A/N~ HELLO AGAIN!
Sorry for the wait, after I just told y'all that I'm back. Life is kicking my butt, and with Christmas on the horizon, my job is gonna get harder.
Still, can't believe we're at the end of 2020. Needless to say it's been crap after crap after crap, but I have fics and art and incredible people I can reach out to, so it's not been all bad! And reading your comments on this fic despite how LOOONG y'all had to wait? I'm so touched!
Okay, so a few mentions first!
OtherwiseAce: Thank you so much! I'm so glad you like Mei, I know how people can be with OC's in fanfic, so that's very reassuring!
Cheeeeesy-Bagles: I love your URL, its so cute. Thanks for the review!
Nido: Yeah, I initially wanted to have Ace just. Yeet himself outta there, but I figured 1) Ray's not gonna let him get far and 2) Ace by this point is just. Done. Like he figures anyone from Roger's crew might recognise him and he's not getting out of a conversation. Still, you'll have your broody Ace in this chapter XD
FanfictionReader: Eeee confetti! tysm!
MerryLittleMess: You're welcome, dear! I appreciate your patience and the fact that you went back to read it like 10 times? THANK YOU?!
Irene Sharda: ...you have no idea how much your comment made me feel things. Like. Big Brain over here! Thanks hon!
Andy: ANDYYYYYYYYYYYYY! For real, thank you so much for your continued support and cheer! Really does wonders for me ilysm!
Okay, sorry I don't have time to go through everyone, but I ADORE you all, for real!
TRIGGER WARNING: THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS BLOOD AND A SCENE OF SELF HARM. IF YOU ARE AT ALL TRIGGRED BY THIS, I'VE PLACE A * IN BOLD WHERE IT STARTS AND ENDS. PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION, AND TAKE CARE.
On with the chapter!
I OWN NOTHING.
Enjoy!
Chapter 31
The rest of the crew takes it as well as Thatch does, which is to say not well at all.
The ship rattles with their outraged cries; some flail about as if the sky is falling, some drop to their knees and pray and others, like Marco, just give up. However, their ire is not directed at Luffy, who has every right to his privacy just as any other man and woman on this ship. No, it's their utter bastard of a Captain and father who's to blame, since he knew all along, abstained from telling them, and then has the gall to laugh at their plight because of course he does.
So they've got another Vice-Admiral on their tail. Monkey D. Garp, to be exact. Who just so happens to be the grandfather of their three young troublemakers. One would think that's bad enough, and it is, it's horrendous—if not for the fact that he can match their Captain as easy as Roger could, then because the old D is a general hassle to deal with on a good day. But then Haruta makes a rather harrowing observation when the Commanders gather in the Navigation room—
"Hold up," he says, wide eyes haunted. "If Luffy is Garp's biological grandson, then doesn't that mean his father is...?"
Silence.
Marco looks ill. Izo turns several shades paler. Thatch is blank-faced. Vista quivers. Rakuyo chokes on nothing. Whitebeard visibly bites a grin.
Then—"Damn," Jozu sighs, shaking his head. "We're going to hell."
It's at that point that Thatch seems to give up on this mortal life, and throws himself into the ocean. Namur jumps in after him while the rest of the crew watches on, confused. All save for Rayleigh, who throws his head back and cackles when he finds out.
Once the news has settled in—and their resident chef hauled out of his watery grave—the crew sets their worries aside for the time being and gets right back to merrymaking. After all, what better way to procrastinate your oncoming doom than to drink yourself into blissful oblivion?
They welcome two old friends aboard to join them in the light and laughter, and the couple does their rounds, greeting old faces and the oldest of them all with warmth and half-reluctant fondness.
All it takes is one look from the Dark King for Whitebeard to grin back. "You ruined my surprise, Rayleigh," he says. "I was waiting for the perfect moment to break the news."
Rayleigh grins back, sharp as a blade. "You always were quite the sadistic son of a bitch, Newgate. Good to see you haven't changed at all these last few decades."
"I could say the same to you. Your little stunt nearly cost me my Fourth Division Commander, I hope you know."
"I do. Has he dried off yet?"
"He has, but he'll reek of sea salt for the rest of the night."
"And his sanity?"
"Still intact. I can't say the same for my First Mate, however. At this rate, he may very well lay an egg."
A few feet away, a certain Phoenix screeches "YOU OLD BASTARD!" It spurs a laughing fit across the entire ship, Whitebeard included, of course.
As the sun falls behind the bubbling trees, the night skies littered with stars and illuminated by the bright flashing lights of Sabaody, the party shows no signs of stopping. Barrels are full to the brim with fresh ale, kitchens stocked up with food, and if they've got enough to last another week, then they haven't partied enough.
Amid it all, Rayleigh finally takes Ace aside to a quieter spot on the deck. There's an air about the older pirate, one that even the drunkards know to steer clear from, as he and the freckled lad lean against the railing, looking over the tranquil sea. Ace doesn't look at him, his narrowed grey eyes set firmly on the horizon. Rayleigh takes the opportunity to look the boy over once more and fight the ache in his chest.
He is every inch their child, clear as day. He has Roger's grey eyes, but they're Rouge's narrowed shape. Roger's wicked smile and sharp jaw, but Rouge's freckles to give it cheek and loving warmth. Roger's dark hair, Rouge's curls, Rouge's dry wit and snark, Rouge's name. Rouge's untameable fire.
Indeed, Ace is theirs—
"You gonna keep staring or are you gonna start talking, Dark King?"
—but he is every inch Rouge's son.
Rayleigh chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, you got me. I'll quit beating around the bush." He lowers his arms back to the railing. "I bet you're wondering how I caught on so quickly –"
"Not really," Ace interrupts with a shrug too sharp to be casual. "Shanks figured it out the same way you did. He just had to look at me, and that was it. Didn't have to say a word." He pauses, and the angry heat in his eyes dims to a slow and steady burn, growing soft, wondering, vulnerable for a split second before he banishes it. He slowly, finally, turns to Rayleigh. "He said the same thing," he says softly. "That I... I look like her."
Rayleigh nods. "That you do. You don't take after Roger as much as I thought you would."
Ace swallows, shifts on his feet. "... how d'you mean?"
Rayleigh shrugs. "Well, I knew Roger like the back of my hand. We were friends, partners, brothers in every way but blood. We spent every day together, through no will of my own, mind you, so I knew all his habits, his quirks, and his many, many flaws. When I look at you... the hair, the eyes and the dreams you and your brothers have - that's all him, no two ways about it. But I don't see my old Captain."
Rayleigh takes half a step closer, meeting Ace's curious, hopeful gaze. "When I look at you, I see Portgas D. Rouge."
Ace eyes grow an inch wider like he's had a bullet through his chest. He bites his lip hard enough to break the skin, and quickly ducks his head down away from Rayleigh.
He gives the boy a moment to compose himself and wonders, with no shortage of worry and growing ire, how often he's compared to the only one of the two D's the world cares to remember and hate, but never the mother who died for him out of love. How many stories he'd heard of the villainous, infamous Gol D. Roger, but nothing of the woman he loved more than the seas. The woman who redefined what freedom meant for him.
He wonders what stories Garp told him of his father, or if he ever spoke of his mother before her death.
Eventually, Ace takes a breath and sighs, long and heavy. He doesn't look up from the railing. "... you knew her well?" he asks, barely above a whisper.
At that, Rayleigh chuckles, a fondness washing over him from a time long gone. "That I did, kid. I met her the same day Roger did almost, what, twenty years ago, now? Hah, lemme tell ya, she was something. We docked at Batarilla for supplies, beautiful island. Lots of meadows, mountains, and the clearest beach I'd ever seen."
Ace looks up at him again, rapt with attention, yearning, leaning forward. Rayleigh shoots him a quick grin and continues. "Roger wanted to go for a hike in the forest, and because I knew what he was like, I followed. We walked for hours, wrestled a bear and fell into one ditch after another, but eventually, we reached the top of a gorgeous cliff overlooking the sea. There was a charming little cottage surrounded by a garden of hibiscus and roses, just a few feet off from the edge of the cliff. Like an idiot, Roger decided to go and pick one of the flowers right from the bush. I didn't even hear the front door slam open before a flash of blue on strawberry-blond shoots past me like a bullet and cold cocks Roger over the head with a hot pan."
Ace splutters. "She— what?"
Rayleigh's grin is wide enough to hurt. "Yep. Knocked the poor bastard right out, flat on his face straight into a rose bush. Took forever to get the thorns out of his face. By the time he woke up, I'd already apologized and explained ourselves. She wasn't fazed in the slightest when I told her we were pirates from the Grand Line, or that she'd just clonked Gold Roger over the head with a goddamn frying pan. Y'know what she said to me?"
He remembers it like it was yesterday; her voice, her taut lips, perfect brow arched, hands on her hips and fire in her stare—
"Well, I suppose I did well in knocking some sense into your Captain, seeing as you've done such a piss poor job of that, mister First Mate. And I use that term quite loosely."
Ace nearly chokes on his laughter, half over the railing, clutching his gut. Rayleigh damn near joins him.
Yes, it's as funny now as it was then, at least for Roger, who'd taken one look at Rayleigh's face and burst into heaving gales. Rouge had watched the fool roll in the grass, face covered in rose thorns, a welt on the back of his head, and a grin had stolen her freckled face seconds before she was laughing with him. It was that moment Rayleigh realized that something was about to change. For better or worse, he wouldn't know until much, much later.
(And Ace laughs like her, too; loud yet light as the wind, her whole body lurching forward; a far cry from Roger's hefty bellow, like the lofty declaration he'd made for all the world to hear.)
"So yeah," Rayleigh breathes once they quell their laughter, the old man wiping tears from the corner of wrinkled eyes, "that's how he met your mother. Damn if I'll ever know what she saw in him, but... they made each other happy. We took her with us on our rounds of the Blue's, even to the Grand Line once. I could tell ya all sorts of stories about those days, but we'd be here all night and all day tomorrow—"
"I've got time," Ace says, quick as a whip.
"Ha! I bet you do. I, unfortunately, don't. Not for all of them. But I can tell you this..."
Rayleigh reaches out and clasps Ace's shoulder, meeting his eyes. His smile never falters. "I may not have known Rouge long, but I knew how much she loved Roger. More than she loved her garden, more than she loved to dance and sing with the wind, more than freedom. I knew how strong she was, in body and spirit, and that it nearly destroyed her when Roger told her he was leaving her for the last time. And I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, how much she loved you the day she found out she was going to have you."
The smile dies on Ace's lips. He looks younger, now, small and unsure, and it half breaks Rayleigh's heart. Makes him wonder how long it's been since someone told him that he's loved. Did Garp? Did anyone, before Luffy and Sabo?
The very idea makes him want to wring that old Vice-Admiral by the neck.
Then Ace swallows again, hastily turning away. "Good— good to know," he stammers. And then, under his breath, so soft that Rayleigh has to strain his old ears to hear it, "... thank you."
"Not at all," Rayleigh lets him go, resting both elbows on the railing now. "It was my pleasure. Honestly, I'm honoured to have met you at all, Ace. We had no idea what Roger's plan was when he disbanded the crew and left, so when we caught wind that Rouge had died... we all assumed you'd gone with her." He smirks sadly, shakes his head. "To think, all along, he'd placed his bet on his old enemy. Helluva bet, but I'm damn glad he made it. Garp might be a pesky bastard, but Roger trusted him enough to make the right choice. I'm just surprised he didn't tell Whitebeard."
Ace tenses up immediately, fingers digging into the wood. "... oh?" he says, going for nonchalance and coming up short.
Seems he hit the nail on the head.
Save for the story of their first meeting, Rayleigh hasn't spoken a word of Roger—he can see the hatred in Ace's eyes, saw a flash of it the moment he saw Rayleigh sitting in the bar. That hatred runs deep, deeper than anything the former First Mate can hope to dig up and pull out, not that he'll try to, despite how his heart aches to see it, feel it flowing off him in waves like poison gas. Ace's feelings on Roger, and by proxy anyone who'd been close to him, are his own. Nothing Rayleigh can say will ever change that; it may soften the rough edges, but it'll always be there.
His relationship with Whitebeard, on the other hand...
Marco's word is one thing, but seeing it all in action is another entirely; the way Ace interacts with this crew, so integrated into their dynamic, their flow and their light, as if he's lived with them his whole life. The way he smiles when Rakuyo ruffles his hair, when Izo pats his cheek or when Marco loops an arm around his shoulders, it's like he's never known hurt at all.
And the way the boy looks up at Whitebeard, careful yet hopeful as he watches the old man interact with his little brothers, with this large, incredible family... watching those grey eyes fill up with an ache, with longing...
Rayleigh may be getting on in years - these glasses aren't just for show - but he's far from blind. And he sees Ace's want clear as day.
This old pirate can't tell him what to do. But he can give him a little nudge in the right direction.
"Well, far as I knew, those two could duke it out from dawn till dusk over the dumbest things," Rayleigh explains, chuckling a little at the reminder of the days of their youth, their sheer stupidity, that he often finds himself wishing he could relive. "But at the same time, Roger couldn't keep his damn mouth shut to save his life. He told Whitebeard just about everything... told him about Rouge, too."
Ace chokes, whirling on Rayleigh with an expression that eerily resembles Roger's 'oh shit' face. "He— he did?!"
"Sure did. Wouldn't shut up about her since day one, and that's when I knew he was a goner. Didn't take too long before old Newgate finally had enough and asked to meet her. Unfortunately, it was around that time she became pregnant, and couldn't safely travel with us anymore. At least that's what Roger said. He was an anxious mess the minute she broke the news to him, and it was the most annoying yet endearing thing we'd ever seen."
His smile softens, insides squeezing just a little at the old memories. "He was excited to meet you," he says. "So was Rouge. So was Whitebeard, now that I think about it..."
Ace is silent, still, staring at Rayleigh. His eyes search the older pirate for a lie or tell, for anything that could prove his words wrong, but for the life of him, he can't imagine why.
Unless...
"You haven't told him."
Ace blinks back into reality, and immediately bristles like a cat; if he had a tail, it'd be swishing. "Of course I haven't," he scoffs. "Would you? Have you?"
"Not a word, I promise. But I understand why you haven't, considering... well, everything. God knows what you three have lived through, and what crappy baggage you've been carrying ever since. And judging by the look on your face, I'd say you've had this conversation with Shanks?"
Ace nods, still scowling. It seems to be his default expression he wears it so well. A shame, since his smile is a far brighter, dearer thing.
"Well, I won't lecture you. In the end, it's not up to anyone but yourself what you decide to do, where to go. But I will say this..."
Rayleigh lets his smile drop and faces Ace. The boy stands up straighter, eyes bright, attentive.
"The Moby Dick is the safest ship on the whole damn sea for you and your brothers. You especially," Rayleigh says. "Once that old bastard claims you as his own, nothing will stop him from leaping into the pits of hell for their sake. As for your lineage? He won't give a rat's ass. I may not know him better than, say, Marco, Jozu, Izo or even Teach, but I've watched him, listened to him, seen it all in action. Trust me, kid. You choose to stay here, you won't regret it."
Another silence, this one pensive. Ace looks away from Rayleigh and stares down at his hands on the railing. He bites his bottom lip, flexes his fingers into loose fists. He looks conflicted, equal parts anxious, confused, uncertain... hopeful.
Rayleigh pats him once on the back. He's done enough here. All that's left is for him to make up his mind on his own. "I'll let you think about it. If you need me, I'll be drinking my weight in booze over with Jozu and Blamenco over there." He turns to leave, waving over at the louts, already three sheets to the wind, when Ace's voice stops him short—
"Thank you, Rayleigh."
He pauses, turns to look at the boys' back. The words were soft, unsure enough to break Rayleigh's heart, but genuine enough to mend the pieces.
Rayleigh smiles. "Not a problem. It was an honour to meet you, Portgas. D Ace."
If Ace's breath hitches, shoulders bearing a slight tremble, Rayleigh calls no attention to it. Instead, he sets his sights on the barrels of booze, determined to drink himself into oblivion. He feels he's earned it.
0o0o0
Celebrations finally wind down sometime after midnight. Half of the crew saw fit to retire where they stood right on the top deck, be it out of laziness or being far too drunk to make the trip to their quarters. Even Rayleigh conked out in the kitchen with Thatch and a clingy, drunken Haruta, splayed stupidly across the table and the floor. Izo and Shakky evaded that outcome and retreated to Izo's room for the night, and Whitebeard to his quarters to sleep off his hangover.
Thankfully, Ace had managed to get both Luffy and Sabo below decks and back to their room without much fuss—Luffy passed out halfway, blissfully dreaming in the food coma he'd worked himself into, leaving Sabo to get him dressed for bed. The blond was already swaying on his feet, the sugar high from some stupid contest against one of the nurses fading quick, and he crashed hard. He nearly missed the bed when he flopped, dead to the world before his head even hit the pillow.
Kotatsu was quick to take his place at the foot of the bed, curling up at their feet and watching the door like a guardian angel, watching Ace and wondering why he wasn't joining them. At least, that's what it looked like; he can't read minds like Luffy seems to. Ace had smiled, ran his hand through the creature's fur, and whispered "I'll be along soon bud. You keep an eye on these idiots for me in the meantime, yeah?"
Of course, Kotatsu can't talk, but Ace swears up and down that the big old furball had nodded before crawling over to Ace's usual spot on Luffy's right side, even throwing a front leg over the boy before quickly falling asleep.
… what a weird freakin' cat.
With that, Ace had noiselessly made his way back up to the top deck, hopping over the slumbering bodies of pirates to reach the whale-shaped figurehead. Besides Whitebeard's lap, it's quickly become Luffy's second favourite place on the ship to sit, giving him an incredible view of the sea as the ship slices through the currents with beautiful ease. It's where Ace sits now, legs crossed, staring out into the abyss of stars and water illuminated by the lights radiating from Sabaody's chaotic centre.
He sighs and leans back on his hands, letting the soft, salty breeze tangle his hair as it sweeps over him. It feels good, refreshing, soothing after a long, incredible and... confusing day.
The arrival of his Roger's former First Mate has stirred several things inside Ace. It's given him more than enough to think about, perhaps too much in one sitting.
Rayleigh had known his mother, and he'd loved Roger like a brother. Rouge had loved Ace before she even got the chance to meet him. Roger had—
Ace swallows and shakes his head fervently. No, no, not tonight. He isn't—can't think about that. Not right now.
Back on track. Roger and Whitebeard had been... closer than Ace had thought. They'd shared stories more than they'd exchanged blades and blows like the stories had said. And Whitebeard...
He... he'd wanted to meet Ace? Meet the son of Gol D. Roger, the son of his enemy? The boy that had ended his mother's life, the boy with devils blood, the boy worth no more than the dirt on a King's boot unless he pleased him and the masses with a dance, his body on display like something to posses...
He wanted to meet me?
There's no way he could know of Ace's parentage; if he had, he would've said something by now. Whitebeard doesn't seem the type to hide things like this. But at the same time, according to both Rayleigh and Shanks, the concept of one's past matters so little to him, why would he bother to mention it?
Because it may not matter to him, but it matters to me, Ace realizes, blinking hard. He would know how much it matters, because... because he...
Because Whitebeard cares about Ace.
Whitebeard cares about Ace. He cares about Luffy, he cares about Sabo... he...
Ace takes a deep, deep breath, and it shudders out of him. His eyes sting furiously, and it's all he can do not to cry, to not sink his teeth into his lip or hand or arm. Instead, he allows the barest of smiles to tilt his lips as a fluttery feeling explodes in his chest, the likes of which he hasn't felt since he got through his first year with Sabo, and then again when he declared the two of them, Luffy and Sabo, his sworn brothers. It's a feeling he's been denying and depriving himself of for quite a while now.
Maybe... maybe staying here with this wonderful crew, with Whitebeard, won't be so bad after all. Maybe Ace can finally—
"Huh? That you up there, Ace?"
"Gyah—!" Ace muffles his startled yelp with a hand over his mouth. He looks over his shoulder, searches the darkness, and then relaxes, smiling and letting his hands drop. "Oh, hey. You freaked the crap outta me, Teach."
The man in question shrugs at him guiltlessly, lumbering over to stand by Ace on the smooth figurehead. "What can I say? I'm a scary guy, I suppose," he chuckles, earning a wry grin from the teen. "So, what's got you up this late? I know you've got this thing about sleep or whatever the hell, so...?"
"Ah, I uh," Ace rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "I can't really sleep. Got a few things on my mind, so I figured some fresh air might help. What about you?"
"Eh, I'm on watch, so I couldn't get as plastered as the other lucky bastards snorin' away down there," he jabs a thumb down at the deck just as a particularly loud snore—Namur maybe—rolls across the ship like thunder, half startling Ace. The two trade a look then burst into muffled snickers. "Case in point," Teach says, and Ace snickers again. Silence envelops them for a moment, the pair enjoying the rare tranquillity in the calm of the sea, basking in the light of the setting moon. Dawn is nearly upon them.
Teach looks down at Ace. "So, what was on your mind, if you don't mind my askin'?"
Ace hesitates. The idea of finally coming clean to Whitebeard is... becoming more and more tempting. As for the rest of the crew, save perhaps the Commanders, he's not so sure. The Captain has plenty of authority and control, sure, and as the Strongest Man in the World, he has far more power than anyone he has ever seen, even Garp. But not even he can dictate other people's thoughts.
And in the same vein, the words of two men from Roger's crew—two men devoted wholly to that man—can say one thing about someone they know well. It's something else to hear it from someone who knows Whitebeard personally.
"I may not know him better than, say, Marco, Jozu, Izo or even Teach, but I've watched him, listened to him, seen it all in action. Trust me, kid. You choose to stay here, you won't regret it."
Rayleigh's words echo in his brain, and Ace worries his bottom lip between his teeth, risking a glance up at Teach. He can trust Shanks, and Rayleigh, he supposes. But... he has to make sure...
"I was just thinking about Rayleigh," Ace says, fighting for calm and hoping it's not too obvious; his voice sounds steady enough to his ears, so maybe it's working. "He was Roger's First Mate, yeah?"
"That he was," Teach nods, casting his gaze back over the sea and grinning. "I remember when I was just a brat no older than your baby brother when I first saw Roger's crew. Watchin' those two have at it was a hell of an experience, lemme tell ya! Neither one held back an inch, I'm surprised either of 'em lived half the time! Guess that's what happens when you pit two monsters like that against each other! Zehaha!"
Ace fights a grimace behind a forced smile. Somehow, since getting to know Whitebeard, hearing someone refer to him as a monster rubs him the wrong way. That's... new. Not unwelcome, but new.
"I... see. But, yeah, Rayleigh showing up made me think..." Ace's heart pounds furiously, sweat gathering along his brow, and it's all he can do not to burst into flames and flee the scene.
I can do this. I have to if I'm ever going to move on.
"... uh, do you remember the rumours that... Roger might've had a kid?"
Teach blinks at him in surprise. "Oh? Yeah, yeah I heard about 'em. Didn't think you'd be old enough to remember any of that." He tilts his head at Ace. "Why'd you ask?"
"Nothing, nothing, just... just wondering if..."
Here goes nothing.
Ace draws a quiet breath to steady his erratic heart. "... say Roger did have a kid," he says indifferently. "What do you think Whitebeard would've done if they ever crossed paths? You've known the Captain longer than most, so I figured I'd ask..."
Teach studies Ace mutely for a time, beady eyes indecipherable. Ace stares back and tries not to fidget, regret settling deep in his bones.
Then Teach hums, tilts his head back to look up at the stars and stroke his chin in thought. "Well, that's a toughie," he says. "Gotta be honest with ya, if Roger's kid ever crossed paths with Pops... I'd wager he'd probably just kill 'im."
Ice.
That's what it feels like.
Ice stabbing into him, thousands of shards all at once, seeping into his veins, freezing him from the inside out, snuffing out his flames in an instant, raw and agonising—
The smile is stiff on Ace's ashen face, not that Teach can see it. He's not even trembling, surprisingly. The ice has him rooted to the spot, his fire long extinguished.
"... huh. You think so." His voice doesn't sound like his. It sounds robotic, void of life but trying hard to cling to it. "Why's that."
Teach shrugs nonchalantly, still looking up at the stars as if they hold all the answers. "Well, from what I've seen, Pops could barely stand that bastard Roger," he says. "Always tryn'a kill each other, 'specially after Roger went 'n stole our Second Division Commander. Poor bastard never even came back—he ended up dyin' somewhere after the crew disbanded."
Oh. "Oh, wow. That. That sucks."
"Mm, yeah, a damn shame. Pops was real pissed to let him go, too. I'd say he still holds that against Roger, among other things. Add all that plus the fact that Roger's kid would be after the One Piece, well, ain't no way Pops is gonna give up the Pirate King title to some peppy upstart who thinks he has a right to dear old dad's treasure!" Teach laughs like he's heard a good joke, shaking his head. "Boy, I'd almost feel bad for the poor sucker. Welp, as far as we know, the little bastard doesn't exist. Either way, I'd say good riddance. The world has enough crazy monsters in it without Roger's cursed progeny runnin' round, am I right?"
Good riddance. Cursed. Peppy upstart. Little bastard.
Monster.
Ace lifts his head to match Teach's smile. "Yeah. Thank god for that."
Teach gives him a few hearty pats on the back. Ace is too numb to flinch, too numb to care. "Right, well, I'd best get back to my watch. And you'd best get off to bed yourself, kid. You're in for another crazy-ass day tomorrow if Thatch has his way, which he usually does. See ya!" With a final wave, Teach turns and lumbers back the way he came.
"Yeah," Ace says. "See you 'round, Teach." The man doesn't hear him.
Ace is alone on the figurehead once more.
*He ducks his head, staring at his boots. An empty smirk worms its way across his face, and a hollow laugh follows it. It almost sounds like a sob, but for the first time, his eyes are bone dry.
I knew it.
He doesn't remember standing up or getting off the figurehead.
Of course he would. They were enemies, after all. Of course he'd want me dead.
He doesn't remember getting to the small hollow opening and crawling into it, away from prying eyes, away from everything.
I can't say I'm surprised. Can't blame Shanks or Rayleigh, either. They only know what they saw, what they thought. They don't know Whitebeard as well as they think, as well as someone who's known him for decades. Not like I haven't heard this a thousand times, cursed child, demon, monster, worthless, I was worthless then, worthless to Mei when she needed me, too worthless to protect my brothers from slavery Teach is right I shouldn't be here Whitebeard only wanted to meet me so he could kill the competition he won't want me if he finds out he'll hate me I can'tstayhereIhavetoGO—
Oh. My arm's bleeding.
He doesn't remember digging his teeth and nails into his forearm, either. Doesn't register the pain much, either.
He feels... nothing, now. It'll come crashing down later, he knows, and he might have to sacrifice his other arm to keep the anguish at bay, but for now, there's nothing.
He welcomes the nothingness.
Slowly, sluggishly, Ace forces his body to move, picks himself off the floor and walks to the shower room; no one will be there to see the mess, so he takes his sweet time rinsing the blood, turning the waters a sickly pink. He keeps the shower running until the pink vanishes, dries his arm off, wraps from gauze he'd stored in here just for moments like this (and he'd been doing so well) around the bite and the scratches, and wanders back to their room.
*Kotatsu perks up immediately upon his entry, carefully leaping off the bed to hurry to Ace' side. He must smell the blood, specks still seeping through the thick bandages. The lynx growls low like he's angry, disappointed, worried, and starts to lick at Ace's arm, just like he did that night Sabo...
This time, Ace gently pushes him away. "Not now, Kotatsu," he murmurs. The overgrown cat doesn't listen, chuffing sadly and bumping his head against Ace's knees, his hand. Again, Ace pushes him aside, a little harder this time. "Kotatsu, stop. Not now. Leave me alone."
Kotatsu gives the boy one last look that somehow manages to look so achingly sad, and then he turns away, hopping back onto the bed and curling up at his brothers' feet. The two are still fast asleep, curled around each other, bliss on their faces, wholly at peace.
Ace sits on the edge bed and watches them for a moment. His arm throbs, his chest aches with a foreign chill, but he ignores them. He watches his little brothers, his whole world and his reason for being...
They'll be fine, here. They're adored by the crew, loved by the Commanders and— and Whitebeard. They'll live a happy life here, get stronger under their watchful care, grow into incredible young men and go off to live their dreams. Pirate King, and Revolutionary.
They'll be fine here. They'll be fine without Ace.
Sabo stirs, face scrunching up with a snort before his eyes pry themselves open, blinking once, twice. Discordant blues find Ace in the gloom, and he blinks again. "... Ace?" he mumbles drowsily, lifting the arm he'd curled around Luffy's shoulders to rub his eye like a child. "Wha... what're you doin'? Not—not sleepin' yet?"
And no matter how numb he feels, how cold and bitter and pathetic, his brothers will never fail to bring some of that warmth back, pull his lips into a smile, small though it may be. He reaches out over Luffy's snoring form to card his fingers through Sabo's curls, and Sabo immediately leans into the touch like a sleepy kitten, eyelids falling half shut. "Yeah, 'Bo, I'm coming in now," he whispers. "Go back to sleep."
Sabo's head falls back into the plush pillow, but like the stubborn bastard he is, he attempts to keep his eyes open. "Wha's matter? You look—you look rough. Somethin' happen, you okay?"
"Shh, Sabo, I'm fine. Really." Ace plasters a slightly wider smile. It doesn't reach his eyes, but Sabo's too out of it to notice. He cups his scarred cheek, brushing his thumb tenderly over the ruined skin. "Go to sleep, dummy."
With a soft yawn, Sabo finally relents and shuts his eyes. "'kay," he mumbles, drifting off once more. "Love you, Ace."
Ace's scoff sounds more like a gasp and a sob all at once. "Love you too, Sabo." He gets a snore in reply.
Toeing off his boots, Ace slips under the thick blanket and wraps his arms as far as they can go around the two precious people in his life. He holds them, and wills for the morning to never come so they can stay like this forever.
Sleep eludes him, and for once, he's glad it does.
... I'm so sorry!
Reviews are writer chow :3
