Chapter Thirty-Eight: Freedom of a Summer's Day
Ace woke in time to get a stone to the jaw. The impact snapped his head to the side as pain exploded in his chin and his vision darkened. Another rock striking his cheek forced him back into reality and he panted, raising his head. Before him was a mob of gigantic size, filling the cobblestone streets as far as the eye could see. Angry, terrified, and repulsed faces looked up at him, and the Summer Spirit almost quailed beneath the loathing in so many of those eyes.
He finally took note of his position and realized he was tied to a stake, his arms behind his back and his neck and ankles chained to the pole. A third stone struck Ace— in the stomach this time—and he could not hold back a wince. The anger of the mob was only enhanced by the shouts that filtered out through the roars of the crowd, insults coming forth with the intent of hurting more than any projectiles.
"Monster!"
"Demon spawn!"
"Die like your father!"
"Burn in hell!"
"Tainted blood runs in your veins!"
"Menace!"
"You never should have been born!"
"Scum!"
"Kill the Pirate King's bastard!"
Apparently Ace was going to be executed again. He should be more scared or maybe even weary like how a sane person would react, but instead he was more perplexed. Perhaps he was being a little slow on the uptake about what was happening, but were they going to burn him at the stake this time? That did not make sense. He was a Fire Spirit. Heat could not hurt him.
Ace flinched as a sharp stone split the skin on his cheek. He tried pulling at his bonds but gave up quickly when they refused to budge. He scanned the crowd, cringing as a rock hit his shoulder, and searched for any allies in the mob. The fire-user did not recognize the city they were in. It was definitely not Marineford or Dawn Island or even Loguetown. Did that mean that Whitebeard and the others would be unable to find him this time? He did not see any friendly faces in the onlookers.
I'm on my own. Maybe that's for the best.
Thudding footsteps sounded from slightly behind Ace and he craned his neck, trying to see who was coming. His heart froze in his chest before it sped up to a thousand beats a minute, like it was trying to burst from his ribcage.
Akainu strode up beside Ace, staring coldly down at the fire-user. The Summer Spirit's breathing quickened in response, fear flashing through his expression, and a satisfied look momentarily crossed the Marine's harsh features. The Admiral— Fleet Admiral?— turned to the crowd, which grew silent.
"Today, a criminal which carries the cursed blood of the Pirate King in his veins shall be put to justice. Today, Portgas D. Ace shall be burned for the crimes of piracy, murder, obstructing Justice, and carrying the blood of Gold Roger." From Ace's point of view, Akainu's eyes seemed to glow red. "But first… we have two other criminals to deal with."
It was then that Ace saw the two people being led through the crowd. Fear spread through his body like ice, slicing through his heart and freezing him to his core, even as something wild and desperate burned through his veins, screaming in hopeless denial.
No.
A chained and bloody Luffy and Sabo were being dragged up to the execution platform.
The Revolutionary was by far the worse off of the two, with crimson dripping down from a deep gash on his forehead and one arm so badly mangled it was purple. The blond-haired Logia looked concussed, gazing around with hazy blue eyes at his surroundings like he could not register what was going on. He was pulled more than led to the gallows, stumbling every few steps and forcing the Marines guiding him to yank him along like a bewildered, injured dog.
The Straw Hat Captain was better off, with only a few contusions and scrapes, and strode forward resolutely with a stoic, determined expression. It was only when he saw Ace that the calm look was replaced by shock and fear. Luffy finally began to struggle, mouth opening in a familiar shout, but a strike from the butt end of one guard's weapon sent him to his knees. The chained fire-user tried to call out to his brother or scream insults at the Marine as they carelessly pulled the downed pirate along, but could not utter a sound.
Luffy and Sabo were brought up to the platform and forced to kneel before Akainu, facing the crowd. The mob jeered and booed at the two, expressions demonic with hate. They did not know the two personally. They did not see them as people. To the crowd, they were monsters, anarchists, and criminals who deserved to die. But Ace knew better. Luffy and Sabo were his brothers, his lights. They were kind and funny and wonderful and had dreams and deserved to live.
"Monkey D. Luffy, son of the Revolutionary, Dragon. Outlook Sabo, Chief-of-Staff of the Revolutionary Army." Akainu growled. "For your crimes against the World Government and relations to the Most Wanted Man, you are hereby sentenced to death."
It happened too quickly for anyone to even have a chance to stop it. Flesh became magma, and the Marine struck without mercy. His fist plunged through Sabo's back, sticking out his chest, and glassy blue eyes widened with shock. Then they filmed over, faded in death, and Sakazuki remorselessly ripped his hand free. Ace may have been screaming, lips parted in a soundless wail. He could not voice the anguished shrieks building in his chest but he tried, thrashing against his bonds and howling in silent agony as Sabo's motionless body fell to the platform.
The crowd roared its approval, glad one of the monsters was dead, and Akainu stood behind Luffy. The Straw Hat Pirate looked forward expressionlessly, before his gaze shifted to Ace. His eyes softened, growing slightly teary, and the small smile he gave his brother was sad and apologetic. Luffy did not want to die like this, with his older brother watching, but he could not prevent it. He had accepted it.
Luffy did not even attempt to move as Akainu drove his magma fist through his heart. Ace wailed mutely as his youngest brother slumped to the wood, dead before his head hit the floor. Even as his mind seemed to shatter and fall apart, the fire-user prayed that Luffy's death had been as quick as it seemed.
A yawning hollowness opened up inside him and he did not move as Akainu approached. He was next. He was going to die now. But maybe that was okay. He would be with his brothers again.
Or maybe I won't be. I shouldn't be. I'm a failure. I let them die.
His tears were quickly evaporated by the searing heat from magma. Ace raised his eyes, meeting Sakazuki's apathetic gaze, and felt his lips quirk upward into a broken smile. He did not mean for it to be a challenge, but the Admiral took it as one. His eyes narrowed and instead of running Ace through the chest like his brothers he grabbed his prisoner's leg.
Ace's eyes rolled back and his throat strained in a voiceless scream as he felt his skin blacken. It felt like his leg had been nearly torn off instead of burned, but the smell alone was enough to tell him that skin had indeed been charred. The agonized sensation remained when Akainu let go, only for the Marine to do the same to his other limbs, one by one.
Through the haze of pain and terror, Ace could hear the crowd cheering. He did not understand how the people below could let this happen. How could they see this and not be horrified? Did they truly hate him so much that they could bear to watch him be tortured to death?
I deserve it, his grieving mind thought. This is my atonement. I deserve to be punished. I'm the son of the most hated man in the world, and I just let my brothers die. I should have been stronger. I should have saved them. I should have…
He could still hear the jeering and taunts of the crowd. Some were for him, but many others were directed at his fallen brothers. Ace wanted to be angry about the insults they threw at Luffy and Sabo but could not summon the clarity to think beyond the pain and grief.
Ace was faintly aware that Sakazuki was burning his stomach now— not penetrating deep enough to boil his organs yet, unluckily— and wished it would cool down enough for his tears to stop evaporating and let him show his sorrow. It was too hot. Hotter than the desert, and his last death, and a Summer's day.
Anger snapped neatly into place, startling Ace with its intensity, and his eyes focused. This was not possible. Sakazuki had beaten him before, but that was because his power outclassed the fire Logia's. But now, Ace was a Summer Spirit, one of Mother Nature's seasons. If Jack could handle going near a volcano, a Fire Spirit like him certainly could.
Ace had melted metal and seastone. He had flourished inside blistering infernos. He had made flames so hot they had evaporated part of a tsunami in a second, dissipating it and keeping himself and Marco safe. He was the Spirit of Summer, which had better be stronger than a lava-wielding bastard. Heat and fire were his to control, and would never be used against him again.
Fire is mine.
The pain searing his body vanished. Ace shuddered once and opened his eyes, looking down at his healthy, unburnt skin. It was like he had never been hurt. Though in actuality, he was never harmed. He saw Akainu step back in shock in the corner of his eye but ignored the man. For a second everything blurred, and he thought he spotted a trapped-desperate-yearning-helpfreeme fire just out of reach, but he dismissed its presence as well, focusing on more important things.
Ace looked at his brothers' corpses and felt tears prick at his eyes. He was ageless, unlike them, and be it through illness, violence, or even old age, he would lose Luffy and Sabo one day. But for now, they were alive. They were okay. They would not live forever, and Ace might not be there to protect them when they needed him most, but he had to accept that, just like he had when he had left Luffy behind at Dawn Island. In the past, he was there for them. In the future, he would lose them. But for now, his brothers had him to watch their backs, and he could watch theirs.
Particularly when it came to magma bastards.
Ace stared at Sakazuki, at his magma body and the heat coming off him in waves, and saw a real monster. However, the Marine was not one he could not hope to face. Akainu had beaten him. He had hated the fire-user more for things out of his control than the things Ace himself had actually done. He hid behind the farce called 'Absolute Justice' and used it as an excuse to kill not only those he hunted but those he was meant to protect.
The Summer Spirit was not one to make speeches about life and the importance of protecting the innocent, but thinking about all the awful things Akainu had done made Ace realize what a disgusting human being the man was. Compared to that, it was difficult for the fire-user to see himself as a monster. Instead Sakazuki was a monster, a hypocrite, and a coward in Ace's eyes.
The fire-user found that he could not be afraid of a weak fraud like that.
Akainu burst into white flames. Unlike in the other nightmares, the inferno did not cause Ace to go to another dream, or the 'Marine' to instantly vanish. Though he remained silent and the scene was not as graphic as it should be, Sakazuki burned like he was the one at the stake. As the Summer Spirit watched the nightmare-version of his murderer burn, he smiled.
Maybe I'll do that in real life someday.
The thought was rather dark, but that was okay. Ace was a pirate. He was not expected to be nice to his enemies.
ROTGOPROTGOP
Jack tried to pretend to not notice Sabo's expression as he sat at Ace's bedside. He did. But it was difficult to remain silent when seeing the way the Revolutionary's visage would shift between anger, sadness, and hurt. The Winter Spirit would normally be prodding to see what was wrong by now, but the subject was so touchy that even he did not want to push Sabo's buttons to see when he would explode. If he was being honest with himself, his newfound caution was partially because the Logia could now literally blow up. Jack would be fine if he did, of course, but the medical equipment and other important things might not. Not to mention that Bay would be greatly displeased if her infirmary caught on fire.
He and Sabo continued to sit in silence, listening to the heart monitor and watching Ace's chest rise and fall. It was starting to become suffocating, but Jack could not bear to dispel the tension. He knew he was breaking the big brother code of forgiveness, but he was still a little mad at the Revolutionary for saying those things about Ace.
As if he sensed Jack's thoughts, Sabo spoke. "I'm sorry. I was out of line yesterday."
Jack kept quiet, waiting for him to continue. He spotted Bunny in the doorway, frozen in a position that would have made the Winter Spirit laugh in any other circumstance. The Pooka looked like he wanted to retreat but dare not to in case he interrupted as a result, resulting in him standing there like a furry statue.
The Revolutionary did not notice the Guardian of Hope. He looked away from Jack and Ace, voice suspiciously shaky. "I can't forgive Ace. I know that's awful of me because we don't even know if he actually hurt himself, but I just can't let it go." He finally glanced at the Winter Spirit, eyes filled with tears. "He may have tried to kill himself. Why would he do that? Did we do something wrong?"
For a moment, all Jack could see was a scared, confused ten year-old boy where Sabo sat. The Winter Spirit darted forward, hugging the Revolutionary, and he felt the blond-haired Logia shake.
"I don't know what we could have done differently or why he did it." Jack said honestly. "I'm trying not to dwell on it. But I'm sure Ace would be mad if he knew we were blaming ourselves."
"Yeah. Sounds like him." Sabo gave a watery chuckle. "He's such a hypocrite. He always thinks that he is the guilty party, but won't let anyone else think the same."
"That's just how Ace works." The Winter Spirit said. "Though it has been a lot worse lately. He told me about a lot of his nightmares a while ago. In a lot of them, everything bad that happened was 'his fault'. Or at least, the nightmare versions of everybody blamed him for everything. It… really took a toll on him." Jack sat back, staring at the ceiling without really seeing it. He took a shuddering breath. "I guess it transferred to reality. That sense of worthlessness, I mean. Maybe that was why he—" The Guardian of Fun pressed his hands against his eyes. "I think I'm failing at the not-blaming thing and not thinking about why." He tried to make it a joke but his tone came out wrong, instead sounding rather pathetic.
"…We're just a couple of paranoid worrywarts, aren't we?" Sabo said with a fragile laugh. His shoulders slumped. "I really am sorry I said all that. I didn't mean it. Not really."
"I know." Jack replied. "For the record, I'm sorry I punched you. I guess we were both a bit… out of control."
Sabo shook his head ruefully. "I guess. Still, I have to say you have a nice right hook."
"Tooth's is worse. She knocked out one of Pitch's teeth." Jack boasted.
"I'd pay to see that." The Revolutionary murmured.
They returned to silence, though it was less suffocating then before. Jack watched Bunny dither in the doorway, torn between retreating and stating whatever reason he had come for. The Pooka did not decide, and after a while, the Winter Spirit returned his attention to his brother,
"Doing better now?"
"Not really. You?"
"Kind of. Not really." Jack admitted.
"Should have known." Sabo said. "We're stuck wallowing in our misery right now, and will be until Ace wakes up. I just want him to explain and then maybe I'll be fine?" He sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
Jack's thoughts went through their conversation and he comprehended a large part of the Revolutionary's uncertainty. "It's okay that you're mad at Ace, you know." When Sabo glanced at him sharply, he continued. "I don't like that you are and I don't agree with it, but I get it. Ace is hurting a lot, and that— plus other things— make you feel guilty for being angry about what he did, but that doesn't mean you're a terrible person for feeling that way. I'm guessing you're angrier about not being able to stop it—" And yourself, Jack thought but did not voice. "—than at Ace himself but I know you're mature enough not to just lash out at him or something. I know also you love your brother and even if you're upset with him for hurting himself, you'll be there for him when it matters." He rolled his head sideways, meeting torn blue eyes. "You'll move past this once you get some answers, but for now it's okay to feel betrayed."
The Revolutionary relaxed. "You're right."
Ace twitched.
Sabo gasped.
The Revolutionary hunched over, expression set in a grimace, as flames flickered over his shoulders. His entire body shook, muscles taut beneath his clothes, and for a moment Jack thought his blond-haired brother was going to be sick. He grabbed the bucket kept there for such purposes as he moved before Sabo, putting an ice-covered hand on the Logia's shoulder. Sabo quaked beneath his fingers and his flames licked angrily at Jack's skin but were unable to touch the Winter Spirit. To Jack, it almost looked like the fire was stretching outward, reaching towards Ace.
Then the flames vanished quicker than they came and Sabo crumpled. The Guardian caught his brother— who thankfully was still conscious— and eased him into a sitting position in a chair. The Revolutionary breathed harshly, face covered in sweat.
"Are you okay? What happened?" Jack asked urgently.
"Fine. I'm fine." Sabo panted. "Just felt— pulling— Fire felt weird— I'm fine."
Jack's brow furrowed as he took in the worrying statements. "Maybe you should go see—"
"I don't need a doctor." Sabo interrupted, eyes growing alert once more. "It's probably just exhaustion and stress. The fire always goes wonky whenever I'm tired." He stood shakily, brushing off Jack's hands and shooting him a weak smile. "I'm fine. I think I'm just going to go lay down for a little bit."
The Revolutionary stumbled out the door, one hand pressed to his head. Jack frowned and turned to Bunny, intending to voice one of the many concerns he had, only to pause when he saw the Guardian of Hope's expression. Bunny's ears were flat against his head, his eyes round with shock. The Guardian of Fun could not blame him. Even though the Pooka had run into all sorts of strange powers and characters, it was still startling to see someone burst into flames. But that was not what caught the Winter Spirit's attention. Bunny's emerald eyes were dark and shone with more concern than anyone should feel towards someone that was practically a stranger.
"He has fire powers?" Bunny asked lowly.
"Yeah. He's a fire Logia. He ate Ace's old fruit, the Mera Mera no Mi." Jack said. He hesitated, then nudged the Pooka playfully. "What's with that face? You scared? I didn't know you were afraid of a little fire, Kangaroo."
"I'm not." The Pooka said, not taking the bait.
Jack's smile faded as he registered the grave tone in Bunny's voice. The Guardian of Hope glanced around in a way that he might have been intended to be casual.
"Has Ace mentioned sensing something in Sabo, or feeling… agitated around him?" the Pooka asked.
Jack's brow crinkled as he considered the question. "No. Why?"
Bunny's ears went ramrod straight and swiveled. His jaw shut with a click. "I'll explain later, once Firecracker wakes up. It's not— It's really— " He gave a frustrated sound. "It's instinct, you see and— Later." He turned towards the door. "I'll go send someone in—"
The Winter Spirit grabbed the Guardian of Hope's shoulder before he could leave. "Oh no no no. You can't just walk out after saying something like that."
The Pooka pulled his arm out of Jack's grasp. "I have to. It's too easy for some mongrel to listen in. Just…" Bunny's expression twisted with indecision before his eyes hardened. "Make sure to ask about Sabo when Ace wakes up, alright?"
The first pricks of icy anger settled in Jack's chest. "Why? Come on, you have to give me something."
Bunny hesitated and glanced around, ears turning again. He huffed, crossing his arms. "Let's just say that if Ace and Sabo fight over that fire, Firecracker is going to win." The Pooka shook his head stiffly. "Scratch that. It wouldn't be a fight at all. Ace would just take it."
The curt sentences explained little to nothing, instead giving Jack a thousand more questions. "What in Manny's name are you talking about? What fire? Why would Ace and Sabo fight for it? What are you…?" His eyes narrowed. "Does this have something to do with the Mera Mera no Mi?"
"Yes and no." Bunny told him bluntly. "Though in this specific case, yes."
Jack's first thought was that the Pooka was insinuating that Ace wanted his old fruit back. The burst of instinctive outrage on his brother's behalf was quickly snuffed out as he considered Bunny's words further. Ace had fire powers. Sabo had a fire Devil Fruit. Apparently that meant Ace would want to 'take' the fire in Sabo. The Winter Spirit was hopelessly lost and confused, lacking a lot of information that Bunny mulishly refused to share, but the scenario sounded strangely familiar…
Didn't Ace mention that Pitch took control of Blackbeard's darkness?
Jack felt the need to grab the bucket he had gotten for Sabo. Comprehension was a terrible thing, and if the Winter Spirit's initial thoughts were on the right path, he wished he had remained ignorant. Ace would never intentionally hurt Sabo. To even think such a thing was possible was ludicrous. But Bunny had dropped cryptic hints about 'instincts' and 'sensing' fire and 'taking' said fire. The Summer Spirit may not try to 'grab' the fire in Sabo consciously, but subconsciously…
But why? What's the connection?
Someone with the answers stood right in front of him, and would not share anything. Jack felt justified in his frustration.
Bunny raised a paw, sensing the question on the tip of Jack's tongue. "I can't say more, Frostbite. It's too dangerous for all of us, and him."
The nod in Ace's direction was enough to shrink Jack's confusion and curiosity to manageable levels, though his alarm was increased in exchange.
"Fine." he said unhappily. He jabbed a forefinger in the Pooka's direction. "You will explain later."
Bunny gave a stiff nod and strode out of the room in order to discourage further prodding, leaving Jack alone with his thoughts.
ROTGOPROTGOP
Ace woke in chains. More specifically, he woke up in chains while being dragged. Manacles were locked around his neck, his hands were behind his back, and his feet could barely move a few inches apart due to the shortness of the chain binding them together.
The fire-user barely kept his footing as he was yanked across a sandy beach, so focused on not falling that he did not see his captors for a moment. His stomach churned as he realized he was a prisoner again— a helpless captive, a bargaining chip, a hostage, a person who would never be free— and had to gather his courage in order to see who his wardens were this time. When Ace finally looked up, he wished he had not.
Thatch and Izo held the ends of his chains, walking ahead of Ace without sparing him a glance to see if he was still on his feet. The cuffs pulled at his wrists, neck, and ankles, biting his flesh whenever he did not move fast enough and making him stumble near-constantly. The Commanders did not seem to care, plowing ahead stoically. None of the other people in the procession showed any concern either. Marco remained stone-faced and distant. Sabo looked forward with a slight sneer. Ace could not see Luffy's face, but his brother's fists shook with suppressed rage.
The fire-user looked ahead of the group and felt his stomach drop. He could see their destination from here. Hundreds of graves lined the shore, each engraved with the name of the fallen. As Ace stared at them, flashes appeared in his mind, and he saw each occupant's death. One man was stabbed through the stomach at Marineford. Another was transformed into a Fearling before being cut down. A third leapt between Ace and a blow, taking it for himself, only to be sliced completely in half.
The Summer Spirit did not remember any of the fallen, and that only made the guilt festering in his chest worse. These people had died because of him, and he could not even put a face to the names etched into the stones. Ace could not honor their memory or sacrifices because he had no memories of them except their brutal deaths.
The group halted before the graveyard. Ace was forced onto his knees, facing the endless sea of grey markers, and Whitebeard and his brothers halted before him. The Yonko's eyes were icy, lacking any of the warmth and kindness the fire-user was used to. Sabo's eyes were flat with revulsion and resentment. Luffy's were hidden in the shadow of his hat, but the frown pulling at his lips was enough to tell Ace what he was feeling.
Ace dipped his gaze to their feet. The manacles were digging into his wrists and ankles so he shifted his weight, trying to get into a more comfortable position. Hands landed heavily on his shoulders and he cringed. To his relief, Marco did not strike him, instead maintaining a steady pressure on him, keeping him down on his knees. He felt Whitebeard's eyes on him, and experienced a sinking feeling of déjà vu.
"I know you cannot speak to defend yourself." The Yonko said, tone frigid. "However, your actions have spoken louder than any words."
Ace kept his eyes on the ground. He did not utter a sound when Marco grabbed his hair, yanking his head up and making him look at Whitebeard. His only reaction was a slight tremble that made the chains binding him shake. His father's expression was as harsh and unforgiving as the fire-user predicted, filled with disappointment and ire that made Ace's limbs go cold with shame.
"When you became one of my sons, you promised to protect this family." Whitebeard told him. "And yet, all you've done is cause us harm. How many more of my sons died for you?"
For a second, grief broke through his cold expression, but the Yonko repressed it, refusing to show weakness to an enemy. Ace tried to portray his remorse through his own expressions, but his efforts only made Whitebeard's visage darken further.
"I have made many mistakes in my life, but asking you to join my family is the one I regret the most." The Yonko said, shifting from angry to emotionless.
Personally, Ace would rather he be bitter or shouting. The apathy in his voice was so much worse than anger, because it made it seem like Whitebeard could not even be bothered to care enough to show rage. Sabo had no such issues.
"You aren't the only one." The Revolutionary growled.
He stormed up to Ace, glaring down at him with furious blue eyes. His hand twitched and the Summer Spirit tensed, but Sabo refrained from striking him like he so obviously wanted to.
"You are the most selfish, hypocritical, lying, manipulative bastard I've ever met!" Sabo spat. "Do we really mean so little to you that you'd rather die than be with us?"
Ace recoiled, abruptly aware of the stickiness on his arms. He craned his neck and blanched white when he saw his wrists. They were covered in gashes, some as long as his forearms, each leaking red. Vague memories tried to force their way into his conscious mind but he rejected them, staring at Sabo, trying to convey his sorrow.
The Revolutionary scowled. "Don't try it. Don't play the 'misunderstood victim'. You know what you did. You were ready to abandon us because you're so weak you didn't want to live anymore."
Ace shook his head in denial. That was not it. It was true that he had harmed himself, but he regretted what he had done. He realized that he was being selfish and would hurt his brothers with his actions. He wanted to do better and change, if they would only give him another chance.
Sabo's eyes narrowed and he went to say— and likely scream at Ace— more, only to stop when Luffy put a hand on his brother's shoulder. The Straw Hat Captain stopped in front of Ace, eyes still shadowed by his hat and his fists white. The fire-user watched him warily, concern creeping into his expression as his youngest brother remained silent. For a while, there was no sound except for the waves crashing against the shore. Then finally, Luffy spoke.
"You broke your promise." Luffy said tonelessly. He reached out, gently touching Ace's right wrist and tracing one of the cuts. "And then you tried to break it again. You intentionally tried to die."
Luffy's fingers closed over the cuts and Ace grunted, pain flaring up his arm. The rubber pirate ignored his pain, squeezing his arm tighter and watching the blood drip onto the sand with a blank visage. His head tilted up and he met the Summer Spirit's flame-colored eyes. His little brother's were dark and hollow, filled only with hurt and betrayal. Ace could feel his heart breaking.
"Release Ace." Luffy requested quietly.
A few Whitebeard Pirates protested, only to go silent when the rubber pirate looked at them. Marco begrudgingly fished out the keys and unlocked Ace's chains, letting them fall to the ground. The fire-user pulled his aching arms in front of him, shuddering as he saw the extent of the damage. Something was pressed into his hands and he stared at the dagger in confusion, looking up to meet Luffy's blank eyes.
"You are a burden." The rubber pirate told him, voice dissonantly soft. "And a liar. And a fake. You don't care about your promises. You don't care about our lives. You only care about yourself and your own interests. You already know what you should do, and you had no qualms about it before, so go right ahead. Kill yourself."
His tone remained flat and not even a little goading. Like Whitebeard, he no longer had the desire to waste energy caring for or even hating the fire-user. Apparently Ace wanted to die, and everyone else thought he should die for what he had done, so it was a win-win situation for both parties. When Ace did not immediately follow through with his brother's demand, the Whitebeard Pirates began jeering and taunting him, doing what Luffy did not think was needed.
"What's the matter? Too scared to die again?"
"If you have any honor left, off yourself!"
"You already tried before. What's stopping you now, huh?"
"Too bad you didn't do this sooner. If you did, they'd still be alive."
"At least this way you won't make anyone else die for you."
"Hurry up, coward."
"We don't want you anymore!"
"Be selfless for once in your life and do it."
Ace could not tear his eyes away from the dagger. It was already covered in crimson, and he wondered if this was the weapon he used on himself before. His guilt was becoming suffocating again, and he was not sure he could summon the energy to even lift the knife. The Whitebeards continued to taunt and berate him, shouting his every flaw as they tried to push him to his breaking point, but Ace would not budge.
He could not take the dagger and end his life like they requested. Even with Sabo's glare and Luffy's unaffected distance, he could not find the strength— or weakness?— to give in to their demands.
I think I want to live, Ace thought. He closed his eyes, wishing he could block out the insults so he could think. Is that selfish of me? They all hate me, and I caused them so much pain, but I still want to live. It would be better for them if I died because they would not be in as much danger and I wouldn't be dragging them down, and I could repent for everything I did but… if I died, I wouldn't have a chance to make things right.
But that was not the main problem. Sabo was disgusted with what he had done. Luffy might never forgive him for breaking his promises. Whitebeard despised him for causing the deaths of his sons. Except… they shouldn't.
My real family would give me a second chance.
Ace opened his eyes. They stood before him; the graves, the Whitebeards, and his brothers. None of them were real. They existed in the real world, but not like this.
Even though Ace was the reason for the war at Marineford, the fight with Pitch, and the deaths that came during those battles, he was not the whole reason. He did not betray his family or turn on them and kill those fallen brothers with his own hands. It hurt to admit it, but he was merely a playing piece or pawn within the games of those more powerful than him, and as such, could not be expected to shoulder the blame for the losses.
As for Ace's most recent mistake… they would be angry at him. They would be hurt and upset and furious about what he had attempted to do. However, they would not shun him for what he had done. They would support him and be there for him —even if he did not deserve it— because they loved him, and he loved them, and deep down they would comprehend that he regretted what he did, and did not intend to leave them like that.
His real family knew him well like that. They would understand and move forward instead of blaming him for the mistakes of the past. They loved him despite his flaws and saw past them. They knew he was broken, remorseful, and caught in the past, but cared for him anyway.
For Ace, that was enough to know they would never betray or leave him.
The white flames sparked to life, enveloping the 'graves', the 'Whitebeards', and his 'brothers', and everything was gone.
ROTGOPROTGOP
"…Were you there when Ace first woke up here?"
Jack shot Thatch a confused glance, not understanding the question at first. The chef pulled his fingers through his noticeably unkempt pompadour and sighed, eyes never leaving Ace. He and Jack were on Ace-sitting duty at the moment. At first the Winter Spirit had assumed the man would sit in awkward silence, uncomfortable around someone who was a near stranger from his point of view and unable to talk about their shared interest in pranking without seeming tactless. The Guardian of Fun would have let someone take his place to avoid said awkwardness, but could not bear to leave Ace. But instead of sitting in strained silence, Thatch asked a question that felt oddly personal despite its subject material, and it took Jack a minute to comprehend it and answer.
"Yeah. I was."
Thatch nodded slowly. "I thought as much. Now that I know about you, I'm surprised you didn't freeze us all and fly away with him."
Jack's confusion about the purpose of this topic of conversation grew but he responded anyway. "I wanted to, but I knew Ace would be mad if I did. He really wanted to beat Whitebeard."
"Yeah. He had a lot of fight in him. And determination. And mulish, cocky stubbornness." Thatch chuckled a little. His smile quickly faded. "At first I wasn't really sure about the kid, you know? He seemed a little too obsessed with his goal to ever want to be one of us. Back then, I thought he would give up and leave… but he grew on me. He acted like a rabid, cornered wolf ninety percent of the time but he grew on me."
Jack did not say anything, watching the chef from the corner of his eye.
Thatch continued to stare at Ace's unmoving form, eyes glazed. "Occasionally he'd smile or laugh. He'd act curious or childish. He'd ask questions or help around the ship when people asked. When he did that— when he opened up— he was bright like a sun. And sometimes when he did that…" The chef's eyes squeezed shut. "… I'd wonder if we'd ruin him."
Jack felt something stir in his chest, but he kept his silence.
"His brightness was one of the reasons I wanted him to join us, but it was also a reason why I didn't. Being a pirate is dangerous, and in some ways, being a Whitebeard is even more so. A part of me worried that something would happen that would cause that brightness to dim, but I rationalized that we'd be strong enough to stop that from happening." Thatch looked down, a single tear trickling down his cheek. "I was wrong. Ace became one of us, and because of that, he went after Blackbeard. He was captured, and he died, and even when he came back we still managed to fail him. All we managed to do was hurt him!"
Thatch's fists slammed into the arms of his chair, cracking the wood. The chef lowered his head into his hands. "Do you regret not whisking him away from us?" Thatch whispered. "Do you hate us for letting this happen?"
"Of course not." Jack said plainly. "I didn't always feel that way, but I do now, and that's what matters." His brow furrowed. "Where did all this doubt come from?"
I swear, if it turns out he's been having nightmares about this I'm going to—
"I may have overheard you talking to the Guardians." Thatch admitted lowly, avoiding his gaze. "You told them about how we met Ace and they were… shocked."
The Winter Spirit recalled their reactions. North, Tooth, and Bunny had been horrified to hear that Ace had essentially been kidnapped and imprisoned by an 'enemy' he now considered his father, and it had taken a lot of explaining and assurances to convince them that the fire-user was not suffering from Stockholm Syndrome.
"That made me remember the anger you showed after Oyaji knocked the kid out." Thatch continued. "You tried to ice us all. Not that I blame you for it."
Jack frowned at his despondent tone. It was obvious the Guardians' response to their recruitment of Ace bothered Thatch greatly. The Winter Spirit had an idea of why. It had to hurt to hear good people doubt you and your motives, picking them apart in a way that made a person question if they had done the right thing. Still, Thatch's concerns were ridiculous. Now Jack just had to convince him of that.
"Maybe your methods were a little brutish, but none of that matters now." The Winter Spirit said. "In the end, it was Ace's choice to become a part of your family. You gave him a family, a father, and brothers who love him. That's why— no matter what happened— he'll never regret joining you, and you shouldn't either."
Slowly, Thatch's miserable expression transformed and a smile worked its way onto his face. "I think you might be right. Thanks, Jack."
"No problem." The Guardian said. He glanced at his sleeping brother and held back a sigh. If only I could reassure Ace and help him too…
ROTGOPROTGOP
Ace woke in the cell.
He did not open his eyes, but he knew exactly where he resided. He felt the manacles around his ankles and wrists, the coldness of the stone against his back, and the chill that clung to his skin. He smelled the staleness of the air, accompanied by the scent of decay, illness, and death. He heard the clinking of metal, his own heartbeat and breathing, and footsteps. The footsteps got louder and louder, closer and closer.
Then they stopped.
Ace waited. So did Pitch. Neither spoke or moved.
The fire-user could not prevent his muscles from tensing but his heartbeat remained steady and slow. A part of him wanted to press against the wall and curl up, to scream or cry or preemptively beg, but that piece was surprisingly distant and quiet. Maybe it was because Pitch had yet to attack or speak to him, though knowing the Nightmare King, he might just be lulling the Summer Spirit into a false sense of security.
A hand touched Ace's face then, brushing back his hair slightly. The movement reminded him of the times Jack had checked his forehead for injury after a fall or scuffle and for a second he pressed into the cool palm, relaxing. Then the fingers clenched, gripping the black locks painfully, and Ace gasped as his head was pulled backwards, his chin forced upwards. His eyes opened and met yellow irises filled with utter loathing, and he felt the familiar prick of a knife against his jugular.
"Hello, boy." Pitch hissed. "I'm so happy to see you again. Though I have to admit, I thought I'd have to wait longer."
The first slash cut open Ace's throat, killing him instantly.
The nightmare reset, and Pitch slid the dagger between the fire-user's ribs.
It reset, and Ace received a blow to the throat that crushed his windpipe. He faded after a few, agonizing minutes, and the world reset.
Disemboweled. Reset.
Every bone in his arms, legs, hands, and feet snapped, dagger in the chest. Reset.
Ribcage brutally crushed. Reset.
Organs removed, one by one. Reset.
Hacked off limbs, left to bleed out. Reset.
Bisected. Reset.
Mauled by Fearlings. Reset.
Heart ripped out by hand. Reset.
Pitch stabbed out his right eye, then his left, before finishing him off with a deep slice up his torso. Reset.
Ace's consciousness returned to the cell and he flinched on instinct when Pitch's shadow fell over him. The Nightmare King feigned a jab at him, resulting in another flinch, and laughed at his prisoner's fear.
"Oh, how cathartic it is to kill you again and again! How are you feeling, boy?" Pitch asked sadistically. "How afraid are you?"
The emphasized word burrowed its way into Ace's mind and his panic was tethered by a strange, strengthening warmth. The fire-user shivered, gasping as his body recovered from the shock of 'dying' hundreds of times in a matter of minutes. He opted to keep his gaze directed downward.
"You don't have to do this." Ace whispered and felt a glimmer of surprise at himself.
The Summer Spirit's words might have been seen as begging for mercy if not for his tone. It was too calm and controlled, the exact opposite of how he had assumed he would react when he saw the Nightmare King again. Maybe his fear of the Pitch was not as overwhelming as he thought. Maybe Ace still wanted to die. Or maybe, just maybe he truly believed what he said.
Pitch noticed the dissonance too, but swiftly dismissed that knowledge in favor of a sneer. "Are you truly going to utter such spineless drivel? I thought you were better than that."
"I know you're better than this." Ace retorted. The fear crept closer, becoming strong enough to sink its claws into his chest and squeeze. Despite it, the Summer Spirit pushed onward. "I mean it. You don't have to do what your instincts— what the Fearlings— want you to. You don't have to hurt me or other people, or spread fear. If you fight you can—"
His jaw clicked shut as the dagger returned to his neck, slitting the skin just enough to draw blood.
"Stop. It." Pitch snarled. "Stop trying to appeal to my 'better nature.'"
The last words were spoken scathingly, and with no small amount of rage. Somehow, the tone did not intimidate Ace. Ignoring the dagger menacing him, the Summer Spirit tipped his head slightly, the movement curious rather than mocking.
"Or what?" he asked. "You'll kill me in the real world? You could have before, multiple times. You didn't."
Pitch stabbed him in the side, making Ace flinch. The Nightmare King grinned, twisting the blade, and took a moment to watch the Summer Spirit shudder and writhe.
"The only reason I haven't killed you is because I want you to suffer." He yanked the knife out and Ace hunched in on himself, clenching his teeth.
"That's a l-lie." He panted, doing his best to ignore the sticky liquid he could feel trickling down his side.
The fire-user shifted his weight in an attempt to lessen the flow of blood and frowned as the manacles clinked. The chains were so annoying. Ace wished they would go away so he could lower his arms and put pressure on his wound.
"Really now?" Pitch smirked, amused and delighted by his prisoner's naiveté. "Please, do tell me my reasons then."
Ace took a second to regulate his breathing before responding. "I think a part of you doesn't want to hurt me." he claimed levelly. "I don't know why. Maybe I remind you of your daughter, or yourself, or who you used to be?"
He asked the question openly and rhetorically, and it was telling when Pitch did not immediately stab him again for mentioning Mother Nature. Instead the Nightmare King was frozen, unmoving. Then a shiver went through Pitch and he shook himself, regaining his standard, mocking smirk.
"Well, aren't you just adorable? Or maybe you're just stupid. Either way, I think there's something you have failed to understand." Pitch said like he was speaking to a small, foolish child. He reached out and cupped Ace's cheek, and it took more willpower than the fire-user liked not to shrink away. "I am a manipulator. I pretend. Do you honestly think I care one iota for you? No, foolish boy. It's all part of the game. I was fully aware of what you would think when I 'spared' you."
The Nightmare King put on a high-pitched falsetto. "'Maybe there's some good in him.' 'Maybe Kozmotis is in there.' 'Maybe he isn't so bad.' 'Maybe he can change!' No." The last word was uttered as an echoing, feral snarl. "I engineered your reactions. I fabricated my 'compassionate' actions around you so you would believe what I intended. I did it for nothing more than my own amusement and to see the betrayed look on your face when you came to me with hope and I crushed it. However, your more recent actions have made me a little… upset."
Pitch's fingers clenched. Ace gave a muffled scream as he felt his cheekbone and jaw creak under the pressure the Nightmare King exuded, straining and thrashing as he instinctively tried to get away. Pitch kept pushing, forcing the Summer Spirit's head sideways at and awkward angle, and for a moment, Ace thought the Spirit of Fear was trying to horrifically break his neck.
Abruptly, Pitch pulled him up by his hair and slammed his head into the wall before releasing him. Ace sank into the pain for a moment before he pushed it aside as best he could, refusing to dwell on it. His cheek was stinging and swollen and his eyes burned with unshod tears, but he still lifted his head, staring into cold eclipses.
"Still think I'm 'good inside somewhere', boy?" Pitch hissed. "Don't be ridiculous. You're not miraculously seeing the truth. You're just falling for your shattered mind's tricks." He poked Ace's forehead with his dagger, releasing a few drops of blood. "You're a broken soul searching for a way to 'reform' your captor. Isn't that just the most pathetic thing you've ever heard?" The Nightmare King gave him a demonic grin, teeth sharp and unnatural.
Ace refused to break his gaze, even as blood dripped over his eye. "Whatever you say, Kozmotis."
The punch to the jaw was expected. The knife to his throat as well. The decision to change its position and plunge it into his gut less so. Ace managed to avert his attention to the hand pulling at his hair instead of the knife slicing through his stomach, focusing on that instead of what he could distantly feel pouring out of his abdomen.
It's not real. It's not real. It's not real. Breathe.
"How much do I have to break you before you realize your folly?" Pitch snarled. "You're so infuriatingly idiotic! How can someone be so braindead?" His expression went cold. "Do I have to go kill your brothers to make you understand what I am?"
Ace's fear barely lasted long enough for him to register it, vanishing as soon as it came. His lips curled upward and he grinned bloodily at the Nightmare King, who actually took a step back.
"You're really good at pretending, Pitch." He mumbled. "If you really wanted to kill my brothers to hurt me, you would have a long time ago. You had lotsa—" He almost giggled as he spat up a glob of blood. "—opportunities. But you didn't. Thank you."
Pitch stared at him. "I think I understand now." He said eventually. "Your sanity is already broken beyond repair. You're too far gone to comprehend that a lack of action is not kindness, and too deep in your delusions to accept the truth. That makes this all so much less satisfying. Still, I suppose I can attempt to beat the reality into you."
Ace could not stop himself from gasping as Pitch grabbed his throat, giving him a shake and bashing his head into the wall in the process. The Nightmare King leaned in, breath icy cold against the Summer Spirit's ear.
"I am a monster." He snarled. "And no one; not you, not Tsar Lunar, not Emily Jane, and certainly not Kozmotis—" His expression froze and distorted into one of utter loathing— and slight fear? "—Shut up you blithering fool!— can change that!"
The slip up was so blatant that it had to be intentional. Ace had a feeling it wasn't on Pitch's part, however. Then again, nightmares were weird. Could thoughts be exposed in a world that technically existed within the mind? The Summer Spirit supposed it did not matter, but the revelation certainly did.
Ace looked at Pitch, eyes wide. "It's true." he whispered. "Kozmotis is in there somewhere."
The last remnants of his fear drained away, leaving behind a surge of compassion. Pitch physically recoiled, disgusted, and Ace had to wonder if the Nightmare King could see the empathy in his expression.
"I know you're in there. I know what you must be feeling. You're not a monster, Kozmotis, Pitch." He said softly. "What happened wasn't your fault. I know how hard it is to fight the sand with Mother Nature's safeguards, and you had to do without. You faced the Fearlings alone—"
Pitch stabbed him in the chest, spilling his blood onto the floor.
When Ace's awareness returned to the cell, he did not even pause, continuing to speak. "—without a chance of winning, but you fought anyway. You're still fighting, too. You never stopped fighting. If you did, Kozmotis would be long dead, but he's not. You're not. You're still here—"
Pitch struck him so hard across the face he felt his cheekbone break. Ace's vision grew spotty and black spots blinked into and out of existence in front of his eyes. The Nightmare King stabbed him in the hand, pinning it to the wall, and his resulting cry became a pained gasp when Pitch coldly stomped on his foot, crushing the bones.
"Shut up!" the Nightmare King roared. "Shut. UP! I'll beat you! I'll break you! I'll figure out a way…"
His fingers clenched into claws and his eyes roamed over Ace's body, thinking, plotting, and trying to figure out a way to shatter his mind into irreparable pieces. The fire-user remained calm and unaffected by his rage. Even when Pitch reached for his head— likely to rip out his eyes or throat again— Ace was not afraid. Even as Pitch grabbed his chin with one hand, squeezing his jaw roughly, the Summer Spirit remained still and placid.
The Nightmare King had hurt Ace in reality and in dreams more times than he could count. He had imprisoned the fire-user, threatened him, and tortured him mentally, physically, and emotionally. His actions had made Ace permanently mute and scarred. And yet Ace could not fear him. Not anymore. Perhaps it was because the fire-user had gotten stronger. Perhaps it was because he had finally faced his fears. Or maybe it was because he now knew there was a man inside the monster, a man who had been supposedly broken and devoured, yet was still fighting, and still existed.
"Kozmotis…" Ace murmured, and Pitch's eyes snapped to his, head twitching oddly as the Spirit of Fear realized he had responded to the name. The Summer Spirit smiled gently at him. "I believe in you."
The Nightmare King shrieked— an unsettling sound filled with fury, horror, and anguish— and ran him through. The blow did not 'kill' Ace this time, and he felt Pitch's cruel grip on his consciousness. His captor was keeping him trapped in the nightmare again, refusing to let him follow the logic of reality and pass away. The Spirit of Fear kept stabbing him, making his torso look more like butchered meat than human flesh, and still the fear did not return.
Instead, Ace felt calm, annoyed, and maybe a little angry. Pitch was holding him here. He was controlling him. Wasn't that against what the Summer Spirit's center stood for? This was a dream. Ace's dream. His mind. He was the one who had control here. Not Pitch. Not anymore.
When the dagger touched Ace's skin again, it shattered like it had struck steel. Pitch stumbled back, eyes wild and unhinged. His fists clenched and shook at his sides, and when he spoke, his voice was a crazed roar.
"No! You cannot do this!" the Nightmare King ranted. "You cannot beat fear!"
Ace looked Pitch directly in the eyes, regaining his serene smile. "I already have."
The chains shattered.
The cell crumbled.
White flames roared.
And Ace woke up.
ROTGOPROTGOP
A/N: …I have the biggest, dumbest grin right now. Bye, bye black sand! :D
Thanks to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, and favorited this story! I never would have gotten to this point without you. (hugs)
Responses to Guest reviews:
To whoo: Thanks for the comment! You weren't the only one grinning lol. :P
To ItsMe: Thanks! I'm glad you like it. That's a lot of avoided 'BS' for this story lol. But yeah, I get your frustration with all the romance and OCs in crossovers. I'm not a romance fan so I tend to avoid those stories completely. I'm considering writing that One Piece/Big Hero 6 crossover myself once I'm done with this story, but I'm not sure if I'll actually do it or not. Though I might delay until the TV series starts up to decide… We'll have to wait and see what happens. (shrugs)
To Guest: Thank you!
Please review!