(A/N: ADVANCE WARNING: This chapter's a hellllluva lot darker than the previous ones. Seriously. Be advised. And blame my stress levels for the darkness of the tone. School is pretty much kicking the shit out of me.

My excuse for not responding to reviews is that I honestly wasn't planning on writing this. This chapter kind of jumped out of nowhere. For those of you that have been around for a while, you know how sporadic my updates are so you know how bizarre it is for me to be writing the next chapter this soon, so you'll understand that I'm being honest when I say this one popped out of the blue. So I'll respond to your reviews real soon, promise!

This chapter takes place pretty much directly after chapter 4.

Warnings for this chapter: graphic description of sexual and emotional abuse and language.

I'm really sorry. But hey, no new characters introduced or anything. If you really want you could skip this chapter (I'd recommend against it though because there's a bit of character development and a fuckton of backstory). I'm well aware that tonally it doesn't match up at all with the rest of the story and thus might not be your cup of tea.)

It was quiet. Dark. Ace, 9 years old, was lying on his side, staring sleeplessly at the wall. He could hear his heart thudding in his chest, its pace almost frantic. His breathing was shuddering in and out of his lungs like an old engine. This was almost worse.

The waiting.

The digital clock, glowing faintly on the nightstand, announced it to be almost two o'clock. He stared at it, begging that maybe, maybe tonight would be different. Maybe 1:55 would roll past and nothing would happen. Ace could feel himself shaking minutely against the sheets.

1:52, the clock announced mutely. Ace felt as if his chest were constricting. But he could do nothing but stare at the wall, stare at the wall and beg that tonight would be different.

1:53. He wanted to run. He wanted to run so badly. But where would he go? Who would even still be awake at this hour? Was there anyone he could ask for help?

1:54. He heard himself whimper quietly, cutting off the sound almost as soon as it began. 'Don't attract attention. Be as small as possible. Maybe you won't be noticed,' instinct screamed at his brain. He couldn't hide. He'd tried. He was always found-

Ace heard the quiet sigh of the door opening and felt his whole world shatter. He squeezed his eyes shut, his curled form tightening even further. Please. Please, just go away. Just stand there and look like you used to, then leave. Please. Please. Please. Footsteps approached and Ace willed for his pulse to just stop, for himself to just die right there. The footsteps halted just beside his bed, and Ace held his breath, trembling. For a moment, all of reality hung on the precipice.

And then a hand started to pet at Ace's hair.

A choked noise somewhere between a whimper and a sob broke out of Ace's chest, but he didn't move, save to clench his eyes more tightly closed. Maybe it's all just a nightmare, some part of his mind tried to desperately believe. Maybe none of this is real. Maybe it's all a dream. You just need to wake up, Ace. You just need to wake up. Come on. Wake up.

He felt the covers being drawn away from him, felt Goosebumps crawl up his skin under the t-shirt and flannel pajama pants. He tried to curl further in on himself but there was nowhere left to run. Wake up. Wake up. Come on, Ace, wake up.

A hand trailed down his arm to his wrist, gripping it tightly, prying it away from where it was clamped around his shins. Ace wasn't strong enough to resist as it was pinned to the mattress above his head, forcing him onto his back. His first true sob wracked his chest. Wake up wake up wake up. The other wrist soon joined it, the man above him only needing one hand to immobilize both of Ace's arms.

The man's other hand quickly found its way beneath Ace's shirt, ghosting over his skin before settling into rough stroking. Ace felt hot tears sliding down over his temples and into his hair. Wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up!

The hand moved lower, heading towards the waistband of Ace's pants. WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP, Ace screamed at himself, but the nightmare didn't stop, the fingers wrapped around the edge of his pants-

This isn't a dream. You aren't going to wake up.

As the reality of the situation set in, Ace began to writhe desperately, squirming and wriggling, trying to free his arms, to flee, anything. The sudden struggle took the man by surprise and Ace managed to twist free, falling to the floor with a thud. He was on his feet in an instant, tears burning tracks down his face, and began sprinting towards the door. He felt a thick hand wrap around one of his wrists.

"Please, please please just let me go! PLEASE!" Ace sobbed, pulling against the man with his combined weight (not much) and strength (minute by comparison). The man, who had the size, might, and monstrosity of a Greek Minotaur to Ace's terrified, childish eyes, began pulling Ace back towards him. And Ace couldn't. He just couldn't. He snapped, pure, animalistic instinct driving him to escape.

His teeth closed around the man's hand holding his wrist, desperation lending him the strength to puncture the skin. The man cried out, the metallic taste of blood filling Ace's mouth and only spiking his adrenaline. The grip on Ace's wrist was gone and a moment later Ace was through the door, pounding down the hall.

Tears still streamed down Ace's face, his breath no more than gasping sobs. He sprinted down the hallway towards the light at the end of the hall, towards the partly open study door.

He slammed through it, finally stopping from his desperate flight. His caretaker looked up, first with alarm, but that quickly faded to disinterest, almost annoyance.

"Ace. What are you doing here?" His tone barely suggested a question. As the recent memory, the adrenaline, the terror, and the relief of finally being safe crashed over Ace, he found himself crying with renewed vigor. His sobs were too thick for him to speak through, and he didn't even try at first. He could barely breathe, his hands in loose fists over his eyes, sobs so powerful they shook his whole body. His caretaker looked at him, already limited patience waning.

"Stop sniveling. Why are you in here?" He'd been told to never come in here. Ever. But this was undoubtedly an exception. Ace wiped at his face, trying to slow his gasping sobs so he could speak. His caretaker watched him dispassionately.

"Th-Th-There's a m-man in my room-m," Ace whimpered. He took in a shuddering breath. "I-I-I know you told me not to bother you, bu-but he's b-been co-co-coming for two weeks now and I-I can't take it an-anymore!"

"What does he do? Does he hurt you? Has he ever left bruises or cuts?" The caretaker looked borderline angry now. Ace shook his head.

"N-No. He…touches me. I d-don't like it! It makes me f-feel wrong." A moment of silence passed.

"…He touches you." Ace nodded again, fresh tears budding in his eyes. "But he doesn't leave marks." Another nod. "And you haven't told anyone else about this, right?" Ace nodded once more, sniffling. "Good. Keep it that way." The caretaker turned back to the papers on his desk. "Now get out." Ace stared at him blankly, blinking a few times.

"B-But he's still in my room!" he stammered. His caretaker didn't even look up.

"…And?" he finally asked.

"And he'll start touching me again, and he'll probably be mad that I bit him-" Now his caretaker looked up.

"You bit him?" There was a sharp edge to his voice. Anger was beginning to grow again in his eyes.

"He grabbed my wrist when I tried to run so I bit his hand. I think he was bleeding-" Ace started.

"Go back," his caretaker murmured, dangerously quiet, "and apologize." Ace felt his mouth fall open, his eyes widen in horror. He felt as if his lungs had just been ripped out of his chest.

"B-But-!"

The caretaker sighed, his eyes freezing Ace's voice in his throat. "Listen to me very, very carefully Ace. You seem to fail to understand exactly what you are." He allowed a moment of rhetorical silence to follow. "You are nothing more than a problem. That's it. You're a burden. You are completely, entirely worthless. You have negative – you know what that means, don't you? – value. All you've ever done for anyone around here is cost time and money. So if you think anyone here is going to give half a rat's ass that you're unhappy about something, you better drop that notion fast. Everyone else around here serves some kind of purpose except you. So I'm inclined to side with my employee in this case. Now go the fuck back, apologize, and tell him he can do anything short of fucking you." The caretaker turned back to his work. "The world runs on reciprocity, Ace. Nobody gives two fucks about who you are or what you want. Only what you can do for them. That's the only reason anyone will ever want you around."

Ace stared at him, shock widening his eyes, tears still frozen on his face. He didn't have words for this. Problem. You're a problem, his mind whispered. You know he's not lying. You don't do anything around here, not like you see the others doing. You are worthless. So what does it even matter if someone touches you in a way you don't like? You aren't even worth an opinion.

"Ace." His caretaker's voice interrupted his thoughts and Ace looked up, hoping hopelessly that somehow maybe he would take his words back. "Get the fuck out." Ace nodded mutely after a moment, holding his sobs back. He backed out of the room slowly, his caretaker not even looking up at his departure.

He walked back down the darkened hallway, tears freely flowing down his face. He sobbed quietly, quiet enough to not attract attention, to not wake anyone. Why make himself even more of a problem if he could avoid it? Nobody wanted to hear him cry. Nobody cared that he was crying. It was just annoying, unnecessary noise.

Ace stopped outside the door to his bedroom. It was still thrown wide from his frantic flight, but the darkness within was purer and Ace couldn't see. He could feel his heart rate picking up again, could feel the adrenaline beginning to resurge. Fear made his chest tight, made more tears roll down his childish cheeks. He was scared. He was so, so scared. He didn't understand this situation, didn't understand why the man touched him, why he came back every night. He didn't even entirely understand why he was so afraid. Maybe it was because it had escalated. He didn't know what it could possibly be leading to, only that he already didn't like it now so whatever was coming in the future was probably only worse… The thought sent a fresh wave of tears down his face. He didn't want it to get worse, he just wanted it to stop.

He took in a shuddering breath. "Now go the fuck back, apologize, and tell him he can do anything short of fucking you," his mind repeated. In the darkness through the door, he thought he saw something move and felt every muscle in his body tense, his eyes going wide. He began to tremble. He was so afraid…

"Ace?" a voice asked. It was low, undeniably masculine, and husky with a tone Ace didn't understand. It sent a spear of dread down his spine, and without any kind of mental command, he found himself sprinting away again, down the hallway, down the staircase, out the door…

He wasn't even fully conscious of his mad dash. Scenery whizzed passed, and he ignored the chill of the air and the bite of the cement against his bare feet. He was dimly aware he was definitively heading somewhere, his subconscious having a specific destination in mind, but his conscious mind was too shut down with fear and despair to be aware of it.

Cement became gravel, then finally cool grass, wet from the sprinklers. Ace finally skidded to a stop, sliding on hands and knees, scraping up his palms.

At first he just wept, after a while curling over and in on himself, grabbing fistfuls of the grass. The fear was so real, the despair so fresh, and the solitude so, so bitter. The sobs wracked his frame, audible and unrestrained. His tears fell on the grass, hot and raw against the composed, frigid night air.

"Why?!" he demanded, nearly shouting, but voice broken with grief. "Why did you have to die?!" he was interrupted by another series of violent sobs, but continued a moment later, looking up and glaring accusingly at the headstone.

"All I want is a family! Just like we read about in school, in the st-storybooks! A mother, a father, a dog or cat, a-and for ev-everything to be…to be BETTER!" He broke off again, sobbing, the anger quickly breaking back into grief. "This isn't what it's supposed to be like!" he sobbed. "You're supposed to be here! You're supposed to love me, and we're supposed to have dinner together, and I'm not supposed to be scared!" He'd twisted the grass in his hands, ripping some of the stalks. "I-I'm not su-supposed to b-be alone…"

The headstone didn't respond. It was too dark even to read the words engraved on its surface. In more light, two names would have been revealed. Portgas D Rouge, loving wife and mother. Gol D Roger, loving husband and father. Ace felt his heartbroken anger resurge.

"But no! Y-You had to go and die! You left me here alone! You abandoned me! How could you do that?! I need you!" Sobs tore out of his chest, nearly painful in their ferocity. "I-I need you so so so much…" He took in a shuddering gasp of a breath. "Why can't you come back? Why can't you be here? I…I wish you would just show up and save me! I can't do this anymore!" Ace didn't have the vocabulary to express how trapped he was, that he had no way out of this. He'd been told so many times what would happen if he told anyone about the way he was treated or the things he saw at 'home.' "I never met you and I miss you so much!" he finished, trailing off into sobs. He tried to speak more, but the force of his tears prevented him, and he sank into unintelligible, wracking sobs and heartbroken wails.

His tears could only last so long. Without any knowledge of the passage of time, he eventually fell into dry sobs, slowly becoming aware of his numbness from the cold, of the stinging pain in his feet from running down the sidewalks of Chicago, the burn in his palms from his fall. He was probably bleeding, with all kinds of filth and grit rubbed into his scraped feet. He couldn't bring himself to care.

He finally subsided into silence, spent, hollow, numb. The childish fantasy, the hope that maybe somehow he could get a happy ending had been proved false. His parents didn't magically appear because he wanted them to. No loving embrace, however craved, appeared to tell him everything was all right, that the truths of his existence weren't as cruel as they seemed.

He stood eventually, the weight of his childhood falling from his shoulders and embedding itself in the dirt of those graves. He turned, face finally dry, eyes as vacant as a fish's, and began the long walk home.

It was still dark when he got back. There was no greeting, not even a reprimand upon his return. The entire house seemed unaware of his little foray. Or they just didn't care. Ace mounted the stairs, equally uncaring if he trailed blood from his feet or hands on the floor or railing. He walked down the hall, staring ahead as dumbly as a cow, coming to a stop outside his door for the second time in one night.

He didn't feel any fear this time.

It was because he realized he didn't deserve to feel afraid.

You're a problem. That's it. You're a problem. You make things worse for everyone around you. You serve no valuable purpose in this life. You're worth nothing. Less than nothing. He stepped inside the door silently, face blank. It was still too dark to see. The least you can do is try to make up the difference. Make yourself useful to someone in some way and maybe then you'll be worth nothing instead of negatively affecting the world. He lay down on his bed, facing the wall. His body automatically curled up again, arms wrapping around his shins. The digital clock dimly illuminated the wall with a faint red glow.

1:54.

For whatever reason, the realization that time hadn't passed didn't surprise Ace. It made perfect sense. He heard the door open again, and out of habit alone curled into a tighter ball. Less than worthless. You deserve this. This is how you make it up to the world. You don't have the right to be scared. You deserve this. Despite his brain repeating this like a mantra, as the footsteps drew nearer, Ace felt his heart accelerate. So dried out, only a single tear managed to squeeze past his eye. He didn't want this. He didn't want this at all. He never had and he never would. But he wasn't allowed to say no. Because he was a problem and the only reason people would ever keep him around was if he could do something for them.

The man, as if sensing Ace's nonresistance, didn't bother pinning his arms above his head. As his hands wandered Ace's form, he felt physically ill. He hated this. He hated himself, for being so worthless that this was the only way he could pay it back.

"Quid pro quo, Ace," the man whispered in Ace's ear. He had an accent, something Ace couldn't quite define but that he found captivating to listen to. He recognized it. His eyes shot wide and he rolled over, looking up, disbelieving. As soon as he was on his back, however, his arms were grabbed harshly, his whole body slammed into the mattress. He realized in a flash that he was no longer his 9-year-old self, but rather 18. All the same, when he tried to struggle, he found his body paralyzed, deaf to his commands. He couldn't move. He couldn't fight back as the man pinned his arms above his head, climbing onto the bed below Ace, hitching up one of Ace's legs over his shoulder. Half-lidded, hungry blue eyes burned into Ace, seeming to nearly glow. "Quid pro quo."

Ace shot awake, gasping like a fish out of water, scrambling backwards, flailing wildly. His heart slammed against his ribcage, the memory-gone-nightmare seared into his mind like a brand, repeating over and over again. Ace reached behind him, trying to scramble further back, but he'd reached the edge of the bed. With a yelp and a crash, he found himself on the floor. A moment later, Ace heard the door bang open and he felt his heart stop in his chest.

Marco strode through the door, light from the hallway streaming into the dark room behind him. "Ace? What's the matter? What happened? Are you all right?"

Upon seeing him, Ace only scrambled further back, eyes widening with horror and fear. His breath was uneven and ragged, and when Marco's eyes fell upon him he instantly looked concerned. He slowed down, no longer striding into the room but walking slowly, taking small steps. "…Why are you crying?" the question was asked gently, and when Ace reached up, he was surprised to find wetness on his face. Marco moved forward, reaching out, and Ace's breathing cut off, his legs trying to press him back further into the wall, but there was nowhere to run.

Marco froze where he was, slowly retracting his hand. This was different than when Ace had woken from other nightmares. His terror had been distant then, and Marco had served as a source of comfort. He still remembered reading The Little Prince to Ace a few weeks ago after a nightmare. But now…Ace wasn't scared of some distant antagonist.

He was scared of Marco.

"Ace what's wrong? Talk to me." Marco spoke gently. He didn't move any closer to Ace, didn't move at all, thinking it most non-threatening to remain stationary. Ace stared up at him terror plain on his face. His breathing was heaving and uneven, he was nearly hyperventilating. The tears were still bright and fresh on his face, and his mouth was parted slightly, breath panting between his lips. A moment of silence passed, Ace staring up at Marco in a way that made his heart break.

"…Quid pro quo, right Marco?" Ace asked breathily. Marco stared at him, confused.

"…What?" Ace smiled brokenly.

"That's what this is all about. That's what it's always been about." Ace drew his knees up to his chest, still staring at Marco like he thought he was going to lash out. After a moment, though, he broke their gaze, threading his fingers through his hair and placing the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to hold back the new tears. "F-Fair's fair." He tried not to let his voice tremble too much. "I…I won't fight you. I promise. So…g-go ahead." He couldn't look up. He couldn't look up at Marco. He could watch this happen. The sensation alone would be terrible enough, he wasn't about to be forced to watch again.

"Ace…" Marco didn't even know what to day. Shock had driven his eyes wide, and his tone held all his confusion and surprise. Ace gave a breathless laugh that sounded more like a sob.

"Th-This is ho-how I make up the d-difference. I know I'm just a problem. I'm aware how w-worthless I am. You don't have t-to pretend anymore, Marco. You d-don't have to pre-pretend I'm even a person. J-Just do it." Marco's heart cracked, hearing Ace talk like that. He could tell Ace believed it. Marco approached silently and saw Ace stiffen, but he didn't move to flee. Marco crouched before him and could see the tiny tremors that left Ace's shoulders and arms shaking. He was terrified.

"You're not a problem, Ace. You're not a burden. You're not worthless. You don't have to 'make up the difference'" Marco hated himself for even saying the words as if they had a possibility of existing in this reality, "because there is no difference." He smiled softly. "You do more for me than I probably do for you. I let you sleep in a spare bedroom that wasn't being used anyway and buy groceries. You cook, clean, do laundry, help me with schoolwork, and make this house feel brighter than it has in years. If anything, I owe you a difference." Ace was peering at him from between his fingers, fear and disbelief plain as day in his eyes.

"…Why do you do this?" Ace asked, choked. Because I think I may love you, Marco's mind responded instantly. "People aren't…aren't good like that." The fear was returning to his eyes. "Wh-What is it you want from me?! Izou already told me you're gay so it has to be sex, right?!" Marco took a deep breath, not letting his emotions show on his face. He understood the fear now. Ace thought Marco was helping him so that he'd let Marco take advantage of him. Marco didn't let the feeling of betrayal sit in his chest. It wasn't Ace's fault, this was just the world as he'd been taught to see it. Marco rose to his feet. At his movement, Ace flinched, and he watched cautiously as Marco backed across the room until he leaned against a wall, a fair distance away from Ace.

"I want you to have the life you deserve," Marco said quietly, eyes soft. Ace watched him guardedly. Marco swallowed thickly. "…And if you decide that's no longer with me, you are free to make that choice." He saw Ace's eyes widen, his hands draw away from his face in shock. "You're not a prisoner here, Ace. Hell, you're not even a guest anymore. You're a member of this household. And I would love it if you stayed. But I won't make you. You're free to go any time you like, to any destination of your choosing. If the reason you feel uncomfortable living with me is my sexuality, I can arrange for you to stay with Thatch, if you'd prefer. But I want you to know that I will never touch you, address you, or treat you in any offensive or abusive way." Ace was left staring at Marco, motionless, for what felt like hours. Fear melted to distrust. Distrust thawed to caution, caution to disbelief. Disbelief pooled into confusion, which, as the terror of the memory-nightmare receded, evaporated to guilt.

"…I…I'm sorry, Marco," Ace finally said. He bit his lip, looking down. "I kind of fucked up. I shouldn't have…jumped to conclusions. You've been nothing but kind and I…should be more grateful. I'm just not exactly used to honest kindness." He smiled bitterly. "When you're told at nine that you're a piece of trash and nobody will ever care about you it gets a little hard to believe in compassion." Ace felt all the familiar self-loathing stewing in his guts where it'd been for nine years now.

"You're not trash." Ace snorted. Marco was staring at him seriously, though, and didn't relent. "Ace. Look at me." With mild confusion written on his face, Ace looked up, meeting Marco's gaze. Marco stared firmly into his eyes, face dead serious. "You're not trash, Ace. And people do care about you." Ace tried to smile cynically, tried to make Marco's words bounce off. Tried to tell himself that Marco didn't mean them, that they were lies. But Marco kept looking at him, and his gaze denied a joke and screamed honesty. Ace searched his gaze, looking desperately for the give, for the tick, for the lie, but he couldn't find it. Marco meant the words. Absolutely. The smile faded from Ace's face and he looked away, breaking their gaze. He licked his lips.

"…I don't think I believe you." Too many memories, the man in his room at nine all the way to staring at his reflection in a steamy bathroom mirror at 17, denied Marco's words. He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting them off. He looked up at Marco, smiling faintly. "But I can tell you believe you. So…thank you."

And just like that the deep ache of solitude that had plagued him ever since that cold night in the graveyard became just a little bit dimmer.

(Shitty chapter ending is shitty. Oops. Actually: shitty chapter in general is shitty. Sorry. Well I wrote it so I figured I may as well upload it. Hope the whole italics = nightmare/memory made sense. And that the non-italics in that script were thoughts or emphasized words. If not, oops. Noticing a theme? (I'll give you a hint: it's that it's currently 2 in the morning and I'm grumpy and don't want to edit things)

Well anyway, if anyone actually reads this chapter, yippee! Please leave a review and tell me to de-stress before writing so I'll stop horrifically mistreating my favorite characters! *sigh* It's…a problem. And I still haven't updated Jetzt Heir because I suck. Oh well. I'll get to that later I guess. Spring break was over as of Monday, so updates are going to get suckishly slow again. Sorry.

Well anyway, to those of you that read I hope you…um…well, liked the writing if not the plot of the chapter. I actually put a bit of thought into particular word and image motifs in this chapter, and there's even a literary device-ish thingy that you might be able to pick out! It's pretty subtle, though, so don't feel bad if you didn't see it. I'll give you a hint: it's a religious image. Kinda. Yeah. If you don't find it feel free to ask me about it and I'll tell you!

Well, see you all next time. Adios.

~Stuff'nStuff)