Chapter Eleven: Denial
It was pure chaos.
Enraged black clouds covered the sky, shifting and angry as they churned like a dark smoke monster taking form. Lightning split the atmosphere, streaking towards the ground as it ripped the air apart. The booms of thunder never ceased, each concussive blast like a blow to the skull as nature bellowed its dominance, daring anyone to try to stand before its wrath. The wind howled, perilous and rampaging as it pushed through the sky with a force that could send ships flying.
The only souls brave— or foolish— enough to face the storm sat within a sturdy red sleigh, holding on tight as the vehicle weaved through the hazardous, electrified air. Bunnymund was nearly thrown from the flying contraption as it jerked to the left, the latest bolt barely missing North's pride and joy. He clung to the sleigh like his life depended on it, fur standing on end and emerald eyes wide and panicked.
"I know that Manny said this world's weather was crazy, but this is ridiculous!" he shouted.
North laughed heartily as he evaded another lightning strike, watching the jagged silvery streak shatter the ground below. "Where's your sense of wonder, Bunny? I think this is amazing!"
"The entire island is a huge lightning storm. It's an island of lightning. The island where it was blizzarding all bloody day was bad enough, but at least we wouldn't be fried there!" the Pooka snapped from his hunched position in the back seat. Another bolt made his fur fluff up and he practically shrieked. "Why are we even here?!"
Lightning ripped a jagged path through the inky sky, bursting from the clouds like an omen of death. The Guardian of Wonder gave another carefree chuckle and pulled at the reigns, causing the sleigh to veer to the right. Bunny slid on the seat, bumping into Toothiana, who shot him a sympathetic look. Her fingers were wrapped around the edge of the sleigh so tightly they were white, and her turquoise feathers were ruffled with nerves.
"Jack likes storms and trouble. I thought he might be here." North claimed easily.
Bunny snarled at him, quivering as another crash of thunder hit his sensitive ears. The long appendages flattened on his head. "Even Jack isn't so off his rocker that he'd fly in a thunderstorm. You did this just to mess with me didn't you? You ratbag!"
North just grinned at him. A twitch of the reigns sent them soaring out of the storm, the air calming the moment they broke out from under the clouds. The Guardian of Wonder lowered the sleigh closer to the ocean, and Bunny took a moment to slow his oxygen intake, ears twitching as he listened to the whispering waves below.
"That was fun." North said cheerfully.
"I hate you." Bunny growled.
Tooth ignored them both, wringing her hands as she looked around them. "Finding Jack is going to be a lot harder than we thought, isn't it? I thought the Snow Globe would take us straight to him, but instead we ended up on that snowy island…"
They glided over the waves, close enough that Bunny could feel the spray on his fur. The ocean murmured softly, almost gently, but the Guardian of Hope knew better than to think it was friendly or tamed.
"Popping up next to Jack would have been too easy. This way, we have an adventure to look forward to, a whole world to explore!" North said jovially. His merriment dimmed slightly and he adopted a serious look. "There is no use in worrying about what we cannot control. We will run into Jack and Ace eventually. I feel it… in my belly!"
Bunny was about to make a snide comment when the waves below them rippled. North yanked on the reigns and the sleigh shot upward out of the way as a gigantic fish burst from the sea, mouth agape. Having missed its target, the monster slipped back below the surface, watching the Spirits with feral eyes. It was easily the size of North's palace, and both Bunny and Tooth gawped at the enormous creature as it grew disinterested and disappeared back into the depths.
"What was that?" the Guardian of Memories squeaked.
"I do believe that was a 'Sea King'." North said in the same excited tone as a child who got their most wanted gift for Christmas.
"I hate this world." Bunny moaned.
ROTGOPROTGOP
It truly was a beautiful day. The sky was a clear blue above, the ocean was calm and serene below, and a soft wind ruffled Marco's hair, tousling it as it continued its journey out to sea. The Phoenix stood beside Whitebeard on the deck of the Moby Dick, feeling the ship dip and sway gently beneath his feet, but could not find the fortitude to enjoy the niceness of the afternoon.
The atmosphere on the Moby Dick was tense, tenser than Marco had seen in a while. All eyes were on the Red Force, which was anchored out at sea just ahead of the larger ship. Unlike what Shanks had first requested, the Yonko was not at one of Whitebeard's islands itself. Instead, the territory was just in sight, as if the Captain of the Red Force had belatedly decided it would be best not to disturb the locals. The Phoenix highly doubted that was the reason Shanks was not on the island like what had been agreed on, and wondered what the red-haired Yonko had done this time.
The fourteen present Commanders gathered around their Oyaji, close enough to have a united front, but far enough away from him that it would not seem like they were making a threat. Some gazes were wary, some neutral, but none looked forward to the meeting between the two Yonko. Having learned their lesson from last catastrophe, the weaker crew members were all safely below deck. Not everyone could stand in Red Hair Shanks' presence, after all.
The Phoenix could not help but be reminded of the last time Shanks had called for an audience with Whitebeard, and quickly aborted that train of thought before it could lead him down a distressing and guilt-ridden path. Three years later, Ace's death— Marco's failure to save him— was fresh in the First Division Commander's mind. He still had nightmares of burning flesh and splattering blood, his youngest brother's final words often being replaced by hurt and accusations in the darkest recesses of his dreams.
If the Whitebeard Pirates had managed to get their revenge on Blackbeard for what he had done, Marco may have been able to sleep more soundly at night, but as it were, they had failed. They had underestimated Teach— again— and had lost the Payback War they had fought with him. It had been a disheartening experience, but at least there had been few casualties.
Marco forced his thoughts out of the past, focusing on the present. The Moby Dick had pulled up beside the Red Force, and a gangplank was placed between the ships. The Phoenix did not know why Shanks had insisted on speaking with Whitebeard, but he dreaded the meeting without quite understanding why. Even Oyaji did not know the full details. The red-haired Yonko was being stubbornly secretive about it all, and it was only the grim, serious way in which he'd demanded Whitebeard hurry in his most recent call that stopped the older Yonko from pressing for answers.
Shanks strode onto the Moby Dick, and Marco's dread deepened. The pirate looked strained. There was no other way to describe the frazzled, dark look in his eyes as he walked up to Whitebeard. His seriousness was only made more apparent when he only nodded at Marco, not even asking him to join his crew, and there was also a noticeable lack of sake in his hands.
The Phoenix briefly wondered if the world was ending.
"Whitebeard." Shanks greeted shortly.
"Brat." The older Yonko replied, a tankard lying untouched at his side. "You have quite some nerve, demanding to see me like this."
The red-haired pirate said nothing for a moment, expression growing stiffer. Marco and the other Commanders tensed.
"My original reason for calling you can wait. Something else has come up." Shanks said forebodingly.
"Then speak, brat." The giant Captain commanded.
Shanks's sharp eyes flicked over the Commanders before returning to Whitebeard. His lips pressed together. "I'm assuming that if I insisted on this be said in private, you'd just want me to tell you in front of your children?" His tone was not disrespectful in the slightest, instead holding a weary understanding.
"You would be correct in your assumptions." Whitebeard rumbled with a low laugh. "You're learning, brat."
Shanks did not smile. "I'd still rather not say this here. The information I have is… sensitive."
The elder Yonko finally took a gulp of his sake, eyeing the pirate over the rim of the cup. "It's not like you to be so cryptic. My children can be trusted."
Marco hoped Shanks would drop it. Any more insistence would cause Whitebeard to go from cautiously amused to outraged at the disrespect shown to his crew's bond. The Phoenix could already picture the hefty amount of Beri it would take to cover the costs of the two Yonko fighting on and demolishing parts of the ships. To his relief, the Captain of the Red Force merely let loose a sigh.
"Very well. I'm about to tell you something you won't believe." Shanks said in a solemn tone, firmly meeting Whitebeard's eyes. "But know it is the truth." He paused, almost as if he were readying himself for a storm. "I found Portgas D. Ace." Shanks revealed. "He's alive, and on my ship right now."
Silence.
For a moment, all Marco could hear was the wind, the creaking ship, and the brushing waves, all accompanied by the low hissing and beeping of the machines attached to his Oyaji. If he was more naïve, he may have let his attention drift to the soft sounds, allowing himself to be absorbed by the foreboding quiet. But he knew better, and so he braced himself.
The wave of Conqueror's Haki nearly blasted the Phoenix off his feet. A few of his fellow Commanders could not take the onslaught and crumpled to their knees, eyes dilating and sweat trickling down their faces as they fought to remain conscious. Marco stayed upright through sheer force of will, face remaining stoic even as his own rage threatened to break free of his rigid control. His bubbling fury also helped contain the other emotions that wanted to burst out of him, a churning mixture of confusion, shock, fear, and possible joy writhing beneath his calm façade.
We saw Ace die. The memory of Ace's death tried to reveal itself but he brutally locked it away. We saw it. How can Shanks say he still lives?
The alert Commanders became a mob of angry pirates, shouting questions and snarling threats at the red-haired Yonko for daring to claim Fire Fist Ace still lived. Whitebeard rose to his feet, eyes furious and cold and his bisento in his hand, but before he could speak, Shanks did.
"Before you get pissy, think Newgate. I would never lie about this." The red-haired Yonko said harshly, unmoved by the fierce blast of Haki.
Shanks did not raise his own Conqueror's Haki to counter Whitebeard's, but he did not submit either, meeting the elder pirate's gaze evenly. The standoff lasted for one minute, then stretched to two, neither Yonko willing to back down. Abruptly, the tension in the air faded, and the elder Yonko sat down heavily, the anger draining from him. His voice was low and curt.
"Explain. Now."
Shanks did not even raise an eyebrow at the demand, happy to oblige. "Benn and I found Ace in an alleyway on this island. He was injured and unconscious, but alive. We don't know where he's been or what happened to him, but he looks like he went through hell. He's still knocked out. My doctor will go into the specifics."
The terse invitation to go on the Red Force was obvious, and Marco and a majority of the Commanders found themselves moving forward in response. Shanks put up his hand in a halting motion, expression relaxing slightly now that he knew the Whitebeard Pirates were not going to attempt to attack him because of the news he bore.
"Hold on. All of you can't come over. James will only let a couple people in at a time."
Whitebeard was already detaching many of his medical machines from his body, ignoring his children's protests. He strode forward, tall and strong. "Marco, Izo, with me. The rest of you will remain here."
Marco could see his brothers— specifically Haruta and Namur— holding back protests, but in the end no one argued with their Oyaji's decision. The three Whitebeard Pirates followed Shanks onto his ship, with the Phoenix idly noticing Yasopp up in the crow's nest. The sniper waved and put away his weapon without an ounce of sheepishness or shame. The rest of the Red Hair Pirates ignored the newcomers, going about their business casually as if a fellow Yonko and two of his Commanders being led onto their ship was a normal occurrence that happened every other day.
"Just so you are aware, you might not be able to see Ace at first. Someone's… power is keeping him hidden from people. You have to believe he is there in order to see him." Shanks explained as he walked. Something nostalgic flashed through his expression before vanishing. "When I found him, Benn thought I was leaning on thin air."
"Understood." Marco said in a clipped voice.
Hiding someone from view was not that odd of an ability, all things considered. The Phoenix had seen less believable things during his many years on the sea, so he could readily accept that someone had the power to make others invisible. His mind drifted back to Marineford and he frowned, recalling another person who could not simply be seen.
Much of the battle after Ace's body had vanished was a vague blur of anguish in Marco's memory, but he remembered the ice and wind that had attacked Akainu with a rage he himself wished he could show to the Admiral. He had seen ice lances appear out of nowhere within the swirling snow and gale, watched them impale Akainu, and after recalling Ace's claims about having a 'Wintery Guardian Angel', the Phoenix had seen… something.
The snow had been too thick for him to see clearly, but Marco had spotted a humanoid shape within the blizzard, a vague outline of white and blue. On instinct he had called out to it, him, Jack Frost, and the mysterious figure had listened. The Phoenix did not understand why the 'Guardian Angel' had not slaughtered Akainu then and there before helping the pirates escape, but he still felt grateful to the mysterious, invisible friend of Ace.
Because of him, the Whitebeard Pirates and their allies had been able to leave Marineford with their lives, including Whitebeard. Marco knew his Oyaji had been prepared to sacrifice himself so his children could retreat, but Jack's snowstorm had made such a move unnecessary. Marco wondered if the Wintery Guardian knew he had saved Whitebeard's life. He also wondered where he had gone after Ace had died…
…Except Ace was not dead.
The news that Marco had been unable to comprehend suddenly clicked, and Marco felt emotions build up in his chest. He clenched his teeth in an attempt to keep them contained. The Phoenix did not know how to feel. Should he be happy? Worried? Confused? Hurt? Angry? Ace was alive, somehow. He had been injured, somehow. He was here, somehow.
How did he survive? Where has he been? Why didn't he come back to us?
A part of the Phoenix wanted to feel betrayed that Ace had not immediately revealed himself to be among the living after Marineford, but the logical side of him knew that it was likely the fire-user had a reason for avoiding his family. A reason that probably involved being held prisoner…
They reached the sickbay before Marco could continue that dark line of thought.
The doctor— James— was not the type of person one would think was a medical professional. His long blonde hair was held back in a bandanna that flaunted his crew's Jolly Roger, and his eyes were covered by rose-tinted sunglasses. His expression was set in a firm, stern look, not angry or scowling, but not joyful either. He also carried a sword with the air of someone who knew how to use it. Reddish sunglasses reflected in the light, and Marco did not need to see James's eyes to know he was looking at the Whitebeard Pirates with suspicion.
Shanks stepped into the doctor's territory, grinning easily as he clapped the man on his shoulder. "Don't look so grim, James. They're friendly, I swear."
"Hm." James grunted eloquently, still eyeing the Whitebeard Pirates skeptically.
The Captain of the Red Force gave an exaggerated sigh, turning back to his friendly rivals. "Don't worry about James. He's just a bit overprotective of his patients."
"Can you blame me after I worked on the kid?" James said a little darkly. "He went through hell."
Shanks's smile faded and he adopted a solemn look. "I know. Might as well show him to these guys before they break apart the ship."
His tone held a slight warning, and Marco realized blue flames were licking at his shoulders. Whitebeard's fists were clenched and shimmered with the energy of his power, while Izo crossed his arms defiantly, doing his best not to reach for his guns. The two Devil Fruit using pirates forced their powers back under control, all signs of them ceding from their bodies.
"Fine." James said shortly, though his posture relaxed a little. He looked pleased, though Marco could not understand why. "He's in the private room. This way."
They went deeper into the medical bay, passing by standard white beds and neatly ordered equipment. Shanks and James halted outside the door at the end of the bay, and the doctor spoke up.
"You can go, Benn."
The Red Hair First Mate stepped out from behind a machine, and Marco blinked. He had not even realized the man was there, but the gun he was placing back in its holster revealed his reason for hiding. A bead of warmth blossomed in the Phoenix's chest as he realized how seriously Shanks and his crew were taking Ace's safety. The red-haired Yonko had already done more than Marco thought he would, and despite himself he felt his respect for the partying, rowdy pirate rise just a little bit.
James opened the door and paused, looking behind him at the three Whitebeard Pirates. "When we said Ace looks like he's been through hell, we meant it. He's been beaten up pretty badly."
"Understood." Whitebeard said roughly.
The doctor nodded, and led the way into the room. Marco's eyes instantly found the occupant of the sole bed in the space, and his breathe caught in his throat.
Ace was almost as pale as the sheets he was tucked under. Bruises were littered across the fire-user's skin, making a collage of yellow, green, and blue splotches. Some were in the shape of hand prints and fists, and Marco brutally refused to follow that line of thought further, because if he did he would go kill something. Or someone.
Marco's gaze locked on the bandages wrapped around Ace's torso, going from just under his armpits and reaching under the sheets. They were already tinged red, sullied and unclean, and in need of changing soon. Despite knowing it was not the case the Phoenix kept picturing a gaping hole below the strips of cloth. He quickly averted his gaze, finally noticing the most disturbing thing about his lost brother's appearance.
The black tattoo-like markings that were drawn through Ace's flesh from his neck to his toes only added to the First Division Commander's dismay, the lines oozing a malice that was almost physical in nature. He did not need the doctor to explain that the black veins were poisonous and wrong, the phoenix in him hissing and urging him to remove the threat to his little brother. Marco wanted nothing more than to rip the streaks away from the fire-user's body, every glance at them making his stomach churn sickeningly.
Ace's bandaged chest rose and fell faintly, each breath clouding the mask over his mouth and nose. Machines beeped lowly around him, scanning his vitals and only providing more proof that he did indeed live. Marco took a moment to just watch the steady movement of the fire-user's torso, irrationally fearing that each intake of oxygen would be his last.
But his fear was unfounded. Ace continued to breathe. His heart continued to beat. He was… he was alive.
Something scared and heartbreaking wanted to burst free of Marco, but he did not let it. He could not let it. Not here.
"I can't believe it." Izo whispered.
Beside Marco, Whitebeard made a sound the Phoenix thought his Captain was incapable of making. It was not quite shocked, not quite relieved, and not quite broken, but held a fragile grief that could become a storm of guilt and sadness if left unchecked. The large Yonko approached his lost son almost hesitantly, as if he were afraid going near the young man would cause him to vanish. Carefully, gently, the giant man placed his hand on Ace's head.
"My son…" Whitebeard whispered, brushing a large hand through Ace's hair.
The fire-user flinched and shivered, unconsciously pulling away from his touch, and Marco saw something in his Oyaji's calm mask crack. The doctor spoke before the Yonko could shatter, either thinking the Whitebeard Pirates had enough time to process what they were seeing or sparing Whitebeard from having a breakdown in front of distant allies.
"Ace was stabbed through the chest when Shanks found him. He also had multiple contusions and broken ribs. Evidence suggests he was impaled and severely beaten." The doctor reported stoically. "I managed to stabilize him, but he has not woken since we brought him in."
Izo swallowed visibly, tucking a loose hair behind his ear and looking one second away from losing his composure. Marco could relate.
"Is Ace comatose?" the okama asked tightly.
"No." the doctor said. "He's asleep. He just can't wake up."
His words did not make anyone present feel better.
"Explain." Whitebeard demanded for the second time, voice low and dangerous.
James complied without batting an eye. "That—" He said, pointing at a few of the black markings on Ace's arm. "—is made of some type of sand-like substance. I was able to take a sample from his stomach wound and it appears to be mixed in his bloodstream. From what I can tell, it's a type of malevolent sedative. It keeps the victim asleep, not unconscious."
"How do you know?" Marco asked, not truly wanting the answer.
The doctor scowled darkly. "A scan of his brain waves shows him attempting to wake, only to be pulled back under. In addition to that, eye movement and increased respiration rate suggest he is trapped in the REM stage of sleep. He isn't cycling through the stages like he would normally, but he is not in a coma either. He's just… stuck."
Almost on cue, the monitor beside Ace's head started to beep rapidly. Before the pirates' terrified eyes, the fire-user's body began to jerk, back arching off the bed as his limbs spasmed and flailed. Marco instinctively grabbed Ace's shoulders, holding him down, only to be shoved away by the doctor.
"Don't! You could dislocate his shoulders." The blonde-haired man snapped.
"But—" Marco began, but James cut him off.
"It will pass."
Ace convulsed a few more times and then went limp, breathing evening out. The frantic beeping of the machine slowed to a less frenzied rate. James checked to make sure his throat was clear and stepped back, lifting his sunglasses and rubbing his eyes tiredly.
"This is the fourth seizure in an hour. He's also suffering from dehydration, malnourishment, exhaustion, internal bleeding, lacerations, sepsis, anemia, and an irregular body temperature. His temperature is approximately twenty-eight degrees below what it should be. His larynx is also strained, damaged, and swollen. It's unlikely he will be able to speak for a while."
Marco clenched his fists, careful not to let his nails break his skin. Any sign of blood— regenerative abilities or not— would cause the doctor to scold and fret over him, when it was Ace he should be worried about.
"What's 'sepsis'?" Izo questioned.
"Infections." The doctor said briefly. "In Ace's case, the wound on his side is inflamed and emitting a blackish pus. Based on the patterning around the lesion, I believe that is where he was infected by the sand."
"Do you think it was intentional?" Marco blurted. "Him being poisoned, I mean?"
James pushed his glasses up his nose, expression unreadable. "I'll hazard a guess and say yes. It would not surprise me if someone put the sand in his system to see how his body would react to it."
The fiery anger returned and Marco slowly understood why Shanks had been so upset and tense about the whole situation. It was hard to stay laid-back and detached knowing that a good kid like Ace had been hurt, almost murdered, and likely imprisoned and experimented on for who knew how long. Anger was also an effective means of holding back the shame the Phoenix felt that he had left his little brother in such a situation in the first place. Even though they had no way to know he was alive...
For a moment they just watched Ace breathe, the low beeping and the hisses of oxygen as it forced its way into his lungs being the only noises to break the silence. Again, Marco's eyes went to the ashen skin, the bandages, the bruises, the cuts, the marks, and the guilt that settled in his chest grew heavier, weighing on his heart and threatening to force him down to his knees under the pressure.
"How is he still alive?" the Phoenix found himself asking.
The doctor shifted uncomfortably. "Well, he is a D, and a Devil Fruit eater. They are quite durable."
"That's not what I meant." The Phoenix clarified. "How is he alive? We— We saw him die."
Whitebeard's face grew stony. Izo glared at the wall with shining eyes. Shanks looked at the floor, lips pursing. James shrugged helplessly.
"I don't have an answer for you. You'll have to ask Ace if— when he wakes up."
"He'll wake up." Izo stated ferociously. "He can't just come back from the dead somehow and leave again. Do you hear me?" The Sixteenth Commander turned his fierce glare to the sleeping fire-user. "I want answers, answers that you will give me. You are going to wake up and be fine and tell us where the hell you've been these past three years and, and—"
He broke off, a strained expression crossing his fair features as his jaw locked.
"Excuse me." The okama said stiffly, and walked swiftly out of the sickbay.
The remaining pirates watched him retreat, none commenting on the tears that were ruining his makeup. Marco hesitantly approached the bed, taking Ace's pale hand in his and careful not to pull at the IV that was attached to it. Again, the fire-user flinched when he was touched, shifting uncomfortably. The Phoenix noticed a familiar band around his wrist and frowned.
"Seastone?"
James was unapologetic. "Yes. We put a seastone bracelet on him just in case. The last thing we need is him bursting into flames here."
Does he even still have his Devil Fruit? Marco thought.
The Phoenix remembered the Mera Mera no Mi being auctioned as a prize in some type of tournament last year. They had been too far from Dressrosa to reach it in time, but Ace's thought-dead brother, Sabo, had won and eaten it. It was only because it was him that the Whitebeard Pirates did not go and hunt down the person who dared to take Ace's fruit. Devil Fruits only respawned when their eater died, so how did the Mera Mera no Mi reappear if Ace was still alive?
Marco shoved his questions away. There were more important things to be concerned about.
"We should move him to the Moby Dick." The Phoenix suggested. "So he'll wake up somewhere familiar."
James frowned at him. "That may be a good idea. I will continue to treat him on your ship."
It was not a request, and even Whitebeard knew better than to argue with a stubborn doctor.
"Of course." The Yonko said graciously, though with a slight bit of tired amusement. He was obviously thinking about his own nurses and their possessive mentality when it came to patients. His gaze locked onto the red-haired pirate that was standing in the corner and his eyes softened.
"I owe you, Shanks." Whitebeard said softly.
Shanks gave him a smile, accepting his gratitude with a slight nod. "I like the kid. He has a good soul. And he's fun at parties." He pushed away from the wall, stretching easily. "You should probably get some of your nurses to help move Ace. Otherwise James will try to do everything himself."
The doctor glared at his Captain, who smiled unapologetically. Watching the red-haired Yonko, Marco was struck by a sudden rush of unease. Now that his panic and confusion were subsiding, his questions and alertness returned, and he noticed that the easygoing man was hiding something. His smiles were a little too strained, his posture a little too tense, and his words a little too thought out. It was almost like he was hiding something. There was no other explanation the Phoenix could think of.
Marco could not help but feel that Shanks knew more than he let on.
ROTGOPROTGOP
The town was cute.
There was no other way to describe it. It was cute.
Quaint little white houses were lined up along quaint little cobblestone streets with cheerfully quaint people milling about, minding their own business as they went about their lives. The buildings looked more like enlarged doll houses than places where people lived, and the air was so welcoming that Jack wondered if he had accidentally stumbled upon a fantasy village. At least the people seemed to be normal enough, even if they were surprisingly friendly.
More than one civilian stopped to nod at and warmly greet the strangers in their town, though they only saw two. The invisible Guardian of Fun observed them all with a bemused air, brow furrowed slightly as a bewildered frown tugged at his lips.
"Did we somehow end up in East Blue? Or a dreamland? This place is way too peaceful." The Winter Spirit commented.
Sabo chuckled lowly and adjusted his hat, turning to the Winter Spirit. "Not all places in the New World are being threatened by monsters and evil. Some islands are actually quite calm."
To outsiders, it looked as if he were addressing the orange-haired woman who walked beside him, though there was a noticeable space between the two. None of the civilians gave the two Revolutionaries a second glance, their words unheard and their speaking to 'thin air' misinterpreted as them talking to each other. Jack walked casually between the two with his staff in one hand, taking in the sights with a raised eyebrow.
"This is so weird. I'm used to bad things happening everywhere I go on this world."
Koala gave a soft snort. "Despite what you think, the whole New World isn't a violent hellhole. But since you're so interested; this island is protected by Whitebeard. That's why it isn't attacked by pirates every day of the week."
She noticed something at a nearby newsstand and wandered closer to see it, leaning over as she studied whatever had caught her attention.
"Ah. That explains it." Jack nodded. "So why are we here? This place is so bubbly Pitch would probably die of disgust if he came here."
"We need more supplies before we head out to the island Hack told us about." Sabo reminded the Winter Spirit. His tone grew teasing. "Don't tell me you forgot humans need food."
"I need to eat too." Jack sniffed. "Though not nearly as much as you. Where do you put it all?"
"Are you really asking that when you've been with Ace for twenty-three years?" Sabo asked sarcastically and then shook his head. "Never mind. The supplies are being loaded onto our ship right now, so it won't be much longer."
Jack smiled and did his best not to stress about every second Ace stayed in Pitch's hands. "I know. I guess I can't just carry you with me through the sky, but I really hope it won't take too long to— Oof!"
A small body slammed into Jack and he stumbled, surprised by the contact. He looked down and met a tiny blonde-haired boy's wide eyes, the kid looking as stunned as the Guardian felt. The boy stepped back, peering up at the much-taller Spirit with innocent blue orbs.
"Sowwy, mister." The boy— who could not be more than four— squeaked.
He can see me? Yes! The Guardian mentally crowed. Jack gave the child a laid back smile and ruffled his hair. "It's fine, kiddo."
Before he could say more, a female voice called out. "Anthony! How many times do I have to tell you, no running?"
A woman with blonde hair the same shade as Anthony's walked up, taking his hand. Her eyes met Jack's and she smiled apologetically.
"I'm so sorry about my son, sir. He's always—"
She froze, skin turning a ghostly white. Jack and the Revolutionaries tensed, with Sabo looking behind them to see what was wrong, when the woman screamed.
"Jack Frost!" she shrieked. "The Winter Spirit is here!"
The terror in her voice shocked Jack into stillness, and he almost didn't react when a spear was thrown his way. Koala struck the weapon out of the air, and the two Revolutionaries closed around the Guardian like body guards. The atmosphere of the town went from peaceful to hostile in an instant, and the crowd merged around the three outsiders, fearful eyes all staring at the Winter Spirit.
"Get out of here, you monster!" a man shouted with a shaking voice.
"Leave our children alone!" another woman yelled, holding her little girl close.
"You won't take any of us! The Whitebeards will stop you!" a second man bellowed, and the townspeople voiced their defiant agreement.
Jack felt ill. Sabo grasped his arm, and Koala gripped his other hand.
"We have to go." The blonde-haired Revolutionary said softly, blue orbs eying the mob warily.
The Guardian nodded and took to the air, carrying the two humans easily as they flew over the gathering crowd. A few of the humans screamed in terror, while others began to throw objects at the retreating trio.
Sabo stopped a bottle from hitting Koala in the face while she prevented an apple away from striking Jack's side. The Winter Spirit twisted sideways to avoid a stream of bullets, and gasped as one went through Sabo's thigh, turning it into fire.
"It's fine! They're not seastone. Go, go!" the blonde Revolutionary urged.
The Guardian soared higher into the clouds, out of the villagers' sights. He spotted the small ship they had arrived on and descended directly onto the deck. Hack jumped slightly when they landed next to him, but Sabo regained his footing and strode forward purposely, barking an order.
"Set sail. We need to get out of here."
The Fishman did not question the blonde, hurrying to lower the sails. Distant shouts reached the ship, and Jack spotted the mob running towards them. Many were holding weapons, while those without brandished tools with a menacing air. The trickster in him wanted to laugh at the cliché nature of it all, but most of him felt strangely numb.
"Wind, help us out." He mumbled.
It obeyed instantly, blowing on the sails and sending them gliding out to sea. Jack turned back to the island, just able to hear the raised voices and angry— fearful— shouts directed at them at them as they retreated. The Wind tried to mute the yells but its efforts only amplified them in Jack's ears.
"That's right. Get out of here you demon!"
"We have to do a roll call. We need to make sure no one is missing."
"Who were those people with Frost? Do you think they were Revolutionaries like the papers claim?"
"I thought they were supposed to fight against oppression!"
"Do you think he'll come back to hurt us?"
"Don't worry. If he does, Whitebeard will get him."
Koala touched his arm and he twitched before forcing himself to give her an assuring smile. She was not fooled by his meager attempt, squeezing his hand before releasing it.
"I… saw this…" she murmured, handing him a piece of paper.
It was a Wanted Poster, with his face displayed prominently on the front.
'Winter Spirit' Jackson Overland Frost
Wanted Dead or Alive
Reward: 200,000,000 Beri
Jack felt no pride in the new bounty. Frost trickled over the poster, covering the numbers with a thin layer of ice. He let the paper slip from his fingers and flutter to the deck, mind clouding as he slowly realized why the civilians had been so hostile.
"They're blaming me for the disappearances, aren't they?" he whispered. "They're… they're making people fear me."
If Sabo or Koala said anything, Jack did not hear them, senses hazing as he processed what he had just learned and the horrific implications. Pitch had to be the source of this. He was making people believe in the Guardian not through love, hope, and fun, but through fear, just like he had wanted back when the Nightmare King had asked the Winter Spirit to be his ally.
The Guardian's stomach lurched and he leaned over slightly, physically sickened by the thought of having 'believers' who believed in him out of terror. Pitch was taking what should be a joyful and wonderful occurrence and turning it into something vile and unwanted. Jack would rather be walked through be a million people than have them see and be afraid of him.
I think I hate him. The Winter Spirit realized slowly. I think I actually hate Pitch Black. First he hurts and kidnaps Ace, then he kills a bunch of innocent people, and now he warps belief like this? How dare he. How dare he take something that is supposed to be good, pure, and wonderful and mutilate it like that!
Anger, dark and cold, formed in Jack's chest, and his eyes grew icy, changing from a brilliant blue to a cerulean-tinged white. He met Sabo's solemn gaze and when he spoke, his voice was like an arctic wind.
"This needs to stop. We're going to find Pitch, and we're going to bring him down. What he's done… It's unforgivable."
If Pitch thought making people fear Jack would draw the Winter Spirit to his side, he was sadly mistaken. The Guardian felt the savage fury grow stronger in his heart and his grip on his frosted staff tightened.
You've gone too far this time, Pitch. You've done something inexcusable. No matter what it takes, I'm stopping you. Even if I die trying.
ROTGOPROTGOP
Ace felt… warm.
The unfamiliar sensation of heat slowly registered with the fire-user, and he took a minute to enjoy the feeling of serenity and safety that wrapped around him like a blanket. But… he actually was wrapped in a blanket. Ace frowned unconsciously as he let his hands twitch over the soft material that covered him, urging his eyes to open so that he could figure out where he was.
The last thing he remembered before falling into blackness and nightmares was—
Stabbed-blood-hurt-pain-dying—
Ace shut the memory behind a wall in his mind, refusing to think about what had happened before he had fallen unconscious. At least, he was mostly sure that was his last real memory. It was difficult to know for certain. The Summer Spirit had been cycling through nightmares ever since then, and was proud to realize that he could identify the last few worlds he had woken in as hallucinations afterward.
He could still tell fiction from reality, even if it was only after his fears played out before him. He was not completely gone. He could still beat this.
The fire-user felt his lips twitch into a smile, and felt a rush of confusion. Why was he so happy? Why did he feel so safe and warm? Why…?
I escaped. I escaped, I'm free, and I'm alive.
If he had the energy, Ace would have laughed aloud. He was still having nightmares and he was still infected by the black sand, but he was out. He had gotten away from Pitch, and had apparently been found by someone after the Nightmare King had—
Don't think.
"Ace?"
The fire-user twitched when the unfamiliar voice spoke, too close for comfort. His stomach twisted with nerves, and he briefly wished he had pretended to still be asleep. But he was not dead, so that meant the speaker had helped him, right? They— he?— had healed him after—
Repress.
Taking a chance, Ace lifted his heavy eyelids, letting his gaze roam over his surroundings. He was in a bed in a medical bay, the clean and orderly space completely dominated by the color white. He vaguely recognized the hospital on the Moby Dick, though he supposed any infirmary could have those cursed white walls. The bright opposite of grey and black hurt the Summer Spirit's eyes and he winced, lifting a hand to cover them. Odd, but he thought he would be in more pain after what Pitch had—
Forget.
Ace uncovered his eyes, letting them drift to the only person in the room. He did not recognize the man, but his white coat pinned him as a doctor of some sort. The Summer Spirit hoped he was the healing kind of doctor. Because the other kind of 'doctor' that wore white coats tended to cut him open and—
That wasn't real. Breathe.
"You're awake." The doctor said pleasantly. "How are you feeling? Do you hurt anywhere?"
Ace opened his mouth to respond but no sound came out. He swallowed roughly, gritting his teeth when the action caused pain to flare through his aching throat and tried again. His efforts yielded no results.
The doctor noticed his struggle and waved his hands in a stopping motion. "It's all right. Don't try to speak. Your larynx is damaged. I'm afraid you won't be able to talk for a while."
Ace frowned at him, not pleased by the news. If he could not speak, how was he supposed to apologize to Sabo and Luffy for leaving them? The fire-user paused as he comprehended what he just thought and he found himself smiling a little again.
Sabo's alive! His mind sang happily.
That was right. He had to find his brothers. Ace struggled to sit up but the doctor put his hands on his shoulders, lightly pushing him back onto the bed. The fire-user went still when the man touched him, his skin crawling where the doctor's hands met his skin.
"Oh no you don't. You're not running around just yet. You Gol D.'s are always so reckless and arrogant, aren't you? You're still injured."
Ace blinked at the man, lips pressing together. Didn't the doctor understand he had better things to do than heal? He needed to search for his three brothers. It wasn't like he was that badly wounded—
The fire-user looked down, noticing the bandages around his chest and stomach, and a shudder went through his lithe frame. Memories of pain and a brutal beating threatened to force their way to the front of his mind but he locked them behind a door, skillfully suppressing them.
"Just let me look over you to make sure you're okay, all right?" the doctor asked reasonably, not appearing to notice his patient's distress.
Ace bit his lip and nodded reluctantly. The sooner the doctor saw he was fine, the sooner he could begin his self-appointed mission to locate his family.
The doctor prodded gently at his ribs and stomach, expression set in one of deep focus. Ace watched him warily, flinching at every touch. It was like the man's fingers were daggers instead of skin and bone, stabbing the fire-user despite the doctor's careful precision. Ace did his best to stay still, unwilling to antagonize the man who was fully capable of harming him if he wanted to.
Something in the back of his mind whispered that his first priority shouldn't be how to make people not hurt him and that having such a mentality was bad, but before Ace could follow that line of thought, the doctor picked up a scalpel. The fire-user's gaze zeroed in on the sharp utensil, and the horror paralyzed him, icy fear ripping through his frame.
The doctor noticed his expression and his own features softened. "It's all right. I'm just going to remove these bandages." He explained calmly, as if he were speaking to a frightened child.
I pretty much am a frightened child, Ace thought bitterly with a surge of self-loathing.
He watched warily as the doctor cut away the bandages that were wrapped around his chest, the man careful not to nick his patient's skin. Ace relaxed minutely as he observed each accurate slice, the doctor gradually making his way upward. The doctor smiled comfortingly at him, twisting his hand, and dragged the scalpel across the fire-user's throat.
Ace's mind went blank, but his numbness was slapped away by pain, his body jerking as it comprehended that his jugular had been slit. His next breath came out as a wet gurgle, and crimson splattered over his chest and chin, quickly turning the white sheets read. The doctor watched his patient hemorrhage with a serene expression.
"I'm sorry." The doctor said sincerely. "I can't allow you to come back, Gol D. Ace. Some of my brothers died because of you and your father, and you can't be forgiven for that. You understand, don't you?"
The fire-user choked on his own blood, mind hazing as death beckoned him with its empty embrace. Ace refused the call, clapping his hands to his neck and attempting to stem the flow. He had to search for Sabo, apologize to Luffy, and reunite with Jack. He had escaped, hadn't he? He'd gotten out. Was he really going to die now after he had fought so hard to be free?
The pain that once burned like magma quickly faded away to an icy numbness. Ace felt a different panic then. He could not die now. But willpower could not stop him from bleeding out.
The fire-user's fragile heart beat one last time, and was silenced.
Ace did not dare to open his eyes. He used his experience with faking narcolepsy attacks to feign sleep, willing his breathing to remain slow and even. He could hear the gently beeping of a heart monitor near his head, and felt smooth sheets beneath his fingers. He smelled antiseptic and bleach, the sharp stenches stinging his nose as he inhaled.
Just a nightmare. Just another nightmare.
He idly noted that his body hurt— especially his chest. Ace tried to raise his arm to touch the spot and immediately regretted it. Fire shot through his entire frame, momentarily making him black out, and when he could feel other things again the aching pressure lingered tauntingly. The fire-user wanted to voice his discomfort — even if it was just through muffled croaks—but withheld that desire, staying still and silent.
He knew pretending to be asleep was useless in a dream, but if he could just buy himself those few precious seconds where his fears weren't being thrown in his face it would be worth it. He had no way of knowing what terror the black sand would exploit this round, after all.
Based on the beeping machines and the mask on his face, the fire-user was 'in a sickbay', likely on the Moby Dick. That did not give Ace hope. He remembered now that he had experienced countless nightmares back in the prison where he had been 'rescued' and 'safe', only for his family to hate him and turn on him. Because time held no meaning in dreams, sometimes they lasted months or even years before his crewmates eventually got fed up and killed him. Ace was more than used to those betrayals by now.
But Ace had rescued himself this time. He had escaped. He knew he had. The only problem was he had fallen unconscious, and had no way of knowing if he was waking to reality or another nightmare. The last 'betrayal' was proof enough that his ability to see truth from fiction was almost nonexistent.
Footsteps drew Ace's attention back to his surroundings. The fire-user felt the black sand's familiar chill as fear swept through him. Should he open his eyes and face the new potential threat, or try to buy himself a few more minutes? But if this was a dream, then they knew he was awake, right? What if they stabbed him again? Or what if this was one of those dreams where he was trapped inside his body and could only lay there, paralyzed, while they made him pay for being born?
With this panicked thought in mind, Ace tried to lift his eyelids and see where he had ended up this time. His eyelids refused to obey him, taking his orders to open as a suggestion and deigning to ignore them.
The beeping near his head grew faster and Ace cursed his beating heart. He heard the person at his bedside inhale sharply.
"Ace? Ace, can you hear me, yoi?"
The fire-user stayed limp and unresponsive. He knew the voice but could not identify it, his brain scrambling as he tried to put a name to the distinctive accent. He had heard it recently after all, in one of his latest nightmares, but Ace's mind refused to associate the voice with someone he loved— someone who had hurt him on so many occasions in dreams.
That's right. He only hates me in dreams. But this could be a dream. It also might not be. What do I do? Should I try to communicate with him? But if this is another nightmare it's useless…
How many times had he cycled through the motions, 'reuniting' with his friends and family, believing he was 'free', 'telling' his story, and either being rejected by his comrades or 'accepted' then eventually betrayed?
His inability to tell whether he was sleeping or awake was nerve-racking. There was always chance that he would be awake one of these times and would do something wrong that would cause irreversible damage or make people hate him for real. That possibility terrified him more than he wanted to admit.
Quite frankly, Ace did not know how to react to things around him anymore. His family must already think he was a freak because of the black sand staining his skin, but that didn't mean he should showcase his confused mental state. It would be best to stay as apathetic as possible until he knew for certain if he was dreaming or not. Was he even with someone he knew, or was he in another fake nightmare?
I have to be awake to find Luffy, Jack, and Sabo, he reasoned. They won't reject me. They won't hate me. Well, they might, but at least if I see them I'll know for certain. Wait, no. That's not right. They won't hate me. They would never hate me. But if they do that's okay. They don't need me.
He was distantly aware that something was very wrong with his thought processes, but accepted them readily anyway. He wasn't important, others were. His brothers were. He had to make sure they were happy. He had to make sure they were safe. He had to—
…Didn't I decide I wanted to live for me? I'm so confused.
Before he could consider the question, something touched his arm, feeling like broken glass against his skin.
Ace jolted away wildly, the machine picking up its frantic pace. He felt something tear from his arm but he dismissed the slight pain, more concerned about the world that swayed and danced around him when he opened his eyes. The bed vanished from under him and the fire-user felt himself falling.
He was caught by burning, jagged metal shards that fought angrily with the cold black sand in his veins. Ace's vision momentarily blacked out, his stomach churning as the awful-feeling person continued to touch him and the black sand tried to tear out of his body like a monster. His gaze zeroed in on the man and he slowly recognized Marco's blonde hair through the haze of confusion and pain.
Let go let go let go! Ace silently screamed.
"Careful, Ace." The Phoenix soothed, not noticing— or not caring?— about his discomfort.
Marco set him back on the bed, and the Summer Spirit let loose a shuddering breath. His nausea faded when the Phoenix released him. The fire-user carefully laid his hands in his lap, forcing himself to meet the Phoenix's worried blue eyes. Was he actually worried though? Was he real or fake?
Marco's eyes shone with unshed tears and he gave Ace a watery smile. "I'm so glad you're finally awake."
He reached for the fire-user's face but Ace twitched, squeezing his eyes shut. When he opened them, Marco's hand had fallen to his side. The Phoenix's jaw was clenched and Ace nervously realized he had upset the Commander somehow. His gaze dropped to his hands.
I'm sorry.
"You gave us quite the scare, you know." Marco said softly. "I thought— We thought—" He paused, expression clouding with guilt and slight disgust. Before Ace could wonder what he had done wrong, the Phoenix gave a disgruntled grunt. "I need to call in the doctor, yoi. Idiot."
He stood up, but paused when Ace's skin blanched white. The fire-user ducked his head, hiding his expression behind his hair. His last nightmare was fresh in his mind. He did not want a doctor to look over him. Marco touched his arm, stabbing him in the process, and Ace's limbs shook.
Stupid. I should be used to it by now. I'm pathetic.
"…I don't have to call the doctor right now." Marco said slowly.
His gaze flicked past Ace and he jerked his head. The fire-user turned to look behind him but no one was there. The door was clicking shut though, so maybe someone had been. He belatedly realized he was in the Moby Dick's infirmary again— Or not again. Was this another dream or not?
Ace felt a rush of frustration and his expression twisted into a snarl. He was supposed to be finding his brothers, not constantly wondering if he was asleep or conscious. He had gotten free. He had escaped Pitch. But now he had no way of knowing if he was in damn reality or not.
Heat rippled through his cold skin but he held the flames in. He could not take his anger out on the Not-Marco that might actually be Marco. If it turned out he hurt his family in a fit of rage…
Stay distant. Stay calm. It might be real. It might not be. Don't react to anything.
Easier thought than done.
"…Ace? Ace!"
He heard Marco calling his name and focused on the Phoenix, jerking back when he noticed how close the man's face was to his own. Marco retreated slightly, that same worry crossing his features, but it disappeared almost instantly.
"I want you to know that you're safe. You're on the Moby Dick. Shanks found you and brought you to us after patching you up."
The Phoenix explained his situation carefully and precisely, as if he were uncertain that Ace would understand the words. The fire-user felt another rush of bitter dismay at his words.
Like I haven't heard that before, Ace thought darkly. Though the Shanks part was new. He felt another wave of barely-contained flames. Calm. Okay. I need to think about this logically. Think about the facts. That'll help, won't it?
He stared blankly past Marco as he struggled to organize his thoughts.
Reasons this could be real: My injuries match— Don't think about it— what I remember from before falling unconscious. Marco has not betrayed, yelled at, or attempted to murder me yet. Shanks apparently found me, which was an oddly specific and random detail for a nightmare to have… Why Shanks?
Reasons this could be fake: Every touch hurts. I swear that the Moby Dick was destroyed at Marineford, although that may have been one of the smaller ships. I… I can't remember.
Marco made an audible, shaky sound and Ace broke out of his thoughts, meeting his gaze instinctively. He was stunned by the tears threatening to run down the normally stoic Phoenix's cheeks, his blue eyes shiny with unshed droplets.
"I'm so happy you're alive." The normally stoic man choked, smiling shakily. His hand twitched but he did not touch Ace, much to the Summer Spirit's relief. "I don't know how you did it, but I'm glad you came back to us. You're safe, and you're home, Ace."
For a second, Ace truly believed it, drifting out of his careful apathy as his lips twitched and his eyes softened.
Then the door burst open, making both occupants jump, and someone raced into the room.
"I heard Ace is awake!" the newcomer blurted, a joyful grin on his face.
Standing in the doorway was none other than Thatch.
For what seemed like the thousandth time, Ace's hope shattered like glass.
His breathing grew rapid and shallow as the machine next to him beeped frantically, the steady chirps becoming a near-constant, panicked wail. Ace curled up on the bed, back to the headboard and hands pressed over his mouth as salty tears dripped from his stinging eyes. He felt as if his brain were being shredded from the inside, his consciousness dissolving into an abyss of despair. The nightmare became a mess of vague shapes and shadows as his mind shut down, the realization too much for his body to cope with.
Stupid. It's fake. I should have known. I should have known. I should have—
Something touched his arm— burning awful evil— and that single point of contact snapped into focus. He did not want to be touched, touching in nightmares meant hurting and he couldn't handle it, not again, it was wrong wrong wrong—
Detach. Be numb. Don't feel don't feel don't feel.
Someone was speaking to him but Ace ignored them, free-falling into numbness as he disassociated himself from the false world around him. Then another hand grasped him, pushing him down, pinning him, and panic snatched the fire-user's mind, throwing away everything else. Ace thrashed in the person's grasp, their too-hot hands causing bolts of pain to flare from his scraped flesh. He never thought he would despise warmth.
Ace felt cold metal snap around his wrist, and fear was replaced by a stunned blankness. They were chaining him. Chains meant he was a prisoner. Being imprisoned meant he wasn't free. Being unfree meant he couldn't find Sabo.
Ace's mouth opened in a scream he could not voice and he kicked the person holding him. His foot connected with something hard and he heard the person bellow, but they did not release him. The fire-user's vision blurred and darkened and he yanked desperately at the manacle that kept him trapped on the bed. He felt his skin rip open but he kept fighting, hearing the headboard crack.
Escape fight escape fight escape! His mind screamed.
More hands held him in place again, four on his shoulders, four on his legs, and two more on his hips, effectively immobilizing him. Another pair of deft fingers pulled his arm taut, and he felt something prick the inside of his elbow. A needle. They were injecting him with something. Was this one of those nightmares where he was experimented on? Had they already cut him open? Was that what the bandages around his chest and abdomen were from?
Not real. Not real. It's just an illusion. Not real.
An unknown substance was forced into his veins, icy and burning and thick. The fire-user could feel it slide through his blood, jabbing his insides like fragments of sharp ice. Ace's muscles went lax, a different cloudiness dulling his mind and senses, and to his relief the pain dimmed as well.
Most of the hands released him except two, and he was pulled to someone's chest, their arms wrapping around him and their heart beating loudly in his ear. An invasive hand stroked his hair, each touch painful and burning as it pushing the locks away from his sweaty face. A voice whispered in his ear in what was supposed to be a soothing tone.
"Shh. Shh. It's okay. It's okay, yoi. It's going to be all right, Ace." Marco murmured. "You're safe now. You're safe."
Ace knew it was a lie. As everything drifted away, the fire-user felt a small bit of comfort. At least he would be unconscious if they took him apart this time. He just hoped when he regained consciousness again he would wake up in reality.
He would not let these nightmares stop him from finding his brothers.
ROTGOPROTGOP
A/N: Was that last part real or fake? I'm not telling.
I've never really gone into details about medical things before. Mostly because my other stories took place in olden times so they didn't have modern medicine and I wasn't patient enough to look up old remedies. I actually researched stuff for this chapter, but I don't know how accurate it is. I am in no way a medical professional. Still, it was interesting.
I tried to find out if any of the shown Red Hair Pirates could be a doctor, but came up with nada. Same with the Whitebeard Pirates. Whatevs. I know the doctors exist so I'll just give them names. I made the guy with the blonde hair, bandanna, sunglasses, and sword the doctor because why not?
Kinda Important Question: Speaking of Whitebeard Doctors, I might use Whitey Bay as the head doctor/nurse instead of creating an OC. I really don't want original characters in this. Are you guys okay with that, or is there a canon WB nurse that I just can't remember/find the name of?
Other Important Question: Should Haruta be a boy or a girl in this? It won't affect their characterization and it's not important to the plot, I just noticed a bunch of people have them as a girl in fanfics and want your guys' opinion. I personally thought Haruta was a girl as well until I read the wiki that said otherwise. (Good thing I checked… :P) If I could I'd find a way to not refer to their gender but I'm writing a future chapter and have discovered I'm not skilled enough to avoid mentioning it. So: He or she for Haruta?
Oh and before I get further in the story, let me make something perfectly clear: Ace isn't going to get insta-better. He is going to be messed up and waver between fear, defiance, confusion, courage, self-blame, frustration, guilt, anger, and determination. I personally hate when characters go through something terrible and are immediately over it the next chapter. There's recovering and bouncing back after trauma, and then there's authors' unwilling to have characters change and react to what has happened. T_T
I had to repeatedly stare at Jack's bounty number to see if I put enough zeroes. It's supposed to be 200 million Beri. I think I did it right…
Thanks to everyone who favorited, read, reviewed, and followed this story! :D
Responses to Guest reviews:
To Lama: Thank you! Ace actually can understand Baby Tooth (mostly). It's a Nature Spirit thing. Baby Tooth is awesome! I always forget Shanks has one arm lol. It didn't help that I was watching the scene where Ace met Shanks before writing that and Toei gave Shanks two arms when he should have had one. I almost gave him two arms again this chapter haha. :P
To whoo: Thanks for reviewing! Ace'll be fine… (shifty eyes) Yeah…
To Guest (1): Thank you! Rereading that part, yeah, I guess it could've led to Marco. Sorry? He's here now so yay. :)
To Guest (2): Thanks for reviewing! I try to update every Wednesday or Thursday.
Please review!