Warning: this story contains graphic descriptions of illness. I have tons of "reset" fics in my google docs. Where a character comes to life and then dies again over and over. I have posted one awhile ago that is similar to "reset fics" but it not like this one. This was one of the originals, and I finished it. For me, it's short. Only a little over 20,000 words, and is in two parts. I'm already posting a ton of other stories, so this one will be in two parts. Includes made-up medical stuff. I'm editing this when I should be trying to work on my final (gonna fail, help me). Oh, Marco x Ace established relationship. And if you want (for some reason) to see how Ace should look during his time, look up the show Containment on Netflix. It ain't pretty. Enjoy~
Ace walked through the ship, heading to his and Marco's room to just sleep the rest of the day and night. He didn't feel good, and was coughing. The nurses told him he just had a bad cold and should stay in bed and have food brought to him. They knew Thatch would gladly make him food to help him get better. But no one wanted him to spread it around. After all, there were hundreds of pirates. One ill person could spread it to the rest.
He flopped onto the bed and pulled the blankets over him tightly, curling into a ball. He had taken some medicine to make him less congested and plugged up. But he still coughed, making it hard to sleep. They was strong coughs, but Whiskey had told him he was fine. And he trusted the nurses, so he was sure he just had a cold. He wanted it to go away, it was annoying.
Ace finally fell asleep after an hour straight of coughing. He didn't wake up when Marco came in for bed, and changed Ace out of his shorts and into his pajamas, knowing Ace wouldn't wake up until morning. The first mate got a glass of water and put it on Ace's nightstand on his side of the bed, along with some pills to help him if he still felt crappy the next day.
He did. He felt worse, and Marco was sure he had a temperature, which was odd for someone made of fire. But Ace was human too, he got sick like any other person. Marco had to brief the commanders for both his and Ace's report, as no one wanted him at the meeting. Sick pirates were bad, but sick commanders would be much worse. And they didn't want him anywhere near the captain.
Marco was fine since he was immune to any illness, which was lucky or he'd have to stay in a different room from Ace. The younger man was still asleep when Whiskey came in after Marco alerted them that he thought Ace had a fever on his way to the meeting.
Whiskey entered the room with a mask on, not being able to afford getting sick, even if it was a cold. She walked over to him and tapped his shoulder to wake him up. "Huh?" was his answer. He was so tired. He had to pee but didn't have the energy to get up from the bed. He'd hold it in for as long as possible.
"How are you feeling Ace?" Whiskey asked, voice barely muffled by the surgical mask over her mouth and nose.
"I feel like crap," he said, pulling the blankets tighter around him.
"I'm going to take your temperature," she said, and he nodded, opening his mouth for her to put the disposable tool in. When she pulled it out, she looked relieved. "No temperature. That's good, it means your body doesn't need to fight off any sicknesses. I'm sure it will get better by Sunday." It was Friday. "Just make sure you get plenty of rest, okay? I'll come check on you in a couple hours."
Ace nodded, and adjusted his pillow before dozing off again. The cough had faded, leaving just a sore throat. He was glad the cold would go away, it was annoying and uncomfortable. He slept the rest of the day, only waking when Marco brought him food. It was mostly soup and applesauce, which Ace hated. He wanted meat and bread!
Marco sat next to him, and Ace smiled. "Whiskey says I'll be better in a few days. Stupid cold can't defeat me," he said, though his voice was a bit scratchy. Not too bad, but he wasn't coughing anymore. Marco smiled.
"Damn straight. We're nearing an island in a couple days, so if you're better you can come on. Maybe we can go get some candy or something," Marco said. Ace smiled, looking forward to getting taffy, his favorite kind. "I have to go again, but I'll come bring you some more food before dinner. I know soup isn't going to make you feel any better."
Ace thanked him with a smile. "Sleep tight, baby," Marco said, and kissed his forehead. His face wasn't sweaty anymore. He fell back asleep, feeling much better. Until he woke up four hours later. He was much more sweaty than earlier. His head hurt a little bit, and he had to go to the bathroom.
Walking was difficult, which was annoying. Maybe he was just tired still. The room had been dark the whole time since he was sick so he could sleep easier, but when he saw himself in the bathroom mirror, he frowned deeply.
He didn't look good. He was drenched in sweat, his face red. Then he vomited into the sink. It was mostly liquid luckily. But… did most colds come with nausea and vomit? Maybe he just ate too much and his body was reacting. He was still sick, even if it had seemed it was going away.
But he had a bad feeling, and not just from being sick. He made sure to wash the sink and get the vomit down the drain, scrubbing the basin with a rag with soap that he then threw into the small trash can the bathroom had. It was nice having the biggest bathroom of the commanders, since Marco was also the first mate.
He left the bathroom and then room, before he headed down the halls to the infirmary. People were not in this part of the ship, since it was mostly the higher ups' bedrooms, some offices and the infirmary. The galley was on another floor, so they were most likely there.
After all, it was night time if his bedroom's porthole was real. Not late enough that everyone was asleep. Not that everyone was ever asleep at the same time. But Ace didn't run into anyone, though he did vomit again, all over the wood floor. He sighed, hoping no one would step in it. But now he was more worried. He tried to go faster, but he couldn't. He was slow.
He began to cough, though it wasn't as bad as it had been. He could tell sweat was dripping off of him, soaking his pyjamas. It was like he was a fountain or something. He didn't throw up again, but at least the walk to the infirmary wasn't so bad.
He entered it, grabbing the door handle and pushing it open weakly. "Whiskey," he said, voice scratchy. He stumbled inside, and the nurses came out, smiling and expecting him to be better. He wasn't, and sat on the bed. Immediately, the nurses put on protective gear. It scared him, and he threw up again. How did he have anything left in his system?
"Ace, can you hear me?" Whiskey asked, and he nodded, she forced him to lay down and he did. The bed wasn't as nice as his and Marco's but it was better than nothing. "What happened?"
Ace coughed, and then said, "I feel worse. I threw up twice," he explained. His temperature was taken, and Whiskey had a determined face on. She didn't tell him what it was, worrying him. Instead she told Tami to rope off the hallway. That had happened before. Jozu had once gotten ill, and it looked bad, so they quarantined some of the ship. They were very thorough with not getting anyone else sick. Not letting the sickness spread and do as it wished with everyone on board.
She walked back to him, and took his hand. It almost slipped out of her gloves as he was so sweaty. "Your temperature is dangerously high, so we'll be keeping you in here for now," she explained. Ace groaned, hating staying in the infirmary.
"What's wrong with me?" he asked in deep worry.
Whiskey never lied to her patients, but she seemed like she was contemplating it, before she chose not to. "Well, I don't know. That's why we have to make sure no one else catches it. On the previous island, did you eat anything? Touch any sort of strange plant? Something like that could have gotten you sick."
Ace thought, not remembering much about the island. It had been boring. "We went hunting. I caught some animals and ate them. I was the only one to eat them," Ace said. Whiskey asked what he caught, voice light even though she was worried.
"Mm… a deer. We caught some bats, I thought they'd taste nice to fry," he said, but Whisky sighed. "What?" Ace wondered. He cooked it, surely it wouldn't have had any sort of illness.
"Well, bats carry a plethora or different diseases and pathogens. It's best for people not to touch them, let alone eat them," she explained, though she wasn't angry at him. She was never angry at her patients as long as they hadn't injured themselves on purpose.
Ace asked why. "They fight them off easily. Some theorize they produce so much waste that the pathogens don't have time to infect their immune systems. So it will be hard to figure out what kind of disease you seem to have contracted from them. It could be multiple illnesses, which makes it harder." Ace was now very worried.
"Can I be treated?" he asked in worry. Whiskey softly bonked his head.
"Of course. We have to get on it quickly. I'm sorry I dismissed it. You truly had all the symptoms of the common cold," she said in regret and shame. Ace smiled at her.
"Don't feel ba-" Ace started to say before his whole body started to shake like he was having a seizure. Whiskey held him down, keeping his head steady. His eyes were misty, like he was starting to fall asleep. It was lucky Whiskey had a face shield on when Ace couged against it. He eventually stopped seizing and opened his eyes. "-d. I don't blame you."
The nurse looked at him strangely. "Ace, what just happened? Did something weird happen just now?" Whiskey questioned, expertly hiding her panic. Ace looked confused and shook his head. Then he threw up all over his chest.
Whiskey cleaned it up without a second thought. He apologized for the mess. "Ace, did you throw up on your way here?" she asked calmly. He nodded. "Do you remember where?"
He took in a deep breath. "In the commanders' hall. No one was there," Ace said. He apologized for the hassle, and she said, in a comforting voice, "We roped it off, so no one should be coming across it. We want to keep you isolated, so that, in case this is contagious, it won't ravage the ship."
Ace was concerned with her being so kind. She took his hand in her gloved ones. He took shuddering breaths and smiled at her. "D-Don't worry, I'll be okay."
"I know, you'll fight this off, you're strong," she assured him.
"That's what Marco said."
"And he was right," she said. Ace nodded, and tried his best to hide his fear and pain. He was terrified. He asked if he could see Marco, since he couldn't get sick. "We can give him a hazmat suit. We have two of them for men."
Ace frowned, confused. "But, he can't get sick." Whiskey nodded, but said that the germs could still make their way onto his clothes and skin. "He kissed my forehead this morning. Is he gonna get sick?"
Whiskey's face was pinched. Tami had come in, saying she'd roped off the commander's hall. "There was some vomit on the floor, so I put a caution sign over it. How is he?" she asked, walking over.
"Keep the gear on. Don't take it off," Whiskey said strictly. "And go get Marco, now. If he defies you, tell him Ace is sick. That'll get him here in a hurry. And tell him not to touch anyone else." Ace looked scared. Did it spread from him to Marco to other people? Was it his fault? Well, it was. But he hadn't known eating bats was so bad.
Marco hurried in, and he was promptly stripped of his clothes besides his underwear and forced into the chemical shower, to get any pathogens off. His clothes were put in a bag with a hazard sign on it. When he came out, he hurried to Ace, but Tami stopped him. "You need to put a hazmat suit on to be near him."
The first mate nodded, and cooperated being in a suit. Ace thought he looked funny in it. That shade of yellow didn't go with his skin color. He walked over and took Ace's hand. "You look funny," he said tiredly. Marco chuckled.
"So, what happened?" he asked, voice light, trying to hide the fear on his face.
Ace frowned. "I didn't know bats were sick all the time. I caught one and cooked it and ate it. Apparently that's bad," he explained. Marco sighed.
"You'll eat anything won't you?" he asked, though it was fond. He clearly wasn't happy with the outcome, but it was from Ace's policy to eat anything that looks like it could taste good.
Ace smiled tiredly, and said, "Well, I won't anymore." He started to cough again, his throat hurting. Marco rubbed his hand through Ace's hair. He told Ace that he'd feel better soon. But then Ace couged the hardest and sprayed blood across Marco's mask. Droplets were all over the plastic. The first mate was shoved out of the way, hands shaking. It was a blur as the nurses tried to keep him comfortable. It was terrifying that they clearly had no remedy to help him, they were just being nice and reassuring him.
He was so out of it, he didn't seem to register that he'd coughed up blood. Blood started to come out of his nose, and Whiskey put a tissue in front of it immediately. "Head hurts, Whiskey," he complained, and some more blood came out of his mouth.
She gave him a shot to make him sleepy, to make him be unconscious while his body rebelled against him. Marco was doing his best to hide tears. "Marco, alert the crew to not enter the commanders' hall, no matter what," Whiskey said in a clipped voice, the kindness gone now that Ace wasn't needing comfort. She was back in doctor mode.
They had a den den mushi that was in the galley and the main hall in case anything of this sort happened. It was a ship wide message. Marco nodded, and took his glove off and grabbed the ded den mushi.
"Whiskey has said no one is allowed into the commanders' hall, no matter what. Don't come into the infirmary either," and he turned it off. Tami ordered Marco to help her quarantine Ace's area and then to take the suit off so it could be disinfected. He left the room shaking. Tami had wiped the door handles that Ace had touched.
They put up plastic sheeting and covered some instruments with plastic before leaving the room and putting plastic sheeting over the commander's hall. Marco was immune and Tami was decked out in gear. They covered every surface, even the puddle of liquid vomit. Tears were streaming down Marco's face. He was terrified.
Marco and Ace's room had red tape on the door. No one could enter under any circumstance. Ace had touched so many things in there since he'd become sick. "Marco, now is not the time to panic. You're going to shower again and then go brief Pops on the situation." He was in his underwear, and now he couldn't get any changes of clothes.
But they were all men, so being in his boxers was nothing. He didn't even have his shoes. Tami finished the work and then headed back to the infirmary. Marco ran down the hall to find Pops, and ran into Thatch, who looked scared. He didn't respond to his question and just asked where Pops was. "In the library I think."
Marco ran off, and arrived and slammed the doors open. "What happened?" he asked darkly. Probably already expecting Marco to find him.
"Ace is really sick. Our hall and the infirmary are quarantined now. He… he coughed up blood all over me." He started crying, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I w-was in the hazmat suit, so I'm okay."
Pops got up and hugged him tightly. "Do they know what he's sick with?" Marco shook his head, explained that Ace had eaten a bat, and that they carried so many diseases it was ridiculous. "So there's no treatment?" the captain asked, fear and worry coloring his voice. Marco nodded, and Pops sat down, putting his face in his hands.
The captain had a soft spot for Ace.
Some commanders made their way in, all looking worried and confused. Before any of them asked anything, Marco told them the situation.
"But he had been doing fine before!" Haruta said in a panic. Thatch was openly crying, him being closest of the pirates with Ace besides Marco.
Marco shrugged, had no answer about what happened. Thatch said he wanted to visit him, but Marco firmly said, "No one is allowed in there right now. They've sectioned off that part of the ship. No one can go there, so you guys can't sleep in your rooms tonight."
No one was bothered, more worried about Ace. Everyone was so scared. Scared for Ace and scared for what could happen. How this could be the end of the Whitebeard crew if it spread and was fatal. But no one voiced that concern, even though it was in the front of everyones' mind.
-x-
Ace had stopped coughing up blood, but now it was worse. He wet himself in the bed, but didn't notice. He thought he was crying in fear. It wasn't tears that were coming out of his tear ducts. The nurses didn't tell him his eyes were bleeding. He was scared enough as it was. "Am I gonna die?" he asked in terror.
Whiskey lied and said, "You'll be okay, Ace. You're just going through a rough spot right now." He was delirious and started crying about wanting to see Luffy. Whiskey had one hand while Tami had the other. Both of them were now in hazmat suits as well, having discarded their original protective gear except for the face shields.
"I'm so scared," he whimpered. He'd burned off the sleep medication almost immediately, which meant that any other medication would be useless as well. All they could do was try and lower the fever and keep him comfortable.
"Don't be scared, Ace," Tami said kindly. "You have to be strong to fight off this enemy. You never run from any enemy, right? This is just one more. Once you fight it off, we'll have a huge banquet. Tons of taffy and meat and alcohol," she assured.
Ace smiled and said, "That sounds nice." Tami rubbed her gloved hand over his forehead. "An' I'll win at poker, too."
Whiskey laughed. "I'm sure you will." Then Ace frowned, and said he wanted to cuddle with Marco. "You can't right now, Ace. I'm sorry, we can't let anyone else get sick. We can set up some den dens so you can talk to the others. How about that?" Ace nodded very slightly.
Tami got a den den that was connected to the meeting room. It was loud and obnoxious, so anyone even relatively nearby could hear it. It also echoed through the halls. There was an answer. "Hey, Vista. Ace wants to talk to everyone," Tami said, and there was shuffling on the other end. Whiskey took the snail and covered it in plastic. They couldn't afford to get sick as well.
"Hey, guys. Appar'nly eatin' bats isn' good," he said, sounding out of it.
Haruta said, "That doesn't even sound appetizing." His voice was lighthearted, though the nurses could tell it was forced. Ace apologized for throwing up Thatch's food, but the chef pointed out how many people threw up his hard work when they had hangovers. Ace coughed harshly and then laughed. It was weak, but he sounded happy to talk to them.
"When we dock on the island, we'll get you tons of food so when you wake up we can have a feast," Izo said. Ace smiled at that. "No more bats, though."
"Promise I won'. I'm tired now. I'ma take a nap," he said, voice slurring. There were some gasps on the other line, but no one said anything but, "Sleep tight." Then there was some crying on the other side.
Pops took the den den and asked if Ace was in critical condition. He didn't ask if Ace was going to die, though the nurses knew that was what he meant. "We don't know. There's no cure we have for this. He could have any type of pathogen, or multiple ones at the same time. He's in really bad condition, but he still has time to fight it off."
"Can we not see him?" Thatch asked quietly, voice high. Tami said no. "What about cooking him food?" Tami said no again.
"He's throwing up too much to eat, we'll have to give him nutrients. And we can't afford anyone to come in. Marco can't come in anymore, either. There is no chance that we will let this sickness escape this room. As long as Tami and I are in hazmat suits, we should be fine," Whiskey explained.
"Will you tell us when he wakes up?" Haruta asked in a very high voice. Tami confirmed that they would.
Over the night, Ace rapidly deteriorated. He couldn't sleep and was awake through all of the pain and fear. His head hurt so bad, he was achy everywhere. His stomach was cramping and parts of his body spasmed while other parts couldn't move. He had never been so scared in his life. The only good thing he saw of dying would be to see Sabo and meet his mom. Not Roger, no thank you.
He didn't want to die. He didn't want to end his adventure because of a bat. He felt so stupid, but he just hadn't known. He didn't ever recall even talking about bats with anyone.
His brain started to feel fuzzy when he was given a ventilator to help him breathe. He hadn't coughed or thrown up in a couple hours, but he did have trouble breathing. He was hooked up to a water drip and some nutrients.
The wheezing stopped and he closed his eyes slowly. He was so tired, why was he awake if he was so damn tired? It was stupid. He finally closed his eyes, thinking he may be able to sleep now, finally. His eyes slid shut and all the beeping went haywire. Whiskey had been in the room, examining his blood while Tami slept.
Over a day later he woke up in a body bag, and promptly started screaming.
-x-
Ace was covered with a towel as his body was cleaned and disinfected. It was so hard for the nurses to do. They were crying the whole time as they washed the blood off of him. Marco was there, having refused to not be there. His eyes were red, but not teary. He was empty, staring, with no expression, at the body of the love of his life.
He'd only been with Ace for a couple years. Not nearly enough. He was too young to die at 20. It wasn't fair. The nurses felt like they'd failed him, but he insisted that they had done their best and it was all they could have done. Keep him relaxed through the whole thing.
But they'd always have the guilt of diagnosing it wrong. He could have had more time to be awake and with his loved ones.
Marco's bedroom was stripped of everything Ace had touched. He wouldn't have his scent anywhere. The blankets and sheets were going to be burned. The disease had killed him in less than three days. It wasn't fair, it wasn't right. But they could not afford for it to spread through the ship. The hallway was sprayed down with disinfectant, including what was left of Marco's furniture. Luckly, he still had some clothes from him. Only shorts, but they smelled of him. He couldn't go in his room, but he didn't want to. It was his only again. He wasn't going to share it, have the comfort of another body in it to curl around and snuggle.
He'd never see Ace's bright eyes, his flushed cheeks, his freckles. They weren't going to burn him, they would bury him somewhere nice, where they could visit him. Once again, the second division commanders' seat was empty, and probably would be for a long time.
The crew was mourning. Most were locked in their bedrooms, including Pops. it was a time to grieve for everyone, so the ship wasn't moving anymore. It was still, just like Ace's body. While others isolated themselves, Thatch cooked. It had been fifteen hours, and he was still cooking. So much food would go to waste, but no one had the heart to stop him from a coping method.
It was midnight when Marco entered the kitchen. Thatch looked exhausted, and he needed to sleep. Cooking when half asleep could be dangerous. "Thatch," he said softly, taking his hand. "You need to sleep. What would happen if you left the stove on?"
Thatch had tears down his face. He didn't say a word, and just turned the stove off and left everything there. For the first time in his cooking career, he did not put the food away, did not clean up. Marco walked him to his room before turning back to put the food away and clean it up so he could cook in the morning without having to clean everything.
He was heading to the bathhouse, unable to go to sleep again, when he heard screaming. He assumed it was someone having a nightmare or an episode. Some grieved by being angry. There were more than a couple people being assholes, but no one had the heart to scold them for it. But the screaming persisted, so he walked down the hall to tell whoever it was to shush.
But it wasn't coming from any of the bedrooms, so he followed it downstairs. He didn't know who would be screaming down there. It was where the brig was, the shipwrights' area, and storage for big things. And also the morgue. Was someone freaking out in front of Ace's b-body? Then he heard a string of profanities and started to sprint.
He threw open the door to see Ace's body bag on the ground and thrashing around. He hurried to it at light speed and unzipped it to find Ace looking absolutely panicked. And alive. He was breathing, albeit quickly.
"Marco, what the fuck happened?" he asked, eyes wide in fear. Marco looked at him in shock before erupting into sobs and hugging him tightly. Ace didn't fight it, and had stopped swearing. Marco cried into his neck, rocking him back and forth. "Wh-What happened to me?" he asked in a quiet voice, though he had to know by where he was and Marco's reaction.
"You died, Ace," Marco said simply and quietly. Ace froze.
"... But, I'm alive," he said quietly. "How did I die?" he asked, and Marco looked a bit puzzled. He asked what Ace remembered last. "I was in our bed, with a cold." The older man both looked puzzled and happy.
Marco kissed his forehead, "I was a lot worse after that. I won't go into detail, but the sickness was too much for your body to handle. You died in your sleep days ago. I don't know what's happened. Never eat a bat again, okay?" Ace asked what that had to do with anything. "Bats carry tons of diseases, and you ate one without knowing."
Ace grew irate. "I died because I ate a bat?" Marco nodded. "That's so humiliating." The older man chuckled, and Ace's stomach roared. "I'm hungry," he said unncessarily.
Marco rose with him, looking at his perfectly healthy face, his blood-free and dry face. The sight of his last day would never leave him, he knew that. He wouldn't ever forget Ace's bloody body that he had helped clean up. Marco didn't kiss him, not knowing if he was still sick. Was he contagious in the first place? He put his hand on Ace's cheek, which was nice and warm, not burning.
"Let's go get you some food. Thatch cooked up a storm. Then we can go see Pops," Marco said. Ace was only in his underwear, but he didn't really care. It wasn't much different than what he usually wore. They were holding hands tightly. Marco looking at him every few seconds. Ace looked troubled and lost in his own thoughts.
"I'm sorry. I caused everyone so much pain," he said, sounding ashamed. Marco put his arm around his shorter boyfriend's shoulders. He replied that he hadn't known that it was bad to eat bats. He swore to never do it again. And he swore not to eat any rats, not that Ace had ever and ever would eat a rat.
They entered the galley without running into anyone, and Marco went to the fridge and got out everything he'd put away. Ace ate it like a starving animal, but maybe he was. He was sick and then died for a few days. They were both so confused, Ace troubled and Marco overjoyed. He intertwined their fingers at the table. Marco didn't care right now if Ace got germs on him. They'd just wipe the table down.
He'd have to get tested by the nurses to see if he was still infected. "Don't touch anything, okay?" Marco asked once all of the dishes have been rinsed with bleach. Ace nodded, putting his hands in his pocket.
"Was it contagious? Did anyone else get sick?" he asked quietly. Marco shook his head.
He said that no one else got sick, and then that he had passed so fast they hadn't learned a thing about the disease or diseases. They walked through the commanders' hall and Marco knocked on Pop's door. He kept Ace six feet away from the door, and Pops opened it, looking exhausted emotionally, and like he hadn't slept. Ace felt terrible for causing his family pain.
Whitebeard's eyes widened in shock, and looked Ace up and down, before reaching to hug him, Marco stepped in front of him, and their father looked irate before Marco told him, "He might still be a carrier. You can't get sick." Pops looked like he understood, even though he was itching to hug Ace and make sure he was real, and not a dream that would become a nightmare after waking up.
"H-How?" he asked quietly, voice sad. Both Ace and Marco shrugged, having no answer. "Never eat a bat again, Ace." Ace chuckled and promised he would never eat a bat ever again. "How do you feel?"
Ace said, "Fine. I don't remember any of the sickness. I just had a cold and then I woke up in the body bag and started freaking out." Pops asked if he still had his devil fruit, and Ace lit his hand on fire, flames licking on his fingers.
He smiled, and said that they should go get Ace tested now. Marco nodded, thinking that was a good idea, and the three walked to the infirmary, Pops staying a good distance away. Marco was holding Ace's hand tightly, not wanting to lose him again. He could never lose Ace again.
When they entered the infirmary, they turned the light on. Pops walked to the nurses quarters and rang the bell. The door opened to show a tired Whiskey with bed head. "Is everything okay?" she asked, before she looked to the side and saw Ace standing there, alive and breathing. She collapsed to her knees, hitting the floor hard. Pops went forward and helped pick her up and put her back on his feet.
"H-How?" she asked in bafflement. Ace's heart had stopped, his brain had stopped functioning. There was no way he should be alive, but she was so happy, and walked forward to hug Ace.
"Wait! What about me spreading the illness," Ace said, pushing Whiskey away, who had tears in her eyes. She shook her head.
"The tests tested negative. It was never contagious," she said. Marco kissed him immediately, wrapping his arms around Ace. Ace blushed about kissing right in front of the others, but didn't pull away. "I'm sorry we didn't let you be with loved ones before passing," the head nurse said in a guilty voice.
Marco assured her that Ace didn't remember the whole thing. Whiskey sighed in relief, since it had been messy and painful for him. And terrifying, even though he had lost any real touch of reality near the end. "So we don't need to wipe down everything he's touched?" Whitebeard asked, and she shook her head.
The old man then hugged Ace, his huge arms wrapping around Ace tightly. It didn't hurt since he was made of fire and the captain wasn't using haki. They were quiet for a while before Ace started to doze off. Marco couldn't help but shake him awake. Ace was confused, but Marco apologized.
"I'm sorry. You died in your sleep, it's scary to have you go back," Marco said. Ace put his hand on his cheek.
"Who knows? Maybe I'm immortal," he replied lightly. "Even if I'm immortal, I still gotta sleep." Marco smiled and nodded. "Let's go to bed. I can't sleep by myself again," the older said, and the three men walked back to their bedrooms. Whitebeard wished them goodnight, giving Ace a pat on the head for good measure.
The mattress had nothing on it. "They threw everything out afterwards, in case it was contagious. I'm so glad it's not," Marco said, and nuzzled the back of Ace's neck. Ace chuckled. And they both laid down. Ace kept them both warm with his powers so they didn't need any blankets, though they were much nicer to sleep with instead of just straight on a mattress.
When they woke up, Ace showered and changed into new underwear and shorts. He looked at himself in the mirror, wondering what it had been like. The sickness. Marco made it seem really bad, but didn't tell him specifics. Ace didn't really want to know, but he did have a morbid curiosity.
Marco came up behind him, and said they should go to breakfast. "I'm sure everyone would want to know you're alive as soon as possible," he said, resting his jaw on Ace's head. He nodded, and looked in the mirror again to see Marco smiling at him with such a happy look, relieved. But there was also a hunt of pain in his gaze.
What had happened to Ace when he died? What did he look like? Was there a lot of blood? He hoped not, and tried not to imagine his face coated in blood, wherever the blood had come from. He decided he did not want to know. On their way out, he put the hat on. It's weight was comforting and familiar. Luffy gave it to him.
"I want to see Luffy!" his own voice lanced through his mind. Maybe when he was dying he wanted to see Lu. It made sense, since Luffy's presence was wonderful and distracting at the same time. Having to keep him out of trouble. He was an angel, though a stupid one. He shook his head, and took Marco's hand as they walked out of the infirmary. When they passed a certain spot in the hallway, suddenly a blurred image of the hallway appeared, blurred and tilted. He stopped, stopping Marco as well.
Ace looked up with hurt eyes. "I'm going to remember what happened. Please tell me before I do," he said, almost desperately. Marco looked pained, not wanting to tell him, but his younger lover's expression was pleading.
"You threw up a couple times. Then came seizures. Then… blood came. From everywhere, Ace. You were bleeding from everywhere," Marco said, voice haunted, and Ace felt bad for asking him to relive it.
"...Was I in pain?" Ace asked, fists balled. He didn't want to remember. He didn't, didn't want to relive his death. It was scary enough that it happened in the first place, he didn't want to witness it from a first person perspective.
"Not in the very end. You died in your sleep. Even though you looked so bad, you had a small smile on. Like you were having a nice dream in death," Marco explained. Ace moved forward and hugged the crying man, feeling bad for having him talk about it.
Ace apologized, both or dying and bringing it up again when it was clearly painful, of course it was. Marco loved him, and apparently Ace's face was bleeding out to death. Ace walked to him and gave him a warm hug, raising his body temperature so Marco felt he was next to a comfortable fireplace, or in thick blankets on a cold night.
They separated after Marco got his emotions back under control. They walked to the galley, holding hands tightly. Ace was nervous. He didn't want anyone to be mad at him. He was sure they'd be happy, but he'd died in such a pathetic way that could have been completely avoided. When they entered the room, Ace found just how his death had affected everyone.
Almost everyone was picking at their food, and Ace stood there, watching what had happened because of him. All it took was someone from Ace's division to shout his name. Everyone looked at him with disdain, like saying Ace's name so soon was a sin.
But the pirate pointed in Ace's direction. Everyone turned, and Ace gave a weak wave. Thatch jumped over the table, knocking over everyone's uneaten food and hugged Ace tightly. He didn't know if Ace was still a carrier with whatever disease(s) he'd gotten from the bat. Ace hugged him back, and a dogpile happened, knocking Ace to the floor.
So many people were all snot and tears. Ace assured them that he wasn't a dream. He was alive and kicking just fine. Eventually people got a hold of themselves and asked the obvious question: "How are you alive?!"
Ace answered honestly. "I don't know. I woke up in the b-body bag. Marco found me. I don't remember dying," he said, he was ushered to his table, where Vista was the only one to ask if it was safe for him to be near them.
Marco nodded and answered for him as Ace dug into the meal. "Apparently he wasn't contagious in the first place." Thatch and Haruta fumed, and Ace could almost see steam coming out of their ears. "Whiskey already feels bad about it, don't make her feel worse." They lost their anger a bit, but still looked grouchy.
Ace decided to lighten the mood. "I thought of a good prank," he said, and it garnered the fourth and twelfth division commanders' attention immediately. "But I can't tell you now or it'd ruin it."
Thatch narrowed his eyes. "Are you just trying to make us feel better?" he asked suspiciously. Ace shook his head and assured them that he had a great idea. They bought it, since it was true, and everyone ate happily, though they kept looking at Ace, as if he was an apparition and not real.
After breakfast, Ace felt like the rope used in a tug-of-war, asked to spend time with everyone. It grew slightly annoying, but he wasn't angry. They thought he was dead (he was) and didn't want to waste a single moment with him. He wasn't going to be eating any more bats anytime soon. He said that, and it gained both stern looks and laughs. He finally was settled with telling his close friends about his prank. They decided to pull it off next week, after the excitement died down. After he had fun time with his fellow pranksters, Pops asked him to go get a check up with the nurses. He felt fine, but went with him anyway.
Out of everyone, he was the one who least knew about his disease. Tami hadn't seen him last night and hugged him when she saw him. She started crying, and Ace patted her back. It was weird for the usually stoic and strict nurses crying about him.
"Thanks for taking care of me. I won't eat anymore bats, I promise," he swore, trying to lighten the mood. But then he struck a somber tone. "I don't remember the last moments, but I heard it was bad. I'm sorry for putting you through that," he said solemnly.
Whiskey hit his head. "It's our job, of course we took care of you. I was even nice to you. Then again, you were rapidly deteriorating. But of course we'd be there for you," she finished, Tami nodding vehemently. Ace smiled.
Pops spoke, and he almost forgot the man was there. "Will you give Ace a check up?" he asked. The nurses nodded and Ace sat on the bed, having a feeling he died on this one. He was glad no more flashbacks came, no matter how brief they were.
The check up went relatively normal. Ace was in perfect shape for someone who'd previously been dead for two days. They took a sample of his blood, weakening him with sea stone so they could draw blood.
Whiskey had gone inside the room that branched off that Ace hadn't ever been allowed in since it had medications, blood samples, and other things that couldn't be handled by anyone but a professional. When she came out, she looked puzzled.
"So, might be bad news, I don't know," she said, already making Ace afraid of the results. "The disease still seems to be in your blood. It's still not contagious, but it hasn't left. Some illnesses stay with us but become dormant after treatment. They stick around but the body has fought it off. so it has antibodies. But of course, your situation is far from usual."
Ace waited for an answer or prediction, but the nurse didn't give any. "So I'm still sick but it's not doing anything?" Ace wondered, grasping at straws. Whiskey nodded. "Will it stay that way?"
"I don't know. Since we don't know what the disease is or its treatment, I don't know what's going to happen. But it isn't doing your body any harm at the moment," she said, too simply for Ace's taste. "At the moment" meant anything could change. Could he start showing the symptoms again? Would he die again?
Would he come back the next time, too? His thoughts continued to be morbid, but Pops put a hand on his shoulder. Encouraging him to not have a panic attack. There was a wet feeling on his upper lip, and he put his fingers to it, but there was nothing there. He scratched the area, and then stood up. "So, do I need to stay in here?"
"I'd like you to come in a couple times a day. Every three hours, I want you to come get a check up, okay?" the head nurse asked. Ace nodded, saying he would. He left with one more hug. Man, he must have been in really bad shape for the nurses to be emotional. He felt guilt. And would the disease or diseases just stay inside him without doing shit? He was still not thinking much about the fact he had been dead and was now alive.
He was surprised that there wasn't more fuss or confusion about that. Maybe they were all high off of relief, and those questions would come at a later time. The only good thing from that check up was that Ace could not spread his bat illness, which was now what he would be calling it.
During lunch, he had a sleep attack and everyone freaked out, shaking him awake as Marco tried to get people to stop pulling on him, that he was just asleep. "But Marco, Marco!" Thatch protested with a look. Marco knew, yes he had gone to sleep and then passed away, but he was going to have to sleep. They couldn't keep him awake indefinitely.
"I know, but you can't smother him. He'll feel bad, or uncomfortable if everyone makes a fit over it. Just treat him how you normally would. Don't look at me like that, this is hard for me too!" Ace woke up, blinking twice, before he went back to shoveling food into his face.
Ace lounged around on deck for a while, enjoying the sunshine and breeze. He laid on his back on the figurehead, just looking at the clouds passing above. He had a new appreciation for everything. He got a second chance and he would use it wisely. He would still live his life, but would be more mindful about his health.
When he napped for a while, Stefan came over, the crew's dog. He was old, and mostly slept now. He walked up to Ace and laid his upper body across Ace's. He pet the huge dog softly. Stefan fell asleep, and was only thanks to Ace's fruit that he wasn't in crushing pain from the huge dog's weight.
Thatch came over and stood over Ace. "Oi, I was looking at the sky, not your ugly mug," Ace said, though he and Thatch both knew he was just joking. Thatch huffed and sat down next to Ace. He took Ace's hand and squeezed it. "Don't worry, Thatch. I feel fine," he assured.
"But you still have the bat sickness, right?" he asked quietly. Solemn Thatch was a rarity, and Ace didn't really like it. But he nodded. "What if it acts up again?" the chef wondered in such a small voice it made Ace's heart clench. He looked back up at the sky.
"Well, then we'll just hope I'll come back again. Maybe I'm immortal now, you never know. Nothing about this situation makes sense, but we just gotta roll with it, right?" Thatch was still pouting but nodded. He laid down too, next to Ace. "Your outfit will get dirty, you know."
Thatch didn't reply for a moment, and Ace looked to the side to see the chef was wearing such a hopeless expression. "Don't die, Ace," Thatch suddenly said. The words brought back the memory of Ace making that reckless promise once already, and he'd broken it too.
He sighed and looked back at the sky. "I've made that reckless promise once already. I won't make it again," he said sternly, and Thatch looked at him in surprise. Ace was looking at the sky again, thoughts distant, but he knew Thatch wanted an explanation to the reply. "When I was a kid, one of my brothers died. Luffy begged me not to die next. I boldly said, 'Don't worry. I will never die'." He shared eye contact with Thatch. "I've broken that promise once already, I won't make it again."
The chef ruffled his hair. "When did you grow up?"
Ace looked horrified. "I can't be told I grew up by you of all people," he said. Thatch pouted at him and he stormed away. Things felt normal. It was nice, he was safe and not sick. At least, not now. But he didn't want to worry about what might happen next. He would just enjoy now. He did hope he wouldn't remember his sickness.
He dozed asleep to the soft rocking from the waves and the breeze blowing his hair across his face and neck. When he woke up, it was completely dark. He blinked a couple of times, and looked around. He couldn't see anywhere around him, or hear anything, not even his breathing. He looked below him, but it was only darkness. He tried calling out, but no sound. He tried moving but he couldn't. It was suffocating, the darkness.
"Ace! Ace, wake up!" Haruta's voice shouted and Ace's eyes snapped open and he was back to being outside on the ship. The small commander was looking at him in worry. Ace closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah. Just a bad dream. Sorry to make you worry," he said quietly. The commander looked at Ace uneasily. "Really, I'm fine. I don't feel sick." He didn't like how worried everyone was about him. He understood why, of course, but he didn't like it. He didn't like being coddled (unless it was by Marco) and having others worry about him.
He leaned forwards and put his head between his legs, arms hanging over his bent knees. He looked down, and saw red spots on the white, felt warmth on his face. He ran his hands along his face, but there was nothing there. The red dots were gone, too. Was he hallucinating? He didn't need that, on top of everything. He kept thinking his nose was bleeding and it was as annoying as it was unsettling.
Maybe it was him doing it mentally. After all, he'd been a bloody mess. Some of that blood no doubt came from his nose. His nose and mouth. He went white at the thought of blood coming from his eyes. He shook his head and slapped his cheeks. People were watching him, but he wasn't focused on them, he was trying to calm the rising wave of panic.
Marco walked over and sat next to him, pulling Ace down to lean against his shoulder. "Don't think too much," he said simply. Ace sighed. It was easier said than done. Marco had been in near-death situations, but he healed every time. Ace had not healed. Died, and just popped back to normal.
"I keep feeling like there's blood dripping down my face, but there's not. I'm worried I'm hallucinating," Ace confessed. Marco didn't reply for a moment.
"Could be PTSD-like symptoms. I mean, you died and then woke up again, Ace. That had to be traumatizing. I'm not gonna say 'get over it' or to move on. It's not gonna be easy. We know that, you know that. Just, don't look down on yourself for however things play out," Marco said, putting his hand on Ace's head.
Ace felt the phantom blood on his face again, and furiously wiped it with both hands. He took a deep breath and let out a cough. He didn't miss it when the whole deck turned silent. He blinked and turned around. "I had an itch in my throat," he said, and chatter resumed. They were gonna worry about him so much now. He had to be strong, not be worried over.
"They will worry whether it's reasonable or not, Ace," Marco said, reading the logia's mind. Ace sighed. "Don't be scared."
Ace shot him a look. "I'm not scared," he protested. Marco chuckled. Then he said, "Well, I'm scared. But, we're all in this together, right?" Ace nodded and leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Now, I hope the prank you are planning with Thatch and Haruta doesn't do any damage to the ship." Ace laughed and told him not to worry about it.
He still worried.
-x-
A week passed of Ace being fine, and people were starting to think it was all behind them. Ace was happy to say he felt completely normal, except for some mild bad dreams. Not enough that it would have him waking up at night, but it would have him in a sour mood in the mornings.
He got check ups daily, and went willingly, wanting to make sure his body was functioning properly, which it was. Nothing was amiss, besides the disease still being present in his blood. But they couldn't exactly take it out, so Ace had to just hope nothing came of it. There wasn't anything he could do about it, but Whiskey had him taking vitamins, just in case they could help. Marco made him remember, so he took them daily.
It was the eighth day when something went wrong. Ace woke up before Marco that morning, and got up to use the bathroom. He was feeling heavy, but he'd stayed up late last night for watch duty, so it was understandable. When he walked to their sink and mirror, he froze. He was hallucinating again, his nose was bleeding.
He wiped it only to see it smeared on his hand and across his upper lip. He spit up some blood, but kept silent, not wanting to scare Marco, but when his eyes started to bleed, he screamed for Marco. He was up in an instant. "Ace!" he shouted, and Ace was panicking.
He gargled blood before Marco turned him to his side. "Marco, I don't want to die again! Take me to the nurses!" he shouted, and Marco picked him up while Ace sobbed and bled from the face. Marco wasn't looking down, not wanting to see Ace sick. Maybe it was a bad dream, but then he noticed Ace wasn't making any more noise and he felt the presence fade.
He slowed his running to a walk and stood there with Ace's body. Tears came from his eyes, but he had hope. Ace would come back to life. He knew it. Ace would not stay dead, he couldn't. It would be cruel to save him only to have him die a week later. He took a deep breath and turned around to bring Ace to their room.
He couldn't allow the crew to freak out. Not again. It would be mean to scare them only for Ace to come back. If Ace wasn't back by the end of the day, Marco would give the horrible news. He felt detached and emotionless, maybe not able to handle it so he cut himself off. He felt heartless, but he couldn't shatter again. He had to stay strong.
Ace would come back. None of this was normal. He'd come back, Marco knew it. If he didn't, then the universe is a sick fuck. Teasing them like Ace could live and only to steal him back again. He shook his head and walked into their room, laying Ace on the bed. He went to the bathroom and got a wet towel to wash the blood off his face gently.
He was so still and quiet. If his chest was moving, he would think the young man was just sleeping. He kissed Ace's forehead, and he was still warm. He put the covers over him, tucking his body in gently, adjusting the pillow for him. He put a glass of water on the bed next to him and a bucket on the floor in case he woke up nauseous. And he would wake up. He had to.
To be continued