WARNING: Inaccuracies regarding medical and psychological terms, symptoms etc, some may be exaggerated for fiction purposes. Nothing about this fic is researched for more than about 2-3 websites, and even that is just to get a semblance of description of anything described here. Triggering topics (as it has been for the last 2 chapter), and possible dramatic exaggeration. Non-graphic sexual content on the very end too, just in case.

Removed the expected amount if chapter this fic will have because…

Yeah.

(But honestly, it'll prob be done in anyother 2 chap or so. Probably)


In Ace's opinion, everything about Marco had always been bright.

His skin was fair - fairer than Ace's, at least - and that's because he could never get a sunburn from his Devil Fruit. His hair is the colour of the purest gold, and should he stand just in the right light, they looked like they shimmer. Ace would know, he spent too much time these last months staring at them when he should be working with the other deckhands to move cargoes and clean, but just a single peek of that bright tresses would render him useless. His wings, his fire, all of them were dazzling, but he supposed coming back to the angel comparison he once made for the zoan, it was fitting.

But this, none of this was right.

Marco's skin wasn't fair, it was pale to the point of it being ashen. Underneath the harsh light in the infirmary and over the bleached white sheets on the cot, he looked far too sickly and frail for one of New World's strongest men. Despite the number of nurses who kept moving back and forth to tend to him and put him down to a medication induced slumber, no one had given a thought to wipe the drying tear tracks on Marco's cheeks.

He wanted to reach over to do it, but he couldn't. He's been banished to this corner as to not obstruct the nurses' way, and even if he wasn't he can't find it in himself to move.

A hand gently tapping his shoulder made him actually jump, and that spoke of how deep in his thought he was. Ace snapped his head up to find himself staring to the solemn eyes of Commander Jozu, who glanced away towards the bed and the nurses, "They're not done yet?" the paramecia questioned, his rough voice barely a murmur.

Swallowing, Ace shook his head, "I think they're checking for… something. I don't know, i don't think i should ask now,"

Just as he said that, one of the nurses standing by the end of the bed turned her gaze towards them. She gave both Ace and Jozu a terse nod before she walked over and pulled the curtains around the cot close, effectively blocking their view of Marco. He didn't know what that means, but as soon as he lose sight of the blond, the logia let out a shuddering breath, and felt a deep, clawing concern wrecking the insides of his stomach.

"He's in good hands," Jozu said again next to him, "They'll know what to do, and they'll make sure to do their very best,"

They should, these nurses are trained in medical expertise and for any sort of emergency situation. And above that, they are tending to their own division commander after all.

Yet, the torturous grip in Ace's stomach persist.

When the hand on his shoulder started to move away, he found himself calling out, "Commander Jozu?"

The man stopped on his tracks, patiently waiting as the younger pirate gathered his thoughts and picked his words, "That man," he spat out finally, expression marred with a deep repulsed frown, "The guy who…," held down, threatened, forcefully kissed, assaulted— who would've— And after what had been done to him 15 years ago— had Ace had been a couple of seconds too late, if he hadn't gathered his nerves earlier - oh god, his stomach is twisting now - what if he hadn't thought of coming again to apologize, if he had agreed with the side of his mind that told him to wait— "Attacked M— Commander Marco earlier, he's dead, isn't he?"

Jozu narrowed his eyes, lips tight as he slowly nodded, "Painfully. It took us a while to identify him when half of his face was melted and the other half's bashed in,"

Despite himself, there was a sick sense of satisfaction blooming in the turmoil in the logia's core, and he curled his fist, his now clean fist that was previously littered and drenched in blood. But it didn't last long, not when in the back of his mind, he still felt Marco's trembling body, he could still hear those broken whispers, he could still remember the hollow gaze in those blue orbs, "I killed him," to stop him but it was still too late. He still held Marco down, he still hurt him in some way, he made him look so terrified, he still caused those tears to spill and that would haunt Ace in his deepest sleep, "Will i be in trouble? For killing a nakama?"

He could be banished for this, after only joining for a few months. After being accepted into a new family. After finding Pops, who doesn't care for his bloodline, who laughs at his confession and still calls him son.

He could be killed for this.

Why does it all feel so insignificant?

But Jozu scoffed, and it sounded disdainful, "That man stopped being one the moment he assaulted one of our own, his commander no less," a faint smile appear on his thin lips, "So, as far as we're concerned, you're a fucking hero, kid,"

It was a praise, and yet the tears that welled in Ace's eyes weren't of joy or sense of accomplishment, it was full of anguish.

"I don't feel like one at all, Commander,"


Even in his sleep, Marco doesn't look peaceful. A deep frown marred his visage, small, miserable moans would escape his half parted lips, and still, no one has wiped away the tear tracks down his cheeks.

Why hadn't anyone done it?

"You feeling better now?" he heard said from across the bed, breaking Ace's reverie, and he looked up to see Jozu with his arms crossed, standing guard by the head of the bed. He had one hand clutching the infirmary bed's headboard tightly, knuckles turning white by just how intensely he gripped them. He looked equally as tired as Ace felt, but his voice was firm, and there was traces of concern in them.

Ace nodded, feeling rather bashful in reminder of what the older Devil Fruit user was talking about, "Yeah, i'm sorry about that," he said, sniffling, "I didn't know why i suddenly cried like that,"

Jozu nodded, exhaling heavily, "Don't be. You were in shock. It happened,"

"What do i have to be shocked for?" the logia scoffed, the hands on his lap curling tightly, "I'm not the one who was…,"

He fell silent, and his gaze slowly returned towards Marco, as the zoan let out another soft moan, his frown deepening. He looked like he's in pain, and unlike before, the cause of it is not something Ace can grab and bash against the wall from him.

From the corner of his periphery, he saw Jozu lowering his hand from the headboard and placing them on top of Marco's golden tresses, carding his calloused hand through them and gently caressing the side of his fellow commander's face. It was a move that spoke of affection and seems to held deeper meaning, and it reminded Ace of Thatch's story. That's right, he mentioned that Jozu had been one of the people who broke the rule. That he was one of the people who fell for, yet in the end gave up on Marco.

Like this, his eyes shone with sadness, and the younger wondered if he also regretted it as much as Thatch did.

His hand still remained where it is as he looked up, "It doesn't have to happen to you for it to leave a lasting impression," the diamond paramecia said gravely, and somehow, Ace felt like he spoke out of personal experience.

Silence descended upon them once more. Jozu's hand never quite left Marco, his thumb wiping gingerly underneath the blond commander's eye, before he let out a hefty sigh, "I," he muttered suddenly, voice low enough that Ace missed the fact that he even spoke in the first place, "Maybe what i'm saying won't make sense to you, but, Ace, what you did today…," Jozu trailed off again, sorrowful gaze still trained on to Marco, "What you did today meant much more than you think it did. If you hadn't been there," the hand on the zoan's cheek curled tighter, and before the older man bowed his head, Ace caught sight of that stray tear falling and landing to the bed, "He doesn't deserve that. Not again. Not in his own home,"

And suddenly, that revelation brought another onslaught of wretched twisting in Ace's stomach. Moby Dick is Marco's home, where his family and father is, a safe haven. And it wasn't just his own home, it was in his bedroom where he was assaulted, his sanctuary where he hid from Ace, hid from the world, and it is also where he was again forced to relive the darkest moments of his life.

Suddenly, what Ace had done doesn't seem enough.

"I know," he said quietly, teeth gritting and nails digging into flesh, "I know," Jozu eyes were wide when he lifted his head, shocked and a slightest bit irate. It made sense that he doesn't want people knowing, but Ace met his gaze evenly, "I wish i could've done more,"

The paramecia's expression melted, and one that occupied that stern face was now simple exhaustion, "Nothing good came out of that line of thinking," he muttered again, and with one last caress to the side of Marco's face, Jozu finally lifted his hand away. His chest heaved heavily before he slowly look up, his steely blue orbs meeting Ace's stormy grey ones, "If you… knew, then you should know to listen to me. There's no place for that kind of saviour complex in this sort of situation, and Marco neither needs it nor would he wanted it,"

Jozu closed his eyes and made his way out from the side of the bed, his movement slow and burdened. He stopped by Ace's side, and raised a hand to clap them on top of the youth's shoulder, "You did what none of us could 15 years ago. If you want to avoid the mistake everyone else does, you throw that thought away and did something none of us did,"

"And what's that?"

"You wait," The hand on his shoulder tightened, "You can have his body but not his heart. It's a stupid rule, but it's true. You don't ask for his heart, you wait until he gave it to you, in his own terms and his own pace,"

Ace's reply was silence.

His shoulder was patted a few more times as the elder Devil Fruit user chuckled deeply, "Sorry. I shouldn't be putting that much responsibility on your shoulder. You did good by him, and by extension to everyone on board," he gave one final pat, heavy and warm, "I guess i thought i saw something there for a second. Something in your eyes, that reminded me of… Hmph, that's not important. In any case, you don't have to worry about anything else—"

"Is that how you broke it? By not waiting?"

Jozu's hand stilled, and his expression was frozen as Ace looked up to him, lips tightly pursed. There's a new sensation within him core, something burning, yearning, and it pushed him to speak, "I don't want to make the same mistake you, Thatch, or anyone else did," it was brazen of him to speak like that, he knew, but Ace never had a problem with being brazen. Not when he knew, deep down, he truly wanted something. And he wanted this. He wanted to know the way to play by that rule, by Marco's rule, "I'm not good at being patient, but if waiting is what i have to do, then i'll do it,"

The hand on his shoulder loosened. Then seconds later it tightened again, much more than before, "You do that," Jozu told him in an almost commanding tone, before the commander began to walk away. Ace watched as he go until he disappeared from behind the oaken door of the infirmary.

Once the door was closed, Ace adjusted himself on his seat, dragging it closer to the bed and sat ramrod straight. He fidgeted on his seat, then finally made up his mind and reached over with one hand towards Marco's face, careful as not to disturb the man's rests.

With his thumb, he slowly wiped away the drying wet marks down that pale face.


Not a lot of things can woke Ace up once he's deep in slumber, yet he could register what seems to be the thumping sound of something heavy dropping nearby, and that faint noise prickled his ears so much that it brought him back to the land of consciousness.

Barely alarmed, the dark haired male began to blink away the bleariness out of his vision, and even through the veil of darkness, he quickly noticed that he's not back in his room. Instead of seeing 2 different hammocks with his crew mates snoring and tossing around on them, he could see the silhouette of a large medicine cabinet on the far side of the room, a window that he shouldn't be able to see had he been in his barrack, and more importantly, another bed just a few feet away from the one he's laying on.

Ah, that's right, one of the nurses had found him still staying in the infirmary way past midnight, and after he insisted on not leaving Marco's side, she had relented and agreed to let him sleep in the cot next to the commander's. She didn't really want anyone but the patrolling nurses to be so up close with him, the nurse had warned, but she recognized who Ace was and what he had done, and thus felt like if it's him, it should be alright since he can't possibly want to harm Marco even further. The warning in her tone was not remiss from Ace, but at that point, he was just glad that he's allowed to stay.

But even with that recollection, that doesn't explain what exactly it is that he heard that had woken him up—

The bed right next to his, Marco's bed, was empty.

As if jolted by electricity, Ace leapt out of the bed, ignoring that his motion had caused the bed to creak loudly against the floorboard, "Marco!" he called out frantically, giving the tussled bed sheet another concerned glance before he lit his entire upper right arm on fire to illuminate his vision as he searched wildly from corner to corner, trying to catch the barest glimpse of gold somewhere in the dark. When there was none, Ace was ready to quickly dashed away to the door, shouting for anyone currently awake to alert them when he heard a faint gasping noise from right behind the bed.

His heart thumped rapidly in his chest, but they quickly died down and rose up again in intensity as he raced to the side of the bed and found Marco, body half sprawled on the floor with his front being propped up by his shaking arms. Instantly, Ace knelt down in front of him, both arms ready to reach over and helped the older man up when Marco suddenly let out a sharp gasp, "Don't," his voice quivered and was barely a whisper, that Ace was instead stopped when he saw the zoan's body flinched away from his touch instead of by his plea, "Don't touch me,"

Ace gulped, his arms still hovering just inches away from the older just in case he collapsed, "Marco," he called out softly, unable to find it in him to speak louder, as if fearing that if he should, he might actually hurt him, "I'm just going to help you get back up—"

"I can't,"

The logia fell into uncertain silence, "What?" he whispered again, "What do you mean, 'you can't'?"

With a sharp gasp, Marco lifted his head, and Ace's heart fell at how frightened the zoan looked, "My legs," he panted, "I can't feel my legs,"


"His legs were crushed," Nurse Cotton's voice was detached from any apparent emotion, and yet from underneath the curtain of long, dirty blonde hair, Ace could still see the curl on her painted lips, and the visible distress in her eyes, a cross between anger and desperation, "They didn't just fractured the bones, they would've broken it to pieces, making sure to completely immobilize him. He would've lost every feeling there was on those nerves,"

She said this lowly, her explanation only for herself - and Ace, who was close enough to hear - even as her eyes kept flicking to the other bed, where Marco was now laid again, facing the other way from them.

"But that was 15 years ago, and he healed afterwards, right?"

Nurse Cotton's stern glare was a reminiscence of Jozu's, when he discovered that Ace had known of that particular brutal incident. Instead of just surprise and disapproval, however, the head nurse looked particularly displeased, her lips curling into a sneer, as if Ace, someone who wasn't there and thus wasn't involved even remotely knowing was a big transgression in her book. He might be unfamiliar with her - being a logia doesn't really give him many chance to get so injured he needs to go to the infirmary - but he knows she was one of the 'old hands' within the ship. She would have been around 15 years ago, maybe she might have been the nurse who had to handle Marco then and saw him at his absolutely worse.

Thinking about it like that, it made sense why she's looking at him with so much contempt. Maybe that glare is not even directed at him.

Her expression slowly melted away into dismay, and she took a deep breath before nodding curtly, "Physically, it healed, it always does with Commander Marco. No, the pain stemmed from his mental state," her fingers rapidly tapped on the clipboard in her hand absentmindedly, "This is what they call a psychosomatic injury. If his initial reaction was anything to go by, then last night had triggered his dissociation again and with it, well, the stress that it puts on him,"

Ace felt his breath caught in his throat. His mind went back to what he had seen in Marco's room, right before he let his anger consumed him, and remembered the way the zoan's flame flickered around his legs uncontrollably, failing to be summoned and to protect. If that truly was the moment this... dissociation began to settle, knowing that he was witnessing the very moment it happened sent a chill down Ace's spine.

The heels Nurse Cotton wore was rather infamous between infirmary patients; the sharp clicking against hollow wood echoing like a warning for them to know when the stern blonde is quickly approaching them to administer a treatment. Yet, as she made her way to Marco's bed, the sound was oddly absent, in its place only a soft thudding, not a forceful and demanding presence like the nurse herself but quiet and almost hesitant. Ace barely even notice when she arrived by the other side of the cot, bowing down slightly as she called out gently, "Commander?"

From where he sat, Ace could see Marco reacting weakly, turning to face the nurse even if the gesture was barely there. Nurse Cotton smiled, and as much as it is comforting, it was also melancholic, an odd cross between motherly and grieving, "I need to do a quick check up, may i touch you?"

It took a while for Marco to reply with a barely there shake of his head, and through the entire time, Nurse Cotton remained patient. Still, Ace caught the way her eyes dimmed at his rejection, something that she quickly chased away, "Alright, then i won't. It can wait until later," the blonde moved away just a little, just a few feet from the bed and to the bedside table, "May i tidy thing up a little though? Just in case you need anything, Commander,"

At Marco's barely there acknowledgement, she began to busy herself with placing a glass of water and putting on the bedside table what seems to be a collection of medical equipments, all the while keeping the same distance away. Her moves were deliberate, obvious and nothing too quickly, and quietly, she would murmur brief explanation of what she is intending to do and a mundane explanation about any future examination she might need to do, her chatter was the only sound within the echoing infirmary walls. Ace found this one sided interaction to be a somewhat bland recreation of her usual conversation with the commander and he watched every single second of it with rapt attention.

And it's caused by this close observation that the logia caught how Nurse Cotton's face fell the moment she was far enough from the bed, her lower lips pinched and eyes fluttering close just as a glimmer of wetness appeared over her moss green orbs.

Thatch, Jozu and now Nurse Cotton. None of these people Ace would associate with being emotional, and yet it's obvious just how much what had happened to Marco, whether it was 15 years ago or last night had affected them greatly. Was this what Jozu meant, about an indirect a lasting impression?

Once the door of the infirmary was clicked close, Ace slid down from the edge of the bed where he was perched on and made a tentative move towards the other bed. By now, the sky outside was no longer pitch black, showing that it won't be a few hours before dawn arrives. Still, it's a few more hours for him to sleep, but somehow, he doesn't feel anywhere near sleepy anymore. Every single nerves in his body was thrumming in alertness, still agitated to the point of restlessness.

He made his way to the foot of the bed, awkward hands fidgeting behind his back as he sat down on the corner of the mattress. With a quiet sigh, Ace took a surreptitious glance over to Marco.

It's hard to even tell if the commander was still awake, his eyelids not even half lidded anymore but barely opened, and what little peek of his eyes the logia could see was glazed and far away. He's calm, so that's one thing that he could be relieved about, and yet there is still a part of Ace that's worried where the older man's mind has wandered to, if it's anywhere safe or if this quietness is actually something he needs to be concerned for. Cotton hadn't said anything after she left, but even the fact doesn't tamper down his jumbled mind.

Ace was never been this lost or hesitant of a situation before. It's so… discontenting.

Then, as Ace bowed his back further to get a closer look, Marco suddenly flickered his gaze towards him. The younger man froze.

"Uh," was the first whisper that escaped him, a faltering weak noise that reeked of his own uncertainty. He bit his lower lips, "May i… Can i stay here?"

Marco didn't reply.

Even knowing that it's impossible, Ace still felt like something solid was forming in his throat, making it hard to swallow. His hands fidgeted even harder, "Right," the younger croaked, "I'll move away, sorry, i was just—"

"Stay," The speed in which Ace turned his head left him woozy for a split second. But he definitely hadn't imagined that quiet reply, when he saw Marco's lips moving again, faint as they were, "Please stay,"

Ace's hands paused. The nod he gave was stiff, and so was the smile that grew on his lips, but at least he managed to come up with a reaction of sorts.

No one spoke again afterwards, though whether it was because no one could think of what to say or that there is nothing else that needed to be said, the young logia couldn't tell, at least not from his end. With hands folded over his lap and even as his body began to ache from the stillness, he didn't move from his spot, eyes gazing out of the minimalistic window until the first ray of sunshine peers through into the empty room.


While the hammock in respective barracks could be uncomfortable on their own right, but after the 3rd day of staying in the infirmary, Ace found that the medical cots are within their own level of terrible. They're neither soft nor hard, the mattress so thin there is no different than sleeping on a slab of wood but with some semblance of padding that kept it away from complete hardness. And while the exam room is outside of the intensive care part of the infirmary - as in, the area where these beds were placed - the bitter, chemical smell of medicines that were kept there still wafted inside, and it gave him a nightmare about mistakenly eating a plate of pills instead of actual food just last night.

No wonder being sent down here felt like a punishment for the majority of the crew member.

And yet, despite his developing cramping back and obvious irritation, he still found himself staying there night after night. Nurse Cotton - the highest authority within the infirmary while Marco is 'indisposed' - had waved off the other nurses' questions about his frequent stay, and most of them had learned to simply took in his presence there normally. Not that many of them would venture to the very last section, since the head nurse seems to have assigned herself specifically to attend to their commander.

In fact, in the last 3 days Ace had been there, not a lot of people had come to visit. Jozu was probably the most frequent visitor, only closely rivalled by Vista, and he had seen Thatch coming by once in the middle of the night, when Marco was deeply asleep and Ace was only awake because someone had bumped against the cot he slept in. All of them had been quiet, solemn and sorrowful, and Marco himself didn't seem like he's in any mood to make any small talk.

Ace had thought of it as odd - and even slightly incensed because why wouldn't anyone had come down there to see him? To at least cheer him up? - until the lunch rush on the 4th day of his stay, where in the middle of picking up his lunch and Marco's, he was approached by his bunkmate and several new rookies and ex-Spade Pirates, "Hey, where've you been these past few days? We hardly saw you anywhere, cap," his ex-shipwright, Saber had asked, a question that was repeated in a number of variety by the other within the group, "Say, does it have something to do with that top secret incident that happened a few days ago? Literally no one even knew what happened, but they say no one had seen Commander Marco for days now and that you're involved as well. What's going on, Ace?"

The young logia paused from placing the offered plates - from a chef under 4th division instead of Thatch, because aside from that one night, he hadn't seen the commander around as well - and looked up, just as someone behind Saber spoke up, "It's so weird, and it seems like some of the Commanders were in the dark about this themselves. Commander Jiru told me he had no idea what's going on, and Yuta from the 16th Division said he overheard Commander Izou and Commander Thatch fighting in Commander Izou's quarters last night about it. Sounds like a lot of the veteran hands on board were covering for something, something that not even the newer commanders were privy about,"

"And they're pretty adamant on it too. Manfred from 1st Division looked like he was going to snap me in two when i asked last night,"

At the familiar name, Ace snapped his head towards the speaker, "Manfred is from 1st Division?"

The red haired pirate who spoke nodded, "You know him? Like Burgundy said earlier, he's one of the oldest crew members around. Been here for nearly 20 years, just like the rest of those secretive crew members,"

"Which is why we're here to ask," Saber piped up again, taking a closer step towards Ace before pulling his ex-captain into a playful headlock, "How come you're involved in this, Ace? Come on, share something with the rest of us, will you? Did something bad happen? Something dangerous? Or maybe something," he lowered his voice, leering, "exciting?"

They didn't know. No one knew of what had happened to Marco, and those who did had covered it up.

(And knowing that should have made him a lot more understanding of their questioning, yet Ace couldn't quite stop his flames to flare on his shoulder in anger at Saber's words, almost charring his ex-crewmate's arm if he had been slower in removing himself. Nothing was exciting about that night)

"Marco?"

The zoan carefully turn to look at him, his idle hands pausing briefly from pushing around the bits of rice on the plate. Even only a couple of days being confined in here, he already looked like he lose a lot of weight, his face gaunt and face still as ashen as it is when he was first brought here. Lethargic and quiet, nothing about the blond man on the bed was anything like man with the playful, laid-back attitude that Ace recognize as the Whitebeard Pirate's First Division Commander.

For the last 3 days, bits of Thatch's story would float into his mind, as it did right now. He described it as a 'phantom wearing his face', and he supposed it was rather fitting.

Ace tried to smile, but it felt forced even for him. He gestured to the tray he placed between them and the plate on the older man's lap, "The chefs told me that they're making fishtail soup for diner later, and to ask if you want extra serving since it's your favorite. What do you think?"

(In Thatch's absence, the chef who served him had been an older man, who told him to relay the message and afterwards asked about the commander's condition in a worried, whispered voice. Ace knew now that he must be another one of the pirates who had been here 15 years ago, just like every single silent people who passed by him today, watching from afar or coming up to him without saying anything. Each of them held the same haunted and defeated expression, and it wasn't until today that Ace knew why.

He had asked the old chef why he didn't come down and visit himself if he's actually concerned. The look on the man's face made him regret asking.

"I can't face him like this," he had replied, face crumpled and close to weeping openly, "We failed him again. We kept failing him,")

Slowly, Marco shook his head, "It's fine. I don't feel like eating," to emphasis on this, he puts his spoon down on the side of the cooling and no longer appetizing rice. There's only a minuscule dent made on the already small portion of food, a far cry from Ace's half finished mountain.

But the sight of it killed off the rest of the logia's appetite, "Oh. Okay, i'll… i'll tell him later,"

Putting aside his own unfinished plate on to the tray, Ace stood and was about to reach over for Marco's when he stopped himself with a quick jerk. The movement must've caught the older's attention when he turned, wanly staring at Ace's apprehensive expression when the younger devil fruit user reach back tentatively, "Can i pick that up?"

Wordlessly, the still full plate was handed back to him. While Ace busied himself with cleaning up, he surreptitiously watched as Marco shifted around, dragging himself upwards using both of his arms before leaning on the tall stack of pillows behind him. With a sharp inhale, the blonde balefully glared at his legs, and unknown to him, Ace followed his gaze.

('He could walk again, right?" he sounded afraid even in his own ears, but everything he had witnessed was so wrong. Marco's legs were powerful, he know just how painful it was to be kicked by them, how strong they would look no matter the form in just about any situation, whether he was fighting, walking or getting ready to take off in his Phoenix form. Like the man himself, they exudes power and grace, and they had to be alright, "I mean, he got better after 15 years ago, so he'll be fine, right?"

They shouldn't be lying so still underneath the bleached sheet, or fell so limply in Nurse Cotton's manicured hands.

Just like Marco, nothing about this picture was right.

"Psychosomatic injury is not as easily treated as a physical one, Ace," the head nurse had told him in patience. It took days for her to finally start treating him without curtness, and now she looked at him with a degree of pity and empathy. Perhaps, in the light of their equal concern over the same person, camaraderie, "The only way to make them go away is if he managed to deal with whatever it is that caused him mental distress, or find a way to help you cope with it," Her heavy bosom grew and lower with the heavy breath she took in, "Back then, he coped. He coped the only way he knew how,"

"How?"

The question was asked hastily in desperation, but if Ace had thought about it a second longer, he'd realized he already know the answer. And Nurse Cotton must've realized it too, when she gave him a humourless, hollow smile, "I think you know by now how he's being coping with himself for the last 15 years,")

"Ace,"

His own name being called made the logia jump. He stared down into tired, dull blue eyes and found himself stammering, "S-sorry! I didn't mean to stare, i—"

Ace's sputtered, clumsy excuse fell into a halt when a small smile made their way on Marco's lips, "Thank you for staying,"

The young pirate fell silent, feeling his heart leaping in his chest before they settled into hard, rib-pounding thuds. It's weird to react like so for such a small gesture, but the sense of relief that awash his entire being was overwhelming, and Ace found himself grinning widely.

(In that little gesture, he could see the briefest glimpse of the Marco he knew, the one who teased him upon finding him hiding and watching his sexual tryst, the same man who guided him into becoming a member of the Whitebeard Pirates, who told him with such a free smile and happy voice what a great man Pops is, if Ace just took his offer and now here he is, a part of a family again and maybe he had fallen since then, since that smile, since that steaming bowl of soup and an offered hand—)

"I-i well, uh, haha," the logia shuffled his left leg and rubbed his nape, feeling inexplicably happy, "It's, it's nothing. I'm… yeah," deciding that he really couldn't muster a single word for a proper reply, he shut his mouth with a resounding clack on his jaw. It may just be his imagination, but Ace was sure that he saw Marco smiling a little wider, and it did nothing to settle the fluttering in his chest, "Right! I should, i should bring this to the kitchen before they finished cleaning the other dishes. Do you need anything else? Want some other food maybe? I could—"

Marco shook his head, smile still in place, "Right," Ace squeaked again, almost toppling over in his enthusiasm to lift up the tray, "I'll be right back!"

And he was off, fully aware of the pair of eyes watching his retreating back and with a skip on his step.


"You're involved in this frustrating little shenanigan, aren't you?"

The lilting, accusatory voice greeted him in lieu of anything else, and Ace stopped on his tracks just outside of the dining hall to be met with an irate looking Commander Izou. The okama's painted lips were pulled down in a stern frown, and each step he took gave out a menacing clicking upon the floor until he reached just a few centimetre away from Ace, "No one will tell me what's going on, so now as your commander, i'm commanding you to tell me what's going on. What's with all the sneaking and secrecy? What happened a few days ago? Who killed Kingdew's division member?" the front lapel of Ace's shirt was pulled with a jerk, powerful enough that the logia could hear a resounding rip from the seams, "What the fuck happened to Marco?!"

Izou was hardly taller than him, and compared to Ace, his build was much more slender, but the hysteric urgency in his voice made it clear that he won't let Ace go that easily. And it didn't help that when Ace kept his silence - mostly because he was still startled by this sudden confrontation - with a growl, the 16th Division Commander reached into his kimono and pulled out one of his pistols, shoving the cold barrel right underneath the logia's jaw, "I'll have you know i come equipped with seastone bullet, so you don't want to test me. Speak, Ace! That is an order!"

"Izou!"

The weight against him suddenly disappear, the suddenness of the flurry of events making him stumble and would've fallen if it wasn't for the strong hand that held on to his bicep.

With a sharp breath, Ace adjusted himself, finding Thatch right in between him and the furious Commander Izou. He took a step to the side to regain his balance, and that step allowed him to get a better look at Thatch's reddening face, teeth gritted and brows furrowed deeply. The chef glanced at him briefly, as if only checking if he's alright, before turning back to his fellow commander, "The fuck are you doing turning your weapon on a rookie!?"

"No one will answer me!" the gunslinger screeched before Thatch could even finish, "My own fucking men won't talk, you're more slippery then an eel and even Pops commanded us to stand down! All i wanted was to know what happened to my own brother!"

At his last word, Izou aimed his glare back to Ace, who staggered backward at the weight and aggressiveness in that single look. Said glare was immediately blocked when Thatch moved to the side, blocking Ace away from Izou. He turned his head to the side, showing the grim line of his lips as he gestured with his chin, "Go, Ace, you need to be somewhere, don't you?" he said stiffly, before facing the irate man once more, "You said it yourself, you have your orders, Izou,"

Ace gave the pair one last glance and gone for a mini sprint by the time Izou shouted his reply, "Fuck the orders! If something happened to one of my nakama i deserve to know!"

"And i already told you, not now,"

"Then when?! Because if you think the rest of us didn't know that something is going on with Marco, then you are insanely obtuse and selfish!"

"Selfish?! This is me trying to protect my own brother!"

"From what! The rest of his brothers?! Those who are worried for him?!"

Thatch's reply was muffled by the distance and the rising noises full of curiousity coming from different directions within the hall. The medical wing was nearly empty by the time Ace arrived, with only a couple of nurses flitting by around who paid him no mind. Which is a good thing, because he wasn't really in the talkative mood, his mind still reeling over the event earlier as he trudged over to the door located on the very back of the wing, where the intensive care unit was located.

What Izou had said made sense, but then Ace had been in his position before, a curiosity blooming from concern for someone he cared about. But at the same time, after knowing the full story - and after actually witnessing what had happened recently - he also understand Thatch's reluctance in not letting people know. Everything about what had happened to Marco, whether it was a couple of days ago or years before felt like a situation that no one truly knows the right answer or the right way to handle.

At least, Ace certainly knows he didn't.

Sighing, the logia was about the push the door open when he caught the sliver end of a conversation, "—can't go on like this,"

The door was only opened by a fraction, but even in that little space, Ace could still see the shadow of another person sitting by Marco's bed on the very end of the room. After a while, the person gave a sigh and spoke, allowing Ace to recognize him immediately; Commander Vista, "It's not that simple. I," he paused with another heavy sigh, and from where he stood, Ace could hear the bed creaking, "I can't do that anymore. Not to you, or myself,"

"Please, Vista, I can't go through that again," Marco's voice was desperate, begging, "I, i don't need another—Another…," Ace could hear him let out a shuddering breath, "I can't have this develop into another trauma,"

Another bout of silence. The shadow on cot in front of the blonde zoan shifted, and as Ace peered in, he saw that Vista had taken off his ever-present top hat, tossing it carelessly somewhere off from his sight. He then heard the sound of zipper, and it finally registered to him just what Marco was asking Vista to do. A uncomfortable lump formed in his throat, and the logia's grip on the door handle tightened considerably, so much that his knuckle began to turn white.

The cot creaked again under Vista's weight, "What about Ace?"

Hearing his name being mentioned sent a dread down the logia's chest, thinking that he had been discovered, until Marco spoke, "Ace? What does he have to do with anything?"

"Come on Marco, you know what i meant," the dark haired swordsman murmured, "That kid's not very subtle. I don't want to sound like i'm throwing him over to save myself, but you know if he asked him, he would do this for you. "

The door he leaned on creaked when Ace accidentally pushed it further and made him wince, hoping that the noise won't be noticed by the bed's inhabitants. But all thoughts of getting caught flew out of his mind when he heard Marco's whispered reply, "Exactly, that's why of all the people on this ship, he's the one that i can't ask for this,"

Ace's grip on the door handle slackened.

A harsh laugh escaped the blond commander, followed by what suspiciously sounded like a sob, "He's… he's so young, Vista. Still so wide eyed, idealistic, so… so innocent, as innocent as you can be in this sort of life. He deserved much more than some," the shadow on the end of the bed waved an arm, and contempt began to seep into his voice, hissing his every word, "Pathetic, disgusting, tainted, used old whore—"

"Marco!"

"Tell me that's not true, Vista," the rebuke was met with an even louder, choked hiss, "Tell me to my face that you don't look at me and not feel disgusted by what i've become,"

"I don't,"

The reply came after a few seconds had passed. Vista's voice had lost its earlier fire, becoming frail and whispered.

"Well, i do," Another laugh came from Marco, breathy and mocking, "And i know a lot of people do. I don't know what is it exactly that he wanted from me - or why he even wanted anything from me - but i know that he, like everyone else, will see that i'm not worth it. There is nothing to find here but filth and a broken human being, and none of that is worth anything," the blond gave another choked laugh, absent of any humour, "After all Ace has done for me, the least i can do is to.. to not tarnish him. He's so pure, Vista. So innocent. I felt horrible putting my hands anywhere near him before, it's like i'm already smearing him with my filth, like i'm… like i'm no better than those men who…,"

Marco's choked sob was shushed and muffled by Vista's indistinct murmurs. Murmurs that were slowly replaced by the sound of wet kisses against skin, and as the shadow on the far corner of the room began to mingle together, has become breathy moans and whispered sighs, sounds that by now, Ace was all too familiar with. In a second of bad decision, disregarding the twisting inside of his stomach, Ace looked further into the room, to see Vista shucking off his tight shirt and tossing it just as carelessly as he did his hat earlier, his mouth still connected to Marco's neck and exposed collarbone.

The moustached swordsman raised his head, and leaned in to the zoan's parted lips before the blond turned away at the last second, an obvious rejection. If Vista was hurt by this, he didn't show it, but he nodded resignedly and instead, pressed a kiss to the side of Marco's temple, "Lay down. If i'm going to go back on my own words like this, at the very least, i will make sure you're actually comfortable,"

A weak snort was heard from the smaller commander, but he did as told, using his arms and Vista's guidance again to gently lower himself on the bed.

It was at that point that Ace closed the door, and as soon as he did, he slumped against the wooden surface and slid down to the floor.

His stomach was twisting, churning unpleasantly, and there's a stabbing pain in his chest, as if someone had punched through him. They had culminated since Marco started talking about him, and the more he heard the rustling and moans from inside, the more painful the throbbing within his chest had become. Unlike before, he's not tempted to take a peek and stay while he found release himself. At the hitched cry for Vista's name, he's not imagining Marco in throes of pleasure. With every frequent reminder of what's happening inside, Marco's words kept ringing in his mind, and the unpleasant sensation in his stomach grew and grew.

He knows what arousal felt like by now. This isn't it.

This churning in his stomach felt like distress, anger, frustration, shock, and the need to object every single thing he just heard, all of them stirring into a jumbled mess within his core.

Another moan penetrated the thick wooden door, a voice he knew so well in his mind. There's a dull thud in his chest, aggravating the already festering pain and made him ball his hands tightly, as licks of fire began to appear on the surface of his skin.

That felt a lot like jealousy.


Sorry for the long period of no update too, i've been lying uselessly sick at home. Not feeling 100% yet, but at least i don't feel like puking my guts out or falling asleep at any given moment.

Welp, anyway, thanks for reading!