.

Ace gazed back down to the head resting on his chest, to the crown of the softly tussled blonde locks tickling his skin. A small smile graced his lips, and a giggle nearly escaped him when Marco let out a particularly loud snore, one that could probably rival the machines down in the engine room. He always thought of the older as a graceful sleeper, and probably someone that usually sleeps with one eye open. Right now, Ace has squirmed to the best of his ability, and he has yet to wake up. Instead, he only shifted a little, causing his hold on Ace's left hand to slacken a little.

With another snore, he turned his head, and instead of a half-headful of hair, Ace was presented with the sight of Marco's sleeping face, one side of his cheek squished against Ace's abs, with mouth half opened and emitting all sorts of rumbling noise that would make the wildlife back home proud. Ace stifled another giggle, pressing his lips together. He raised his now free hand, and tangled them amongst the tangle of blonde hair on top of his stomach. They were coarse, as expected from one who spent their life in the sea - and didn't pay special attention to their appearance like Izou - and thicker than Ace thought it would be, winding plentifully between his fingers. He felt Marco leaning to his touch, but dismissed it as him just shifting again in his sleep.

A brush or two - or ten - later, the dark haired youth laid his head back down to his pillow, staring up to the ceiling, "What am i doing?" he whispered to himself, before looking back down to the head on his chest, "Why are you even here?"

Marco kept sleeping.

"How are you always there, always watching," he caressed through the tresses of gold again, and tugged slightly. The blonde snorted, but did nothing else, "Always know that… i needed someone to be there?"

His reply was another snore, low and steady.

Again, Ace sighed, and closed his eyes.

A few more minutes of sleep never hurts anyone.

When Ace opened his eyes again, the ray of light on the ceiling was much larger and brighter, and coincidentally, he felt famished. His stomach decided to give him the alert, growling and rumbling.

Immediately, the weight on his stomach disappeared, and on the chair was now a confused and startled Marco, looking wildly around his room with one eye half open and the other even less opened, gasping out, "Wha—Where— Earthquake? Pops— Attack—Ace!"

"What?"

Blue orbs snapped to his direction, barely alert but at least seems to be able to register that he is indeed there. Marco blinked, and right at that moment, Ace's stomach decided to make itself known once more, gurgling and thundering in that brief moment of silence. The blonde turned his gaze to his pillow for the night as Ace placed his hand right on top of it, blinking harder.

When he stayed in that position for several more seconds, Ace began to feel guilty. Seems like aside from being a heavy sleeper, Marco wasn't someone whose entire senses gathered as soon as soon as his consciousness returned to him, "Sorry,"

"Wha— No, no, i was, i thought," the older man never finished his sentence, just gave out a large sigh, rubbing a hand across his face, stopping just above his jaw. Then he suddenly snapped his head forward, "Shit, i didn't mean to fell asleep, much less on you,"

"No, it's fine," the younger assured, pushing himself up to a sitting position, "Sorry for the rude awakening," he chuckled sheepishly, placing a hand on his gurgling stomach. Marco snorted in return, but there's a small smile blooming on his lips, so Ace counted that as a win.

Yet despite the obvious next step to take now that they're both awake, nobody moved once their laughter died down. Perhaps it is that the situation at hand was only now dawning to them, or because Ace realized that his and Marco's hand was still intertwined, "Uh," he started, unsure of what to say, and uncertain if he should warn the older about this predicament or not.

But he didn't need to say anything, because Marco extracted his hand with a panicked yank, stammering, "S-sorry. It was— I can explain," he said nervously, cheeks red to the tip of his ears. It was rather endearing, in Ace's opinion, to know that he can be so unguarded early in the morning, "You were— you were dreaming. Talking, nightmare, i think. That is," he took a deep breath, "You were talking in your sleep, and you look like you were having a bad dream," with his now free hand, the blonde gestured, twisting his hand by his wrist, "Calling this name, over and over,"

Ace pursed his lips, "Sabo?"

"Yeah, that," Marco nodded, shifting his gaze someplace else, "You sounded… sad. Anguished, even,"

Ace could only nod, "I haven't had that dream for a long time," he said with a wry smile, and unconsciously, he began to curl into himself, knees pressed against his chest and one arm pressed against the tattoo on his arm and grasping onto the skin and muscle. He didn't have to look anymore to know that he had it exactly on the mark of Sabo's jolly roger, "I missed it, even if it's only because i can see him again,"

Admitting that was painful, almost as painful as the first time he learned of Sabo's untimely demise. Ace gazed to his side, and accidentally caught the crestfallen expression on the older's face as he stared upon the tattoo hidden behind his hand. The blonde let out a soft 'oh', before he smiled sardonically, "So there is a meaning behind that tattoo,"

"Don't tell me you also thought it was a misspelling?" The dark haired male laughed drily, unsure of what to think about the bitter tone in Marco's voice.

"I wasn't gonna ask,"

Ace scoffed in good nature, rolling his eyes as he smiled. The smile slowly faded, as he sighed weakly, "I think the fruit's effect hasn't ended yet,"

To this, any traces of other expression other than pure concentration vanished from Marco's face, "How'd you know?"

Because it didn't even enter Ace's mind before, until he realized, "This was the first time i told anyone about him and my dream," He had never even told Luffy about it, even if the younger did once commented that he talks in his sleep sometimes, a lot more after their brother passed. It was the only explanation that comes to his mind, and yet, something felt off.

Yet, unlike the forced and strained sensation he had felt for the last 2 days since he was inflicted by the Truth-Truth Fruit, this time it felt so natural to let it unload to Marco.

He was nearly caught off guard by the pained look on the blonde's face, purposefully looking away from him as he said, "I won't tell anyone,"

"I didn't think you would," Ace told him truthfully.

It was meant to be a reassurance. Marco's expression remained heavy with guilt and something else Ace couldn't name, so he didn't think it worked.

There's an urge inside of Ace right at that moment, to wipe that look of the older's face because he despised it. Before he realized it he had uncoiled from his curled position on the bed, leaning his upper body forward and focusing his weight on his arms and on the bed. The movement caught Marco's eyes, making him turn, and in a second their eyes met, dark grey to sky blue, ensnared to each other.

"Ace," Marco whispered, just a single call of his name that sent shiver down the younger's spine. They're close now, close enough that Ace could see the detail of the red indent on Marco's cheek, the little dark specks on his blue orbs. He swallowed audibly, unsure as to why his mouth felt so dry. Ace leaned over even further, and he felt a skip on his chest the moment he realized that Marco was leaning forward as well, the gap between them slowly disappearing.

Slowly, almost reflexively, Ace let his eyes flutter close.

"Gooooood mornii— Whoa, yo, ho ho ho, hoo mama, excuuuse me, boys,"

"Thatch! What the fuc—Fuck! Shit! Ace!"

The sudden bang from the door being slammed open and Marco swirling away startled Ace to loosing his balance, arms slipping off from the bed. With a squeak, he slipped and fell down, chest bumping against the edge of the bed and landing jaw first on Marco's - really, really hard - knee. His teeth clicking loudly and the taste that he know for sure to be blood was starting to flood inside of his mouth at the same time as tears pooled on the corner of his eyes.

A pair of strong arm pulled him up, and Ace immediately cupped both his jaw and mouth with both of his own, feeling thick liquid drooling out from his lips and to his fingers, "Shit, Ace! Are you alright?!"

"Nuu," he blubbered out, speech slurred, and as it turns out opening his mouth was a big mistake considering that the thick coppery liquid began to spill even more. Even worse, his tongue tingled, obviously the fruit at work, and the combination between it and the pain was not pleasant in any way, "Ith huurt,"

From the doorway, Thatch roared in laughter, though his words was laced in worry and guilt, "I'm so sorry, Ace, but holy shit—"

"Thatch, stop laugh and get the fucking nurse before i punt you all the way to Paradise!"


Nurse Cotton gave Ace the clean bill of health after a confirming that no, despite Ace's worry, he had not bitten his tongue off, and yes, that salve tasted and smelled worse than the mink tribe after a rainy day, but he had to keep on applying it the whole day if he wanted to get better. Also, he should put it on his lips because that wound looks bad and please refrain from licking any lollipops in the near future, will you?

Ace didn't get what she meant by the last one - he liked to eat, but he doesn't really like sweets - and why she said it with that saucy wink that made all the other nurses giggle, but it didn't matter because Thatch was waiting for him outside of the infirmary instead of Marco. His mood immediately plummeted down to his feet.

"Oh, come on, don't be like that, it was an accident!"

"It huurts," his slurred - he can actually talk normally, but Ace found that doing so means he will reflexively swallow some of the disgusting salve - glaring menacingly to the cook, "And you laughed at me,"

"I said i'm sorry!"

The young commander huffed, thrusting the salve into his pocket, "Where is Marco, anyway? He left after i went to the infirmary,"

"You've seen him this morning, are you guys seriously that attached to the hips?" Thatch sighed dramatically, pressing his palm to his forehead, "Eh, it was the reason why i came in to his room. Pops wanted to see him,"

So he's in Pops' room then, "Cool. I'll meet you later in the dining area,"

"Woah, you're not gonna eat first?!"

"I want to, but not now," Again, his tongue tingled, and Ace grimaced when it combined together with the dull throbbing of his injury, "I need to talk to him first,"

Thatch seems shocked by his answer, jaw dropping down and brows high in disbelief, "And whatever that is is more important than food?!"

"Kind of!" Again, the fruit made its effect known, but it didn't bother him as much as he began to speed walk away to the direction of the Captain's quarters.

Yeah, it surprised him too but Ace figured it sounds about right; right now, for him, figuring out what the hell happened before Thatch barged in was much more important than filling out his already protesting stomach.

The entrance to Whitebeard's quarter was easily the most distinguishable door in all of Moby Dick, due to the size of the door and the occasional rumbling that one can feel just by approaching it. Even feet away, Ace can hear their father's voice behind the thick wood walls, and while that was nothing unusual, he was rather surprised to notice that he can hear Marco's too.

The door was properly closed, but standing right in front of it, Ace can hear bits and pieces of what's being said inside.

"—no right to meddle in my business!"

"I'm not meddling in anything," comes Whitebeard's reply, thundering and shaking the floor underneath Ace's feet, "But you have to realize Marco, that what you're doing is foolish. Not to mention unfair to young Ace,"

That caught Ace's attention. Why are they talking about him?

"How am i being unfair to him!? He had enough on his plate right now, i don't need to add to that. Damnit, Pops, all i'm trying to do is to help him!"

"And you?" Came Whitebeard's reply, voice stern and scolding, "What about you? Who is going to help you?"

For a moment, there's only silence. When Marco next spoke, Ace could barely catch it, "I don't need any help. I knew it was doomed from the start. But this isn't about me, it's about him," Marco's voice began to pick up in volume, and if Ace wasn't mistaken, it was accompanied by footfalls. He's coming closer to the door, "You told me to watch over him, and i'm doing exactly that. Why can't you just leave it at that?"

"And what of the others?" the Captain spoke again, "You can't tell me you were just thinking about him when you let the current situation continue—"

"I'll cross that bridge when it comes to it! Right now that's not even my topmost priority,"

As Whitebeard speak, the ground began to shook once more, almost making Ace lost his balance. That, combined with the increasingly closer footsteps, the freckled male quickly jumps to the side, pressing his back against the walls next to Whitebeard's door. There's clear tension in the booming voice, so different than the usual calm and collected Pops,"Your topmost priority will be your own undoing, Marco," he said, in a thunderous voice, "You always forget that just because you can regenerate and heal every wound, doesn't mean that you heal all of your pain,"

Silence ensues. Ace frowned, muling over the meaning of Whitebeard's words.

When Marco spoke, Ace could tell that he was directly behind the door. His voice was low, biting and full of spite, "Exactly. So with all due respect, father, i don't need you to remind me of it,"

Ace jumped when the door was slammed open, and Marco came storming out, face twisted in anger and jaw tight. He didn't even seems to notice that Ace was there, his entire gait stiff until he disappeared from view. Ace had never seen him so pissed off, and he never expected that anger to be aimed at Pops, the man he always spoke so highly of, the man they all claimed their loyalty to, of all people.

Then, as the shock was still in his system, it was added by a low, rumbling voice that said, "Ace, why don't you come in, son?"

Almost guiltily, Ace peeked from his hiding place into Whitebeard's room. The old captain looks tired and worn, but the smile he gave Ace was as warm as ever, "Eavesdropping is not a very good habit to get into, my boy,"

"Sorry," he murmured, stepping into the large room. In front of the large man's equally large chair was a smaller one, where he figured Marco sat before, and in between them was a table littered with maps and other kinds of documents. With one large hand, Whitebeard pulled the seat back and lifted the table away as if it weighted nothing. It was an invitation for Ace to stay and sit, he realized, and quickly, he made his way over.

The old man sighed, "I'm sorry you have to hear all of that," he looked down with a knowing look, "Even if it seems that you missed out on all of the fun part, just the blowout of it,"

"Yeah, about that," Ace gazed at the door, getting an irrational fear that Marco might somehow return and saw him in here before he continued, "I… didn't know he could talk to you like that,"

Whitebeard only laughed, amused, jolly even, "Oh, you don't know the half of it. Everyone seems to think that he's my most obedient son," the old man chuckled, like the notion amused him somehow, "But out of all of my sons and daughters, he was probably the most stubborn one. Yes, even including you. You think disagreements like this is new to us? You should've seen him when he was about your age,"

Ace didn't know which part was harder to believe; the part that Marco was ever a rebellious child, or the fact that he had been a child at all. It always felt like he's always been that old.

In front of him, the captain suddenly laughed again, even louder this time that Ace's seat clattered. Ace closed his mouth, barely aware that it was ooen in the first place, and realized he had said that out loud, "Ah yes, he warned me this will happen," he chuckled lowly. When he fell silent, his expression was solemn, and the way he looked at Ace made the young man sat up straight. The man leaned forward on his seat, gazing down at Ace, "Tell me, Ace, do you care for my boy?"

As expected, tickling sensation roamed his tongue, and when the reply was pulled out of him, Ace wasn't even surprised by the answer, "Yes,"

What he didn't expect was the long, hard look Whitebeard gave him, as if contemplating something else behind his simple answer. Ace wanted to squirm, wanted to look away from the scrutiny, but he couldn't. He felt as if he had given the wrong answer, that the fruit had made him give the wrong answer, and Whitebeard had been expecting something else.

He didn't understand; shouldn't it be a good thing that he does care for his brothers?

But at long last, the giant man let out a sigh and leaned back against his chair, reaching to his side for a well hidden tankard, "Forgive me for that, dear boy, that was wrong of me to take advantage of your situation,"

Ace frowned, not quite understanding what the captain meant until it dawn on him, "He told you about the Devil Fruit i'm affected with,"

"He asked me to keep an eye on you," Whitebeard explained, "Seeing that he won't be able to for a while,"

The young man stared up at him, and waited as his captain took a swig of his drink, "I'm sending him on a mission. He will be leaving in an hour,"


He found him by the bow of Moby Dick, speaking to someone Ace only mildly recognize as one of the navigators under Marco's command. They're both peering over a map, the commander clutching a small travel bag in one of his hand. As soon as Ace approached, the navigator excused himself - though not before giving him a sympathetic smile - taking the map along with him.

"He told you about my mission then," Marco said to him in lieu of a greeting, still facing away from him and to the distance. As far as eyes can see there was nothing but calm blue seas and the stormy greying sky, testament to the uncertain weather of the New World, "As much as i wanted to, i could never turn down a mission. It's rather vital to Moby's next destination, after all,"

Approaching, Ace gave a fond smile, "It's only for a day. And like i keep on saying and you conveniently never wanted to hear, i can take care of myself,"

"Not like this, you can't," the frown on Marco's face, one that Ace now only caught once he was side by side with the man, was as gloomy as the sky above, "And it won't even be a day. I'll be back by tomorrow morning, no later,"

Despite the will to protest, Ace only nodded. He knows that he was a little worried, and if he opened his mouth right now, he'll probably let it spill. He didn't need to add to Marco's concern.

"Ace," at the sound of his name, the freckled youth turned, and saw that the older man was looking down at him, "I… whatever it is that you managed to overhear at Pops' room, i want you to forget it. Pops is a worrywart, in case you haven't figure it out yet, and he means well, but he often forgot that some things are just out of his control,"

Ace probably should mention that he barely heard anything, never mind making of what he did hear. He decided against that, giving Marco a lopsided, smug smile, "And who are you to be calling anyone a worrywart, hypocrite?"

Marco huffed, but there's a small smile on his face, finding humour in Ace's words.

The breeze around them began to pick up, changing slowly into a strong wind. With a puff of blue fire, where once was Marco was now a phoenix, majestic wings spread out and ringed tail quivering right behind him. With a mighty flap, he was airborne, bag clutched between his talon.

"Marco," Ace calls out again, voice nearly drowned by the wind, "This morning, what happened?"

The bird gave him a backward glance, "A lapse of judgement," he told him, before flying even higher. Soon, Marco was nothing but a speck of blue and yellow, drifting and flying away in the steadily darkening sky.

As the heavens open and water began to pour down on top of Moby and the surrounding water, Ace watched him leave, an unsettling feeling of both confusion and disappointment festering in his core.


I used to have this pet bird who do not appreciate being awaken for anything, except for food or a good petting. What a legend.

Also, i'm undecided whether to include one of my favorite headcanon into this (because i don't know if people will like it), so to compensate, i just made it as vague as i can. Can you spot it?

Thank you so much for reading, and i especially would like to thank you everyone who wished me well! I still feel a little under the weather, but at least now, it's just little sniffles and coughs that does not render me a human mucus on my bed. Which is good, i guess.

Again, thank you so much and i hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think so far!