Chapter Twenty-Five: Blame and Doubt

Ace decided he should be used to being out of his comfort zone by now. Whitebeard's room— once a place of relative sanctuary— had suddenly become as harsh and unbearable as almost everywhere else to the fire-user, changing from warm and welcoming to strained and anxiety-inducing. And the best part was, the tense atmosphere was entirely his fault. And not in a 'his brain was being paranoid again' way. He truly was to blame this time.

The Summer Spirit did not intend to be difficult or insubordinate. He did not mean to grow a backbone and stand firm in the face of opposition for once. He just felt it was best to avoid answering the questions of the Yonko and his First Division Commander, and it was not like they could make him talk.

Well, if they wanted to they could… Ace's thoughts tried to go down a dark path but he broke away before his mind could take more than a step in that direction. Marco and Oyaji won't hurt me.

Marco exhaled sharply, fingers pressed to the bridge of his nose and his patience noticeably thin. "I don't understand why you're being so stubborn about this. We just need you to share what you know about Pitch's powers, yoi."

The Phoenix's warning tone should have scared the fire-user into compliance but it surprisingly only made him more determined to keep his silence. Ace shook his head once, not bothering to write his response. He heard Marco's teeth audibly clench. It seemed that even the blond Commander had his limits. The bitter— and possibly death-seeking— part of Ace wanted to poke and prod to see if the normally unflappable man would finally explode but he kept his expression utterly apathetic, not showing the slightest hint of mockery, nerves, or anger.

Of all the things Ace could be inflexible about, he had decided that keeping information from his father and brother was of top priority. He did not try to understand his own thought process, rather followed his instincts that telling the pirates about Pitch was a bad idea. Or maybe his pride was trying to make up for cracking and informing the Nightmare King about Blackbeard. Who knew? His ability to sort out legit concerns was not exactly rational at the moment.

Whitebeard had deigned to let Marco try to pry the intel they requested out of Ace's death-like grip, staying out of his children's argument for the time being. The fire-user guessed that the Yonko would side with the Phoenix eventually however, a thought that only made him want to keep his stance all the more. There was a reason he had been vague even when spilling his secrets to Whitebeard. There were still things he had kept close to his chest, including the Nightmare King's powers and exact nature. He did not want the Yonko to worry.

Marco took Ace's notebook and flipped back a few pages, pointing at the message that was the reason for this whole conversation. The fire-user despised past-him for revealing that the black sand was an instant kill— or enslavement, depending on how you looked at it— for everyone except him and Jack. Because of that, the First Division Commander and Yonko wanted him to explain and Ace did not see any benefit from making them fear Pitch.

"Ace, we need you to tell us what this means, why it happens, and what other abilities Pitch possesses, yoi." Marco pleaded with the close-lipped Summer Spirit.

Ace retrieved his notebook, practically yanking it from the Phoenix's grasp. "No. You'll be scared of him." he wrote.

"I doubt that." Marco shot back. "And I also don't see how that is a problem, yoi."

The fire-user modified his sentence and elaborated. "You'll be subconsciously scared of him, or worried that you won't be able to beat him. That's enough to give him more power and make your chances of defeating him much worse."

"But if we don't know our enemy we'll be going in blind and he could get the drop on us." Marco argued. "We need to know what he is capable of so we'll be prepared when we face him, yoi."

"You don't understand." Ace scribed, the letters jagged and messy due to his frustration. "Pitch is too powerful to beat. Telling you his abilities will only make things worse." Fear gives him power. Fear of him gives him more power.

"Are you sure about that, or did Pitch do something to you to make you want to keep his secrets?" Marco snapped at last, finally raising his voice. His eyes widened slightly, suggesting he had not meant to say the words aloud.

The feeling of absolute devastation that tore through Ace at his accusation was drowned by the anger that swelled up and consumed it. Flames licked at the Summer Spirit's shoulders and he balled his fist, nearly breaking his pen. A sentence could not portray the pure fury he felt at the Phoenix's claim and punching him would only bring Oyaji's ire so he performed the best, relatively peaceful insult he could.

Ace discarded his notebook carelessly on the floor and flipped Marco off with both middle fingers, a cold sneer on his face.

The Phoenix's mouth fell open but before he could respond, a heavy weight landed on the black-haired fire-user's head. Ace's breath hitched and he braced himself. He made a mistake. Not-Whitebeard was going to hit him or kill him all because he was a stubborn brat who was rude to his superior he didn't mean it he didn't—

Don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me. I'm sorry. Stupid stupid stupid stupid—!

Calm down. I'm awake. This is real.

As quickly as Ace forgot that he was in the real world and not in a nightmare, he remembered that the real Whitebeard would not harm him. The shame and embarrassment that rushed through the fire-user came as fast as the anger left and he bowed his head to avoid looking at the Yonko or the Phoenix, cheeks tinged red. He wanted to apologize but apologies always seemed to make things worse. Still, he had to make them understand why so they would not hate him.

They won't hate me. They could never hate me, his logical side murmured.

Yes they can and they will. Everyone has limits. It looks like Marco's reaching his. I'm such a stubborn idiot, his suspicious side snarled.

Ace clapped his hands over his ears and gave himself a moment to breathe, battling the negative thoughts until they left him alone. For good measure, he kept the sadness that came creeping back from swamping him as well, mentally shoving it into a corner and locking it away for the time being. Not bad. He had to focus, not wallow in self-pity again. If only his stupid brain would not overreact to every little thing and just let him pretend to be okay for a damn day.

...Self-awareness was weird. He could not stop his emotions and panicky instincts from bubbling up but he could at least understand, hate, and push them into the back of his mind now instead of having them strangle him and leave him as a hysterical mess on the floor.

Marco and Whitebeard seemed to understand Ace was struggling to maintain his lucidity so they kept silent, allowing him to perform internal maintenance as best he could. Minutes passed, and the fire-user's heartbeat returned to a healthier rate and the trembling slowly ceased.

Finally, Ace thought of words that seemed to convey his thoughts correctly, in a way that would hopefully not get him into more trouble. He reached up and patted Oyaji's hand a couple times before removing it from his head, then retrieved his notebook and wrote.

"Pitch doesn't control me. He didn't break me or brainwash me. I'm still fighting him. I'm still me." He underlined the last word multiple times before showing his message to the Phoenix.

"I know, yoi." Marco said quietly, voice tinged with guilt. "I did not mean to insinuate that you were subconsciously submitting to his manipulations. I was frustrated and let my emotions get the best of me. I'm sorry."

The Phoenix was instantly forgiven, no lectures or pity attached.

"Apology accepted." Ace wrote, even though he was the one who should be showing remorse. I should still apologize even though they never like it, he thought. Maybe if I'm specific they'll take it better? "I'm sorry I was ill-behaved and gave you the middle finger and acted like a rebellious teenaged brat again."

That last sentence was unintentional. At times it was like he thought he was writing in a private journal instead of something he would share with others. Marco's expression twitched into an unhappy one before the look was covered up by his default bored one. Ace still saw it.

Apologies are bad, he thought. They make people miserable or agitated.

"I forgive you." The Phoenix said. "Still, I'd prefer being flipped off than being punched in the nose."

His tone was lightly teasing— and chastising?— and Ace cringed internally. He noticed? Sorry. Don't say it out loud. Change the subject.

"I cannot tell you about Pitch's abilities." Again he underlined the word he wanted them to take note of.

"Can you at least tell us why?" Marco emphasized.

"It will make him stronger." Ace wrote truthfully.

Whitebeard cleared his throat. "Are you sure about that, my child, or is that merely your belief?"

The fire-user thought about it for a long pause before responding. "When more people know, there is a greater chance of the knowledge making Pitch stronger." He wrote vaguely.

"Then just tell Marco and I." the Yonko reasoned. "Once we are aware, we can decide what others need to be told."

Ace considered his words. Whitebeard made a good point. Telling too many people raised the risk of them fearing Pitch, but refraining from telling anyone would not help anybody in the long-run when they had to fight the Nightmare King.

Fine. I'll tell them, Ace thought even as a tiny piece of him mocked that he had just given in fire-user kindly told that self-loathing to shut up.

"Pitch is immortal. Literally immortal. He doesn't age and he cannot be killed while he is so powerful. He can only trapped or beaten back under very specific circumstances. We cannot force him into a retreat because he is far too strong for his minions to turn on him this time, and we have no means to make the artifact that can contain him."

"'This time'?" Marco questioned.

Ace ignored him. He did not feel like explaining. Or maybe he was still too much of a coward to, seeing as how explaining Pitch's origins would easily lead to having to reveal his own to the Phoenix. I'm a selfish asshole. Why do they tolerate me?

"What is the 'artifact'?" Whitebeard asked when he noticed the fire-user's unwillingness to elaborate for Marco.

The blond Commander seemed to comprehend that as well, for he sighed and shook his head. The Summer Spirit silently apologized to the Phoenix and recalled pieces of the story of the Nightmare King's first long-term defeat, told to him by Jack when he was younger.

"It is a diamond dagger made from the tears of the Moon." Ace wrote cryptically, knowing that the Yonko at least would understand what that meant. "I don't remember the exact details, only that you have to stab Pitch in the heart with it and when that happens everyone in the vicinity will die except the stabber and Pitch. They'll be trapped in the dagger— in an endless darkness— until they're released again."

Whitebeard frowned solemnly, his brow furrowing in thought.

Marco stared at the words in bewilderment, locked out of the loop because Ace was not brave enough to bring him into the fold yet.

"Sounds like a fairy tale." The Phoenix muttered.

If he could do so, Ace would have laughed aloud. Instead he merely smirked and shrugged carelessly.

"Pitch can be fought, but I don't know how he can be permanently defeated. Oyaji could hit Pitch pointblank with one of his punches and he'd either only be sent flying or would just skid back a couple feet and laugh." Ace revealed viciously. "That is why I don't want to share this with anyone. People will be scared if they realize they are fighting an enemy they have little chance to beat, and fear literally gives Pitch more power."

"I think I understand, yoi." Marco said. "But I also think that we'll find a way to triumph over him." His tone grew gentle. "The situation isn't as dire as you think it is."

Ace did not agree with or deny his statement. He could not claim his views were uninfluenced by his imprisonment and torture. He also could not have faith that the upcoming confrontation would end in anything but tragedy.

If Kozmotis is in there, we may be able to reason with him, the theorist part of Ace murmured. That would give us a better chance.

He knew better than to bring that up, however. The current company already seemed to think he was brainwashed.

Marco did not mean it.

He still thought it.

Ace wished his mind would stop being so divided about everything.

"Are we done here then?" he asked brusquely. He really wanted to leave and maybe go up to the deck so he could look at the sky like he wanted to.

"Not really." Marco said. "We still have to discuss Blackbeard, yoi."

Ace grimaced. "I told you everything I know. If you need to read it again I'll rip out the pages." He tapped his notebook pointedly. He really wanted to leave.

"Yes, but the fact that Pitch was able to usurp Teach's control over his powers is concerning." The Phoenix said, patience restored now that the stubborn fire-user had answered one of their questions. "We don't know if that meant he absorbed Blackbeard's powers somehow. If he did, that means he can now neutralize Devil Fruits like Teach could."

Ace pressed on his bandaged forearms, right above his stitched wounds, in order to prevent himself from flashing back to his fight with Blackbeard. The pain was a great distraction to keep him grounded but Marco disagreed with his method, hurriedly grabbing the fire-user's hands and wrenching them away from his wrists. Ace shot him a frown, a look that the Phoenix mirrored.

"Don't do that, Ace." He said sternly, a strained undercurrent to his voice.

Ace did not see what the big deal was so he merely shrugged neutrally.

Marco's lips pressed together, conveying his displeasure but he moved on. "Please, is there anything else you can tell us about how Pitch killed him? Did he give any hints how he gained control over Teach's darkness?"

Ace shook his head, abruptly feeling drained. He pulled his wrists from Marco's grasp and shuffled a few steps away from him, crossing his arms. The walls were closing in again, creeping closer and boxing the Summer Spirit in. The fire-user shut his eyes so he would not have to look at them. Hands landed on his shoulders and he twitched, eyes flipping open to meet Marco's concerned blue orbs. The blond pirate studied his face for a moment before stepping back.

"Actually… I think you can go." The Phoenix said. "Oyaji and I still need to discuss some things but I think Izo and Vista aren't busy at the moment, yoi."

Ace has to stay with his babysitters because he can't take care of himself, the fire-user internally sneered.

Outwardly he merely nodded and waved to Whitebeard. He barely took two steps before he halted.

"I need to go talk to Thatch first." Ace told them. He paused, then added. "Alone."

Marco's eyebrows crept up his forehead and a frown tugged at his lips. "Why? Is something the matter?"

Ace remembered the chef's desolate expression as he walked out of the infirmary earlier that day.

"He looked upset about something. Didn't you notice?" he wrote, puzzled.

"I guess not, yoi." Marco said, sharing a glance with Whitebeard. "I'll go with you."

"I can do it myself." Ace wrote, feeling a twinge of annoyance. Did Marco think he was not capable? Or did he think the unstable fire-user would make things worse?

The Phoenix did not appear to notice his annoyance. "I just meant that I'll help you find him, then leave when you talk to him. I still don't want you wandering around the ship by yourself, yoi."

I won't 'wander'. I think I know where Thatch is, Ace thought angrily.

He kept his resentment to himself, knowing that the First Division Commander was just trying to keep him safe— from Pitch and possibly Ace himself. The fire-user nodded again and went to seek out the chef with the Phoenix trailing behind him.

Just like Ace suspected, Thatch was in his room in the Commander's quarters. It was telling that the Fourth Division Commander was there at this hour. The chef was usually bossing his cooks around in the kitchen or out laying down contraptions for an unlucky pirate to stumble into about this time of day. Instead Thatch was sitting on his bed and staring at the opposite wall, skin pale and posture slumped. Ace wondered if he was often found looking like that and felt a strange hollowness open up in his gut.

Marco did not enter the room, instead backing away as soon as he saw Thatch was in there. Ace's heart leapt into his throat and he had to fight the urge to glance at the Phoenix and silently beg for guidance. He could not look to Marco to help him. He had sworn he could do this by himself and so he would. The fire-user swallowed his nerves and hesitantly knocked on the open door.

Thatch jolted, startled by the sudden noise. The chef's hands twitched towards the swords laying on his the table beside him and Ace shifted his weight onto his back foot, ready to flee if he needed to. Thankfully, the pompadour-sporting pirate spotted the intruder and dropped his hands from the swords' hilts before he could swing them at the fire-user.

"Ace." Thatch put on a smile so fake Ace wondered why he tried. "You scared me. Does Marco need me or something?"

The fire-user glanced behind him and noticed the Phoenix was gone. He must have returned to Whitebeard already. Warmth trickled through Ace's cold chest as he comprehended the First Division Commander had actually trusted him enough to speak with Thatch alone.

He inched into the chef's room, shaking his head, and cautiously perched beside Thatch on his bed. Fortunately the noticeably unhappy pirate did not protest, instead scooching a little to the left to give Ace more space.

"What do you need then?" Thatch asked in his usual friendly tone, but Ace could hear a slight, shaky undertone to it.

The fire-user shrugged his shoulders, uncertain how to proceed. He missed the days when he could speak— both literally and figuratively— without having to second-guess everything he wanted to say. If he hurt someone's feelings on accident back then, he could apologize and that would be that. Now it seemed like conversation did not come so easily, and it felt like everything he said would be wrong.

Did I do something to upset you?

Ace did not write the question, knowing it would cause the chef to spout denials instead of telling him what was wrong. The Summer Spirit suspected something he had written had distressed Thatch but despite that his dip in mood might not be because of the fire-user specifically, if that made any sense. It could be a subject he brought up that caused the Fourth Division Commander to close himself off from others, not Ace himself.

"What's bugging you?" The question was a bit blunt but Ace did not know where else to start.

"Nothing's wrong. I'm fi—" Thatch began, only to cut himself off when the fire-user shot him a sharp look. The chef sighed and leaned his head back, looking at the ceiling. "…You're a bit of a hypocrite, you know." He muttered under his breath.

Ace saw the Fourth Division Commander's hands twitch, like he wanted to cover his mouth. Thatch should not worry about it. The fire-user knew he was a pretty terrible person— Murderer, liar, selfish, coward, monster, freak— but at least the chef was not implying he was being mind-controlled by the enemy. He knew he was closed off, secretive, and liked to deal with his own problems, but Thatch was not like Ace. The chef was open, friendly, and willing to pour his heart out to his family when he needed to. That was why this isolation was so wrong. So Ace ignored the comment entirely and circled his first question. Thatch wilted, looking down at his hands.

"…Teach is dead." He whispered. "You couldn't beat Teach. I couldn't beat Teach. The whole crew couldn't beat Teach when were got in a fight with him when Oyaji was still recovering. But Pitch Black killed him, just like that." He snapped his fingers. "After everything we went through because of Teach, he was casually slain by a guy who probably did not even know who he was, or what he had done to any of us."

The chef brought his legs to his chest and leaned his head on them. "It's weird. I should be relieved that Teach can't hurt us again but I'm not." Thatch mumbled into his knees. "We don't have to fight him again but we weren't the ones to beat him, you know? He caused m— us so much pain but in the end we weren't the ones to defeat him. It feels like… we failed or something."

Ace kept himself from drawing swirls in his notebook, not wanting Thatch to mistakenly believe the fire-user's attention was drifting. He merely had no clue what to say. His guilt for losing to Teach, causing Marineford, and following refusal to return to his family after being resurrected gnawed at him. He did his best to ignore it, keeping it bottled up with everything else he kept hidden.

"You may not have been the ones to defeat Teach but you did beat him." He wrote slowly. "He's dead and gone, but you're still alive. The Whitebeard Pirates are still alive and together."

The words felt odd but strangely right at the same time. The fire-user himself did not feel conflicted about Teach's demise at the hands of Pitch. He was just glad the bastard was dead. Ace abruptly realized that Blackbeard's dreams had died with him and felt a surge of vindictive triumph over the fact.

Teach's motivation for everything he had done had been taken away from him. The power he had sought had been ripped from him, and he had died before his dream was close to being fulfilled. To Ace, it almost felt like karma had collected its debt. Teach had caused death and destruction to get and with his darkness, but in the end that same darkness had been ripped from his control at the whim of another.

I wonder how helpless he felt, Ace thought darkly. I hope he realized what was happening. He deserved it.

"I guess you're right." Thatch said, dragging the fire-user out of his cold thoughts. "We didn't vanquish him in a head-on fight, but we're still around. We outlasted him, and his crew. He tried to destroy us but he failed…" Ace could see the chef thinking about it, a sense of peace coming over the Commander.

"He's never coming back." He said softly. Then he smiled. "Thanks, kid. I think I feel a little better."

It was not a complete turnaround or recovery, but Ace knew better than anyone that things like this took time. Thatch deserved that time, but he should not become antisocial and reclusive— and scarred— like Ace. The fire-user smiled back at the chef.

There was a distant crash, followed by loud shouts. Thatch leapt to his feet but Ace remained seated. He idly wondered if they were being attacked before dismissing the idea. Unless some lucky bastard had gotten to the lower levels without anyone noticing, it was very unlikely that there was an invader. Someone had probably just wandered into one of Thatch's pranks.

But Thatch had been in his room all day, moping. And if he set up a practical joke earlier, he should be smirking triumphantly or laughing instead of watching the door warily. Besides, Pitch and his minions were perfectly capable of popping out of the shadows to attack from—

A blur shot through Thatch's open door, lunging directly for Ace.

Instinct took over and the fire-user sprang upwards and backwards, momentarily taking flight as he flung himself out of the path of the assailant. The blur shot through the spot the Summer Spirit had previously been in and slammed into Thatch instead, knocking him over. Heat flared in Ace's fingertips but the fire was snuffed out before it could form as he laid his eyes on the chef's 'attacker'.

A white, fluffy dog perched on Thatch's chest, licking his face a few times before pausing and realizing this was not his original target. The furry creature immediately stopped nuzzling the indignantly spluttering chef and turned to stare at Ace. The dog gave a happy bark and leapt off Thatch, sliding on the hardwood floors as he attempted to run up to the fire-user. He went low to the ground as if to jump, then paused, sniffing the air. The dog trotted over to Ace and sniffed his hand before he looked up at the Summer Spirit.

Ace stared back at the dog in bewilderment, as unmoving as a statue. He was not exactly afraid of the animal, more confused by his presence and unwilling to budge in case doing so caused it to jump on him— or worse. He had experienced too many maulings at the claws and teeth of Fearlings and Nightmares to not be apprehensive but the dog did not seem to want to hurt him…

Thatch mistook his wary stillness for paralyzed fear.

"Stefan, come here!" The chef said, tone stern but with a hint of urgency.

The dog ignored the command and smelled Ace's hand again.

"Stefan—!" Thatch began warningly but stopped when Ace finally moved.

The fire-user slowly touched the dog's head, stroking his fur almost instinctively. Stefan gave a happy yip and sat down in front of Ace, butting his head against his fingers in a silent demand for more pets. Glad he was not going to be jumped on, the Summer Spirit sat as well, Thatch's presence drifting from his mind. He continued to pet the dog, feeling the softness of his fur beneath his fingertips.

Right. This was Stefan. Stefan, the dog. The dog that Whitebeard owned. The dog that everyone on the ship definitely knew about.

…Ace did not remember him. He did not remember him at all.

The fire-user bit his lip, eyes stinging for the first time in a while. He was not going to cry. He was not going to start wailing like an infant because he could not recall that Oyaji had a dog. The Summer Spirit began to ponder what else he could have completely forgotten about but pushed the rising panic into the corner of his mind before he could break down or freak out.

Stefan noticed his distress and clambered into his lap, nuzzling his cheek and licking it. After his initial surprise, the dog appeared to have no aversion to Ace's altered appearance— and scent?— happy that his friend had come back after such a long time. The fire-user tried to remember if Stefan had liked him so much before Marineford and could not.

Don't think about it.

Ace finally recalled that he still had an audience and glanced awkwardly at Thatch, Curiel, and Jiru. All three had dopey smiles on their faces that would have been great blackmail material if the fire-user could take a picture. The Commanders looked at the ceiling or walls, embarrassed to be caught gawking, and the Tenth Division Commander spoke.

"Hehe… I see that Stefan found you." Curiel said sheepishly. "He's been a menace ever since you were brought on board— could probably smell you. Bay said she'd boot him off the ship if he got in the infirmary or bothered you so we've been keeping him in the Commander quarters while you were up and about. We weren't sure how you'd… respond to him."

Ace's hand stopped stroking the dog's back and Stefan whined. The fire-user peered at the animal's face and was shocked into stillness once more. Stefan looked back at him, unconditional joy and fondness in his dark eyes. The dog did not care that Ace had weird marks on him, was not speaking, and was a little more timid than he remembered. He was just pleased that the fire-user was back. That pure happiness and complete lack of judgement made a smile tug at Ace's lips. He reached out with a quivering hand and stroked Stefan's fur again, making him rumble lowly in content.

"…I think he's okay." Thatch said softly.

Ace guessed he was not supposed to hear that, but was unaffected by the statement. He cautiously hugged the dog, wrapping his arms around him and pressing his cheek against his head. Stefan accepted the embrace happily and his tail whacked the fire-user's side as it wagged enthusiastically. Ace experienced the stupid urge to cry again, but felt that sadness was not the source this time.

For the moment, he was at peace.

He hoped it would last.

ROTGOPROTGOP

Jack never thought he would enjoy being alone. Well, he was not completely alone. Baby Tooth remained a supportive companion for the days between their departure from the Thousand Sunny and arriving at Whitebeard's closest territory, staying on his hoodie or flying at his side as they explored. The Winter Spirit avoided the natives on principle, partially because he was uncertain whether they would fear him or not, partially because he did not particularly want to speak with anyone at the moment.

The island was seemingly Pitch-free, a definite plus in Jack's book. He did not want to face another massacre like he had with the Marines in the mountains. Seeing as there was little rhyme or reason for the Nightmare King's targets, it was just through luck that this place was still untouched by the Fearlings and Nightmares. He hoped it lasted, especially considering that the island was so close to Pitch's base.

We need to remember where the shadowy island is in case we need to go back there, Jack mused as he sat in a tree outside of one of the many villages on Whitebeard's island. Though I doubt Pitch would stay there anymore because it got invaded a few times. He'll probably move. Unless he thinks anyone who goes there won't be a threat…

Surprisingly, the lack of interaction and even general action had helped Jack greatly, allowing him to calm down and deal with the frustration that troubled him. He was not willing to let go of his possible grudge just yet, but he would not throw a fit and bury Luffy with a blizzard the next time he saw the rubber man. The fact that the Straw Hat Captain still had not remembered him rankled at the Guardian, but it was only a tiny part of the reason he was so furious.

Luffy had nearly caused Law to drown. He had accidentally thrown his friend into the sea. If the Heart Pirate had been retrieved immediately, had been conscious and strong enough to scowl at the Straw Hat Captain and maybe amputate a couple of his limbs in retaliation, Jack could have let it go and laughed it off. But the surgeon had almost died. And Luffy had moved on from it immediately, without even thinking about what he had almost done.

Sure, his present-focused attitude was done without malice and could be very admirable at times, but that did not make it right.

Baby Tooth took off from her usual perch on his shoulder, flying upward and looking around hopefully. Today was the day that the Thousand Sunny was supposed to reach this island unless complications arose. If the Straw Hats did not arrive today, Jack had decided to give the pirates an extra day to show up before he started searching for them. The sea could not be relied on to let ships sail peacefully to their destinations, and it was highly possible that they could be thrown off course by a storm.

At least I'll know I didn't create it, Jack mused.

Baby Tooth flew back to his side, chirping excitedly. Jack nodded and stood up, stretching his arms over his head. He leapt into the air and let the Wind take him towards the beach, spotting a familiar ship heading towards the island. He spotted Usopp in the crow's nest and waved at the sniper, who returned the greeting and shouted down to the pirates on the deck.

The Winter Spirit landed gracefully beside Robin, who smiled in greeting, not even the slightest bit startled by his sudden descent. Jack supposed that being a Straw Hat made a person get used to things falling from the sky, though he smugly surmised that those plummets were much less controlled than his. The other humans on the ship rushed or wandered over to greet the Guardian, some faster than others. Zoro was noticeably absent, but Jack quickly spotted him napping against the mast.

Among them was Law, who— while slightly paler and more tired-looking than usual— was up on his feet and came to them without showing the slightest sign of illness or pain. Baby Tooth gave an excited squeal and flew to the surgeon, hugging his cheek happily and chattering greetings in his ear. Law rolled his grey eyes even as he petted her head gently.

"Hello to you, too." He murmured.

The Fairy asked if he was okay, not that the surgeon would know that. Apparently her tone conveyed enough concern that Law understood regardless.

"I'm fine. There were no further complications." He assured her.

Baby Tooth clung to Law's face for a moment longer, nuzzling his cheek affectionately, before floating up and landing on his hat, smiling like a cat that had just been given cream. The surgeon looked skyward again and shook his head ruefully, careful not to dislodge his passenger.

Jack hid a smile. There was no doubt in his mind that the Fairy had wormed her way into the stern man's distant heart. It was so cute. The Guardian had a feeling he would lose a couple limbs if he said that aloud though so he kept his sentiments to himself.

"Hey, Jack!"

The Winter Spirit kept his posture relaxed as Luffy ran up to him, a wide smile on his face. Jack stopped himself from wondering if the Straw Hat was just being his usual happy-go-lucky self or if he had already forgotten about— or moved past— the fact that the Guardian had been angry with him. If he allowed himself to mull over the pirate's attitude, he would get moody again and the last thing he needed was to bring a storm here and end up 'attacking' one of Whitebeard's territories.

"Anything to report?" Sabo asked, thankfully giving Jack an excuse not to greet Luffy.

"Nope." Jack said, popping the 'p'. "The island is as quiet as can be. I haven't seen a single Nightmare or Fearling on the place."

Usopp slumped slightly, looking relieved. "Oh, good."

The ship pulled up to the dock without incident— and without being fired upon which was always a bonus. Franky, Brook, Chopper, and the sleeping Zoro stayed behind to guard the Sunny while the rest of the pirates, Revolutionaries, and Spirits departed.

As Jack's feet landed on the firm wood of the pier, a man walked quickly towards them. His steps were not urgent and the look on his face was calm and kind, but Law and Sanji tensed warily, and Koala's stance shifted to better balance herself. The man stopped before the visitors, eyes flicking up to look at the Straw Hat Pirate symbol displayed proudly up above. Instantly, the man's posture relaxed.

"Welcome, Straw Hat Pirates!" the man said warmly. "I am Mayor Harold. How may I help you?"

More than one person paused, surprised by the genuine, friendly greeting they were receiving. Even Luffy was taken aback, more used to people sneering— or screaming— "Pirates!" and running away like scared chickens.

It was Nami who broke the stunned silence. "You know us?"

The mayor nodded exuberantly. "Of course, young lady. Your Captain fought alongside Whitebeard during the War and is the brother of one of his Commanders." He looked at Luffy and his eyes softened. "As a result, the Straw Hat Pirates and their allies are considered friends and unofficial allies of the Whitebeard Pirates. If you go to any of Whitebeard's territories you will be welcomed."

Jack's gaze caught Sanji's and he saw the calculating look in the cook's eyes. The Guardian guessed he was thinking about what this could mean for the crew, while maybe also resisting the urge to slap himself— and possibly Luffy— for not knowing they were considered allies of such a powerful figure.

"We need the Den Den number of the Old Man." Luffy said bluntly and without preamble. "It's really important. Ac—"

Extra arms appeared on his shoulders and the hands clapped over his mouth. Robin looked amused as she held the position while her Captain mumbled into her conjured hands, and she only released him when he went silent. She let him go and Luffy pouted, but stayed silent.

"Of course." The mayor said without pause. "I believe that you should use your own Den Den. It will have a greater range than ours."

He was either really good at keeping a straight face, or he was used to meeting strange characters like the Straw Hats. Seeing as how his home was under the protection Whitebeard, probably the latter with a bit of the former. The mayor wrote something down and handed it to Luffy, who grinned at the piece of paper.

"Thanks, Henry!" he chirped.

The mayor took it in stride, not the least bit offended. "Actually, it's Harold."

"Right." Luffy said vaguely, practically vibrating with energy. "Come on, we have to go call the Old Man!"

He ran back onto the ship before anyone could stop him. Sabo chuckled, Nami growled, and Robin smiled serenely.

"If you need supplies or anything before you depart, do not hesitate to ask." The mayor said kindly.

"Thank you, Mayor Harold." Sanji replied for his absent Captain.

He nodded gracefully and waved as the visitors rushed back onto their ship to find Luffy before he called Whitebeard on his own.

"Well, that was easy." Sabo commented. "I'm used to everything going wrong for us. I thought we'd have to at least fight someone."

The Logia glanced at Jack, who shrugged helplessly. He was not certain the mayor had even seen him today, not that he was going to bring that up. If that was the case though, for once the Winter Spirit was glad he was invisible and had not caused a scene.

"I guess we just got lucky." Usopp said, happy to not have to deal with a misunderstanding for once.

Nami abruptly smacked her forehead. "We're such idiots! We should have had Jack ask for the Number when he was here all this time, then fly back to us."

"That wouldn't have worked." Jack said instantly.

"Why not?" Usopp asked curiously.

The Guardian mentally cursed himself as he thought up an excuse other than 'I'm invisible to most people.' "I've been staying hidden. I'm not a Straw Hat Pirate and I have no proof that I'm allied with you. If I came waltzing up to them and asked for Whitebeard's number they'd attack me."

Luckily, the sniper bought it. "That's true…"

They found Luffy with the others that remained on the ship hand reaching for the Den Den. Sanji tackled his Captain to the ground, sitting on his back with a stern expression on his face.

"Wait a minute, shitty Captain! We have to think about what we're going to say."

Luffy's arms were trapped under him so he stretched his neck in an attempt to grab the snail with his teeth. Nami picked it up and carried it away.

The rubber pirate huffed. "We're going to tell the Old Man and Pineapple that Ace is alive and about Pitch Black."

"Yes," Sanji said patiently. "But we need to figure out how we're going to tell them. Do you think they'll just believe that Ace is alive?"

"I wouldn't lie about that." Luffy said seriously.

The cook sighed. "I know that—"

"And so do they." The Straw Hat Pirate said, shockingly stern. He wiggled out from under Sanji and took the Den Den. "I'm calling them."

He dialed the number and waited. With each purr, the butterflies in Jack's stomach grew as nerves got the best of him. What if they did not pick up? What if they did not believe them? What if the number was out of date and they could not contact the Whitebeard Pirates? It had already been so long since Ace escaped Pitch. Was he alone? Scared? Unconscious? Captured again? Was he even ali—?

The purring stopped as the line was picked up.

"Hello? Who is this?" the man on the other end asked, tone cautious but not confrontational.

"Hi! I'm Monkey D. Luffy. I'm gonna be Pirate King!" the rubber man greeted.

"Luffy!" the person gasped, the Den Den's eyes bugging out. His voice grew distant for a moment. "It's Luffy!" There was the sound of muffled shouts. "Quiet, quiet!" Jack doubted the plea for silence was directed towards them. "I'm Vista, one of Whitebeard's Commanders. Listen—"

"Hi, Velvet." Luffy interrupted. "I have something really important to tell you."

"Vista. All right but I—"

"Sanji says you won't believe me but I know you will." The rubber man continued.

"Nice to hear but—"

"Ace is alive." Luffy said firmly but softly. "I don't know how but he is. He was captured by this guy called Pitch Black but he escaped and he's out there alone and—"

"We know."

That silenced the Straw Hat Captain. Sanji snagged the Den Den from Luffy's limp grasp and spoke.

"This is Sanji, the Straw Hats' cook. What do you mean, you know?"

"We've been trying to find you for weeks." Vista said, the Den Den looking both relieved and exhausted. "Ace is here, on the Moby Dick. He has been for a couple months."

There was a moment of complete silence.

Then everyone shouted at once. "WHAT?!"

ROTGOPROTGOP

Being an Ally of Whitebeard certainly had its benefits. One of them was being able to stop in town for supplies and not have to worry about being chased out. The Maelstrom Spider Pirates had not intended to have to get food and other necessities before meeting up with the Yonko, but a recent storm had set them off course, delaying them by four days and leaving their rations dwindling. Lucky for them, they just happened to drift to one of Whitebeard's many territories, where they were welcomed with open arms.

Squard sat on a barrel near the edge of the welcoming party that was going on, drinking from a tankard and smiling to himself as he watched his crew enjoy themselves. The party had not been planned but the natives had been overjoyed to be able to help one of Whitebeard's allies and begged the pirates to join them and celebrate.

Before the storm the Maelstrom Spider Pirates had been ahead of schedule as they made their way to the meeting point with the Yonko, so Squard gave in and gave his permission to have fun for one night. They would be on their way come morning, regardless of any complaints or hangovers the pirates may experience in the near-future.

Squard chuckled as two of his men clung to each other and attempted a type of line dance, instead falling onto their butts to the glee of their crewmates and the villagers. The Captain himself was not yet tipsy enough to be drunk, though he was pleasantly buzzed at the moment. The pirate heard someone sit beside him and glanced at the person, just able to spot a vague shape among the shadows against the wall. The guy must be wearing black or other muted colors. He nearly blended into the darkness around him. Squard mumbled a greeting, leaning back with a sigh.

"Aren't you going to join them?" his companion asked in a soft, velvety voice.

"Nah." Squard grunted. "I just like to watch."

"Hmm." The man murmured. "You do not want to become too inebriated. You want to keep your guard up."

"Yup." Squard admitted freely. "You never know what can happen."

"Nowhere is truly safe." His companion agreed. "You already lost one crew. You're so afraid to lose the other."

Squard blinked, caught between feeling shocked that the man knew about that and angry that he had brought up his loss so casually. He turned to confront his companion and terror gripped his heart. The 'person' beside him met his gaze calmly, even as pure malice shone in his unnatural eyes.

The Captain found himself paralyzed beneath that horrifying gaze, feeling as if he were facing a flesh-eating monster instead of an apparent humanoid. Now that his mind was clear, he could sense the power and unsettling aura that emanated from the 'man', sending icy water down his spine and making his hands shake.

The creature— for this thing could not be called human by any definition of the word— shifted his gaze away from Squard, landing on his oblivious crew and the villagers almost gently. Squard regained his ability to speak even as his fear grew tenfold.

"Please, don't." he whispered.

The monster grinned with too many teeth.

Darkness rose up like a tsunami to cover the moonlit sky, and the air filled with screams.

ROTGOPROTGOP

A/N: Welp. That went dark. Oops. I looked over this chapter on the site but I tend to miss mistakes so please tell me if words are missing, added, spelled wrong, or switched. Thanks.

Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, and favorited this story! I really enjoy writing it and you guys are doing a great job keeping me motivated. :)

Responses to Guest reviews:

To whoo: Thank you for the review! It was difficult to bring up Teach's death because Pitch was the only one who knew about it. Thatch didn't get a hug. He got a doggy to the face. XD

To Guest: Thanks for the review. I'm glad I can help you, even if it's just in a little way. That's part of the reason why I write. If my stories can make one person escape and feel a little better for a while, then it's worth it. (hugs)

To V: Thank you!