Maybe this Year

by Stuff'nStuff

Adjusting to life in New York was hard. Ace had to get used to a totally different lifestyle, not to mention learning to deal with living half-blind and with the trauma of his last two months in hell. So be it walking into door frames, looking for acceptance in a biased society or learning what it means to actually love, it's going to be a challenge. But at least he's not alone.

7. Chapter 7

A/N: Fast huh? There's a reason for that. Which WILL BE EXPLAINED IN THE BOTTOM AUTHOR'S NOTES THAT YOU MUST ALL READ. SERIOUSLY.

Okay so here it is. The chapter you're going to hate me for. Whoopdiedoo.

ADVISORY: As you're reading this chapter, you may reach a point where you'll be like, "bitch no I'm not reading this anymore! I quit! I hate you! D:" please, dear reader, if you ever do anything for me, let it be that you read this whole chapter. Because you need to read the whole thing in order for it to make sense and be truly clarified. The bottom author's notes will also be very necessary for your understanding and for the continuing of a benign relationship between us.

ADVISORY 2: This chapter contains spoilers from the One Piece manga that may not be in the anime yet. I do not watch the anime. I do not know how far they are and what you all know up to this point. The following chapter is to be read understanding that my knowledge stems from the One Piece manga, which is and always has been further in the plot than the anime. You have been warned. If you read further having only seen the anime, you are spoiling yourselves. I am not responsible for any spoiling that occurs beyond this point.

Oh and fun fact: I KNOW NOTHING ABOUT GUNS. I did some research for this chapter, but it was quite brief and if I get anything wrong I apologize for my ignorance.

Okay. Now that the advisories are taken care of, we can set into the chapter.

Warning: this chapter contains VIOLENCE, STRONG LANGUAGE, REFERENCE TO PAST DRUG USE, REFERENCE TO SEXUAL ABUSE, REFERENCE TO PHYSICAL ABUSE. This chapter is a DOOZY. Please brace yourself.

This chapter takes place about…five months after the last one.

---

Ace stirred softly, not even opening his eyes before settling again, fully intending to fall back asleep. He was warm, drowsy, comfortable. He hummed faintly in contentment, pulling the covers up to his nose. It was February and that meant it was fucking freezing. Well, freezing everywhere except the small bubble of warmth Ace was ensconced in. A quiet chuckle came from above and Ace cracked one eye open.

Gentle fingertips passed loosely through his hair, stroking it back and away from his face. Ace was laying on his right side, as usual, and when he cracked open his left eye the first thing he saw was Marco, propped up on one elbow, smiling down at him. He let his eye fall shut again, practically purring in satisfaction as Marco kept caressing his hair.

"Did it snow?" Ace murmured after a break of easy silence. Marco smiled faintly. Ace's accent always did come out more when he was sleepy. He pressed a kiss onto the top of Ace's head.

"I don't think so. But the temperature definitely dropped overnight." Marco made to move, but Ace, in a moment of drowsy boldness, wrapped his arms around his torso.

"Don't get up. It's Saturday. There's nowhere you have to be. Stay in bed." Marco chuckled, settling back down, and Ace buried his face in his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around Ace, brushing his thumb over the skin of his midback where his shirt had ridden up in his sleep.

"You're hard to say no to," he murmured into Ace's hair. Ace didn't say anything, merely burrowing further into the crook of Marco's neck. But Marco felt him smiling against his skin.

They stayed silent, warm amid the frigid city, like a candle flame. Marco held Ace gently, not like something fragile, but like a bird. Something free. Ace stayed pressed up almost entirely against Marco of his own volition, not because Marco was holding him there. His head remained tucked under Marco's chin, and every now and again he'd nuzzle gently at the skin of his collarbones and neck. Ace started humming quietly after a while. A gentle, soft melody, not unlike a lullaby.

"I think it's snowing now," Ace whispered, Marco feeling the tickle of his eyelashes as he opened his eyes. Marco opened his eyes as well, unaware they'd even fallen closed.

"How can you tell?" Ace was looking up at him, having pulled his face away from Marco's neck, and Marco looked back at him through half lidded eyes. Ace smiled faintly, leaning up to brush a kiss against his mouth before settling back against his chest.

"I can just tell." Marco hummed in acceptance. "I bet it's those big, puffy, pretty snowflakes. The ones that make it look like the whole world is in slow motion." Marco smiled softly.

"You think so?"

"Yeah."

They fell silent again, and soon Ace resumed humming. Marco liked the tune. It sounded like something that would play during snowfall like Ace described.

"What is that song you're humming?" Marco finally asked. Ace paused.

"You want me to stop?"

"No, I like it. But what song is it?" He felt Ace smile again.

"It's called Tsuyu Wo Suu Mure. No promises on my pronunciation of that. It came up on Pandora the other day while I was doing homework. It's from a soundtrack, I think. I was thinking about learning it on piano." Marco smiled.

"I'm sure that'll sound really nice on piano." He kissed Ace once, gentle and chaste, then pulled back, pulling away. Ace whined in protest and Marco laughed softly. "Come on, lazybones. You actually do have to get up today. Thatch invited us for brunch at his restaurant, remember?" Marco slid out of bed, standing. The room had a slight chill that had managed to penetrate from outside (February was damn cold. The temperatures themselves were fine, but the wind was the real problem, making it feel like well below freezing), but it wasn't intolerable. He moved to the dresser, selecting a plain, collared shirt and a warm, dark blue sweater. His coat was downstairs. He went to the closet, finding a pair of dark grey slacks to replace his current flannel pajama pants. He turned back around, as he hadn't heard Ace get out of bed yet, and burst out laughing.

Ace was, indeed, still lying in bed.

But through some undisclosed maneuver had managed to wrap himself entirely in the thick winter comforter, rolled up like a burrito. Only his head was visible, poking just out of the top.

"How can you be walking around this room like it doesn't feel like the interior of Satan's icebox?" Ace asked, almost accusingly. "It's too damn cold to not be wrapped in a blanket!" Marco stifled his laughter enough to speak.

"Yes, well, as much as I'm sure Thatch would greatly appreciate you coming to his self-proclaimed high class restaurant in nothing but an old t-shirt, sweatpants, and a blanket, I think you're going to have to change." Marco swept over to the bed suddenly, scooping the whole blanket-bundle that was Ace into his arms. Ace made a startled noise, but before he could begin struggling Marco carried him out of the room, heading down the hall towards Ace's room. About halfway down the hall Ace regained enough composure to begin writhing good-naturedly, intermittently giggling and spitting half-hearted insults. Marco feigned almost dropping him, and Ace squealed, arms shooting out of the blanket and around Marco's neck in the blink of any eye. Alarm almost instantly morphed into a glare.

"Don't do that you dick!" Marco chuckled, nudging open Ace's door with his foot. Once inside, he tossed Ace – who managed a half-shriek of an impressively high decibel level – onto the bed. Ace sat up, giving Marco a weak glare that was entirely undermined by his grin. "What do you take me for, some kind of princess?" Marco grinned as well, bowing deeply.

"If it pleases your majesty you should wear the sweater Izou got you last Christmas. It'd make him happy to see it on you." Ace laughed, finally disentangling himself from the blanket, walking over to Marco and kissing his face.

"Why do I love you you big goof?"

"Because I laugh at your jokes and have enough of a sense of humor in the morning to get you out of bed." Marco was generally more energetic in the morning, before he really got ready to deal with the day, too awake to be his usual passive self. Ace rolled his eyes, placing a hand over Marco's face and pushing him out of the room.

"Go get dressed loser."

---

Brunch, as expected of Thatch's cooking, was amazing. Izou, Vista, and Jozu were also in attendance, as it turned out, and Thatch took a break from the kitchen to join them for a short while after their food was served. The conversation and company had been pleasant, with all the energy and excitement Ace had come to expect of Marco's family.

They'd returned home and done pretty much nothing for the rest of the day. Lazing around was kind of a nice break, though. Midterms were approaching swiftly, and the day provided a desperately needed break for both Ace and Marco. Upon Ace's pleading, Marco had relented and they'd watched The Fellowship of the Ring and the first part of The Two Towers (Ace had turned into the biggest LotR nerd after Marco got him the books for his 19th birthday, just like Marco knew he would), and so they spent the majority of the day curled up under a blanket on the couch, Ace half-curled into Marco's chest, Marco tracing delicate patterns over the back of Ace's hand with his thumb.

Ace's phone buzzed in his pocket just as Merry and Pippin were about to meet Treebeard. Grumbling, he paused the movie, pulling out his phone and studying it in disdain. His annoyance left quickly though, seeing the text. He looked up at Marco.

"Would it be all right if Marco – the freckled one, obviously – came over tomorrow? We need to cram for history and he just finished a whole deck of flashcards." Marco raised his eyebrows.

"Of course. You can invite him for dinner too, if you'd like." Ace shook his head, grinning.

"Nah, Jean's taking him somewhere as some kind of 'surprise'. Marco wouldn't shut up about it all week. He'd probably be over in the early afternoon and be out of here before 5." Marco smiled and nodded assent, bringing his right arm out from under the blanket to check his watch. He frowned.

"Ah crap." He shifted his gaze to Ace. "I have to go. Pops needs me to look over a complaint he received about 'discrimination in the admissions office' to see if it has any legal merit." He sighed, standing, withdrawing his hand reluctantly from Ace's. He leaned in, kissing Ace warmly. When Ace gave no indication of pulling away or being uncomfortable, Marco deepened the kiss slightly, bringing one hand up to card through Ace's hair and down the side of his neck. Ace hummed in appreciation, staying pressed against Marco for a moment more before withdrawing, opening his eyes slowly. Marco smiled back at him, leaning in to kiss his forehead. "I'll probably be back late. Don't wait up for me." Ace nodded and Marco drew back, heading for the door, grabbing his coat on the way.

It wasn't uncommon that Marco do this. Once every week or so Marco would leave the house for some miscellaneous task one of his brothers or his father had asked him for help with. Ace didn't mind. Marco was allowed to live his own life, and Ace found it endearing, how devoted Marco was to his family. Marco would usually come in very, very late, but he never came home drunk and was quiet as he could be when climbing into bed. Ace couldn't ask for more.

"I love you! Be safe!" he called after Marco, who was tying a scarf around his neck before hauling his pea coat over his shoulders. Marco looked back at him, smiling with fondness, eyes soft with warmth.

"I love you too. I'll see you in the morning." Marco turned back towards the door, opening it with one hand, slipping his keys into his pocket with the other.

"Watch out for balrogs!"

---

Ace set his phone alarm for 10:30 the next morning, sleeping with it under his hand, carefully turned to silent (but with vibrate on) so as not to wake Marco. The night before, he'd finished The Two Towers and guiltlessly marathoned through The Return of the King with a dinner of microwaved nachos with diced tomatoes, onions, and avocado. He'd been disappointed to see that they were out of fresh cilantro, but he had to go shopping soon anyway, he'd just add it to the list.

Freckled Marco wasn't scheduled to arrive for another two hours or so, but Ace slid out of bed, heading to the bathroom for a shower. Blond Marco stirred slightly as Ace's weight shifted off the mattress, but he didn't wake, just shifted positions before settling once more. Ace smiled affectionately, resisting the urge to kiss his temple. Marco was very sensitive to touch when asleep, the slightest brush and he'd snap awake. Ace wasn't sure exactly when he'd gotten in – he'd been very careful and very good about not waking Ace up with his arrival – but Ace knew that if Marco the early bird was still asleep, he needed the rest.

Before heading to the bathroom, Ace went into his room to fetch the clothes for the day. Jeans, hoodie, fresh underwear. Not exactly a fashion statement, but Ace wasn't trying to impress his history textbook for Christ's sake. He tucked the folded clothes under one arm and stumbled semi-blearily down the hall to the bathroom, bumping into the doorframe gently. He'd gotten better with doors, much better, but every now and again he'd still nudge into one.

Ace pushed into the bathroom, flicking on the lights and shutting the door behind him, locking it. He'd eventually – it was late November, by Ace's recollection – gotten over his almost compulsive desire to bar the bathroom door when he was showering. He'd used to drag a chair in every time, jamming it under the doorknob to prevent entry because a lock just wasn't good enough. He felt a sickening twinge in his stomach and swallowed thickly.

He still couldn't look in the bathroom mirror.

Eyes carefully downcast, Ace put his fresh clothes on the counter, stripped, and turned on the water. He waited the few moments it took for it to get hot before stepping in, shutting the curtain behind him.

Ace didn't really like showering anymore.

He scrubbed his scalp thoroughly, but quickly. He didn't like spending too much time in the shower. He still bathed the socially expected amount, but his showers were always as brief as possible, and preferably when he either knew no one was in the house or that – like now – the house's current occupants wouldn't be interrupting.

It was one of the paranoias that just hadn't left yet. Ace wasn't sure it ever would. Like the mirror thing. These were fears, triggers, embedded so violently that it wasn't even like Ace could make a conscious effort to get better. He just had to deal with them and keep on living, hoping that maybe someday they'd fade.

He remembered once he had accidentally caught sight of his reflection in this bathroom mirror.

It'd led to the most vibrant, shattering flashback Ace had ever had.

He remembered leaning over the counter, vomiting into the sink until it was nothing but bile, and even after that until it broke into weak dry heaving. He remembered Marco, racing down the hall, calling his name, scared for him. He remembered Marco trying to comfort him, rubbing circles on his shoulders but he just couldn't right then, and he'd snapped and he'd screamed at Marco to get away, to stop touching him because he couldn't be touched in that moment. And Marco, dear, perfect Marco, even if he didn't understand why, had complied. He'd backed off, giving Ace the space he needed to break down so he could try to piece himself together again. Ace had sobbed harshly into his hands, trying desperately to force the images and sensations from his mind, and Marco had helped him in the only way he could in that moment.

He hadn't told Ace it was okay. He hadn't told Ace that everything was fine. He hadn't tried to touch him again.

He'd described a beautiful scene, a mountain range, in such astounding precision and minute detail that it was painted before Ace's eyes as vividly as his memories. With Marco's words he could almost taste the snow of those peaks, smell the pine on the air, feel the prickle of the chill.

It had brought him back.

Ace opened his eyes, allowing the last of the soap and shampoo to run off. He pushed the memory further back in his mind, not wanting the flashback to rear its ugly head again. Yes, there were some fears he'd probably never entirely get away from.

But he had Marco to help comfort him for those that remained.

He got out of the shower, toweling off before dressing, eyes carefully trained on the floor. He combed his hair, then rubbed at it fiercely with a towel to get out at least some of the water. It was thick as a forest and if he didn't at least do this it'd take forever to dry. He brushed his teeth next, reminding himself to buy more cinnamon toothpaste. Marco liked mint, but Ace could barely tolerate it. He spat, rinsed his mouth, and headed out of the bathroom, leaving the door open to vent out the steam.

He headed into the hallway, poking his head into the study to look at the clock. 11:07. (Freckled) Marco would be here in about an hour and twenty minutes, maybe a little sooner. He'd told Ace he was going to drop Luffy off at a play date and then head straight over, so he could arrive any time from noon to one.

Ace headed downstairs, intent on making himself a late breakfast. About halfway to the kitchen, he realized he'd forgotten his phone upstairs, still charging on the nightstand. He considered going to get it, but shrugged it off. It's not like Marco would get lost on the way to the house, he'd been there frequently enough in the last several months.

---

Marco walked down the street, bundled into a thick jacket and warm boots. The wind had let up slightly, so it wasn't as cold as it had been yesterday, but it wasn't above 40 degrees Fahrenheit. He'd dropped Luffy off at his friend Zoro's house, thanking Mr. Roronoa for taking care of his little brother for the evening. Upon arrival, Luffy and Zoro had instantly set to playing pirates, zooming off into the back room of the apartment. Zoro's hair was still green from Halloween when his dad had accidentally used a…well, less than temporary hair dye for Zoro's costume. Marco had winced in sympathy.

Little brother safely deposited for the evening, Marco had started making his way to Ace's place. Mr. Roronoa's apartment building was a…somewhat unfortunate distance from the nearest subway station, but Marco didn't mind the walk too terribly. The air was bright and clear with the slight cold, and the sidewalks had been thoroughly cleared since the most recent snowstorm.

There weren't many people out, being that it was Sunday, a little after lunch time, and chilly. It was that odd time of day where nobody really had any reason to be going anywhere, and so both the streets and sidewalks lacked their usual bustle. It was quieter than New York usually was, and Marco reveled in the almost-quiet. Of course, the distant, occasional car horn could be heard, but they were far less frequent than usual and afforded Marco's stroll a kind of serenity.

Marco passed few people. One woman in a purple, belted coat sped the other way, coffee in hand, almost crashing into him. A man in a black hat. A gaggle of teenage girls, giggling and cooing like pigeons. And there was one man who was walking the same direction as him, wearing a dark coat.

Marco's phone started ringing, causing him to jump in surprise at the sudden noise before fishing it from his pocket. He looked at the caller ID, face forming into a warm smile upon reading the name. Jean Kerfufflshtraightein. When they first met Marco didn't have a clue how to spell his last name and didn't bother trying, knowing he'd get it wrong even if he did. The first letter and last syllable were correct, what more could be asked for? He answered, pressing the phone to his ear.

"Hello, Jean," Marco said, voice tinged with affection.

"Hey." Marco could hear the smile in Jean's voice, the smirk that tried to play off as cocky but failed to conceal the genuine care. "You excited for tonight?" Marco felt his heart do this odd flutter-jump thing. Jean had been planning some kind of special date tonight for a good while now, and he'd been very secretive about it. Marco had tried to get him to talk about it, but Jean had been surprisingly tight-lipped.

"You've had me on edge all week with suspense. How could I not be excited?" Jean chuckled on the other end of the line in response.

"Well, I just wanted to call and make sure you wear warm enough clothes. It's supposed to get colder again tonight, and I don't want you shivering." Jean could be grumpy with every other person in the world, but not Marco. Marco, with his warm smiles and wide eyes and gentle nature, was the one person to elicit such fondness from Jean. Marco blinked, smirking.

"Is that a hint? Are we going to be outside?" Marco heard Jean swear faintly on the other line.

"…I won't say any more." A stretch of silence. "I can't wait to see you." The words were fast, as though they'd tumbled from his lips before he could stop them. Marco could practically see Jean on the other side of the phone, scowling down at the floor, face red. He always had been bad at expressing affection. Marco smiled, heart feeling impossibly full.

"I can't wait to see you either," he responded, genuine. It was almost stupid how much he cared about Jean. "I-"

Sometimes it's shocking, how fast life can change.

Something slammed hard into Marco's side, causing him to drop the phone and stumble into the alley between two buildings. One of his arms was grabbed, twisted behind his back painfully. A cloth was clamped over his nose and mouth, and somehow through the shock and sudden terror Marco's mind managed to spit out do not breathe in because he knew what chloroform was. He tried to struggle, to writhe, but the grip on his one arm prevented him from getting anywhere. His other hand scrabbled desperately at the arm holding the cloth over his face, but he didn't have the strength to pull it away.

"Stop struggling!" A foreign voice commanded, strained slightly with exertion. Marco was losing oxygen fast, his lungs aching and his arms growing weaker. Desperate terror was surging in his mind, adrenaline lending him more strength, but it just wasn't enough. "Inhale you cunt!" Marco's lungs were on fire, and he knew, despairingly, that there was nothing more he could do. His arm was twisted further, and the sudden pain plus his desperate need for air forced a gasp of mixed hurt and suffocation from him.

Black instantly swum into his vision and he felt himself crumple into the person behind him, the desperate shouts from his phone on the sidewalk beyond his hearing now.

---

"Hello, Jean." Jean was lazing on his dorm room bed, but a grin split his face as soon as he heard Marco's voice.

"Hey," he responded, unable to suppress the almost giddy smile. "You excited for tonight?" He sure as hell was. He'd been planning this for almost three weeks.

"You've had me on edge all week with suspense. How could I not be excited?" Jean chuckled. He wasn't the kind of person to keep a secret, especially not from Marco. His silence had probably piqued Marco's interest, and his dedication to not speaking, even after Marco had directly asked and tried various strategies to draw it from him, would have only fanned the curiosity.

"Well, I just wanted to call and make sure you wear warm enough clothes. It's supposed to get colder again tonight, and I don't want you shivering."

"Is that a hint? Are we going to be outside?" Jean's eyes widened.

"Shit," he murmured to himself. He wanted this to be a complete surprise to Marco. He wasn't usually the kind of person to engage in this romantic bullshit, but Marco was special and he just…he just wanted to make him happy. "…I won't say any more." A beat of silence. "I can't wait to see you." Jean's eyes widened and he instantly locked his mouth shut, feeling his face heat up. Christ, it was almost stupid how in love he was with Marco.

"I can't wait to see you either," Marco responded quietly, voice ringing with honesty. He sounded like he was smiling. Jean tried to pretend he didn't feel accomplished, knowing he made Marco smile. "I-"

There was a sudden commotion on the other line, and Jean heard the phone clatter to what sounded like pavement. He figured maybe Marco had just dropped the phone by accident and would pick it back up in a moment. He smirked, ready to poke a little fun at Marco for the slip.

The phone wasn't picked up.

"Hello? Marco? You okay?" There was no response. He heard a distant scuffling, like shoes against pavement. His eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Marco? Hello? Are you all right? Talk to-"

"Stop struggling!" Jean felt his heart stop. All blood drained from his face.

"Marco?! Marco?! What's going on?!" He was practically shouting now. His heart was beating again, but now it was pounding loud and fierce in his ears. "Are you okay?! What's happening?! Marco!" His chest felt very cold, and his hands were sweating.

"Inhale you cunt!" Jean's stomach wrenched horribly. By this point he was already on his feet, heading for the door. He didn't know what on earth he could possibly do, but like hell could he just sit there.

"Stop it! Don't you dare hurt him, you bastard! Get away from him!" Jean shouted into the phone. His every thought was now steeped in a kind of desperate terror he'd never felt before.

Silence.

For a long moment, there was no further noise from the phone and Jean froze. No scuffling of feet. No words. Nothing. Each of Jean's breaths sounded terribly loud in the deadly quiet.

Finally there was a short series of footsteps, then the rough scraping of the microphone against the pavement, like the phone was being picked up. Jean couldn't even breathe.

"If you call the police I promise you they'll never even find the body." Jean felt his whole reality shudder. His attention was fixated solely on this voice, unfamiliar, undoubtedly masculine, the same voice he'd heard shouting at Marco.

"Please don't hurt him." Jean managed to breathe. He wasn't stupid enough to threaten or scream right now. He was too scared not to beg. "Please, please don't hurt him." There was a short pause.

"Tell Ace to call this number. I'll be waiting. I warn you, I'm not patient. Don't try to contact anyone else or the last you'll see of your friend is pictures of his brains spattered on a wall."

---

Ace pursed his lips. It was past 1:20. Marco definitely should have been here by now. Maybe he sent a text or left a message saying there was a change of plans?

Ace tromped up the stairs, leaving the now-awake blond Marco downstairs in the kitchen eating a late lunch. His phone was right where he left it, on the nightstand and plugged into its wall charger. He extracted it, unlocking it.

You have 38 missed calls and 24 new messages

You have 52 unread text messages

Ace's eyebrows rose. The hell? Marco was trying to get in touch with me that desperately?

None of them were from Marco.

Every last one was from Jean.

The last call had been two minutes ago.

Ace felt his stomach twist. Something was very, very off.

He heard the doorbell ring twice, quickly succeeded by harsh knocking. Ace headed down the hall, reaching the top of the stairs just as Marco opened the door. Jean practically fell, he'd been almost leaning against the door. He was panting heavily, like he'd run a long way. Ace's eyebrows furrowed in concern.

"Is Ace here?!" Jean asked Marco, who was looking at him in mild alarm. Ace headed down the stairs, and hearing his footsteps Jean's eyes snapped to him. His gaze darkened.

"Jean? What's the-" Jean grabbed the front of his shirt, slamming him into the wall. Ace gasped.

"Why don't you answer your fucking phone?!" Jean snarled. There was a tone to his voice Ace had never heard before and didn't immediately recognize. Almost instantly Marco hauled him off of Ace.

"Hey now why don't you be a little more polite, yoi?" There was a dangerous quality to Marco's voice, in the sudden coldness it had acquired. Jean didn't seem fazed, still looking at Ace, his expression bent into one Ace had never seen on his face before.

Fear.

Desperation.

"Why don't you answer your fucking phone?" This time the question was half-choked, almost a sob. Ace moved off the wall, seriously concerned now.

"Jean, what's happened? Why are you here?" When it became clear he wasn't going to be attacking anybody, Marco released him. Jean seemed to slump, curling in on himself. He licked his lips, eyes wide, scared.

"Marco's been kidnapped," he said, his voice so weak like he couldn't believe the words were even real.

"What?!" Ace asked, shocked into disbelief. Jean's eyes snapped up to him, filled with that anger born of terror.

"Yeah, I was talking with Marco on the phone. He dropped it, and I heard a struggle. Once the struggle stopped, someone else picked up the phone. It was a man, I'd never heard his voice before. He said for you to call him at Marco's number, that he'd be waiting. He said if I tried to contact anyone else he'd kill him. Now why in hell's name have you not been answering your fucking phone?!" Ace stood, frozen in shock. His mind was totally blank, Jean's words still not fully sinking in.

Creeping comprehension was accompanied by utter horror.

"He asked for me by name?" Ace asked quietly. His hands were already shaking. Please let this all be some misunderstanding. Please let it be something else. Not this. Not this. Marco was watching him, expression seemingly calm, but Ace could see in his eyes that he had also deduced what Ace was suspecting.

"Yes he asked for you by name. By first name. Now fucking call him before he does anything to Marco-" Ace already had the phone raised to his ear. He swallowed thickly, fighting to control his breathing. Jean's mouth snapped shut and he stared at Ace anxiously.

Ring… Please don't let it be what I think it is. Please. Anything else.

Ring… Part of Ace's mind still insisted that this was all some kind of bad dream or sick joke.

Ri-

"Hello, Ace." All of Ace's internal organs simultaneously tried to shrivel up into their smallest possible forms. He felt every muscle in his body tense, his grip on the phone almost crushing. He was sure he'd gone terribly pale. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears, a cold sweat forming on his skin. No. No. No no no. Not that voice. No. He wanted to curl up and hide, he wanted to shut down he wanted to run away-

But he couldn't do any of those things. Marco needs you. Marco needs you. Marco needs you. He repeated it over and over in his head, fighting to remain in control, to keep himself from dropping the phone or hanging up on pure instinct. A powerful shudder ran down the length of his spine. He licked his lips, mouth suddenly very dry, and took a shaky breath.

"Hello," he answered, trying to mask all of his current distress. He was sure he failed horribly. His voice was breathy and weak.

"It sure has been a while, huh?" Ace could feel his whole body shaking. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't breathe. Memories writhed like eels in his mind and he thought he was going to throw up, pass out, or die. The hand that wasn't holding the phone was grabbing a fistful of his own shirt and holding it so tightly he was dimly aware of his hand aching, but too terrified to care. The air seemed to stick in his lungs and he wasn't able to fully exhale, leaving his breaths tiny gasps. He was getting progressively more lightheaded.

"Yeah. Yeah it has," he managed to choke.

"Wow, no need to be a frigid bitch I'm just trying to make conversation." Ace was sure he was about to run. He fought desperately to remain in control, to remind himself of Marco, to stay on the line, but even staying conscious seemed out of the question. Marco had come to stand beside him, and carefully guided him so he was sitting on the stairs. The nausea didn't settle, but at least if he fainted now he wouldn't have far to fall.

"What do you want, Teach?" Ace asked, clenching his eyes shut, curling into himself more and more. Wordlessly, Marco extended his hand and Ace latched on to it, clutching to it desperately. It was a lifeline.

"Right to the point? I thought you got paid more for foreplay." Ace actually gagged, feeling his whole torso seem to heave, and momentarily he released Marco's hand to clamp his own over his mouth, swallowing hard, fighting not to actually vomit. "Well, Ace, as it turns out, you have to play by the same rules as everyone else. You weren't allowed to leave. You knew that. Did you really think you'd gotten away? I'll admit, you had us guessing for a while, but we've found you now and it's time to pay the price of defiance." Ace reached again for Marco's hand, clinging to it so tightly he was sure it must have hurt him. Marco made no protest and didn't move to pull away. Stay on the line stay on the line you can do this just a little longer do this. Ace was shaking almost violently by now. "We've been sent to collect you." Ace's jaw was clenched so tightly it ached.

"What makes you think I would ever go back," he hissed through his teeth, fighting to speak at all. Teach chuckled.

"How about this?" Ace heard vague movement, then an unmistakeable sound that froze his blood.

A pained, muffled whimpering.

And then the deep thud of someone being hit. Hard.

"Your cousin doesn't know how to be a polite captive. He kept trying to scream." Disdain was clear in Teach's voice. "We had to gag him. Which is really too bad, he has a very pretty mouth." Ace's stomach was tying itself in knots. His eyes were clenched shut and he still warred with himself not to just outright flee, to hang up, to run away, to move to a different state, different country just don't let them find me-

"Don't hurt him," he managed to half-whisper, half-choke.

"Come on, Ace. You remember how I like it." Ace almost screamed, almost threw the phone away and ran. Stay on the line stay on the line they'll kill Marco remember Marco? He needs you he needs you come on you can do this! he mentally shouted at himself. Pull yourself together! You can do this! It's just words they don't mean anything! Say them! Don't think, just SAY THEM!

"…Please. Please, please don't hurt him," Ace whispered. He didn't think he'd ever be able to eat again without throwing up.

"Well that's going to depend on how you decide to play this, Ace." Here it was. Ace thought he knew what was coming. They're going to kill you or have you kill yourself it'll be fine at least then it'll all be over that'll be better and Marco will be okay and it'll all be okay just stay on the line for a few more minutes. "You see, since you left and seemingly got away with directly defying us, some of the lower level idiots think they can do as they please. There's been disobedience, even outright defiance. It's unacceptable. We need to show them exactly what happens when we're disobeyed. They need to be scared of us again. So you're going to be coming back with us, and after a little artistic license, left to be a little exhibition of how things are done." Teach waited, as if he expected Ace to say something, but he remained silent. He couldn't speak any more. He couldn't think. His mind was blank, overrun with terror. He was outright hyperventilating, clinging to the shoulder of Marco's shirt while Marco kneeled, letting Ace lean into his chest and stroking at the base of his hair, trying to soothe him, to calm him, at least enough that he could try to breathe again. He was sure Jean was staring in confusion and miscomprehension, but it was the last thing he cared about right now. Finally, Teach continued. "So here's how this is going to go.

"I'm going to text you the address of where we are right now. You are going to come to said address unarmed and alone. If you try to send someone else your cousin will be dead before they open the door." Ace could hear the smile in Teach's voice. "And we don't have time to wait for you to agonize over this. So here's the insurance policy, Ace.

"If you don't come, we'll turn dear little Marco into everything you should've been."

Ace was surprised he could even still understand Teach's words through the all consuming pitch of panic and desperate fear, but those words burned like a brand, searing into his conscious and he clung to them. They leant him clarity, reminded him why he wasn't huddled in the corner, curled so tightly in on himself nobody could touch him or hurt him.

"We'll make him obedient. Submissive. Tame. You know how fast he'll sell with his wide eyes and soft face. They'll eat him alive. Of course, there's a process to making him that way. Breaking the spirit of a person isn't as hard as you'd think if you know what you're doing. We conditioned you to be obedient, once, we'll do the same to him. I want you to take a minute to recollect everything you went through to get where you were a year and a half ago, when you were still worth something. That is what we're going to do to dear Marco." Ace's stomach felt like it was doing its very best to eject itself entirely from his body. He clung so hard to Marco he was sure he was going to leave a bruise. Every memory, every terrible thing all crashed through his mind at once, destructive and ruining and he felt his throat tighten to the point that he couldn't breathe.

And then, in a moment of clarity, he pictured all these things happening to Marco. Every memory he had, suddenly Marco's face was superimposed over his own. He saw Marco break in all the same ways he had, saw him surrender his humanity piece by piece. Saw him finally try to say no, to become human again, only to be dragged lower still, walked over, mistreated, and finally left to die. He thought of Marco having the same panic attacks, the same flashbacks, the same nightmares. Thought of him not being able to look in bathroom mirrors anymore, of having to jam a chair under the bathroom door handle in order to even be able to undress.

It gave him enough strength to speak again.

"Give me time. I need time to-"

"No, Ace." Teach was grinning, he could tell. "We're starting now."

The line went dead.

Ace held the phone to his ear a moment longer, as if expecting someone to come back on the line. Finally, he shakily lowered the phone, staring ahead without seeing. He took in a huge, gasping breath, the first full one he'd taken since he'd answered the phone. He was still trembling, but he slowly unclenched his hand from Marco's shoulder. His insides were still twisting themselves around, and the vertigo had lodged itself deeply in his brain, but he didn't let himself give in like he wanted to. He stood.

"I…I have to go," he said breathily, beginning to walk towards the door. He almost fell, and the steps he took were tiny. His whole body screamed at him to turn back, to run, to hide, to get away, that behind that door was nothing but agony and death and a fate far worse than it. He warred with himself, fighting to imagine Marco and how much worse it was for him, to will himself to keep walking, to stay upright, to stay conscious. Each tiny step was a battle, and Ace had to keep winning.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, where are you going?" Marco asked, catching Ace's wrist. Ace jolted, resisting the urge to tear his wrist from Marco's grasp. He wondered if he'd even be able to speak.

"I have to save Marco," he spewed, the words falling from his mouth like vomit. You have to go now. Go go go go go! If he didn't go now, he wouldn't be able to force himself to later. His stomach convulsed again, and his heart was pounding so loud in his ears he thought they'd burst. Marco stared into his eyes, and just like he always had been, was able to read something in them.

"…You made some kind of deal, didn't you." Ace didn't have to nod. It wasn't a question. Thank God. If he moved his head at all he'd collapse. "Ace listen to reason, if you go, who's to say they'll follow through on their end of the bargain? Who's to say they won't-" Ace rushed forward, wrapping Marco in a tight embrace, burying his face in Marco's shoulder. He took in a shuddering gasp of a breath that bordered on a sob.

"I'm sorry," he choked. "I know you're scared for me, and believe me, I'm fucking terrified too." He wished he could embed himself in Marco's chest. it was safe there. None of the hundreds of things that crossed his mind would happen to him there. He took in a shuddering breath. "I know I didn't say it enough or show you very often, but I love you so much." There were tears now. He couldn't stay much longer. He wouldn't be able to win, wouldn't be able to force himself to leave if he thought about how much safer it was to stay here with Marco, how Marco would protect him from everything. "You're the best thing that ever happened to me and I can never thank you enough for everything." And that was it. Any more and he wouldn't be able to tear himself away.

"Goodbye, Marco."

He forced himself away, heading again for the door. He turned the handle, beginning to pull it open. He almost hadn't been able to force his hand up to grab it. Marco slammed a hand against it, holding it closed. "Ace you're making a mistake. Don't do this! There's another way." I wish you were right I so wish you were right I don't want to go back don't make me go back save me please no I can't go back-

"No there isn't. Marco they're careful. They planned this out. There's no other way," Ace forced out, staring at Marco despairingly. "Nobody else can go or else they kill Marco. We try to contact the authorities they kill Marco. We wait too long and Marco ends up worse than dead. This is the only way." Marco took both of Ace's hands, ignoring how terribly they shook.

"No it isn't. I have another way. But I need you to trust me. Do you trust me, Ace? I can save Marco. I can do it. But not if you go out there. If you go out there, they'll leave with you and it'll be too late to save anybody. I just need a little time, Ace. I can do this. Just give me time." Ace hesitated, staring up at Marco. Marco's face was serious and screamed honesty. Marco had never lied to him. He could tell Marco believed what he was saying. Marco continued to stare into his eyes, never breaking their gaze. Don't go back don't go back don't make me go back there please please please I can't go back I can't take it anymore I can't I can't I'd rather die I'd rather die I'd rather die- "Trust me. Please." Listen to him he knows what he's saying he wouldn't trick you he wouldn't and this way you don't have to go back please please please don't go back listen to Marco Marco will fix it- Ace's heart was torn with indecision. Of course he trusted Marco, but this was his family's life they were talking about. Marco didn't have a lot of time, every moment they lost was critical. Ace crushed his eyes closed, hands clamping hard around Marco's. He was being selfish and he knew it. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't.

"…Okay."

---

Ace paced in the kitchen. He was certain he'd worn a rut in the tile where he'd been walking back and forth frantically. Jean, after much heated debate, had been sent home about forty minutes ago.

It was now almost three o'clock.

"This is taking too long. This is taking too long," Ace half-snapped, coming to a stop and almost glaring at the kitchen's other occupant. His mind was at war. Terror for himself battled anxiety for Marco and it was emotionally draining. He had far too much energy, and no way to constructively vent it. He'd gone from literally being curled up, fetal position, in the corner, trembling, terrified, and buried so deep in flashbacks even Marco couldn't bring him back to pacing the floor, swiping his hands manically through his hair. There was almost no middle ground. He was an emotional train wreck.

Thatch met his eyes evenly, not taking offence at Ace's tone or gaze.

"It's going as fast as it can, Ace. Try to be patient." Thatch's voice and face was serious. In some way, he felt closer to Thatch than before. Thatch had been there for four of the six outright panic attacks he'd had in the last hour and a half or so since the phone call. He'd seen Ace at his very worst and he hadn't fled or looked at him different, he'd only tried to help in any way he could. He accepted Ace's frustration with the same patience and understanding he had Ace's panic attacks, and Ace found no pity in his eyes which he appreciated. He hated to be looked down on that way.

"Be patient? Be patient?! They're tearing Marco apart right now and you want me to be patient?!" Ace snapped in response. He had too much energy. He should be doing something. He should have done something a long time battle raged on, one side beginning to pull ahead. As soon as it did, the terror struck back desperately. No no no you're fine here don't you go out there think about what they'll do to you just let Marco handle it stay think about how bad it'll be just stay don't go it'll hurt so much please please please don't go-

Marco had been in and out of the house, on and off the phone, but whenever he was gone one of his brothers would be there. Ace wasn't stupid. He knew they were keeping an eye on him to make sure that he was mentally stable enough not to try anything, either in the form of going after Marco or self-harming. He wasn't sure what it was Marco was up to, but it clearly hadn't produced results yet. It was taking too long.

"Fuck this I can't wait any longer Marco needs me." Ace turned, heading for the door. STAY DON'T NO PLEASE- Ace fought to shut down the terrified part of his mind, to keep marching steadily, to hide how his hands had already begun desperately shaking again.

"Ace, wait-"

"No! I've waited for too long. I knew what I had to do all along and by now I've probably hurt Marco more than I can ever apologize for." Thatch reached for Ace, but Ace dodged past him, heading for the door, limbs seeming to almost resist him as his conscious mind warred against his subconscious instinct. His stomach was in knots again, his hands clenched into fists and palms cold and sweaty. Lightheadedness wasn't far behind and he needed to be out of the house by then so he could lean against a wall somewhere and try to remember how to breathe without being dragged back.

"Dammit Ace, listen-" Ace passed through the kitchen door, heading for he entryway-

He ran right into Marco.

To be honest, the surprise almost had Ace screaming in sudden terror. As it was, he leapt nearly a foot into the air, mind shutting down into a blank black void of terror for a moment, no coherent thoughts crossing his mind, only the oppression of pure fear. The blond caught him before he could stumble. Ace flinched at the contact, but it brought him back. He saw it was Marco. The terror abated slightly. He'd been out for more than twenty minutes this time. His outings had varied in length from four minutes to fifteen, this one being the longest yet. "Ace what are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm leaving. I've waited too long already, Marco needs me!" Ace was still fighting to convince himself as well as everyone else. It'd made winning the argument that much harder, and was the reason he hadn't left already. Ace tried to pull past Marco, but Marco didn't let him go.

"Ace we talked about this-"

"Yeah, you're apparently doing something about this but it's taking too long, Marco. I won't let them hurt him any more! I can't live with the guilt, knowing he's hurting somewhere and I have the power to stop it and I'm doing nothing!" Don't go out there please don't no they'll hurt us again please please no no no no no no no- He tried again to get past Marco fruitlessly. "Get out of the way! Let me go!" No stay he's safe stay with him he'll protect you don't go out there please please no more pain I don't want to hurt any more please make it stop!

"It's the same for me, Ace! I'm trying to protect you! You think I could live with myself knowing I just let you go back to them, knowing what it's like for you there?! We're going to save Marco, but if we do it your way both of you will probably die! Maybe not today, but definitely in the future! You really think they'll just let Marco go because you show up?!" Ace froze in Marco's grip. He's right he's right you know he's right what's the point of going stay stay stay stay stay stay- Marco softened his voice somewhat. "To put it bluntly, Ace, Marco can make them a good deal of money. They know that. Even if you go, there's no way they're just going to release Marco. You know that. I know you know that." Ace was shaking slightly in Marco's grip. See see see you don't have to go you can't help anything you can't make anything better just stay please stay they'll hurt you so much think how much they'll hurt you everything you went through? They'll make it hundreds of times worse just stay please stay stay stay- Ace was loosing the battle, even in his own mind. Marco was saying everything his visceral, physical side that thought only of his own personal safety wanted to hear. The logical evidence that would let it keep winning. "They were always going to hurt Marco, regardless of what you did. What good will you throwing yourself into their trap do, Ace?! It's better this way. Your not showing up is delaying them leaving which is giving us time to do something about it." He lifted one hand to brush at Ace's hair. "Just give us a little longer. We're almost there. Marco's a good kid, we're going to find him. But I need you to stay here. I don't want to see both of you hurt." Ace hated himself for understanding what Marco was saying, hated himself for knowing it was true.

But he couldn't just sit around any longer. The thought of Marco's kind face bent with agony, or streaked with tears, or with pupils blown wide on drugs burned through his mind. He couldn't let that happen. He wasn't capable of hating himself any more, and if he let those things happen to Marco, if he just let them happen, he would despise himself so much he'd probably be dead within the week. This knowledge battled with the fear, the subconscious. It gave him the strength to speak again.

"I have to go. I have to protect him! They may not let him go by me showing up, but I can get them to stop hurting him!" Marco looked into Ace's face and seemed to understand that it was too late, regardless of what he said now Ace was set on leaving. He could feel Ace's shoulders trembling and could see how scared he was, had been there to try to help him through his breakdowns and panic attacks after the phone calls. he knew how much this was hurting Ace and how much it would cost him to walk out that door. How much strength it meant that he had the ability to walk out that door. How much it took of Ace to keep fighting for Marco. His heart felt like lead. He just hoped Ace would understand, and maybe forgive him one day.

"…Thatch. Take Ace to his room and make sure he stays there." He was sure the image of Ace's eyes widening with shock and betrayal would be burned into his retinas for the rest of time. He felt his heart shatter. He was taking away Ace's free will. For the first time since he'd met him, he wasn't giving Ace a choice. For that first instant, Ace was too stunned to do anything, but upon regaining some semblance of brain function he instantly began struggling.

"Not you too, Marco," he breathed, eyes wide. Tears rose in his eyes. "Don't you dare do this to me. Don't you dare." Oh no he's one of them run run run run run run he's going to hurt you too you have to run away he betrayed you leave now leave now leave now- Marco's grip was firm and strong, not crushing or painful, but unyielding. Marco scooped him up, careful to pin his arms to his sides. Ace was writhing, sobbing. "NO PUT ME DOWN PUT ME DOWN PLEASE NO PLEASE!" This is better, Marco tried to convince himself. Ace would be safe. They'd save Marco soon too. This was the only good way. If he let Ace go they would both end up dead. This was the only way. "LET ME GO DON'T TOUCH ME DON'T HURT ME ANYMORE PLEASE I CAN'T TAKE ANY MORE." Ace was in a strange kind of limbo, pinned between reality and flashback. In some way he still knew it was Marco holding him, but suddenly Marco was also in the flashbacks, one of the men that had tormented and broken Ace in more ways than he knew was possible.

Thatch hesitated for a moment, but eventually did step up. He took Ace from Marco, again careful to pin his arms so Ace wouldn't hurt him or himself. Ace was still writhing, but Thatch knew what he was doing. He wouldn't drop him. Marco watched Thatch carry Ace up the stairs, not letting his face show how much his heart was aching. Ace was still crying, but had seemingly stopped struggling, collapsing in upon himself, still whimpering pleas and bargains but resigned to whatever happened. All the way down the hall, even when Thatch dumped him on his bed before promptly leaving the room, shutting it behind him, Marco could still hear Ace sobbing. He was sure the sound would be embedded in his mind forever, inseparably connected to the knowledge that he had been the one to make that happen. He had never hated himself more.

Ace, as soon as he'd been thrown on the bed, righted himself, bolting to the far corner of the room, pressing himself back against the wall as hard as he could. He stared at Thatch in blind terror, tears frozen on his face. Thatch looked at him for a moment, expression of deep guilt carved into his eyes and mouth, then left, shutting the door behind him.

For the first few minutes, Ace remained against the wall, hyperventilating, awaiting whatever horror was to assault him next. None came. Blind panic eventually settled to paranoia, and that faded to anxiety. Logic was finally audible again.

...He didn't do that to hurt you, Ace's mind reasoned. Fear tried to stuff it away. But logic was persistent. He wasn't trying to hurt you. He didn't hurt you. Thatch didn't hurt you either. They aren't going to hurt you. They aren't going to hurt you. They care about you. Instinct and terror tried to beat every word into submission, tried to wrestle logic back into anonymity. Marco loves you. He's been dealing with your shit for over a year and hasn't ever done anything to hurt you. This wasn't done to hurt you either. He doesn't hate you. He doesn't want to see you hurt. All he was doing is trying to protect you. You don't have anything to fear from him. Ace repeated the last sentence over and over in his mind like a mantra. Eventually he calmed, the violent shaking subsiding, the shallow pants deepening to real breaths. He gave one final shudder, drawing his knees up to his chest and curling his arms around them.

But Ace still felt like he'd been kicked in the chest. The betrayal hurt, even if it was for his own good.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he uncurled enough to withdraw it.

You have 1 new message from Freckled Jesus

Ace felt his stomach drop. He stared down at the phone, feeling his shaking start all over again. He wanted to toss the phone away, throw it out the window, shatter it on something. He didn't want to read the text. He didn't want to read the text.

He forced himself to read the text.

From: Freckled Jesus
I'm surprised you're not here yet, Ace. Did you really decide to let dear Marco suffer instead of you? You might want to get a move on. He won't even be getting 50 for his virginity.

Ace felt his stomach curl and he gagged, bile rising in his throat. He swallowed hard several times in a row, trying to calm his stomach, looking away from the screen and jamming his eyes shut. His free hand was gripping his other arm so hard he felt the nails biting into his skin. He wasn't sure if he was bleeding or not but he didn't care. Distant, old memories replayed again and again and again and again before his eyes, against his skin, and he felt like he was back, felt every sensation of that night that was so long ago but suddenly felt far, far too near. Ace dropped the phone, elated when it landed face-down. He clung to himself, curling in as tight as he could. He buried his forehead in his knees, pulling his shins as close to his torso as he was physically capable of.

He hated himself for being this weak.

It's over, he tried to reason with himself. It was a long time ago, you need to get over it! You're pathetic for not getting over it sooner! Marco needs you and all you can do is curl up in a ball and cry? Because you're scared? You're a terrible person. Before you could at least claim to be good underneath all the scarring and stains and promiscuity, but this? You're terrible. You're the one who deserves whatever they're doing to Marco.

Marco didn't deserve to look in the mirror and see the things Ace did when he looked in the mirror. Marco didn't deserve the panic attacks. Marco didn't deserve the fear, the nightmares, the flashbacks. Marco hadn't signed up for it like Ace had. This wasn't a choice Marco was making for himself.

Ace couldn't let this happen.

He knew Thatch wouldn't listen to him. He knew Marco wouldn't let him out.

He had to do this by himself.

Ace forced himself into action, rising to his feet, shoving aside the weight of terror that tried to tie him to that corner.

You have to make them think you're still here. If they follow you Marco's a goner. Okay. Okay. Okay. Ace walked to the window. He was on the second storey and the drop was to concrete. He wouldn't be able to land that safely. He rushed to the closet, grabbing every pair of pants he owned, plus an additional two hoodies which he put on. It was cold out there, and he couldn't exactly go down stairs and get his jacket. He forced himself not to think bout why he was going outside. If he did, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to continue.

He twisted the legs of the pants together, giving them more tear resistance. He tied the bottom of the legs of each pair around the joint between the legs of the next pair of pants, forming a kind of rope. Just in case the upper part of the pants would be the part to tear, he slipped a belt into every pair of pants he could, lucky enough to find two of Marco's belts had ended up in his closet as well.

It wasn't a rope and it probably wasn't long enough to reach all the way to the ground, but the drop from the bottom of it would be safe enough.

Next he opened the bed, stuffing a few pillows under the blankets in a lump that looked vaguely humanoid in size. If anyone looked in, it would look like he was huddling. They'd probably choose not to even mess with him, assuming he wanted to be left alone.

Finally, he looked around the room for something near the window he could tie the makeshift rope to. He finally settled on using the metal curtain rail above the window. It was wide enough that even if it broke off the wall, it wouldn't be able to fall out the window sending him plunging to the ground. If it fell, it would get stuck in the window frame, too wide to come through. And it was metal, so Ace was fairly sure it could take his weight.

As a finishing touch, he closed the curtains. It would hide the majority of the rope from immediate sight and possibly keep them off his trail for a little longer. He felt his heart rate accelerate slightly.

To be honest, Ace had never been repelling before.

He tied one end of the rope as securely as possible to the rail, and threw the other out the window. He was right, it wasn't quite long enough to reach the ground, but the last drop was only about 5 feet. It would be fine.

Everything suddenly crashed down upon him at once.

No no no you know what's coming if you go out that window don't do it don't do it it hurts so bad please please no don't do it I don't want to hurt anymore don't do it I don't want to hurt pain is bad I don't want it I don't want them I don't want to be drugged again I don't want them to hurt me or whatever it is they're planning for me as 'punishment' please no please don't do this please please please just sit back down it's safe- his limbs felt impossibly heavy, and each movement seemed to take more time than it should, as if his limbs were themselves actually reluctant to do this. Ace's heart pounded in his ears and his breathing shallowed. He squeezed his eyes shut, forming a mental image.

Marco, just as he had been four years ago. Face pressed into a filthy mattress, biting his hand so hard it bled, the stench of cheap perfume, sweat, and sex heavy and carnal in the motel room. Tears flowing freely down his face, which was red from being slapped the two times he'd sobbed out loud. The shocking pain and primal grunting coming from behind. The lewd slap of skin on skin, painting out the future as it was and always would hollow despair of knowing exactly how long this would continue.

Ace grabbed the rope, taking one last breath before swinging himself out the window.

---

"This would go a lot faster if we had the address," Vista said. "The most time-consuming part of this is finding the place and you know it." Marco sighed, agreeing.

"Ace won't give it to us. The threat was made that if anyone else showed up they'd kill Marco, so he considers sharing that particular bit of information a threat. He's probably even deleted it off his phone, after he memorized it," Marco said. He walked back inside the house, kicking the door shut behind him.

"…Do you think he'd tell us if he knew about…?" Marco winced.

"I don't think so. To be honest, I think it'd make him distrust us even more." He heard Vista sigh on the other end.

"…Why didn't you ever tell him, Marco?" Marco grit his teeth.

"I have to go. Keep looking." Vista affirmed, and he hung up.

Marco headed upstairs. Thatch was leaning against the wall next to Ace's door. "Hey Thatch," Marco greeted quietly. Thatch lowered his head from where it'd been leaning against the wall, turning to look at him. His gaze softened, seeing Marco. He could tell how much all of this was taking out of him. Thatch gave a tiny smile of sympathy.

"Hey Marco." He saw the way Marco was eyeing the door and sighed. "Listen, he…probably doesn't want to see you right now." He saw Marco swallow thickly, closing his eyes for a moment.

"How's he been?" Marco finally asked. Thatch frowned.

"He's been quiet. When I first brought him in he stared at me like-" Thatch felt his chest pang and broke off, clenching his jaw and closing his eyes. "...He's been quiet." Thatch looked down. "…Do you think he'll ever forgive us for this?" He heard Marco sigh.

"I really hope so. Realistically, probably not." The words hurt to say, but they were true. "…Has he said anything?" Thatch shook his head.

"No, nothing." Marco nodded, moving in front of the door. Thatch watched him, but didn't move to stop him. "…You sure that's a good idea?" he asked as Marco reached for the handle, pulling away the chair Thatch had jammed under it.

"No but I have to see him. He's taken a lot of hits today, I need to make sure he's okay. Even if he hates me." He twisted the handle, opening the door slowly. "Ace…? Ace I'm coming in," he said softly.

The room was fairly dark, the curtains shut against the evening light. Nothing was destroyed or out of place like Ace had thrown some kind of tantrum, everything was as it had been before. It almost hurt Marco more that way, like he could pretend that everything was all right, that this was any other day and that the things that had been said and that had happened weren't real.

Ace was curled up in the bed, buried under the covers.

Marco sighed, approaching. "Ace are you all right?" he asked gently, coming to stand beside the bed. The figure didn't stir and didn't respond. "…I know you're upset with me right now and you have every right to be and I won't try to convince you to feel differently, but please let me know you're okay." Again, no response. Marco's face bent in concern. "Ace?" A gentle breeze brushed his face, lifting the curtain away from the window slightly.

The shape wasn't moving. At all.

Marco grabbed the edge of the covers, pulling them back. Time seemed to freeze.

Ace wasn't in the bed.

"Shit!" Marco exclaimed, looking around the room desperately. His eyes caught on the curtains, which were fluttering slightly, and he threw them wide.

The window was open.

A makeshift rope led to the street below.

He had no way of knowing exactly how long Ace had been gone or where.

---

Ace got off the subway, jogging up the steps to the street above. The wind bit at him, getting colder as the sun began to set. He walked briskly down the street, eyeing house numbers and cross streets he passed. After one particularly brutal gust of wind he flicked up the hood of his outermost hoodie, trying to protect his neck more.

He'd almost broken down on the subway. Almost frozen. Almost gave in. He'd been sitting there, shaking, hyperventilating. It wasn't a full blown panic attack, but he'd almost missed his stop. He'd lurched out of the subway car at the last second, earning confused and concerned looks from the strangers nearby. They frightened Ace too. Any one of them had the possibility of being a monster, of turning towards him, grabbing him, anything. Any of them. All of them. Being stuck in that tight space with so many people in his current emotional state? He'd almost started screaming when an old lady bumped into him when the train started moving.

The cold air on his face helped him feel slightly more conscious, and he half-stumbled, half jogged to the nearest alley, getting off the street and away from the pedestrians. He collapsed against the wall, limbs trembling too hard for him to walk or even stand. He was breathing rapidly, letting out tiny whimpers every few breaths. He clutched the material of his hoodie in his fists, trying to fight back, to regain control, but even the thought of how close by his past was and all the pain any further progress would bring had him paralyzed. Truly paralyzed. Ace tried to force himself up, to walk, but he couldn't even move. He couldn't make himself stand.

I can't be defeated here. I'm too close. Marco's too close I can save him come on GET UP! he screamed at himself. His body didn't listen. MOVE! COME ON! GET UP! Nothing. Complete stillness.

He couldn't do it.

Only a few blocks away and he couldn't go any further.

His head fell back against the wall and he felt tears of mixed frustration and terror rising behind his clenched eyelids. DAMN IT! he screamed mentally. DAMN IT ALL! DAMN ME FOR BEING WEAK, DAMN THEM FOR COMING BACK, DAMN EVERYTHING! He sat there, trembling, powerless, in the ally. He was shuddering, and his breathing came in quiet sobs.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there when the idea hit him.

He closed off as much of his mind as he could, trying to pretend this was any other day. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He scrolled through his contacts, trying not to think. Marco invited me over today to study. I need a ride. I need him to come pick me up, he told himself. That's all. I just got lost on the way there and need him to come get me. That's all. That's what this is about. He clicked on the icon next to the contact to send a text.

To: Freckled Jesus
Hey I'm stuck. I was on my way, but I can't go any further, can you come pick me up? I'm nearby, in an alley between two apartment buildings. I think one of them was called Southern Suites or something.

Ace's hand only froze when it was over the send button. He stared at it, hand shaking horribly. He clenched his jaw and with one surge of will accompanied by a loud sob, forced his thumb down on it. He watched the progress of it sending. It finally got out.

Almost instantly Ace was on his feet, leaning against the opposite wall of the alley, and vomiting.

His body heaved until it was entirely empty, and even then he kept convulsing like there was more. He shuddered hard. He felt cold, his blood suddenly replaced by liquid nitrogen. Once he was done, he clenched his arms around himself, collapsing back against the wall where he'd been before. He tried to resist, but tears of desperate terror streamed down his face. YOU HAVE TO RUN YOU HAVE TO GO YOU CAN'T STAY THEY'RE COMING RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN- Ace's body may have been able to keep him from moving before. But now it was his turn to keep himself from moving. He forced himself to remain still, clutching to himself tightly, curling into the smallest shape possible, eyes pressed against his knees.

Time passed, but Ace's terror didn't abate, merely heightened. His joints were locked, everything from his knees to his jaw clenched so hard they ached. With every beat his heart seemed to get louder in his ears, accompanied by blind fear. He was shaking, but curled into so tight a ball it was hard to tell.

"Hello, Ace." Ace felt his spine stiffen even more, but he didn't look up. The terror was settling low and heavy in his guts.

"Hello," he responded, voice so quiet and breathy he wasn't sure the other heard it. RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN RUN-

"It's good to have you back on the team." Ace's guts heaved again, and if there was anything left in his stomach he would have thrown up.

"Where's Marco?" Ace forced out, voice still so breathy it was almost a whisper. The voice before him chuckled.

A fist closed around a hunk of his hair and his head was dragged up painfully. He felt his heart stop in his chest, all blood leave his face.

"When did you get to be so rude, Ace? Don't you know better?" Ace winced at the continuing pain in his scalp but didn't try to fight back or protest, he was too busy hyperventilating, staring at the man with hugely widened eyes. "Well, I suppose you don't exactly need to know much for what we've got planned for you." His hair was dragged up further, so much that he was forced to uncurl, half rising. "Come with me, why don't you."

Now that he was here, Ace's fear and subconscious was simultaneously and contradictorily yelling for him to both flee and be perfectly obedient, because if he was convenient then maybe they wouldn't hurt him. His mind, so singularly focused on his fear and on the man behind him, didn't pay much attention to the route they took. The man had released his hair in favor of grabbing his arm, making it less obvious to other civilians what was going on. Ace's heart thudded unspeakably loud in his ears, but before he knew it, before he had time to mentally brace himself, they were walking through a door.

Inside, it was slightly warmer in that the wind wasn't blowing. The place seemed to be some kind of storage facility, but it was either abandoned or not currently in use as there was nothing in the first, warehouse-like room. Well, almost nothing. Near the back wall some of the overhead lights were on, highlighting a table and a few chairs. The majority of the room was left in dusk, and it probably hid some of the unpleasantness of the place. The floors were concrete, stained and occasionally chipped. The walls seemingly had paint at one point, but it was old and fading. It must have been white once, but now it was a nasty off-white color that differed in shade from one place to the next.

There were three men at the table, but as Ace watched one headed off, pulling a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Ace vaguely recognized him, but couldn't recall his name. He was too busy trying to ignore the rising dread, to force back the encroaching terror. He was sure he was shaking again.

As he approached, the two remaining men looked up from the table and Ace instantly recognized one of them.

Marshall D. Teach.

He grinned upon seeing Ace, eyes sweeping over him unabashedly. Ace froze, tried to backpedal because maybe he could tolerate being led by this man but he was not going any closer to Teach. The hand on his arm wrenched him forward, his grip so tight Ace thought he would bruise, and Ace was hyperventilating again, trying to pull back, pull away, to flee, scrabbling desperately at the hands leading him. All was useless, and he was dragged forward the last few steps, the other man standing by the table coming to help, grabbing his other arm.

"Didn't get dressed up for the occasion, did you Ace?" Teach asked, finally moving his eyes to Ace's face. The two men on either side of him kept him almost perfectly stationary, but even still he was pulling against them, away from Teach, as hard as he could. Ace could barely breathe at all, and he felt his legs shaking.

"I wasn't aware it was a formal event," Ace almost whispered, struggling to even speak. The inner monologue had finally gone silent in favor of a constant, mindless stream of terror. Teach moved from where he was standing by the table and Ace tried to pull further back to no avail. The closer Teach got, the more suffocated Ace felt. Teach walked towards him and Ace felt like his heart was going to pound out of his chest with every step Teach took.

"You know, you had me going there for a while. I almost thought you weren't going to show up on dear Marco's behalf. We were about to take extraneous action. I'm glad it wasn't necessary, cleaning up a body can be difficult." Teach walked behind him and Ace felt violated even though Teach had yet to touch him at all. His could feel Teach's gaze wandering his form. It made him want to wretch again. "I thought we were going to have to kill someone to actually get your attention." He seemed to pause, turning to the man who'd just reentered the building. Ace felt as if he could feel when Teach's eyes left him, it felt like the air wasn't filled with suffocating, sick darkness anymore. "Call off the shot, tell him to come back." Ace heard the footsteps of the man retreating again.

"…You've been promoted," Ace noted, feeling his heart shudder. Teach had power now. Far more than when Ace had first met him. Authority in the gang meant authority over Ace. Teach would be directly or indirectly involved in how he was treated. That thought alone nearly had him passing out. Teach came around to his front again, facing him. He grabbed Ace's chin, forcing him to look at him, and Ace felt his voice freeze in his throat. He wanted to scream. He wanted to shriek, to run, to hide, to never be found by anyone again. Teach was grinning.

"That's right, Ace. After our first fuck you grew out of my class of client pretty damn quickly. You were too exclusive, too expensive for me back then." His hand moved down from Ace's jaw to stroke his neck and Ace felt as if every blood cell in his body froze where it was. He wanted to die. He wanted to die right now. Teach was still grinning darkly. "Not anymore. We've got quite the plan for you." Ace fought off the wave of mixed nausea and terror. He could still remember every detail of his night with Teach. Could feel the rough hands, the almost blinding pain, the sobs he'd strangled in his own throat so they became soundless.

He remembered the fifty dollars tossed carelessly at his trembling, bleeding, fifteen-year-old form.

"I didn't really want to go over it on the phone, I wanted to see your reaction." Teach was grinning like he was part of some joke that Ace didn't get. Ace was pulling so hard against the hands holding him he thought his shoulders would dislocate. "Remember what I said about making you an example? I'm sure you've got some idea of martyrdom in your head. You think we're just going to kill you and that'll be it. You're wrong.

"We want terror, Ace. We want everyone to be so afraid of us, it doesn't matter what we ask them to do, they'll do it because they know we can do a thousand times worse to them. New and lower level gang members need to see our threats are legitimate. So here's what your new function is going to be." Teach's smile made Ace wish he was already rotting in the ground.

"We're going to chain you to a wall. You'll move locations every week or so, passing through every establishment of ours where we can discreetly flaunt you to our employees. You'll be blindfolded so you can't see whoever it is who chooses to fuck you or beat you or do whatever they please to you. You'll be naked, of course, and the scars you'll be acquiring in the next few days will list your disobediences. We'll carve each and every thing you didn't do right into your skin. You'll be open for free public use for whatever anyone needs. Tough day at work? Beat the shit out of Ace. Wife left you? Let it out on him, or fuck him instead. Just bored? Make a game out of getting him to scream." Ace couldn't breathe. He actually was going to pass out this time. His vision was already tunneling. But Teach wasn't finished yet. "And with dear little Marco out there as our brand new crack whore they'll see that it's not just themselves they have to worry about but anyone they claim any affiliation to. Families. Wives. Children. Nobody will ever disobey us again, thanks to you. Glad you could finally prove useful to somebody, huh?" Ace was shaking violently, eyes unfocused, glazed over with fear. Teach laughed, releasing him.

He turned away, heading back towards the table. "We'll be leaving for Chicago in the morning." He waved dismissively. "Take him to the back room." Almost instantly the grip on his arms half guided, half dragged Ace towards a door behind the table and a bit off to the side. Ace didn't fight back. He was glad to be getting away from Teach, that door would put at least some kind of barrier between him and that monster. The men holding him had to almost carry him, his legs growing weaker by the step. The fear was still there, still crippling, but settled among it was a kind of resignation.

This was it.

This. Was. It.

He'd known, somewhere, deep down, that there was never going to be escape for him. This was his life, as it had been and always would be. This was his destiny. His time with Marco - his time in New York - had just been the intermission. It was time to get back to the train wreck now.

The door was opened, and he was thrown inside, the door being closed behind him. It was far darker in there than in the previous room. Ace's eyes took a long while to adjust, the only light coming from a tiny window on one wall. This room was smaller, and the floor was carpeted. The sun had set by now, so only the very, very faint light of the city and the moon made it through the small, inset window on the back wall.

Ace stumbled forward, wanting to be further from the door so if anyone came to get him he'd be aware of it at least before they grabbed him, as far as possible from Teach. As he drew nearer, he saw something crammed in one of the corners, still unclear to him in the dim light. Ace squinted at it, trying to make out what it was. It was fairly light, and medium sized-

Ace's eyes shot wide.

"Marco?!"

---

Everything was a process. A series of steps. One progressed fluidly into the next with practiced ease. The sniper rifle was smooth and familiar in his hands as he positioned himself on the roof, laying on his stomach and bracing it on the edge. He drew the scope from its case, fastening it precisely on the rifle. He'd already loaded the gun, and as he positioned himself behind it it was smooth and familiar against his shoulder. He put his eye behind the glass of the scope, beginning the process of finding his shot.

He checked the upstairs windows of the house first. No figures moved behind the glass, his target or otherwise. He shifted his aim downwards, towards the first floor, sweeping over each of the windows. He spotted someone in one of the windows – what he figured was the kitchen – but it wasn't the right man. He decided to wait. People tended to congregate. His target might come in this room to converse with this other person. They'd told him witnesses didn't matter too much, and he was certain he wouldn't be spotted from his current vantage point.

Another figure walked into the room, and his gaze instantly fixated. That was him, based on the picture he'd received. He took careful aim, picking a spot just above the blond left eyebrow. The person was talking to the other, his eyes a little wider than half lidded, and his gestures were wild, as if he were upset. He took a deep breath, steadying the gun, beginning to tighten his finger on the trigger-

His phone rang, and he pressed his shoulder to his ear to answer it on the Bluetooth earpiece he had. "Yes?" he asked, still keeping his aim perfectly on the kill shot, but finger momentarily stayed.

"The shot's off. It's no longer necessary. Come back." He frowned.

"What about Ace?" he asked, voice sharp.

"He already came back. Must have escaped on his own, clever bastard. Come back now, Teach wants to start packing everything up."

"All right. I'll be back in thirty minutes." He hung up and pulled the gun away from the edge of the roof. He felt a momentary surge of frustration at all the wasted time – getting out here and getting everything set up had taken over an hour – but he didn't dwell on it.

He began disassembling the gun. It was a military grade Snayperskaya Vintovka Dragunova that he'd personally customized for transportable disassembly. With the patience and ease of long practice he removed the scope, magazine, and lever, setting them in their places. Next went the bolt carrier assembly, quickly followed by the plastic cheeks on either side of the barrel. After it was the gas system. Finally, he detached the barrel from the trigger section – one of the modifications he'd made to the gun for ease of transport and discretion – and detached the barrel into three sections.

All of this fit into his custom made, average sized messenger bag.

And it looked totally normal.

After carefully securing each piece in its place in the foam padding of the interior of the bag, he secured it closed and stood, walking out the way he'd come in. Ace…Long time no see. I wonder how you've been?

He swept blond hair away from his eyes. He needed a haircut before his next assignment, it kept falling in his face.

---

"Marco?! Is that you?!" Ace fell to his knees, reaching out to touch the pale form. As soon as his fingers brushed against him he whimpered, trying to curl further into himself, shrink further into the corner. Ace felt his heart shatter in his chest.

He was naked.

Ace instantly pulled off one of his hoodies, pulling it over Marco's head. He was a good deal bigger than Marco, so he was able to fit the hoodie over his whole curled-up form. Marco shuddered at the contact, choking on his air, but didn't – couldn't – pull away any further.

"Marco are you all right? Did they hurt you? What did they do to you?!" Ace didn't know why he was even bothering to ask. He knew. He already knew. Part of his mind just desperately wanted to believe he was wrong. "Marco talk to me, it's me, Ace. I'm here for you, what's wrong?" Marco's head raised slightly at his voice.

"Ace…?" he whimpered. He seemed to register the hoodie, pulling his arms through the sleeves. "Ace is that really you?"

Marco launched himself at Ace, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and clinging to him desperately.

Ace flinched instinctively, mind shutting down for a moment, but when Marco's crying hit his ears he wrapped his arms around him in return. Marco sobbed uncontrollably into Ace's chest, hanging onto him like he was drowning. His words were choked and broken, entirely unintelligible. Ace wrapped his arms around him in return, rubbing wide, soothing circles into Marco's back.

"Shh, shh. It's all right now," Ace whispered into his hair. Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar you know what's coming you know what's coming for both of you- "I'm here. I'm here. I've got you." Marco was sobbing so hard it seemed like he was having difficulty breathing. For the first few minutes they stayed like that, Marco crying too hard to speak and Ace whispering meaningless phrases into his hair, rubbing his back, fighting not to let his trembling become obvious. Finally Marco regained the capacity for speech, choked and broken as it was.

"God, Ace," he half sobbed, half whimpered. "I- I-…" He broke off, falling into another fit of sobs. "It-…It hurt so much and I-" He gave a particularly violent sob. "I tried so hard I tried so hard to make him stop-" Ace bowed his head, his entire being feeling like lead. Oh just wait there's so much more in store for you in store for both of us God I'm so scared but I can't tell you you're already hurt enough- His first tears slipped from his eyes. He clung to Marco.

"It's okay, Marco," he said, sounding choked himself, his fear trying to lock his voice away. "It's…It's not your fault." It's mine. I should have saved you sooner. I knew this was coming. I could have stopped this.

"A- An- And I- I couldn't-" He fell into a break of sobs. When he spoke again, his voice was much quieter.

"J-Jean's going to hate me now," he said quietly, voice broken. As soon as the words were out, he started crying harder again. Oh dear...you're never going to see Jean again. I'm never going to see Marco again. I'll probably never see daylight- Ace felt his fear trying to choke him again and shut his train of thought off. Marco needed something other than Ace's despair and pessimism right now. Ace held him, rocking slightly. He realized he was crying softly as well, his tears soaking into Marco's hair. He was so scared. He was so scared. The image of himself that Teach had described was burned into his brain and he was doing his best to be there for Marco through his own crushing dread.

"Jean's not going to hate you," Ace whispered in response. "He loves you. He loves you. He wouldn't hate you over something that isn't your fault." Ace wasn't sure if Marco even heard him. He wasn't entirely sure he even said it out loud.

They stayed like this for a long time.

When Marco subsided to spaced out hiccups instead of gasping sobs, his tears temporarily halted, he spoke again. "…What's going to happen to us now, Ace?" he asked quietly. Ace held Marco a little tighter, feeling his heart stop in his chest. Now he wanted to cry, wanted to be held and comforted and told that Teach had been lying, that there was something better, that it was all going to be okay. But he couldn't do that to Marco. Marco had already suffered so much today. Ace wouldn't put him through more, not when he'd endured an agony Ace was all too familiar with.

"…I don't know," he lied, voice thick. "I don't know what happens now." A pause.

"…I'm scared," Marco finally said, voice so quiet Ace only caught it in the dead silence of the room. "I'm so, so scared, Ace." Ace kissed the top of his head, mutely agreeing. They fell silent for a few moments, hung in the terror of uncertainty. Ace was the one to raise his voice next.

He began singing.

It was quiet, almost a lullaby, set in a minor key.

"Empty pack of cigarettes
by the bed
You woke up and looked at me
And you said,
"Cousin is it morning yet?"
No we have a couple hours left.

And God knows what'll happen then." Ace's voice was soft, breathy, and despite his best efforts held all of his terror and current fragility.

"There may be questions in your head
As the new day is dawning.
But what things for us lie ahead,
I promise, I'll be with you in the morning.
I promise, I'll be with you in the morning." Ace heard the door opening, and quickly fell silent, heart feeling like it dropped right out of his chest. He held Marco closer, ready to do anything to keep them away from him. Anything. He'd do anything they asked so long as they didn't lay another finger on him. You keep telling yourself that, the self-loathing whispered. You keep telling yourself you won't run away if they say it's between you and him. His eyes focused singularly on the figure that was approaching, his heart beating frantically in his chest.

His eyes caught on the height of the figure, on the way the light from the other room lit up his hair like gold, his slender, refined fingers. He felt his stomach drop, his eyes widen.

"No," he said faintly. "No, not you. You can't have been involved in this." He couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it. "Please tell me you weren't involved in this." The figure stopped walking, standing maybe eight feet from Ace, and Ace could see the way his eyes caught on Marco, the way his head cocked slightly in confusion. Every mannerism was so familiar to Ace he wanted to scream.

"Who's that?" he asked, his voice as smooth as always. Marco had grabbed fistfuls of Ace's hoodie, squeezing them so tightly his hands shook. His eyes moved back to Ace. "And is that any way to greet such an old friend?"

"Friend?" Ace asked in stunned disbelief. "Friend?" Fury rose so fast and so hot in Ace's blood it shocked even him. His hands curled into fists. The other stared at him, eyebrows raised.

"Yes, friend. I figured after my disappearance you might not want to jump right back into the 'brother' titl-" Ace barked out a harsh, bitter laugh, cutting the other off. Silence reigned for a moment, charged with tension.

"…You think I don't remember, don't you?" Ace finally asked. "I'll admit I was high out of my fucking mind, but I remember well enough. But let's start at the beginning of the timeline, shall we?

"You and I were friends once. You used to protect me, and you helped me through some of the hardest times in my life. And then what did you do? What did you go and do? You went to fucking Europe. You left me a letter. A letter. And you left me alone. And that was it. No further contact. I didn't know if you were dead. I didn't know if you were working or if you had managed to get out of this life or if you were killing people. And for a while, it really fucked me up that you just ditched me like that. It might not have been healthy, but I was emotionally dependent on you. I needed you. And you knew that. And you left me anyway. Oh, but let's not stop there shall we, we've not gotten to the best part, the real part!

"I can forgive you for going to Europe. We both had our own motivations and I can recognize that. You were trying to achieve your goal just as ambitiously as I was trying to achieve mine. I could accept that maybe that'd been your ticket out of here, some kind of offer you couldn't refuse. I could live with that. But that wasn't the end of the story.

"Things were okay for a while. I made money. The world kept turning. And then the shitstorm when I tried to leave for college happened. And hey, even for a while after that, things weren't too much different from how they had been before, save the level of psychological damage I was suffering from.

"And then the drugs." Ace saw him flinch. He grinned, hurt and broken and angry. "And this is the important part."

"I remember, I had tried to off myself again. They found me in my room with probably the clumsiest noose ever tied. My suicide was prevented and they wanted me to go back to work, this time for some people in our own gang, unpaid. I didn't care anymore, I didn't argue. I didn't argue or struggle until they brought out the needle. Then I tried to run. But one of the seven men there grabbed me and pinned me down with the help of a few of the others. I was screaming, making more noise than I had collectively in a month, and I heard the door open and I thought, 'yes. Yes. Someone's here. Someone's come to help me.' And I looked up, and who was it?

"You.

"I looked up and I saw you and I recognized you. You hadn't told me you were back from Europe. You hadn't taken the time to let me know that you were okay, that you were even alive. And one of them had their hand over my mouth by now so I couldn't scream but I know you recognized me, I know you saw what was happening. You saw what was happening. And we had talked about this before, I had told you how terrified I was of getting addicted to any of that shit. You could have helped me. You had the skills to kill far more men than that bare handed. You could've done something or at least tried. But what did you do instead?" Ace's voice dropped to a venomous his.

"You stood there and you watched. You watched them shoot me up, and you watched them pass me around like a fucking toy giggling and alone and clueless, brainless like they'd made me. You watched." The word was wrenched out of his throat.

"I didn't help the-" Ace scoffed, cutting him off.

"You didn't help them but you sure as hell didn't help me either. And you were the one that said, you were the one that said that your family was what was most important to you, your family was your treasure. You said that. And then you let them do that to me?!" Ace's rage was nearly consuming him.

"You said I didn't greet you properly. Pray tell, Sabo, how should I greet you, since you aren't a friend, and you sure as hell aren't my brother!"

---

OKAY NOW BEFORE YOU HATE ME PLEASE READ THIS AUTHOR'S NOTES.

Well here's the thing. After reading this, it's quite possible you'll still hate me. But I'm going to tell you something very important, so please listen closely dear reader.

I don't want to receive any reviews telling me Sabo is OOC.

Do you hear that? I won't accept them. And you know why? Because he isn't OOC. What he did to Ace isn't out of character.

It's what he did to Ace in canon in a different setting.

He hasn't done anything directly antagonistic. He didn't shoot Marco, he was clueless about what happened to Marco Bodt, he didn't directly hurt Ace. But he did abandon him to a terrible, unthinkable fate. A fate he knew was happening. And one he didn't raise a finger to stop. And then what did he do? Waltz back in and expect you to love him. To thank him for coming back. In canon, he probably didn't even tell Ace he was still alive. And there is no, absolutely no conceivable reason why he couldn't tell Ace he was alive. Canon Ace died still believing his brother was dead. That is made clear by the dialogue. So here is the question, reader dearest. A question pertinent to both this story and One Piece canon.

Do you really still believe Sabo is a protagonist?

In canon he shows up out of the blue, unannounced. And for what purpose? To get Ace's devil fruit. "He wants to protect his brother's memory!" some will whine. And you know what I will say to those people? Then why didn't he protect his brother when he was MORE THAN JUST A MEMORY? He could have gone to Marineford. There is no way he didn't know what was happening. No way. It was in the fucking global newspaper. "But he was too far away!" Luffy, I will remind you dear reader, didn't give a fuck how far away Kuma had just blasted him from where he needed to be. He got there. He tore his fucking way through Impel Down, a feat no one else has ever replicated, to try to save Ace. He endured blinding agony, hideous injury, near death. And he just kept on fucking tanking. If Monkey D Luffy had time to get from Amazon Lilly to Impel Down, all the way to the bottom of Impel Down, all the way back up, and then all the way to Marineford without a ship of his own, I'm pretty sure fucking Sabo, 2nd in command of the REVOLUTIONARY ARMY could find a way to get there.

But. He. Didn't.

If the Revolutionaries had participated in the Whitebeard war, actually pooled their strength and fought against the government then like they claim to want to, there isn't a doubt in my mind that it would have ended differently. But I digress.

Now that Sabo's back, he came for the devil fruit. He has claimed said devil fruit. Let it be said that this devil fruit has been quoted as one of the most powerful and coveted in existence. And he took it. And we've just clarified how it clearly wasn't for sentimental reasons. If he honestly cared about Ace he would have done something to save him from his death. So it must be for the power. But this isn't the sketchiest thing he's done. After winning in the tournament and claiming the fruit, he destroyed the coliseum. And what did he say as he was escaping from the wreckage?

"The smile factory will make a nice souvenir for Dragon."

You know. The malicious smile factory Luffy and co have been trying to destroy? Yeah. Sabo has a different plan for that. We'll see how things happen when Luffy and Sabo realize they have different agendas for the factory.

But what I find most suspicious of all is his interaction with Robin in the most recent chapter. Robin behaved like she already knew Sabo and Koala. Like she was happy to see them. Like they were friends, familiar, had spent a good deal of time together.

Does nobody else find it suspicious that Sabo didn't mention to Robin – who again he must have known to be a Straw Hat Pirate – that Luffy was his brother? If Robin knew, she obviously would have mentioned it to Luffy by now. So why did he keep it secret?

As I have displayed, there are some things that clearly don't line up. Things that there is just no logical explanation for, allowing for Sabo to still be a protagonist. So, dear reader, I hope you have come into the light. I hope you understand. Because I'm damn tired of seeing everyone so happy that he's back when something is so very clearly wrong. So when Sabo turns out to be an antagonist, I implore you to be in the crowd of people quietly whispering "I knew it" instead of the mindless screaming masses shrieking about how much of a plot twist it was. The facts are all here. Please read them and educate yourself. Oh, and one last point: that whole point about Sabo saying his family was his treasure? Yeah that's canon from the backstory. It is. Reread the postwar arc. You will find that quote.

This chapter was uploaded so fast because Sabo's going to betray Luffy. Soon. And I want more people to see it.

Thank you for your time. I'll see you next chapter.

Stuff'n'Stuff

(Song credit: In the Morning by Keaton Henson, although I slightly changed some of the lyrics.)