HOLAA913: That's such an interesting theory! But what is it is not that complex. lol.

Simitria: Ace's first christmas was fun to write. Especially when they open the presents!

This chapter has some humor in it. Enjoy~

Ace sighed and got dressed, grumpy while walking down the halls to the galley for breakfast, already in a terrible mood. Hopefully it didn't last, but luckily it wasn't christmas. He could be happy tomorrow when it finally came. Thatch, of course, noticed his demeanor immediately, and asked what was wrong.

"I vandalized my room while asleep," Ace grumbled. Thatch blinked twice and started laughing before he asked what he'd done. "I drew a map on the fucking floor! And it doesn't even look good, it's messy and smeared!" Ace said angrily.

Thatch started laughing again, and Ace got mad at him, telling him it wasn't funny. "How would you like waking up and not knowing where you went or what you did during the night? Not remembering doing things? It's not fun or funny, Thatch," he said, and the chef looked guilty, apologizing for being inconsiderate. "Is there any way to get it off?" he asked, hoping he could fix it.

Especially since the pen he'd used had been a permanent marker. "What kind of pen was it?" Thatch asked as he flipped pancakes as Ace ate the first batch, one of the first to be there for breakfast.

"Permanent."

"Don't worry too much. Rubbing alcohol can get rid of it if you rub hard enough," Thatch said calmly, and Ace sighed, glad he hadn't permanently vandalized that room. God, it would have been a mess to do that in a shared room. Or he might have done it on the underside of the bunk bed. "Maybe get all of the pens out of your room?"

"Definitely."

After breakfast, Ace scrubbed the wood floor of his room, scrubbing hard as the marker wasn't cooperating. But, after ten minutes of rubbing the same spot, that part faded. The whole thing had to be five feet from side to side. He even made a square outline and the grid, though the lines weren't straight at all.

There was a knock on the door and Thatch opened it, carrying his own bucket and rag. "I've come to help," he said and Ace smiled and thanked him. Thatch looked down at the floor and whistled. "Man, you are addicted to making maps aren't you?"

"I guess so," Ace replied. It took a lot less time with Thatch, and soon the floor was back to normal. "Don't tell anyone else." Thatch agreed that he wouldn't. Nobody else knew what had happened, which Ace was happy with. But he was surprised when he went back to his room for his new necklace, and found there was a rug where the map had been.

There was a paper on it that read, "No more floor maps!" Thatch somehow got him a rug from somewhere, Ace didn't know where. He smiled, and neither of them said a thing about it the rest of the day.

Ace kind of wished he knew what island he'd drawn, even if it was crap quality. But it was gone now, so he wouldn't know. Everyone was so excited about the next day, and Ace thought they were acting like little kids (normal ones, not like he was) and just pretending to walk past the wall when they were actually searching for their own names in the pile of presents for their divisions. It was funny, and they weren't stealthy at all.

Ace was in a much better mood after cleaning the floor than he was when he woke up. He went on the island that day, alone again, and went to the park he'd been at before. He was content, but something felt a bit wrong. Not the usual warning wrong. He just felt off, but couldn't pinpoint what it was. And no random thoughts were coming.

He laid on his back with his hat over his face and napped for a bit under the shade. When he woke up, it was to the sounds of girls giggling, and he frowned deeply. People were around him and he sat up quickly, knocking his hat off and into his lap.

While he was sleeping, apparently a group of women thought he would make a good place to have a picnic…? Don't people usually go places where someone else isn't in very close proximity?

"Oh, hi. Do you mind if we eat here?" one with blonde hair asked. Ace, awkward with talking to any woman but Makino, didn't have a filter.

"Well, I was napping here but you woke me up," he said bluntly. She looked shocked that he hadn't been completely polite and compliant. The other girls looked concerned as well. Ace was irritated, since this was a really nice spot to nap, right where the breeze was hitting him.

"Well, you can always nap another time," she tried, cheeks red. Ace felt bad for embarrassing her, but he was hiding his own embarrassment. Then, someone made it even worse.

"Ahahaha!" Haruta laughed, pointing at Ace from across the grassy field. "Ace is a lady's man! Hahahaha!" The other girls clearly thought Ace's blush was cute or funny or something else stupid.

"Shut up and go back to the ship!" Ace shouted, irritated with how funny his brother found the situation. Ace just wanted to continue napping! "I gotta go," he grumbled to the women and stood up, back no longer against the tree so they could see his tattoo.

The blonde asked, in a nervous voice, if he was a pirate, like he was going to torch them if he wanted to. But then again, pirates could be horrible people so their hesitancy was justified, even if Ace didn't look very threatening right now. "Yeah, Firefist Ace of the Whitebeard pirates," he replied honestly. Soon, he was no longer surrounded by women, and he was able to nap again without interruption.

When he got back to the ship, Haruta and Thatch were smiling behind their hands. Great, Haruta told the other prankster. Would they try to embarrass him now? Well, at least he got his nap in the end, so that was a plus. If he were someone interested in relationships, being a wanted pirate might make things tense. Good thing Ace didn't care about any of that.

For dinner, Thatch kept asking him about picnics, and Ace was really having a hard time not throwing his fork at him. Finally, when Izo asked what had happened, Thatch didn't wait to explain that Ace got ambushed by a pack of women. And that he was totally rude. Ace huffed, wanting to just leave.

"Okay, leave him alone," Marco said once Thatch and Haruta both started laughing again. "It's obviously pissing him off." And it was, as Ace was scowling at the table with hatred in his eyes. Thatch finally conceded and stopped making fun of him. From now on he'd just flat out say he was a pirate and get them to leave him alone, if this ever happened again.

When it was bedtime, Ace locked the door and even tied his ankle to the bed so he couldn't get off and wreck the floor again. There may be a rug now, but that didn't mean he couldn't just move it out of the way. So, he went to bed, no markers inside. Only a pencil and a piece of paper in case he wakes up and remembers something that he'd write down on the official list later, which was still hidden in Marco's room safely.

When he woke up, Ace was still on the bed, only there was a crumpled piece of paper in his hand, the pencil dangerously close to his eye. He sat up, and exclaimed in horror that he hadn't used the piece of paper, but had ripped one of his maps off of the wall. He was upset, but uncrumpled the paper and turned it over.

It wasn't a map, but some sort of sketch from a high vantage point. There were a ton of tiny people on the ground below, with a huge wall blocking some of what seemed like a bay, which had the Moby Dick and the other sister ships. He got a terrible feeling from it. He dressed and went to plan on telling Marco, as maybe he'd know what it was, or Ace just made it up.

Since he couldn't find Marco inside, he checked outside to see him sitting on Pops shoulder, everyone around deck happy and excited. Ace was the only one who wasn't, and was deeply frowning. He looked once more at the drawing and took a few steps forward before the wind picked up and ripped the drawing out of his hand. "Shit!" he shouted, but it flew away.

The moment it was out of view, it fell out of Ace's mind, and he couldn't remember what he was out there for. He frowned, but shrugged and went inside to help Thatch out with desserts, having moved on from last night's embarrassing teasing.

He helped bake... barely. Thatch didn't allow him to touch any of the appliances or crack any eggs. He just let Ace stir things, and even then Ace either stirred too fast or too slow. He couldn't win, and finally huffed before saying he wasn't any help.

For some reason, he was stressed and anxious today but didn't know why. Maybe he had a bad dream?

"Ace? Are you okay?" he asked, putting the mixing bowl down, looking at Ace in sudden concern. Ace looked down and shrugged. "What's wrong?"

Ace sighed and said, "I don't know. I'm just anxious but I don't know why. I feel bad. It's christmas, everyone is supposed to be happy. And I'm just not feeling it." He didn't want to see Thatch's reaction to Ace being upset on the holiday he'd been touting for weeks. He wanted to be excited, but something was bothering him and he didn't know what.

Thatch pat his back. "Nobody wants you to be upset, but we also don't want you to fake happiness. Why don't you go on a ride on striker? That always makes you feel better, right?" he offered. Ace thought it was a good idea, and said he'd do that. He had to find someone else to help, since Thatch had things in the oven and it would be unsafe for him to leave.

He left the galley and asked the nearest guy he knew alright to help him pull striker out. He passed Deuce, asking if he was going on a ride. Ace nodded, and Deuce's brows furrowed. "What's wrong?" he asked. Ace shrugged.

"I don't know. I just want to try a ride with striker to make me feel better," he replied honestly. Deuce replaced the other guy and both of them lugged Ace's personal craft and got it into the water, Ace dropping down onto it and not hesitating to shoot off. The ship was docked at an island and would be easy to find again. He wasn't going too far.

He closed his eyes as the wind whipped his hair around, enjoying the feeling and sound of shooting through the waves. He took in a deep breath and then opened his eyes. He smiled before that stupid voice came. Hurts. Ace was pretty sure he wasn't in pain, and even checked over himself. No pain. Hurts bad. What hurt?

"If you're not gonna be useful, go away," Ace said, angling his body to turn around the far side of the island, far from it but it was still visible to him. He spread his arms and breathed deeply. He was more relaxed now. It was a great idea, and he was glad Thatch had offered it. He didn't know if he'd come to that conclusion himself.

After about an hour of circling the island far enough that it was a speck, he went back to the ship to celebrate christmas. Or at least, eat some lunch, feeling much better than he had before. He just pushed the mystery feeling away. If it was helpful, it would be. Otherwise, it could stay away.

He left striker tied to the ship, not wanting to lug it back up and inside if he only went out on another ride. He was in a much better mood, and went to Marco's room to record on his list. There was a screwdriver Marco now kept in the door beneath the lamp so I could unscrew the bottom. He took the little lamp apart and pulled out the paper.

The list was longer than it was in the beginning, with most things being inconsequential. He recorded the sense of an ambush, the unease about that morning, something feeling off, he recorded drawing a map on the floor, and finally wrote down when he heard he was hurting in his head.

By then, all of the commanders knew that Marco gave Ace permission to go into his room, but no one knew why besides Thatch and Marco himself. Pops knew something was up, no doubt, but he didn't press. Ace didn't feel pressure to spill everything to the captain, even if both Marco and Thatch had said he would be open to it.

He put the paper back into place and screwed the bottom of the lamp back on to conceal it. He left Marco's room, turning the light off and closing the door. He didn't like if Stefan got inside, as he'd eaten paperwork before. Only Pops' room was kept open for the old dog.

Ace was in a much better mood the rest of the day, uncomfortable feeling from the morning faded away. Everyone was excited, like little kids high off of sugar. There was a lot of arguing about kissing under mistletoe. Ace watched in disbelief while his brothers insisted that those under the mistletoe have to kiss, or they'd ruin the christmas spirit. Nine times out of ten, the plant was ripped down or burnt. In one case, it was eaten, only until he was told he could get poison. Then he made himself throw up all over the deck, which he then cleaned.

It was a crazy atmosphere. By the time dinner rolled around, they really did not need any more sugar, but of course they had more. Candy, cookies, cupcakes, pie, regular cake, ice cream, pastries.

Ace wasn't even able to try one of everything before he started feeling ill. He did fall asleep halfway through dinner, which was fancy and detailed. Marco just barely caught him from mushing his face into his dinner. He just had Ace lean into his shoulder instead of falling forward or backwards.

Finally, when the presents time came, most people by then were drunk. In Ace's opinion, getting drunk after presents would have made more sense, but he got to enjoy his fully after he'd sworn off alcohol in front of others. Which was pretty much no alcohol whatsoever. Sake wasn't allowed in bedrooms, only parts of the deck and the galley. Which were almost always full of at least a handful of people at times when drinking would be acceptable.

The others thought it was weird, his sudden change to drinking zero booze, and many just couldn't fathom life without alcohol. So when present time came, Ace was surprised to find that nobody opened presents with the person that got them the gift. He had expected pairs would open presents together, but instead they just took their gift when their name was called.

Haruta stood on Pops' knee, calling out names on gifts so the owner would come get them and go someplace to open it. Ace was waiting in the back for his name to be called, and got a box made of dick-shaped patterned wrapping paper (Nice. Real mature).

He was going to sit down when his name was called again. Either everyone was too happy or too drunk because nobody said anything about him getting multiple gifts. He brought the two packages to a circle of people that had most of the commanders, dragging Deuce over with him to sit.

Nobody waited to watch one another open the gifts, they just excitedly tore the paper off. None of it could be salvaged, which Marco was upset about. "You could at least try to open it neatly. Then we wouldn't need to spend so much damn money on wrapping paper each year," he grumbled.

Thatch tore his apart and gasped. Damn, Haruta. He bought Thatch a can of glow in the dark paint. "Brother, you know me so well!" he cried. "And I got you a dead den den mushi!"

"WHAT?! Why!" he demanded, attempting to yank his gift back.

"It reminded me of a kitten so I got it, but it died in my pocket. I thought it looked like a kitten at the time, but I think it was sick and it's body was just rotting. So I tossed it," Thatch explained, laughing his ass off at the story.

"So, you didn't get me anything," Haruta summed it up, voice bland. Thatch looked guilty and shrugged.

He said, "How about I cook you a whole day's worth of your favorite foods and desserts? You know I take Christmas seriously, I don't want you to be sad." Haruta accepted the deal, and Ace listened while he unwrapped his gift, opening the box to find a compact sketchbook and a beautiful fountain pen. He opened the sketchbook and felt the paper. It was nice, thick, and good quality. The pen was feathered and very elegant. Not his style, but pretty nonetheless. The others were opening their own presents, with Ace not paying very much attention to them.

So, Ace moved on to his second present. Thatch and Haruta were watching with grins, and he sighed, not knowing what to expect. He opened it and it was a box with a female doll in it. He raised his brows at them, no idea why he would be given this. He opened it and said, "And why did you buy me a plastic doll?"

"It has a string on the back, pull it," Thatch encouraged. Ace shook his head but pulled the string.

"Do you want to be my friend?" it asked in a sickly sweet voice.

"Maybe you can take lessons from her on how to get along with women," Haruta giggled and Ace scowled at him. He threw it over his shoulder and into the sea. "Hey!" he shouted angrily.

Thatch frowned deeply. "Now you won't have anyone to practice on!"

"Why do I need to get along with women? There aren't any on this crew! Besides, I'm not looking for a relationship, so why does it matter?" he said, miffed at the teasing. It wasn't his fault that he wasn't happy with being interrupted while napping by a bunch of galling females. The others in the group were laughing, and Ace just sighed. He did a lot of sighing when Thatch was around.

By the end of the early morning, wrapping paper and boxes littered the deck. Along with passed out drunks. Ace and Marco were the only ones not drunk. They'd moved the ship away from the island, since they would be knocked out and it would be dangerous to be too close to the island where anyone could easily hop aboard and take advantage of the situation.

Ace and Marco sat in the crowsnest, both drinking hot chocolate while everyone below snored, including Whitebeard's monstrous snores. They matched his size, that was for sure. "Merry christmas, Ace."

"Merry christmas," Ace replied with a smile.

Marco suddenly asked, "How would you like to go on a mission? A small group is going to go on an expedition to a small chunk of land north of the next island. We heard there is some serious treasure there, but there are too many cliffs and such for the Moby Dick to get to, so a smaller boat would be going.

"It would be a small mission to start out. Not much marine activity in the area," Marco explained. "You could be a navigator trainee."

A mission sounded fun. Not just wandering around doing odd jobs or making maps and charts that weren't necessary sounded nice. To actually accomplish something for the good of the crew as a whole.

"Well, I can go by myself, can't I?" Ace wondered. Marco looked confused at what he meant. "Striker can get me anywhere fast and easy. I could just look for the treasure and drag it back or something."

Marco hummed. "Any other time, that would be a good idea. But this is a mission for you and for the treasure. You need some hands on training with working together like this. You were a good captain, but those instincts may have faded with your memory loss. Best to start off easy, right?"

Ace grinned. "I'm a commander, aren't I?" he asked.

"No, you aren't," Marco said with an amused smile.

"What do you mean?" Ace asked, not understanding the reply. He hadn't even realized what he'd said to prompt that response.

Marco gave him a fond look. "Well, you just told me you're a commander. You're not. At least, not now," he said simply. Ace's face turned red. "Don't worry about it. I know you usually do a good job not bringing up your stuff. Everyone slips up sometimes," said Marco.

Ace leaned against the crowsnest more with a sigh. "You wanna know something really stupid?" Ace asked. Marco gave him a curious look. "My dumbass found myself trapped inside my room the other night, and apparently really wanted to draw a map. Woke up to a shitty drawn map all over the floor with a permanent pen." Marco almost spit out his drink in laughter. "Don't worry, me and Thatch scrubbed it off."

"Ah, is that why he stole a rug from Pops' bathroom?" Marco wondered in a lighthearted voice. Ace smiled, nodding and assuming that was what had happened. "Pops was confused, but nobody knew where it went. Haha, that's funny," he said, still chucking. "Your unconscious body is quite determined, isn't it?"

"You can say that again. So, last night I tied my leg to the bed so I couldn't get anywhere far and make a mess. Yeah, laugh all you want. It's not funny on my end."

"Sorry," Marco said, not sounding too sincere, though. "So, do you want to take part in the mission?"

Ace nodded with a smile. "Sounds exciting. I could be like the bodyguard of the boat with striker. Or if there is treasure, the ship might be heavy, so I can share the weight or pull it behind me," Ace suggested.

Marco nodded, taking a drink of his cooling hot chocolate. "That's a good idea. I'll ask Pops about it."

"Just so we're clear, that's my idea."

"I know, I know. I won't take credit for that, I don't need to." He laughed. "Though maybe we won't say it's your idea? We don't want more people calling you perfect, do we?" Ace scoffed and shook his head, slumping a bit more in his seat.

The youngest grumbled, "I wish people would stop that. Just because I'm good at some stuff does not mean I'm even close to being perfect. People just don't know about all the other stuff." He meant both his weird-ness and the underlying problems he'd had since he was a kid, impressionable and sensitive.

Marco nodded. "Nobody is perfect. I don't think there's anything perfect in this world."

"Except Thatch's hot chocolate." Marco laughed, and agreed. It was nice, just to sit in the quiet with Marco and talk about light things. To be honest, that was his favorite part of that year's christmas.