A/N: Uploading without looking it over on the site again. If you see any grammar mistakes, switched, or missing words, please tell me! Thanks.

ROTGOPROTGOP

Chapter Twenty-One: Nature's Fury

Ace had to be crazy. Insane. Unhinged. Nuts. Mentally unsound. Off his rocker. Touched in the head. He already suspected that, of course, but his recent flow of 'logic' was beginning to make him sincerely consider he had indeed lost it. His lack of worry and careless disregard of such potential-insanity only helped to increase the possibility of said craziness but the fire-user could not bring himself to care about or fear that he had finally taken the trip to psychoville and was currently a proud resident.

The idea that Pitch had purposely refrained from killing Ace had lodged itself into his mind and refused to leave. There were many things wrong and illogical about that theory and many implications that came with it that the Summer Spirit did not like, but the foolish thought stayed anyway and made him wonder.

The fire-user vaguely remembered a problem where people saw a lack of violence as 'kindness' and another one where captives came to gain 'sympathy' for those that had harmed them. He mentally acknowledged that it was likely he was suffering from some type of disorder that made him want to rationalize Pitch's behavior and actions and— even worse— maybe even humanize him. It was wrong on so many levels. Wrong and disturbing and awful and yet he could not help but speculate.

The Nightmare King had captured Ace. He had infected him with the black sand. He had tortured him. He had tried to kill him multiple times. He had attacked Jack and Luffy.

Pitch had also let him go instead of murdering Ace when he was helpless. He had given information and advice about the black sand, however callous it was. He had refrained from recapturing the fire-user when he could. He had removed a large portion of the sand. He had the power to kill Ace whenever he wanted but he did not.

These thoughts have the potential to be very bad, the logical part of Ace murmured. Feeling empathy because Pitch went through the sand's torments too is one thing. Trying to 'see good' in him is another and speculating that he may be trying to help me is even worse.

Ace had to be insane. Or disturbed. Or more broken than he ever thought he could be. Something was deeply wrong with him, because no sane person would look at the Nightmare King and think 'not pure evil'. It was a good thing the fire-user was questioning his musings, otherwise he might have to convince Marco to lock him up in a white room somewhere.

At least he was not so deep in denial and naiveté that he was unable to see other potential justifications for Pitch's behavior.

Possibility one: Kozmotis is in there somewhere and is trying to help me in roundabout ways. Possibility two: Pitch is manipulating me for fun and he'll probably stab me in the back first chance he gets once I 'trust' him. Possibility three: It's all coincidence and bad luck on his part.

Ace decided he must truly be desperate for a reason for Pitch's actions. Or he might just be plain old desperate. And yet one thing could not be denied.

Ace felt better. His head was clearer than it had in a long time and the tiredness did not weigh so heavily upon him. He had also discovered that touching other people no longer hurt when he had been forced to catch a tripping Thatch by his arm this morning. It could not be a coincidence that had happened after a portion of the black sand had been removed from his body.

Or maybe his current clarity had to do with his good mood itself and nothing more. The black sand fed on fear and the fire-user was most definitely not afraid at the moment. Instead he was determined, calm, and rather curious. That simple fact could be the source of his increased energy instead of the removal of some of the sand. Unless they somehow took out more to test that theory, there was no way to know and the Summer Spirit had no intention to try it himself.

Ace would not share his Pitch is not quite so evil theory with Marco— or anyone for that matter. He knew others would not take kindly to it. At best they would probably think the fire-user was crazy… crazier. At worst, there would be white rooms and lots of therapy with people telling him how wrong and bad his thoughts were. The idea would stay safely locked inside his head for now and maybe forever. Just because he mused that Pitch had semi-intentionally assisted him did not mean he was going to waltz up to the Nightmare King and give him a hug.

Pitch was still his enemy. He had tried to kill Ace's brothers. He was murdering and transforming people all around the world. He wanted to take over and maybe destroy said world. But at the same time, he might not be the wholly malevolent monster that many saw him as. There might just be a sliver of Kozmotis Pitchner still alive in there, and that speck of good could be exploited. Ace could not decide whether he would use said weakness to kick the Nightmare King's ass or try to talk him down. Both possibilities were open to him, and that in of itself was disturbing.

I'm a mentally unstable idiot. At this rate I'm going to get myself killed.

The thought amused more than unnerved Ace. He had better not let his companions— or anyone else— know what was so funny though. Especially not with their current belief about the fire-user. No one had spoken to him directly or confronted him about it, but Ace knew why the Whitebeard Pirates were acting so cautious and careful around him, even more than they had before.

On the Moby Dick, injuries did not stay secret for long, though sometimes the truth got warped in the process of the news spreading around the vessel. The Whitebeard Pirates saw Haruta go screaming through the ship for Bay. The Whitebeard Pirates heard that Ace had been with a sleeping Thatch— in other words 'alone'— when he had been injured. The Whitebeard Pirates watched as Ace emerged with bandages around his wrists, accompanied by a fretful chef and a pale-faced Marco.

So they made the 'logical' conclusion. They did not even consider that an enemy had somehow gotten past them and to Ace, ignorance or maybe even arrogance blinding them from the possibility. Instead they saw how 'broken' the fire-user was, how 'shattered' and 'fragile' he was, and thought the Summer Spirit had finally collapsed beneath the pressures of life and decided to end it all, or at the very least hurt himself for reasons unknown.

Ace felt outraged, shocked, hurt, sad, and most of all, humiliated. The Whitebeard Pirates did not try to hold back their stares any more. They watched him and judged him for what they thought he had done. The fire-user could not decide which was worse, the angry glares, cold looks, or pitying glances. The glares let him know they were furious that he had 'done that to himself' and that he 'dared to try to leave them again after everything'. The looks informed him that they could not believe he had 'sunk so low' as to slash his own wrists like a person who had no honor left.

The glances told him that they 'understood'— quotation marks firmly implied— and felt bad for him, like a rich King felt bad for the peasant child digging through a trash heap for food. The King did not understand. Instead he looked down upon the struggling, starving peasant and wondered why he could not live try harder and in a palace like him.

All three made Ace feel like an enemy or prisoner, someone outside the crew to be seen with mistrust and contempt. The way they had treated him before had been barely bearable, but now the Whitebeard Pirates had decided he was more fragile than the thinnest glass. Requests to assist with everyday tasks were denied. Many spoke to him in soft, careful tones like they were trying not to tell him he had a terminal disease. Conversations would cut off the moment he came near, leaving him to wonder if they were talking about him and 'the incident' or something that 'would make him upset'.

Ace kept his face apathetic nearly all the time now, inwardly torn between shame and fury as he looked down at his bandaged arms. He hated those wounds the most, despised them in fact, because they were the main source of the rumors. The wrappings on his chest, ankles, and sides were written off as mere 'self-harm' by the masses, but the wrists must mean he had attempted suicide because there was no way he had been attacked under the oh-so powerful Whitebeard Pirates' watch. The fire-user felt another rush of hurt and bitterness.

I didn't do this. Pitch did. Do they think I'm so broken that I'd throw away my life like that? They don't know me at all.

But it was not like Ace could just reveal Pitch and his involvement, and trying to explain without mentioning the Nightmare King would only make him seem even more 'unbalanced, delirious, ill, and broken'. The crew was too big, with too many various kinds of people and— because of his spotty memory— strangers for him to just announce he had been attacked to the public. Not to mention that giving the Spirit of Fear over two thousand more believers was not a good idea.

Ace wanted to tell the Commanders though. Oyaji already knew the truth, having summoned Marco to his room the moment he heard what had happened and the Phoenix had been willing to leave the fire-user. The Summer Spirit was grateful that the First Division Commander had been so blunt and unapologetic in clearing up the misconceptions with Whitebeard, Thatch, and Bay. However, that still left the other Commanders and their distorted preconceptions about what had happened. They needed to be told the facts, including about Pitch.

Who may have been trying to help me, not kill me.

…Welcome to Crazy Town. Logic is not required, disregard for death is encouraged, and you'll be lucky not to get murdered by your enemies before noon.

Ace forcibly pushed aside his speculations and drew a flower in the new notebook Marco had given him. The old one had been covered with blood. The fire-user was sad to have lost all of his pictures and previous words but it could not be helped. If he let himself think about it, he supposed he should be more upset about the fact that he had been injured enough to bleed so much than losing sketches. Oh well.

Ace sat in the mess hall with Izo, Thatch, and Vista around him. The three were his… companions for the day. A single person being on 'Ace-watching duty' was deemed as no longer acceptable so at least two pirates accompanied the fire-user at all times. As in, every single second. The Summer Spirit liked and despised their constant presences in equal measure. On one hand, he understood that numbers decreased the chances of Pitch getting to him again. On the other, he could not help but think of the Commanders as babysitters.

Ace is incompetent and can't take care of himself, the fire-user sneered sarcastically. Leave him alone for a second and he'll slash his wrists.

Anger bubbled in his chest, with a deep misery lingering close behind. Ace held them in, knowing that none of the people present had done anything to deserve an outburst. He also knew that they refused to leave him alone because it was the smart thing to do, not just because they thought he was weak. But Manny curse it if Thatch shot him one more worried look or Vista gave him one more teary sidelong glance he was going to kick both of their asses to Raftel and back. At least Izo was still acting normal around him, the okama's ire directed more at the people staring at the fire-user than Ace himself.

Ace set down his pen on the table and flipped through the pages of his new notebook, focusing on each drawing and tracing a few words in an attempt to distract himself from his building irritation and grief. Another recent development was that instead of instantly sinking into depress— sadness when he felt moody, the fire-user got angry. His flames always lingered under his skin, burning and strong, and no amount of drawing could calm them.

Potential assistance or not, slivers of kindness or not, secret motives or not, Pitch had invaded Ace's home and sanctuary and inadvertently turned the Whitebeard Pirates against him. Not in the usual betrayal-involving way but in a way that made the Summer Spirit want to fly from the ship so that someone was not hovering over him every damn second.

Unintentionally or deliberately, the Nightmare King had broken the Whitebeard Pirates' trust in the fire-user. Specifically, he had broken their faith that Ace could be trusted with his own wellbeing and life.

And so they stared. And so they judged. And so they hovered. And so they pitied.

Shockingly, the Summer Spirit blamed Pitch for that more than himself for once.

Huh. Maybe Ace did not have to worry about feeling sympathy for the Nightmare King after all...

The fire-user reached for his pen, only to freeze when Vista's hand shot out. The swordsman grabbed the knife that had been laying by the writing utensil, setting it down awkwardly out of Ace's reach as he shot him a nervous grin.

The Summer Spirit nearly went supernova, his rage skyrocketing dangerously. He wanted an escape. He needed an escape. If Ace did not get time to himself soon— without prying eyes and humiliating glances— he would literally explode. Or suffer another public breakdown and wouldn't that help his case?

Like the fire-user's thoughts had summoned him, Marco strode into the mess, greeting the brothers that called out to him even as his gaze scanned the room. The Phoenix's sharp blue eyes met Ace's and the blond pirate did not hesitate to make his way over to the Summer Spirit. Vista shot the First Division Commander a relieved look— that he likely thought Ace did not notice— and scooted aside to allow the Phoenix to sit beside the fire-user.

"How are you doing, yoi?" Marco asked quietly.

The expression Ace put on must have revealed more than he intended because the Phoenix visibly winced.

"I know you're upset and overwhelmed, but I'm afraid I can't do much to stop it." The blond pirate said lowly. "The Commanders are having a meeting later, however, and I thought you'd like to come along to… explain things."

This was neither the time nor the place to speak openly about Pitch. Ace understood. He did. He just wished he could tell the real story to the Commanders already so they would stop looking at him like a suicidal invalid. Then again, hearing that the fire-user had been attacked and nearly killed under their noses might only make them even more overprotective and smothering…

The mess hall suddenly seemed to be too small. The voices were too loud, the people too cramped, and the walls appeared to be getting closer, shrinking inward and trapping Ace in a cage of wood. The fire-user's hands trembled as everything closed in around him, blurring slightly, and he was briefly reminded of the many nightmares where he was buried alive.

Ace stood abruptly and walked out of the mess hall at a quick pace. He heard his 'babysitters' stand up to follow but they were stopped by Marco's low tones. The fire-user distantly thanked the Phoenix as he gracefully exited the room. The moment the door closed behind him, it was like a switch was flicked and he took off running. A feeling he could not decipher gripped his limbs and he raced for the deck, breathing uneven and raspy as he fled.

The wooden walls and floor swayed and closed around him and the Summer Spirit felt his gorge rise. He burst outside, nearly removing the door leading below deck from its hinges, and took in gulps of fresh air with the desperation of a man escaping a poisonous cloud of gas. Ace put his hands on his knees, wheezing slightly. He knew that the short run was not the reason for his troubled air intake, however.

Can I just have a day where something doesn't bother me? Ace snarled at himself, still teetering between panic and disgust. Just one fucking day where I don't have a panic attack, or nightmares, or feel trapped, or freak out…

Not caring who saw, Ace sat down on the deck and laid his forehead on his knees. He breathed in the salty air for a moment before flopping onto his back, looking skyward at the brilliant sun. A few fluffy clouds floated serenely through the expanse of blue and the fire-user took the time to see images in the white vapor as he tried to convince himself that he was fine.

That one looks like a ship. That one looks like a rabbit. That one's a bird. Those two look like meat...

Ace's heartbeat gradually slowed and his respiring grew less frenzied. The quivering in his hands ceased as well, but the discontent and strain lingered. The sky looked so endearing, open, and free. No one would judge him there. Pitch could not touch him there. If only he could…

Someone sat beside him and the fire-user tensed, ready to take off again if he met a pitying or concerned gaze. Marco looked at Ace calmly, a hint of sorrow in his eyes, but it was not enough to send the Summer Spirit flying into a rage or meltdown. The Phoenix said nothing and averted his stare to the sky, serenely observing the clouds.

The fire-user did the same and drew a few in his notebook. His desire for freedom— from the stares, from the watchers, from the claustrophobic halls— was not quenched though.

So eventually, after a long period of comfortable silence, he gained the resolve to ask "Can we go flying?"

Ace was glad he did not need to speak the question, for if he did it would come out tremulous and pleading. Regardless, Marco seemed to spot his frantic need to get away anyway and nodded instantly.

"Of course."

There were no questions, restrictions, rules, or hesitation. Marco merely agreed. He really was nicer than Ace deserved.

Marco stood up and walked over to Thatch, who had been dithering in the doorway the whole time. Ace had not noticed him at all. The Phoenix said something to the chef, likely asking him to pass on their whereabouts to the others, and after a hesitant pause, the Fourth Division Commander nodded and retreated back to the mess. Marco returned to Ace's side and the fire-user shot him a sunny grin as he registered his request had been accepted.

"We'll only go a short ways." Marco told him. "Bay would likely have my head if she knew I was letting you fly, but I can see you want—" Need. "—this."

Ace merely nodded rapidly, bouncing on the soles of his feet. He felt like a kid in a candy store, waiting for his parent to buy the sweets and hand them over. The fire-user glanced at his notebook and shrugged before dropping it carelessly onto the deck, so eager to leave that he did not bother to waste time handing it to someone. Marco spotted his impatience and chuckled before transforming into his Phoenix form. The Summer Spirit immediately took off with the firebird right behind him.

As the air rushed past him and he was propelled through the sky, Ace felt his worries and turmoil wash away, leaving an uplifting feeling behind. If he could he would be laughing aloud. Marco followed close behind the Summer Spirit, not near enough to invade his bubble of personal airspace, but in close enough proximity that he did not risk losing sight of the fire-user.

The ocean and heavens were limitless and open, with only the white clouds in their path. Ace dove over, under, and through the opaque vapor, feeling droplets of water on his skin, and smiled as he flicked a few at the Phoenix, who gave him an unimpressed stare. The fire-user shot him an innocent look, the thought that Marco might be sincerely angry at him not even crossing his mind.

The clouds grew thicker but remained white, almost like balls of cotton floating in the sky.

The fire-user soared over the mass— still smiling— and let his hand drift through them, wishing he could land on one like it was a giant pillow. Ace pondered whether that might actually be possible— seeing as how he was a Nature Spirit and all— but decided that was something to test another day. Preferably with Jack.

Ace flew onward, trusting Marco to stop him when they needed to go back. The Phoenix seemed content to fly serenely at his side, likely sensing the fire-user's need for solitude and attempting to give him as much as he could in the current situation. The flame-eyed Spirit appreciated the blond pirate's discretion and felt yet another burst of gratefulness towards the man.

He really needed to thank Marco. And Baby Tooth, Law, Whitebeard, and so many others. Ace felt a glimmer of pride that he was— finally?— able to remember his internal promise to show gratitude.

Maybe I am getting better, he mused. I'm starting to remember more little details. I think I'm recalling more people's names too.

Ace felt rather giddy at the news and nearly spun through the air with glee. He did a few loop-the-loops, stunned by the amount of energy thrumming through his veins, and followed them up with a few corkscrew patterns.

I feel awake, he thought in awe. I'm not even tired yet. Is it because there's less sand or because I'm not so burdened? I don't have to worry about people judging me here or worrying. Oyaji accepted me even though I'm a Spirit. Pitch can't touch me in the sky. And Marco… he really does understand. He knows that I'm different and have issues… but he cares anyway. He let me come out here even though almost no one else would. He let me have my freedom.

I… I think I'm happy.

The thought made Ace twist and soar in uncontainable delight, incapable of whooping yet trying to show the world his joy all the same. He flew circles around the Phoenix like an excited baby bird showing its mother it could fly, diving in and retreating randomly. The Summer Spirit felt another bubble of mirth as the firebird stared in bewilderment that looked even funnier on the bird's face.

Ace floated above the Phoenix and went upside down, grinning toothily at the firebird. Marco glanced at him questioningly, fiery blue head tipping as he obviously attempted to decipher the reason for the Summer Spirit's playful mood.

Unable to explain, the fire-user merely shook his head in amusement and waved.

The Phoenix trilled back.

A barbed harpoon spawned from Marco's back, right beside his left wing.

Ace's thoughts ground to a halt, his horrified expression somehow mirrored by the Phoenix. The fire-user could only watch in shock as Marco abruptly transformed back into a human, plummeting from the sky with the weapon in his shoulder and blood spurting down his back and chest. Even from a distance the Summer Spirit could see the pained expression on the pirate's face as he fell, eyes round with agony and mouth open in a voiceless cry.

The Phoenix vanished beneath the clouds in an instant, swallowed up like he had plunged into the sea. Ace lurched into action, diving below the cloud cover in time to see Marco land heavily on the deck of the ship that had fired the harpoon. The blue and white flag it sported was unmistakable and the fire-user felt a torrent of varying emotions.

Marines.

The lapdogs of the World Government did not notice the furious— and terrified— Summer Spirit above them, converging on Marco as they shouted to one another.

"I can't believe we got him!"

"Quick, chain him up."

"Careful. The harpoon is seastone but he's still dangerous. He's not Whitebeard's Second in Command for nothing. You! Cover him!"

Icy fear trickled through Ace as a Marine grunt put his gun to the injured Marco's head. The Phoenix's eyes went from dazed to alert and he lashed out at another Marine as the man tried to put cuffs on him, getting the soldier in the kneecap. The goon went down with a bellow and the first Marine slammed the butt of his rifle into the blond pirate's head.

Marco's eyes rolled unsettlingly but he remained conscious. His distraction gave them time to cuff him though, and the First Division Commander found himself sporting seastone manacles around his wrists.

For the thousandth time, Ace wondered if he was in a nightmare. He watched one of his greatest fears play out in front of him and desperately wanted to deny the realness of it. But the denial did not last long and the fire-user's instincts screamed at him that this was real, Marco was real, the Marines were real, and he needed to do something.

A low chuckle caught Ace's attention and he looked to its source, meeting semi-closed eyes. The Marine Vice Admiral was vaguely familiar to the fire-user, wearing a war helmet and grey suit under his coat and holding a cigarette between his teeth. The Summer Spirit knew him from somewhere but he could not remember where. The sight of the man made his chest hurt though and Ace absently touched the place where Akainu had impaled him.

"Well, well, well... I heard the rumors that Portgas D. Ace was alive but I never thought they'd be true." The Marine said coldly. "And not only that, but I get to have a rematch with pirate scum that escaped me. It must be my lucky day." His eyes opened slightly wider and he looked at Ace like one gazed at a disgusting insect they found in their food. "I am Vice Admiral Onigumo, a champion of Justice. And for Justice, I will defeat you, pirate!"

Ace might have laughed at the cliché line if not for the fact that Marco was being held at gunpoint and the Vice Admiral was looking at him with a fanatical hatred in his eyes. He did not need a monologue to know this Marine followed Absolute Justice, murdering anyone who strayed the slightest bit from the 'righteous path' and operating without compassion or restraint in pursuit of his vile version of 'Justice'.

The mere sight of the remorseless bastard made the Summer Spirit's skin crawl and he had to resist the urge to put more distance between himself and Onigumo. He would never abandon Marco like that, no matter how much those uniforms reminded him of Marineford and false memories. The Vice Admiral noticed his unease and sneered.

"Nothing to say? You truly are a coward. As much as I want to strike you down, my orders are to bring you in alive, pirate. Your fellow criminal, however…"

Marco remained silent as the Marine yanked him up by the hair. His skin was ashen from blood loss, though his eyes were as fiery and unafraid as ever. Blue orbs met flame-colored ones and Ace did not need to be a mind reader to know what the Phoenix wanted him to do. Words did not need to be passed between them. The blond pirate wanted the fire-user to leave him and get out of there. Ace did not move, even when Marco's glare grew stern and a little desperate.

"Get down here and surrender yourself or we get to see if he can regenerate from a head shot." The Vice Admiral said coldly.

Instead of cowing Ace, the threat reignited the rage that had been simmering all morning. The Summer Spirit's expression shifted from uncertain to furious and flames crackled along his shoulders. A few Marines flinched and the one holding Marco pressed the gun more firmly to the Phoenix's temple. The Vice Admiral was undisturbed by the show of power.

"Don't try it, scum." Onigumo spat. "Unless you want your Commander to die, surrender. Now!"

Glaring at the man with all of his hatred, Ace slowly descended towards the deck. He and Marco could not have gotten too far from the Moby Dick, but it was unlikely that anyone would begin searching for them for a few more hours at least. That meant he would have to submit… and let himself be captured. The fire-user's stomach twisted into knots.

They'll kill Marco if I don't. It'll be fine. They won't have us long enough to take me to Pitch or Akainu. Besides, seastone doesn't affect me anymore, so we'll be able to bust out once they stop threatening Marco.

The logical line of thought calmed Ace and he met Onigumo's aloof gaze apathetically as he raised his hands over his head. Marco went to say something but another strike to the head sent his head lolling. The fire-user forced his expression to remain placid and kept his flames firmly under his control. He would not risk them shooting the Phoenix.

A gun was put to Ace's head and again fear slithered up his spine. He brutally reminded himself that the Marines wanted him alive in this nightm— in reality, so they would not kill him. That did not stop him from flinching slightly as another Marine warily approached, seastone cuffs grasped in his hands. It's not like it mattered. Seastone did not hinder him anymore. Really, one would think Pitch would inform his pawns about the fire-user's powers—

The manacle closed around the Summer Spirit's wrist. Emotions rampaged through Ace, chaotic and uncontrollable, and he jolted back and forth between terror and rage.

Chains mean captivity. Captivity means cells and prison and torture.

How dare they chain me.

I just escaped. I just got back to my family. Please don't take them away.

You won't capture me again.

They're going to kill Marco. They have no reason to leave him alive.

I won't let you touch him.

I can't be a prisoner again. I can't.

I won't let you take my freedom!

Only one thing kept Ace's flames hidden and prevented him from attacking out of fear or anger. The gun menacing Marco glinted in the sunlight, too close for the man to attempt to dodge, and with its wielder too far away for the fire-user to try to kill him before he could pull the trigger. The soldiers all relaxed when the manacles closed around the Summer Spirit's wrists, and Onigumo scoffed aloud.

"Well done, pirate. How kind of you to follow orders." He mocked. "I had believed you would abandon your crewmate like the coward you are, but it appears even scum like you are capable of caring about one another." He paused. Then a cruel grin crossed the Vice Admiral's features and Ace became instantly wary. "Normally you'd head right to the brig now, but let's just say I'm feeling a little vindictive at the moment."

Two Marines grabbed the fire-user's arms— Don't ignite. Not yet.— firmly. Two more soldiers grabbed Marco, but instead of dragging him and the Summer Spirit below deck like Ace expected, they pulled the still-bleeding Phoenix over to his fellow captive. The fire-user looked into hazy blue eyes, which widened with dawning horror. Onigumo noticed the First Division Commander's expression and chuckled chillingly.

"Your Commander has realized the truth, it seems. We just have orders to bring you in alive. We have no such orders about him. Normally a pirate of his caliber would be arrested for execution, but let's just say that the Government has learned its lesson from last time." He smirked. "At least, I'm certain they won't mind one less prisoner."

Ace went cold. He could not hide his fear, and Onigumo was quick to spot it and scoff.

"Still not going to speak? Not even to beg for his life? What's wrong, pirate? Too afraid?"

Ace could only stare at him silently. Don't hurt Marco.

The Vice-Admiral sneered in disappointment and gestured to his men. One struck the Phoenix in the head again. The fire-user flinched at the loud crack the gun made as it connected with his friend's skull, flame-colored eyes going round as blood dripped down Marco's forehead. The First Division Commander's own gaze was sharp with a mixture of fury and horror, the man obviously attempting to reassure Ace without words.

"Come on, pirate." Onigumo mocked. "Beg."

Ace tried to speak. Only the slightest sound escaped him, wordless and barely audible even to his own ears. The effort made his throat burn and he resisted the urge to cough or gag, instead continuing his pointless struggle to say something, anything. The Vice-Admiral either did not notice his attempts, or did not care.

"Pathetic." He spat and nodded to his grunts once more.

Marco was pulled into an upright position before Ace. The gun was pressed to the Phoenix's forehead, the safety going off with a sharp click.

Instantly, Ace's paralyzing fear was swept away, replaced by a desperate anger. Anger fed the flames, and flames meant power, and that meant he wasn't powerless. He never would be powerless again not like losing Sabo or at Marineford or against Pitch or anywhere ever again because he was strong, he could do this, he could save Marco—

The sky turned black.

The Phoenix looked into Ace's eyes, blue orbs filled with sorrow and regret.

The air heated up.

Those blue eyes begged the fire-user to avert his own, to look away so he would not have to watch his friend die.

The wind became a gale.

Don't kill him. Don't kill him.

The dark clouds flashed with light…

I won't let you kill him!

Onigumo smirked triumphantly. "Shoot him."

And it rained fire.

Orange flames descended from the sky, filling the atmosphere with flashes of burning light that fell from the heavens with the fury of Hell. The sky became barren and lifeless, any birds having fled in fear. Even the ocean seemed to go still in surprise as the fire shot down upon it, droplets of flame plunging into the sea to be extinguished. Not all made it safely to the water, however.

The Marine threatening Marco jerked away before he could fire, screaming as his sleeve was set ablaze. Once-clean air became stifling and stale, smoke permeating the air as the woodwork caught fire. It was accompanied by the foul stench of burning flesh, some screaming Marines throwing themselves into the sea as their uniforms burst into flames.

Others desperately raced about the deck, shouting as they tried to put out the many fires that sprang up, but to no avail. It was like Armageddon had come at last, the blazing downpour falling upon the ship unforgivingly.

The literal firestorm was ruthless. It was terrifying. It was unnatural. It was barbarous.

To Ace, it was rather beautiful.

The Summer Spirit observed calmly as the Marines holding Marco were turned to ash, the fire-drops so hot and fierce that they were likely killed without feeling a thing. Ace was careful to keep the drops of plummeting flame away from the Phoenix as best he could, the fire-user himself walking through the inferno without a problem.

As Marines yelled and burned and died around him, Ace stepped through the fire like an otherworldly creature, unaffected by the heat and death. The flames licked at him but they were pleasant and merely warm as they caressed his skin, leaving him unburned and eternal among the wreckage. Heat would never harm him again.

He stopped beside Marco and did not hesitate to melt the seastone cuffs and remove the harpoon. Blue flames began to work on the wounds almost instantly, and color returned to the Phoenix's pale skin. He stood unsteadily, eyes watering slightly, and stared at the destruction and chaos with open shock.

His face wavered between awe and apprehension but Ace did not care. Marco was safe. The fire-user would not allow the storm to harm him, only those that had proven to be enemies. The Marines had hurt the Phoenix. They were working with or for Pitch. They intended to capture Ace. They wanted Marco dead.

Ace would not hold back against them, especially when they threatened his friend's life.

Onigumo's coat caught fire and he was forced to abandon it, cursing loudly as he stumbled away from the roaring flames. The mast caught like dry kindling, set ablaze in an instant, and a few Marines gave wails of despair. Ace did not feel triumphant or vindictive as he met the Vice Admiral's wide eyes, meeting his gaze evenly as the man's ship and crew burned around him.

"Portgas!" Onigumo bellowed. "Stop this!"

Ace gave him what could only be a cold look. You work for the Nightmare King. You wanted to capture me. You hurt Marco. You threatened him. You wanted to kill my family.

…I have no empathy for you.

Ace sensed a shift in the wood below him and heard a menacing creak. He grabbed Marco by the right arm and took to the air. A second later, a loud crack ripped through the air, a noise that all seafaring men recognized and dreaded. The burning ship broke in half, sealing the Marines' fates, and the Summer Spirit did not regret it.

He was Ace, protective and strong. He was Nature, apathetic and cruel. He was Summer, vibrant and warm. He was a Season, ruthless and cold.

The Forces of Nature did not care for the humans caught in their rampages, snuffing out their lives as easily as a child picked flowers. Seasons were powerful, widespread, and neutral. People died within them, their demises unpreventable, and if Nature Spirits let themselves be hindered by the losses they would never be able to do their jobs. They had to sit back and release their creations of destruction without regrets, letting their possibly fatal storms go free regardless of the consequences.

It was true that Ace had targeted these humans purposely but they were allies of Pitch. They were the enemy, both because he was a former pirate and because he was one of Mother Nature and the Man in the Moon's children. The Marines would show him no mercy, so he would show them none in return.

Ace floated above the carnage with Marco clinging to him and they watched the Marine ship sink. A majority of the remaining soldiers drowned, unable to swim in the turbulent waters. Those that did not were slain by the fire-rain, some of the flames hot enough to burn holes right through the men like they were made of paper. Among them was Onigumo, who died from a fire drop through his forehead, exactly where the Marines had threatened to shoot Marco.

Ace surveyed distantly as they all died and did not feel victorious. He did not feel proud, elated, or even sadistically pleased. Instead he felt brutally calm, with the barest inkling of remorse. The Marines had been following orders. They had not stood a chance. Many likely had families. And he had just ruthlessly slaughtered them.

The thoughts were not enough to make the fire-user feel dismay or sorrow.

I just killed a lot of humans without giving them a chance for survival, Ace acknowledged. But I don't care. I will do whatever it takes to protect my loved ones.

I am a monster.

The Summer Spirit heard Marco give a pained grunt. He looked down and saw the blue flames of the Phoenix's power do their work, slowly healing the blond pirate's injuries. Marco would still need medical attention, however. Ace hefted the First Division Commander over his shoulder before he could protest or argue that he could transform. The fire-user could not trust the man to fall into the ocean at this point, with Marco still too affected by the seastone and his wounds to fly.

Without an ounce of regret, Ace flew away, leaving the burning wreck and dead humans behind.

Marco did not make a sound as Ace carried him through the air. The Phoenix may still be trying to process what he had just witnessed, or was merely exhausted from his wounds.

Or he could be afraid of angering the monster, the colder part of Ace whispered.

The Summer Spirit ignored that thought and refused to consider it further. Marco cared about him. He would not fear or hate him, even after the merciless show of power the fire-user had just displayed. He had gone through this thought process before, and knew his worries were untrue. Ace wished he had the strength to keep remembering that.

He shifted his hold on Marco, keeping the pirate held firmly over his shoulder as they soared over the turbulent sea. The flight back to the Moby Dick was not playful or joyful. Instead it was urgent and direct, with Ace speeding through the clouds so fast wind gusted in his wake. He kept below the clouds this time, intent of scouring his surroundings, but no other Marine ships appeared on the horizon to attack.

Even if they did, I could just destroy them, Ace thought without malice or bitterness.

For a Summer Spirit, he could be surprisingly cold. Or maybe it was not so surprising after all. He had always been a monster.

The Moby Dick came into sight before Ace's thoughts could drag him down further. The first person he saw was Whitebeard, the giant in his usual chair with his face turned upward, obviously waiting for his son— sons to return home. The fire-user's sharp eyes pinpointed the moment the Yonko saw Marco, Whitebeard's yellow eyes going from warm to sharp in an instant.

The other pirates milling about on the deck spotted him a moment later, and the cheerful greetings were instantly snuffed out the moment they spotted who he carried. Happy grins became alarmed looks, and the fire-user saw Jiru run off to get the nurses. Ace hovered over the deck and panicked pirates rushed towards him, staying below him as they looked up with fearful eyes. A shiver went up the Summer Spirit's spine.

What if they think I did this? What if they attack me?

Ace pushed away the irrational thought immediately. The flames keeping him aloft sputtered out as he descended to the deck with Marco still slung over his shoulder. He immediately set the pale Phoenix down, and the blond pirate stared around him like he did not recognize where they were. Bay and the other nurses came onto the deck like a stampeding herd, and pirates fled before the medical staff, eager to get out of their way or risk being trampled. The fire-user stepped backwards as well to give the doctor room.

Alertness returned to Marco's blue gaze and he tried to shove Bay away. "I'm fine. I healed. It's nothing, yoi."

"I'll be the judge of that." The doctor snarled. She turned to Ace, who twitched as she pinned him with a demanding glare. "What happened?"

Ace's hands fluttered helplessly for a moment. His notebook was shoved into them by Vista. The fire-user took a moment to shoot the swordsman a grateful look before writing quickly.

"Attacked by Marines. Seastone harpoon through shoulder. His fire seemed to heal most of it after I got it out but I'm not sure."

Bay's eyes sharpened and she glowered at Marco. "You call that 'nothing'?!" she snapped.

Marco decided that it was not worth it to have to heal from a pounding and wisely kept silent. Bay continued to snarl and mutter about idiotic birds as she checked the Phoenix over. Ace felt eyes on him and looked up to see the Whitebeard Pirates staring at him. He immediately tried to figure out what he had done wrong, and the thought that they blamed him crept up to choke him once more.

First I 'try to kill myself', then I almost get Marco killed too. Why wouldn't they blame me? They probably think I did something stupid again and got us stuck in a trap. Well, I kind of did. I wanted to fly. I wasn't paying attention. I didn't see the Marines… It is my fault. Again.

The joy and freedom Ace had felt mere hours ago dwindled away to become a distant memory so faint it might not even be real. He was beginning to seriously wonder whether he could ever be happy. Whenever something good seemed to happen to him, many bad things followed to drag him down. The fire-user looked at the floor, avoiding the accusing eyes that bore into him. A hand touched his arm and the Summer Spirit flinched, gaze snapping up to meet Izo's calm face. The okama did not look mad at him but he could be hiding it.

"Ace, Oyaji asked you a question." The fair Commander said.

Ace glanced at Whitebeard guiltily, a heavy weight in his chest. He felt tired again. Not tired because of the sand. Just… tired and exhausted in general.

He just wanted to rest.

Please don't let this be another relapse. I was so much better this morning— comparatively. Don't take that away from me, too.

"What happened to the Marines?" Whitebeard asked as if he had not just voiced the question a few seconds before.

Ace saw flashes of fire, smelled burning flesh, and heard desperate screams.

"Dead." he wrote.

"Good." Whitebeard stated.

He did not ask how, much to the Summer Spirit's relief. Said relief was quickly exterminated as Thatch and Vista sidled up near Ace in a way that suggested that they had tried to be subtle. The dim anger and sadness returned and the fire-user looked longingly at the open sky. He knew it would be a long time before he could return to it and felt a stab of grief.

Heart clenching, Ace walked up to Whitebeard's chair and clambered onto it, sitting on the giant's leg as he put as much distance as he could between himself and his babysitters. It was a weak replacement for the freedom he wanted, but it was all he could do short of outright running away before they could catch him.

The Yonko did not question him, instead looking down at his son with knowing, solemn eyes. Ace did not write anything, instead leaning against his father and observing tiredly as an objecting Marco was carried off by a relentless Bay.

My fault. Everything I do just seems to hurt people. I should have known. I can never stay happy.

He knew that if they learned of his thoughts, everyone would insist he was not to blame and had the right to be happy someday and was not a monster but Ace knew better.

I just wanted to fly, he thought morosely.

A hand landed on Ace's head and he twitched. Whitebeard did not berate him for his jumpiness. The fire-user ended up doing enough of that to himself on his own.

"Would you like to hear a story, my son?" the Yonko offered.

Ace was uncertain for a moment, feeling self-conscious and trapped out on the deck with all eyes on him. He really wanted to get away from the stares and hide again but could not request that his father move from his spot in the sun and back to his room. It was so rare for the nurses to let Whitebeard be outside these days. Instead he nodded and settled down more comfortably, taking care to stop himself from begging for a distraction from it all.

Whitebeard leaned back in his chair and began his tale. He spoke of battles and hardships, triumphs and losses, weaving grand stories of times long passed. Ace listened intently and slowly forgot about the vigilant pirates, Marco's injuries, and the Marines. Oyaji's voice was low and calming, accompanied by the softest rumble in his chest with each word, and the fire-user relaxed little by little. His fears and doubts did not fade, merely retreated to the recesses of his mind for a time. Maybe that was all he could ask for.

ROTGOPROTGOP

A/N: So. That happened. This was another chapter I had planned from the beginning. Specifically Ace releasing the rage of Nature on an enemy ship and utterly demolishing it. An angry Nature Spirit is never a good thing. An angry Nature Spirit that you threatened and who has every right to attack you because of who you work for is even worse.

Originally I was going to have Ace summon a fire-tornado, but then I looked up images of "fire rain" for the heck of it and decided to use that instead. Because this is the New World and weather is crazy, so why not?

I debated on how apathetic to make Ace during the scene and realized he would feel very little sympathy for the Marines. They pushed all the wrong buttons and made all the wrong threats. They threatened to kill Marco, and intended to do it in front of Ace, so Ace would not hold back. That's one of the differences between Ace and Jack, I think. Jack will try not to kill unless he has no other choice (with the exception of certain people). Ace will kill to protect his family.

Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, and favorited! (glomps)

Responses to Guest reviews:

To whoo: Thanks! The part with Pitch ended up a little more graphic then I originally intended but I kept it like that because it is supposed to be disturbing and creepy. (shrugs) I seriously hope I'm not giving anyone nightmares…

To ALapisNamedBob: Thank you! I'm glad you liked it. That's a pretty apt description of what happened. :P

Please review!