A/N: So the chapters are getting longer xD I barely cut chapter 7 down to 10k words and this one's almost 9k. SORRY NOT SORRY! Also… It's Friday somewhere, AMIRITE?! Okay but seriously I might fall asleep before midnight so I'm posting this now.

I'll make this quick xD Thank you so much to everyone who reviewed/fave'd/followed, and rec'd me! I didn't know I was being recommended so strongly and I'm very flattered. Y'all are the best! That goes for you guest reviewers too!

Dedicated to Beyond Kailani, whose tears fuel my typing- I mean, uh, who is my wonderful beta and I'm sorry I keep making you cry with my angsty ASL D: ilu honeyplywood.

Warnings for graphic violence and character death in this chapter.

Edit: Noticed some formatting issues and missing words... if anyone sees more, please lemme know D: (Also I've been told the entire document shows up bold on the mobile version so I'll try to fix that . )

Bonds of Sea and Fire

Chapter 6: I Wish My Brothers Were Here

It had been quiet for a while. That was Luffy's first observation as his sleep daze wore off and he finally started to become aware of his surroundings again.

The seas appeared to have calmed down at least, if the stillness of his watery prison was any indication. He dared a glance around, knowing the salty sting of the seawater would probably just irritate his eyes and he wouldn't be able to see anything in the darkness anyway, only to go still as he realized he could see. It was only a little, and if he moved it seemed to flicker out of sight, but there was light filtering in from above him somewhere.

The angle his head was being forced into - though his restraints had loosened enough to allow him to look straight ahead during the last struggle - helped him shift enough to find the source. There was a crack in the top of the barrel, and it looked as though the lid had been jarred loose during the storm. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but at the same time, the urge to do something, anything to get free was overwhelming. He felt stifled and sweaty, despite the fact that the water usually kept him cold. His whole body ached feverishly. Breathing hurt a little more than normal, and the ache of his empty stomach made him feel far more nauseous than usual.

He flexed both hands, testing them. Bluejam hadn't once untied him or checked the restraints, and thanks to the water, the cabled wire he'd been using to tie Luffy up had started to rust and break in a few places. If Luffy could just stretch, then maybe he could get a hand free.

He looked to the top of the barrel again, straining to hear some sign that Bluejam was outside, waiting to catch him. There were times when it seemed like Bluejam left him on deck, especially if he was making noise, to sleep in the cabin below. Their stolen boat wasn't very large. Bluejam was accustomed to a bigger ship with more space, and Luffy constantly heard him griping about getting a better ship once they reached a bigger village, because the one they had now wouldn't survive the trip to the Grand Line. He'd complained a lot after stopping by some village with a food name that Luffy couldn't quite remember because the thought of food at all made his stomach feel hollow.

When he was met with silence, Luffy tried rocking his weight, wincing as it made the wire cut in at his throat again. The back of his neck stung from the fresh pain immediately, but he tried to push it from his mind and focus on the task at hand. He remembered Sabo telling him once that sometimes, in order to move a large obstacle, one had to start with slow movements and build momentum. At the time, he'd simply continued slamming into the large rock until it eventually fell, but that only worked when he was rubber. He couldn't do that now. He bit down on his lower lip at the memory, a jolting thought making him panic for a moment as he realized he could barely remember what Sabo's voice sounded like. Even though he tried to remember his brothers every single minute he wasn't planning an escape, it was getting more difficult to remember exactly what they sounded like and how their hugs felt.

Dispelling that thought as quickly as he could, Luffy began to slowly rock himself, keeping his feet braced on the side of the barrel while he stretched his body as much as he could to fill up the barrel. He felt completely lethargic, winded after barely moving at all, but he refused to give in this time.

Luffy felt as though a fire had started at the back of his neck - it certainly hurt as badly as the fire in the Gray Terminal had - and was currently spreading through all of his limbs. Just when he thought he couldn't possibly keep going, readying himself to scream in pain and frustration, the barrel jerked forward.

His throat burned as seawater rushed into his mouth and nose, causing him to swallow automatically so he didn't get it in his lungs. He gasped in pain, but quick thinking had him rocking along with the motion, then pushing harder on the return movement. The barrel teetered, water rushing up and covering his face, but he slammed his eyes shut and held his breath for one more push. As the barrel started to right itself, he threw his weight forward along with it, causing the barrel to completely tip over and crash into the deck.

For one blindingly terrifying moment of panic, the water remained in place while he was powerless to move his face out of it in order to breathe, before the lid creaked and burst open. He gasped for air, struggling to calm himself and keep quiet as the midday sun assaulted his sensitive eyes and the fresh air nearly choked him. The sea was entirely too calm, and there was no sound to indicate Bluejam was even around. As soon as Luffy managed to catch his breath, stomach rolling from the seawater he'd swallowed, he closed his eyes and let the sun beam down on him. He still felt uncomfortably warm, but the sun was helping to dry his clammy skin, and the drier he felt, the easier it was to try stretching himself.

It would have been easy to start drifting off. He felt sick, he was too warm, and the slightly more comfortable position he'd managed on his side was a godsend compared to what the barrel had been like. The only thing that stopped him from succumbing was the fact that he kept trying to recall Ace or Sabo's voices to help soothe him to sleep - the only thing that had helped in the first few days - but neither voice seemed to sound right in his head.

He finally opened his eyes, staring wearily up at the sky for several moments, before clenching his jaw in determination and putting all his weight on his right arm. He started to pull with his left, wincing sharply as the wire scraped his throat from the tugging. Thankfully, it didn't last long, as his right wrist stretched and scraped free, and he was able to stop for a moment to relax. Despite being made of rubber, his arm was still sore and difficult to move as he rolled onto his back and let it flop at his side.

Moving got easier after that, and he managed to push himself into a sitting position. His head was no longer being yanked back by the wire thanks to the slack given by freeing one arm, so he was able to look around. He was still on the boat of course, but he could see an island with a village right on the shore near them. Unfortunately, he had no way of getting to it, and if he fell in the water, he'd still sink. They were obviously anchored - the sight of fresh supply crates meant Bluejam must have raided the village already, although he had no memory of being taken out of his barrel recently - and he didn't have the strength to try yelling for help. Not that he'd yell and risk waking Bluejam, who he was positive had to be sleeping below deck.

His eyes were drawn to something glinting in the sunlight, a scowl touching his lips as he realized what it was. Bluejam had left a lot of the supplies on the deck, and among them was a bag of treasure. He wasn't sure if it was Ace and Sabo's treasure, but that didn't matter. All that mattered to him was the fact that Bluejam shouldn't have it.

He stretched his right arm, pleased when it did as told, and grabbed the first piece of treasure he could reach. Once he had it, he let his arm recoil, tossing it midway through so it went over the side of the boat. He heard a satisfying 'plop' as it hit the water, and a grin touched his lips. At least this way, even if he couldn't make it home on his own, he could slow or maybe even stop Bluejam from reaching his goal.

...

"Ugh…" Thatch slapped a hand over his face, trying to calm the pounding headache and the cramps in his stomach. Once he'd surrendered himself to the mercy of the wind, he'd decided it would be more fun to see if a mere East Blue storm could capsize his special boat, retiring to his cabin to drink while the wind took him on an impromptu adventure. The boat had stopped cutting through the water hours earlier, but by then he'd been in no condition to get out of bed and see where he'd ended up.

He hadn't honestly been worried about capsizing or even crashing into another obstacle. East Blue was relatively boring, and it would have presented a fun challenge for him if he'd had to swim his way to an island or something. He was no Namur, but he was one of the best swimmers on the Moby Dick, and he hadn't earned his spot as a Division Commander by being pretty. Not that he complained if people got that part wrong.

"Okay Thatchy-boy," he told himself, groaning again. "You can do this. You've had way more liquor than this in a smaller stretch of time, remember? You got this. Just don't throw up, and don't let Marco find you while you're talking to yourself."

Riled up by his own peptalk, Thatch managed to drag himself out of his cot, stumbling almost blindly to relieve himself and wash his face. He was feeling groggy enough that he almost gave up his search to go in the ocean, but even if he was on a solo voyage, Izo's scathing reprimand from the first - and last - time he'd done that since Izo had joined the Whitebeard Pirates stuck with him. Apparently it was unsightly, uncouth, and a lot of other un-things that Thatch didn't feel like dredging up.

"I always wash my hands though," he muttered, still talking to himself. "I'm a chef."

Once he'd finished his business and splashed the cold - cold was putting it mildly, it was more like frigid death in his opinion - water on his face, he was alert enough to fix his hair and pull on some fresh clothes. He strapped his sword to his side, preparing himself just in case, before he yawned and leisurely found his way to the room that served as a galley on the small ship. Of course it was nowhere near as large as the kitchen he was used to having control over, but Thatch prided himself on being able to cook fantastic meals in any circumstance, even if he had to do it on primitive fire with slabs of rock as his frying pans.

He'd barely made it two steps past the doorway when he caught sight of the mess. Most of the cabinets had remained shut thanks to precautionary tweaks meant specifically to hold during storms, but not all of them had held up. The cabinets that had broken open had spilled their contents across the floor, although what really caught Thatch's attention was the fruit. He'd had it in a hanging bag over the counter, and only one piece had escaped the burlap confines.

A pineapple.

It was also the only food to spill or dislodge from where it should be that hadn't wound up on the floor. It was perched neatly on the counter, and if not for the fact that it was a pineapple, Thatch would have assumed someone put it there on purpose to unnerve him.

"But it's a pineapple," he told himself out loud, walking over to pick it up and toss it in one hand. "And Marco's the one coming to look for me, and he wouldn't use a pineapple when he hates the nickname," he concluded to reassure himself.

He set the pineapple back down. "Still ominous though. I need some air." Ignoring the fact that he'd just spoken to a piece of fruit, Thatch shook his head and made his way to the deck, stretching lazily when he felt the midday sun bearing down on him. He really hadn't had a grasp on what time of day it was, and he still had no clue where he was, although he doubted that would deter Marco from finding him in the slightest.

Even if he didn't have have his vivre card on him - having left the largest piece hidden in Vista's hat so the smaller pieces would still move around and keep them guessing - Marco always seemed to be able to track down his wayward siblings. Thatch didn't leave often, but he did get delayed on islands sometimes, which always led to Marco dragging him back so Izo could scold him.

When he finished stretching, rolling one shoulder to try to loosen it, he finally took a good look around. His boat had coasted to a slow crawl in the apparent middle of nowhere, and though the sails had clearly seen better days, they weren't damaged. It took little to no effort to untangle some of the ropes and sort out the disarray, while the waves rocked his little boat in the general direction of an island. He could make out the shape of another boat up ahead - he mistook it for a skiff at first glance, but it was still too far away to discern if it was just a fishing boat or not - and the island past that, but he had no idea if that meant there was a village.

It wasn't like he cared either way. He had plenty of supplies to sustain himself, his boat hadn't appeared to take any damage, and the flag with Whitebeard's mark was proudly fluttering in the gentle breeze. Even the storm hadn't been able to tear it free.

He'd been about to go drop the anchor so he wouldn't have to worry about drifting into something while cooking when movement from the nearby boat caught his attention. It was the barest flickering, like sunlight glinting off a piece of treasure, and it was unusual enough that he decided to investigate further.

Navigating closer was easy, although he made sure not to get too close. Even if he had no intention of starting petty fights, others - especially other pirates - got spooked when they saw the flag. He was only trying to satiate his curiosity, not make some poor East Blue pirate have a heart attack, after all. Though, even with that consideration in mind, he still didn't lower the flag. It was one of the few 'rules' Whitebeard gave his sons when they did something like go on solo voyages out of the New World.

He worries too much, Thatch thought with a chuckle. Even if the old man never admitted it outright, it was obvious. Especially with the younger and more playful members of the crew. Every single Division Commander could handle themselves easily, especially in a place like East Blue, but he'd still promised to keep the flag showing at all times.

Another glimmer caught his eye, pulling him from his thoughts. Was that treasure being thrown over the side of the boat? It wasn't a pirate ship, that much was obvious as he got closer. It was a decent sized boat, likely for fishing, and probably only had one cabin. Another shimmering object flew over the side, landing in the water with a barely audible plop from the distance.

Unable to help his curiosity, Thatch dropped an anchor to keep his boat where it was, opting to watch from afar. It was within jumping distance - at least for someone like him - if he wanted to go introduce himself, but the occupants likely hadn't noticed him.

For several minutes, he perched on the edge of his boat, balancing carefully and watching various pieces of treasure go flying into the water. He'd grabbed a spyglass after dropping the anchor, and after making sure it hadn't gotten cracked during the storm, he rubbed the lense off and brought it to his eye so he could get a closer look. It was definitely a hand tossing the treasure overboard, but the detail that caught Thatch's eye was that the hand seemed incredibly small. Before he could dwell on that fact for very long, an older man came into view, ascending from the cabin below and lashing out at whoever had been throwing the treasure.

Thatch's eyes narrowed, lip curling a little in disgust. There was no doubt in his mind this man was a pirate just based off the way he looked and acted, and if he was in fact assaulting a child…

He leaned a little closer as if it would help him get a better view, but the spyglass slipped from his hands a moment later. It had only been a brief glimpse, but it had been enough. He'd seen a child, a small, bloody child with some form of restraints being lifted in the pirate's grasp, and something inside him snapped. In one fluid movement, he'd gone from perching on the edge of the railing to leaping from it, the force of his jump causing the boat to nearly capsize. He'd heard the railing groan under the pressure, but he didn't care if he'd used enough force to destroy the entire thing.

He landed hard, splintering the deck, though he took care not to completely shatter the boat. He had to worry about the child's safety, and he didn't know how bad the child's condition was yet. The pirate jerked in surprise, grip tightening on the injured child and hand going to his side to procure a pistol. Thatch barely batted an eye. Izo practically greeted him at gunpoint, and Izo was far more terrifying even with Thatch knowing he'd never pull the trigger.

"Put that boy down," he said in a calm, deadly tone. It wasn't a tone his siblings heard often from him, and it wasn't one he liked to hear himself using, but that was only because it only came out when something disgusting was happening to someone helpless.

"Where the hell did you come from?" The other pirate demanded, leveling the pistol so it was aimed at Thatch's face.

Thatch met his gaze, eyes narrowed. There wasn't even a hint of his usual jovial self anywhere on his face, and the effect his fury had on the lesser - much, much lesser - pirate was immediate. Beads of sweat formed on his leathery skin, breath coming in uncertain pants between the gaps in his rotting teeth.

"I'll say it one more time to be polite," Thatch took his eyes off the older pirate, looking instead to the boy dangling lifelessly in the man's meaty hand. The child was small, smaller than Sanji had been, and covered in so many injuries and remnants of restraints that Thatch's stomach twisted hard enough to make his jaw clench and his next words sound more like a growl. "Put that boy down. Carefully."

He made the wrong choice - because of course he made the wrong choice, as any arrogant trash was prone to do when facing a less imposing member of the Whitebeard Pirates - and fired the pistol. Had there been any onlookers, they wouldn't have been able to explain what happened next. Thatch moved far faster than the residents of East Blue would be accustomed to, dodging the bullet with ease and drawing his sword. The momentum of his dodge carried him forward, his body twisting slightly to give him a good angle as he sliced the pistol in two, continuing forward with a series of small slashes.

When he stopped on the other side of the deck, the bleeding boy was free of the rest of his restraints, cradled to his chest in one arm. His other arm remained poised at his side with his bloodied sword pointing down. It took the older pirate several moments to notice his weapon had broken and his hostage - along with the hand that had been holding him - were both gone.

The wail that tore from the man's throat almost caused a smirk of satisfaction to touch Thatch's lips. For a brief moment, he considered making the man - no, not man, trash - suffer as a form of retribution, but feverish skin came into contact with his neck, and a low moan of discomfort escaped the limp child he held. He secured the boy against his chest with a wave of protective anger, leveling his sword and deciding to make quick work of the situation so he could start treating the boy's injuries.

...

He landed back on his own ship with little more than a 'thud', bracing himself for impact and doing his best to absorb it with his legs so he didn't jar the bundle he still clutched to his chest. In the distance, the fishing boat he'd attacked was burning. He slightly regretted affording the pirate a quick death - it would have been more satisfying to incapacitate him and let him burn with his stolen goods - but it hadn't been worth his time in the end. He tossed the pistol he'd used to ignite the barrel of gunpowder mid-jump over the side of his own boat. He had no need for that type of weapon, and he honestly hadn't wanted to keep anything from that boat other than his injured charge.

Thatch looked back down at the boy, who was shivering feverishly and mumbling in his delirious state, clearly in an immense amount of pain. His heart clenched again. "Hey, it's gonna be okay," he softened his voice as much as possible, looking up when he felt the breeze ruffle his hair. He wanted to pull the anchor up and get away from the area as soon as possible, but they were far enough away from the burning wreckage and the village that he figured there was time before he had to worry about being disturbed. He gently carried the boy below deck, taking precautions to stop from jostling him on the narrow steps.

There were plenty of medical supplies, but Thatch's throat tightened at the realization that he didn't know very much about how to use said supplies. When he couldn't be bothered to go to the actual infirmary on the Moby Dick, Izo was the one who usually patched him up. He complained and scolded while he did it, but he still took care of Thatch's injuries if asked.

If he thought about it, it seemed like every single one of his brothers knew more about medicine than he did, and the sense of inadequacy that came from that observation made him falter. For the first time since going out on his little vacation, he found himself wishing he hadn't gone alone.

"Can you tell me your name?" he wanted the child to speak, needed to get him to respond. Even without knowing much about medicine, he could tell the child was feverish and likely dehydrated, and it would be a miracle if he didn't have infections from all the lacerations Thatch could see. Getting him to respond would help Thatch focus as well as help Thatch figure out just how severe his fever was.

"Lu…"

The voice was muffled and barely more than a whimper, but it was a response, and that made Thatch grateful. "Lu?"

The boy reached up with one small hand, weakly clutching at the front of Thatch's shirt. He felt like the boy had reached right into his chest and grasped his heart. He was so small… definitely younger than Sanji, too.

"Luffy," the boy mumbled, blinking up at him with glossy eyes. Thatch wasn't sure if Luffy could actually see him or not, but he gave a reassuring smile.

"I'm Thatch. Nice to meet you, Luffy," he said, bringing him to the bed and sitting him down. The boy's clothes were in shreds, and it looked like he'd had bandages on before his captivity, but they were caked with sea salt and grime. He knew he needed to wash the boy off, but his first order of business was unfortunately going to cause the him a lot more pain. He was definitely dehydrated, and from the dryness of his lips and the glossiness in his eyes, Thatch could easily guess he'd swallowed seawater recently. A small amount wouldn't kill him, but depending on how starved for nutrients his body already was, it could definitely cause more damage than getting him to disgorge it would.

Luffy's body was weak, barely able to stay upright with Thatch's help. "I'm sorry, Luffy," he apologized softly. "This is going to be really uncomfortable, but it's going to make you feel better in the long run. I promise, we'll get you some fresh water and some food as soon as it's safe."

Luffy lifted his head at the word 'food', but Thatch barely gave him time to try process the words. He couldn't stop on account of Luffy not understanding, because he wasn't entirely sure Luffy was actually hearing his words at this point. It didn't take much effort to make the boy expel the contents of his stomach, nor did he put up much of a struggle. Whether it was because he was simply too weak or he inherently trusted Thatch, the older man counted his blessings that it hadn't been worse than it needed to be. Once that was done, he grabbed the canteen of water from the nightstand and coaxed the boy into drinking a small amount.

If at all possible, Luffy became even more listless after that, opening and closing his eyes like he was uncertain about falling asleep, but confused about trying to stay awake. He watched blankly while Thatch set to work removing the cloth that didn't need to be cut away first. He had to use a knife from the desk near the bed to cut away the pieces that did. Luffy didn't flinch away from him once, even at the sight of a blade coming close to his wounded body.

"I'm sorry if this hurts," Thatch apologized, biting his lip as he had to peel a piece of cloth from an oozing wound. It looked fresher than the rest, and badly infected. "But soon, it'll all feel better, and you can get some sleep!"

"Nng…" Luffy closed his eyes, though he'd barely flinched. For some reason he was trying to hide that Thatch's actions were causing him pain.

Once Thatch was finished removing the dirty scraps of clothes and bandages, he grabbed a basin, hurrying to the bathroom to fill it with filtered water. He grabbed a clean washcloth, then scooped the entirety of his medical supplies from their cabinet and into his arm. It took some careful maneuvering, but he was able to bring everything back to the bedside without stumbling or spilling anything.

Luffy barely reacted - Thatch wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing - as his wounds were cleaned and bandaged. Thatch had lost count of how many gashes he'd found. By far, the boy's wrists, hands, and neck were the worst, but he had plenty of various injuries all over his body that needed to be taken care of.

It was during the treatment that Thatch began to notice something odd about the boy's wounds. His body, while definitely lacking nourishment, was not exhibiting signs of starvation. His skin didn't feel normal, either, stretching and shrinking a little when prodded. When Thatch had checked for broken bones, he hadn't felt the hardness of regular bones beneath the peculiar, oddly textured skin. It wasn't unheard of for a young child to have eaten a Devil Fruit, but a child in East Blue?

Was it really possible?

"It-it doesn't hurt," Luffy whispered, his voice coming out small and pained and breaking the silence. "I-I won't cry!"

His claim was like a haki-imbued punch to the gut, and Thatch had to bite down on his cheek to stop himself from crying out in protest at the words.

"Hey, it's okay," he tried to soothe him again, placing a gentle hand on his bandaged shoulder. "You can cry, Luffy. No one is gonna hurt you for it."

Luffy opened his eyes, which swam with tears he refused to let fall, and the desperate, pleading look cut right through the older man. "I-I won't cry."

Thatch closed his eyes for a moment, struggling to get his emotions under control. He was still wound up from killing the pirate who'd tortured Luffy, but hearing this…

He was familiar with it. Not that he'd ever seen a child in that condition himself, but they'd all heard of it. Children who no longer knew how to cry because of conditioning brought upon by slavery. He hadn't seen the mark of the Tenryuubito on the boy when he'd bandaged the injuries on his back, or anywhere else, but that didn't mean he hadn't been a slave somewhere. The thought that he'd saved Luffy from a pirate who'd purchased him left a vile taste in Thatch's mouth, and he struggled to keep a smile in place so the boy would feel safe.

"You're safe now, Luffy," Thatch whispered. "The pirate who hurt you is dead, and I'm not going to hurt you. Get some sleep. You're all clean, and once you wake up, I'll get you some food and some more water."

Luffy gazed up at him, and for several moments Thatch wasn't even sure he'd understood correctly. The boy claimed he wasn't scared while trembling so hard his teeth nearly chattered; claimed he wouldn't cry while barely managing to keep his tears from escaping.

For the first time, Thatch didn't know what he could do to make it better. Sanji had been easier to deal with once he'd gotten used to the boy's unimpressed attitude, and even unruly children caved to his charms eventually. He'd never once handled a child in such a fragile state. Jiru or Izo would have been far better at treating the boy's wounds, and Izo probably would have been better at reassuring him, too. Vista, Marco, or even Jozu would have been incredibly helpful in keeping Thatch calm and focused, and Haruta - the youngest of them all - could have lightened the mood to stop him from giving in to the urge to turn the ship around and storm that island to demand answers about why the boy was in such a condition.

Thatch had no idea how much time passed as he knelt there, watching helplessly. He knew he should go chart an actual course, maybe find a village with an actual doctor, even go to the kitchen and start on a broth that would be easier for Luffy to ingest after his ordeal, but he remained frozen. Something screamed at his instincts, keeping him rooted to the spot. The boy was still awake, and the look in his eyes as he struggled not to succumb to his exhaustion pleaded with Thatch not to leave him alone.

"You can sleep, Luffy," Thatch tried softly, hating that he couldn't offer a better form of comfort. "I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'll still be on the boat, and if I hear you wake up, I'll come running. It's gonna be okay."

Luffy opened his eyes again, biting down on his lip to help hold back his tears. A shuddering sob escaped, but he still didn't allow the tears to fall. "I miss my brothers," he whispered.

Thatch's lips parted, but no sound came out. He didn't know if Luffy's brothers were back on the island or even alive, or where in the world they might be, though something told him Luffy would have asked to go home if his brothers were on that island. Luffy was in no condition to clarify, and the despair in his dark eyes made Thatch too hesitant to even try asking. The most important part was knowing this boy had family at some point, somewhere, and he was scared without them.

He reached out, gently clasping one of Luffy's heavily bandaged hands in his own and offering a smile even as he felt tears welling up in his own eyes. "Me too, kid," he said softly. More than ever, he missed every single one of his brothers on the Moby Dick, and wished Marco would hurry up and find him so he wouldn't be alone with his anger and distress. "Me too."

Luffy watched him a few moments longer. Maybe he understood, or maybe he just needed the comforting touch to prove he was truly safe. The wounded boy drifted off to sleep shortly after Thatch's confession, lashes thick with moisture and cheeks still dry. It was more than Thatch could claim for himself, as his tears, both from homesickness and empathy for the child showing such bravery, continued to fall.

...

"Everyone seems wary," Ace commented, clenching his fists at his sides.

"Maybe they don't get visitors often. Or maybe the smoke we saw was from someone's house burning," Sabo suggested. He was having an easier time moving around now, and unless he was caught off guard or moved too abruptly, he didn't need to rest as much. "Remember how much nicer they were at Cocoyashi Village?"

"No," Ace answered sourly.

Sabo held back a sigh. While he'd been in charge of marking locations on the map and doing his best to guide them, Ace hadn't bothered to remember the names of the places they'd gone. Not that he'd expected Ace to, but the freckled boy was more irate than usual. The first thing they'd done upon arriving was get a new map for Sabo to work with, and he'd quickly marked it from memory. The villagers hadn't approached them, and Ace hadn't ventured from Sabo's side to try and question them. With the new map tucked away in their supplies, they were ready to resume searching.

"We should have stopped at Syrup-"

"It was too close to that other place we went," Ace interrupted. "He wouldn't have stopped twice like that."

Sabo sighed this time, shaking his head. He still wore bandages over his more severe burns, but the ones that were nearly done healing benefited from being able to breathe. He had to be careful with infection or letting his clothes rub against his skin too much, but he no longer looked like he'd been in a horrific boat explosion. Soon enough, he'd be able to remove the bandages covering the left half of his face, and people would stop recoiling at the sight of him.

Since the villagers milling about didn't seem to want to approach them, Ace led Sabo to the nearest people in the middle of a task, knowing they wouldn't abandon their work just to avoid them. "Hey," Ace's voice was sharp, and the hostility had the fishermen tensing. One man was pulling fish from a net, and another was glancing nervously to the water.

"Excuse me," Sabo tried a more polite approach, even though the villagers' reactions were giving him an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach. "We're looking for a pirate."

Both boys tried to ignore the collective shudder that passed through every villager within earshot.

"He kidnapped our little brother," Sabo continued, barely managing to keep his voice from shaking. "He's been using him as a hostage to steal from villages, and-"

"I'm so sorry," the fisherman interrupted, kneeling down to their level.

"What are you sorry about?" Ace demanded, clenching his fists a little harder. "If you don't have any information, stop wasting our time so we can get going!"

Sabo didn't speak. He'd gone still the moment the man had knelt, staring into those dark, soulful eyes and seeing pity in them.

"A pirate did come here," the man continued. No one else was looking in their direction, and Sabo was vaguely aware of a woman ushering her young child into their home. "He had a little boy with him… the boy was unconscious, but he poked and prodded him until he made noise so we knew he was still alive, and we gave that pirate everything he demanded to stop him from killing the kid, but…"

"But what?" Ace's voice was hoarse, a wild look appearing in his eyes.

"While he was anchored nearby, another pirate ship came by," the man continued solemnly. "It all happened so quickly…"

"Our brother," Sabo's voice barely carried volume, and his left hand was moving automatically to clutch at Ace's arm.

"The other pirate showed no mercy. He destroyed the boat and set off shortly after," the fisherman bowed his head. "There's nothing left."

"What do you mean there's nothing left?" Ace yanked his arm free from Sabo's grip, and Sabo was too overwhelmed to voice his pain at the motion. "What the hell do you mean there's nothing left?!" When the fisherman remained silent, Ace grabbed the man by the front of his shirt, yanking him closer and throttling him. "What happened to our brother?!"

Sabo stood completely still, almost detached from the situation as he watched Ace shake the man. Even if he hadn't gone numb in that moment, he knew his words wouldn't reach his brother now. Other villagers were attempting to intervene, but they weren't prepared for Ace's raw strength or unstoppable rage. None of the villagers had seen the ordeals Ace had endured without resting, or witnessed his rapidly fraying nerves as they were met with disappointment after disappointment. None of those men had seen Ace struggling to stay strong, while self-deprecation ravaged his mind like a deadly poison whose only antidote was Luffy's presence.

The implication behind those words, there's nothing left, was enough to shove the raven-haired boy over the edge, and Sabo didn't know how to pull him back. He didn't even know if it was possible.

It took several men to finally separate the two, restraining Ace with surprising care considering how violent he was being. They weren't trying to hurt him or punish him for his actions, though it likely would have been a different story if he'd gone for his pipe. The pity in their eyes confirmed the brothers' worst fears, and none of them spoke as Ace continued to scream and snarl, burning his energy through attempting to break free and lash out.

Sabo wasn't even aware that he was shaking until a kind woman guided him to sit down, calling for someone to bring water. For one brief moment, he lost sight of Ace. His entire body felt chilled and numb, making it impossible to turn his head to seek his brother out. The last thing he heard as dizziness flooded his senses and he lost consciousness was the sound of Ace frantically screaming his name.

...

Had he been more alert, he probably would have noticed the presence sooner. At least, if anyone asked, that was what Thatch would tell them. Despite saying he'd have food ready for Luffy when the boy finally awoke, Thatch had done little more than hover and and fret over him, still holding that tiny, fragile hand in his own.

While he was pleased to see the medicine he'd given Luffy seemed to have helped with his fever, and his face was no longer pallid and clammy, he'd still let himself get too distracted just watching over him. The thud he'd heard from the deck and the distinct presence of more than one person set him on edge and made him wish he was just a little more proficient in Observation Haki. Berating himself for not pulling up the anchor and setting out wouldn't help the situation, but he found himself doing it anyway.

Gently, so as not to disturb Luffy or alert him to possible danger - not that Thatch was particularly worried about anything dangerous in East Blue; he just wanted to make sure Luffy remained oblivious - he placed Luffy's hand back on the bed and covered him with the blanket.

It took seconds for him to close the distance between his spacious cabin and the steps leading to the deck with a stealth usually reserved for pranking his more precautious brothers. A niggling sense of familiarity tugged at his senses, but he didn't have time to waste on trying to sort it out, not if the presence could cause trouble for Luffy in the wake of his hesitation.

He casually opened the door like he was greeting an expected guess, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, and was immediately met with the barrel of a fancy pistol mere inches from his face.

Thatch went completely still, disbelief coursing through him as wide brown eyes stared down the barrel of the gun. Automatic tears filled his eyes - a minor annoyance considering how long it had taken to get himself under control once Luffy had fallen asleep - and then he was ignoring the shocked exclamations to swat the gun out of the way and launch himself at the one holding it.

He wrapped his arms tightly around a slender waist, immediately pressing his face into the muscles of the other man's chest and letting out a cry that was part relief and part distress.

"What the hell's gotten into you, yoi?"

"Seriously… get off me already!"

Thatch ignored Marco's question and Izo's protest, clinging even tighter when Izo smacked him upside the head. He narrowly avoided missing with the pistol, but then again, Izo had years of practice smacking Thatch without actually injuring him.

"I'm so glad you're here," Thatch cried, a choked sob of relief escaping.

"Hey…" Izo exchanged a worried glance with Marco, then holstered both of his pistols so he could put a hand on Thatch's upper back. "You're actually shaking. What happened?"

Marco folded his arms over his chest, silently regarding Thatch's strange behavior. Usually, if Thatch had to be tracked down or dragged back to the ship - most times, intoxicated - he was playful or snarky. He only got worked up like this when something was wrong, and that didn't happen often.

"You have to help me take care of the kid," Thatch pleaded, pulling back and staring up at them both. "I bandaged him up but I need to make him food and he won't cry but I didn't see a slave brand and-"

"Shut up, slow down, breathe," Izo commanded sternly. Whether it was because of the interruption or because Thatch had been conditioned to listen when Izo used that tone, he obeyed instantly.

"Now," Marco cut in, "what's this about a kid, yoi?"

"His name's Luffy," Thatch explained, rubbing at his eyes. "Some no-name bastard had him captive. I killed the guy and rescued Luffy, but he's got a fever, he needs food, he has infections, he won't cry, and I think he ate a devil fruit," he blurted out in a jumbled rush.

Izo stared almost blankly, pursing his painted lips for a moment before looking to Marco.

"Devil fruits aren't very common in East Blue," Marco replied nonchalantly, though he was heading for the door. "Let's go have a look, Izo."

"Thatch, go cook something for all of us, including Luffy, then pull the anchor up and get us moving," Izo said, pausing briefly to put a hand on his shoulder. "I know this is hurting you, but we'll do what we can for this boy. You can stop panicking."

Thatch shot him the most grateful look he'd ever managed in his life. "I'm so glad you guys showed up," he said honestly, before his grateful look melted into the charming smile they'd come to love from their irresponsible brother.

Izo was careful to hold back, because that smile, after weeks of not seeing it, was almost enough to cause heat to rise on his cheeks. Thankfully, Thatch was hurrying after Marco, and the feeling passed quickly. Izo sighed softly, shaking his head as he fell in line behind them. Though he'd seriously contemplated his life choices earlier - riding a glowing phoenix into East Blue while polishing his guns was not a normal day in Izo's life - he was glad he'd decided to tag along on Whitebeard's "Thatch retrieval" mission. Every single one of the commanders knew about Thatch's weakness for children, and while none of them could claim indifference at the idea of anyone abusing a child, Thatch was the one who reacted with the most empathy.

He didn't even want to think about how much worse Thatch would have been if he'd continued to stress out all alone. They were brothers for a reason, and whoever had put Thatch in his current state was lucky the chef had finished him off. Marco and Izo would have been far less kind. No one hurt their brother and got away with it.

...

"Worthless…"

The voice was small, choked with sobs and barely even audible, but even if it had been louder, there were only two occupants in the dark room.

"I'm completely worthless…!"

Sabo finally shifted, opening his eyes and grimacing when he was met with resistance. Irritated, he reached up to tug at his bandages until they finally came away, revealing the still reddened flesh surrounding his left eye. The fresh air initially stung, but it felt better than the cloth scraping against the tender skin.

Everything was blurry for several moments as he tried to focus, getting used to having both eyes open again. Another sob broke the silence, causing him to angle his head towards the sound. Ace was curled up against the wall next to where he lay, arms crossed over his face and entire body trembling. The visible parts of his face were soaked with tears, and his mouth was frozen in a silent cry of sheer anguish. At first, Sabo couldn't figure out the source of Ace's grief. He'd never seen Ace break down so thoroughly before, and he'd never heard him sob quite like this. He'd cried in front of him once and only once, back in Shimotsuki village, but if he'd cried since, he'd hidden it well.

With a jolt, Sabo's eyes flew wide open, his body tensing painfully. The memories rushed back; hearing the villagers tell them Luffy was gone, Ace completely snapping, and a numbness that had shrouded Sabo's world in darkness.

I passed out, he realized, swallowing as he pushed himself up. He didn't bother checking their surroundings, since Ace wasn't restrained and he knew the freckled boy couldn't have carried him back to the boat in his condition. "Ace."

Ace visibly started at his voice, lowering his arms to look at Sabo through his tears. His vision was blurry, the look in his eyes was desperate, and he was shaking fiercely from the force of his sobs. Sabo's heart firmly lodged itself in his throat at the sight, and grief began to roll over him in waves. Ace's condition said it all. It wasn't a dream, it wasn't something they could fix, and they weren't getting Luffy back. It felt like he was suffocating, the numb feeling returning instantly.

Another choked sob escaped, as if Sabo's thoughts had been shouted through his expression and Ace hadn't been able to drown them out, and then Ace was pushing himself to his feet, swiping at his eyes with the back of one arm. "Get up," he whispered hoarsely. "We're going now."

"G-going?" Sabo stammered, eyes focusing on Luffy's beloved straw hat, still dangling by the cord around Ace's neck.

"I'm going to find the bastard who killed our brother, and I'm going to make him pay," Ace swore furiously. "You can stay if you want, but you're never going to convince me not to go after him."

A wavering sound of distress left Sabo's lips. "Ace-"

"I don't wanna hear it!" Ace interrupted, the shout making Sabo jump. Ace's eyes were wild with hatred and vengeance, and despite Sabo's crippling grief over losing Luffy, the terror that there was nothing he could do to stop himself from losing Ace too was enough to keep him grounded and focused. Ace looked ready to bolt at the first sign of protest on Sabo's part.

He couldn't let the freckled boy out of his sight, and that meant he had to acquiesce to Ace's wishes, even if he didn't want to. "I'm coming with you," he choked out, reaching for Ace and grasping his wrist. "Don't leave me behind!"

Ace flinched, both at the touch and the words, before nodding. "Come on. We're going to find out who it was."

Sabo was completely silent as Ace helped him to his feet, gathered their supplies, and practically pulled him from the room. He didn't break his silence to tell Ace the grip the other boy had on him was too tight, or to tell Ace he needed to pick up his discarded bandages. He simply followed.

Walking out of the darkened room and into the daylight caused Sabo to flinch sharply, shielding his left eye from the bright intrusion. He hadn't even considered that he might be sensitive to light, even though it was a logical conclusion given how long his eye had been bandaged. Even as he adjusted, his vision was incredibly blurry if he kept that eye open.

Some of the villagers from the scuffle earlier were outside, and they very obviously tensed at the sight of the boys.

"I'm not going to fight," Ace snapped, looking to them with a chilling glare. "I just want to know anything you can tell me about the pirate who killed our brother."

"Boy, you don't want to-"

"Don't you dare try to tell me what I want or don't want to do!" Ace snarled, taking a menacing step forward.

The one who'd spoken flinched, holding both hands up in an attempt to pacify him. "That pirate was dangerous! You'll likely just be following your brother to the grave! You kids are too young to-"

"Tell me what you know!"

Sabo met their helpless glances with silence, standing by his brother in a show of support. When neither boy backed down, the villagers seemed to droop, as if knowing there was no chance they'd convince the boys to give up on revenge.

"Alright," the man sighed quietly. "But even if you somehow manage to get your revenge, you'll be sentencing yourselves to death. The one who blew up that boat and killed your little brother was one of Whitebeard's pirates. Even in East Blue, we know that mark… and Whitebeard never lets anyone kill his men and get away with it."

"I don't care," Ace growled with the finality of someone who had nothing left to lose. Sabo flinched. "What does his mark look like, and which way did they go?"

The villager leaned down to pick up a stick, quickly drawing his rendition of the mark in the dirt for Ace as he mumbled a directions to place called 'Loguetown'. The raven-haired boy looked to the mark with hatred in his eyes, then turned and headed for their boat without speaking again. Sabo followed behind him, shuddering. He felt like the mark had been staring directly at him, and the mustache drawn in the dirt looked far too similar to a smile. The mark just didn't fit the image in his mind, and he couldn't make himself associate it with the thought of Luffy being murdered.

It was a complete contrast to Ace, who had already burned the image into his mind as the source of his failure and the reason he'd lost Luffy.

...

A/N: PLEASE HAVE MERCY ON ME!

I promise it gets better D: And chapter 7 is already in beta stages (and a monster of a chapter holy cow) so, the wait is almost over?!

*slumps*

I'm so sorry, tiny Ace and tiny Sabo.

And thank you again to the reviewers, and also those I wasn't able to reply to! (guest/blocked PMs, etc) Every single one of you precious cinnamon rolls puts a giant smile on my face, and I flail around like a dork for a minimum of three minutes (Let's not get into the maximum amount of time I have flailed) whenever I see a new review/message :)

~Mithril