Marco

Marco was absolutely exhausted by the time he located the islands he had sensed earlier from the edge of the range of his haki. He was barely aware of landing near the outskirts of the brightly lit port town. Marco sighed. 'A party town,' he thought in annoyance. It would be rather hard to get some rest in such a place, and he wasn't sure if he would be able find a quieter area. He would have preferred to take rest in a bed inside an inn as opposed to sleeping on the hard ground with only his bag as a pillow (though he was not opposed to idea seeing as how he was used to rough conditions). He ambled into town, though still tired, to find the nearest but quietest inn.

On his stroll to find shelter, he could not help but notice the strong smell of alcohol wafting from some passersby. A deep scowl broke out across his face. His earlier hunch of this town (whatever it was called) being a place for partiers was correct. Though he was not unused to such a strong smell of alcohol, being a pirate and all, the reek was unpleasant when it wafted off of people, especially from the types of drunks that decide to neglect showers for extended periods of time. More disgustingly, biting odors floated in front of Marco's nostrils, causing him to shoulder his bag and cover his nose with his free hand. It would be best for his health if he hastened along, which was exactly what he did.

Marco thought that finding a relatively peaceful inn near the outskirts of the lively looking town would be easy, but of course he was wrong. Drunks lingered here too along with their scent and the commander was pretty sure that he saw a couple screwing in an alleyway in a disgusting public display of love- no- lust. He may have been a pirate, who has had a number of sexual partners, mind you, but he at least knew when something was dignified, and this street he was currently on was in no way dignified. He left the street without second glance at the two. He would continue searching for a place to rest elsewhere.

Finally, he reached a peaceful street free of drunks and prowling, barely clothed whores. Compared to the other side of town, this quiet place was relatively abandoned, and thankfully, less pungent. Marco removed his hand from his face and relaxed his arm at his side. He continued along the road, tired eyes lighting up when he spotted a hanging side attached to a two-story building at the end: a sure indication of someplace to rest. Before he knew it, his body brought his exhausted form to the front of the inn (named the Wanderer's Pillow) and he was asking the lady behind the counter (who raised an eyebrow at him for some reason) for a room.

He climbed the rickety steps up to his room, ignoring the sound in his normally sharp ears. He was much too tired to worry about annoying noises such as that. Reaching his room (Room 2, ironically), he turned the key in the lock, immediately collapsing on the stiff bed afterward. This was not the most high quality place, but it would do. Marco did not mind at all for he was too tired to care. He was used to worse conditions, though his bed back on the Moby Dick was more comfortable and warm (thanks to a certain fire-user). All he wanted to do was sleep, so morning would come, and he could continue his journey. Placing his bag on the floor gently (there were fragile eternal poses in there), he removed his shirt and threw it to the chair in the corner of the room. He was used to sleeping shirtless, and it was not like he was about to break the trend now. Marco turned to his side, shut his eyes, and drifted off to sleep quickly. He would wake as soon as he could to travel.

Marco did not usually have such vivid dreams, so he was unaware of what was happening at first, his goals lying forgotten in the back of his mind. He forgot that he was traveling. He forgot that he was searching for Ace. He forgot that he was trying to save him. Now, he was on the Moby Dick. He was home, and Ace was there with him. Everything seemed peaceful (well, as peaceful as things could get when one was a commander aboard the Moby Dick). It was night, and Marco could hear the muffled sounds of his partying crewmates in the distance.

Ace stood across from him, dim candle light washed over his form. His gray eyes shone as he looked straight into Marco's own. He was dressed as usual, foregoing a shirt to expose his mark proudly. His dark shorts seemed to hang just ever so slightly lower on his hips. Marco felt his tongue run over his own lips, but then something else caught his eye, interrupting his lustful actions.

Soft lips moved as Marco stared at them, no longer keeping eye-contact with the other man. Those words. Marco knew exactly what he was saying, and it pleased him greatly: the way the "l" of the second word flowed straight into an "o", and how the "y" of the final word made the Ace's lips turn upwards.

But he did not feel his own lips move, not in the same way as Ace's had.

Marco stepped closer to Ace's illuminated form, wrapping his muscular arms around Ace's torso. He ran his hands over the body pressed against his own, smirking at the shiver he felt when he made contact with the tattoo of their crew's mark. His lips moved this time now, but no words came out. He did not speak. Marco bent down, tipping Ace's head up and pressing their lips together. The kiss was not chaste in any way. There was no gentleness. Marco made sure their contact was rough and dirty right away. Suddenly, Ace's hips were locked around his waist, and they were making their way to Marco's room- Marco's bed- tongues engaged in a passionate dance that Marco was sure that he could not stop.

The next thing Marco knew, it was dark, and he was on top of Ace. His lips kissed all over his body, starting at the man's jaw and continuing downwards. He stopped to suck at a nipple, hardened from the cool air of the room. Ace arched into his mouth as a sign of wanting more, more, but Marco stopped, continuing his perusal of the muscular body, the one that belonged to him. His tongue licked up toned abs, and he felt more squirming under his touch.

Marco reached to the bedside table, grabbing the bottle of lube that the two always kept there. He quickly poured it over his fingers, eager to get to the main portion of their fun. He thrust his appendages inside Ace immediately, stretching him for what was to come. Ace moaned, and Marco removed his hand, coating his cock in the liquid. He positioned the tip of his length at the entrance of his partner and pushed inside.

And then he was looking up at the ceiling. Ace had switched their positions. Marco smirked, about to make a comment about the other man's eagerness until he realized that something was off. They were both fully clothed once again, but that was not the worst of it. Ace glared at him, eyes glowing a fiery red. More weight was pressed down onto Marco as Ace's lips moved once again, saying three words as they had earlier. Two of the words were the same as before, but the middle one was different. It stabbed at Marco's heart like a knife. He never imagined that the soft sound of an "h" could come out so harshly. Ace repeated those words over and over, each time the words slowly killing a piece of Marco inside. Marco tried to move. He tried to yell out "Stop! Calm down!" but he couldn't move, and his voice refused to work. If only he spoke earlier when the three words had been tender and gentle, though just as passionate.

Marco did not like this in the slightest. He wanted to escape. He wanted this to end. Just when he felt that things could not get any worse, Ace pulled out a knife from behind his back. Marco recognized the knife. He recognized it well. That was the knife that had been sticking out of Thatch's back when the man was lying face down on the deck of their home, blood pouring out of his wound.

Ace's face broke out into a wide smile, but his eyes shone soullessly. Marco knew exactly what he was going to do with that knife. He usually never feared, but now, he felt like screaming.

And all he heard as he blacked out were the words echoing over and over again: "I hate you. I love you. I hate you. I love you. I hate you. I love you."

Marco stared up the ceiling blankly, feeling hazy from sleep and stuck on the thoughts of his dream. It was strange. His limbs couldn't move. They were paralyzed, arms splayed above his head (he did not know how they ended up that way). He realized he was frozen in that half asleep half awake state where all you could do was think and panic (but Marco was not someone who would ever need to sink to panic). So he sat there in thought, closing his eyes once again.

'What was that?' he wondered. The dream had been a memory as well as imaginary. It started off pleasant, Marco's heart light from his... activities with Ace. But it quickly turned into a heart-wrenching nightmare. That final part had been false, but what happened before that rang true. 'Why am I remembering that now?'

Well, it could be because Ace was on his mind. But that still did not explain the strangeness that Marco's mind depicted him as in the memory: as if he was possessed by a sort of demon. Maybe the word devil would be more fitting in their circumstances. Dream Ace had been so out of character that it was almost frightening, and out of character was understatement. Every single switch between Ace's true nature and the hidden devil that lied beneath caused a stronger unsettling feeling in the pit of Marco's usually strong stomach.

What was his subconscious trying to tell him about Ace? He pondered this thought, waiting for feeling to return to arms. Finally, he decided that it was not important at the current moment, and that he could sort it out when they returned.

Fully awake now, Marco shot up. He would have to be as quick as possible if he wanted to intercept Ace. He stood and opened the curtains, cursing. The bright sun was already relatively high. Marco had originally intended to wake up much earlier, but his need for rest and the distraction of the dream interfered with that plan. He really had to hasten now. Marco considered foregoing a shower to save time, but then another Ace-like voice popped into his head with a cheerful, "You don't want to smell like bird!" Though the disembodied suggestion was annoying, it would be best to wash off the stink and grime anyways. He did not want to look or smell sloppy once he finally caught up with Ace, and more travel would just contribute to his lack of cleanliness.

"What do you mean 12,000 beri?" Marco growled, slamming his hand down on the front counter of the inn.

The old looking, round woman placed her chin in her hand, slumping over and looking at Marco unsympathetically. "Just how it goes, sonny," she shrugged.

"That's way too expensive for one night, yoi. That's at least three times the rate listed on your board!" he argued.

"Rates mean nothing here."

Marco growled again. This was ridiculous! He couldn't believe that the woman was trying to get him to pay for three nights! He needed this money for the rest of his journey. Sure, he could just rob a marine ship or another pirate crew, but that would waste too much time. "I'm not paying that much," he scowled. "You think you can swindle me out of 12,000 beri just because of the crew I belong to? Pirates have monetary problems too, you know." Marco himself knew this of course. He was in charge of splitting allowance between the crew and what was in their savings. Because of their size, they weren't spectacularly rich with money to flaunt. They needed that money for supplies and such.

In turn, the woman slammed her palm down on the counter. "Listen here, sonny! You think I'm afraid of the Whitebeard pirates?" she yelled, raising her finger into an accusatory point. Her yelling was enough to make Marco himself take a step back. "I'm not afraid of Edward. I've never been afraid."

Edward? How did she know Pops's real name?

"Don't give me that confused look."

"But-"

"I have my reasons. Now, if you're not paying, you're not paying. Go."

"Excuse me, yoi? You just said-"

"I'll get my payment in due time. You'll see. You'll see." And with those mysterious words, she vanished into the back room.

Deciding to accept whatever it was that just happened, Marco immediately turned in his heel and began his trek out of town. The sooner he left the better.

It was nice to have the feeling of the wind rushing against his phoenix form once again. Though this had been Marco's only form of travel as of late, the feeling never got old. It was nice, and it reminded him of when he and Pops first formed the Whitebeard pirates.

Marco himself had been a young, probably around Ace's age. Whitebeard wasn't as old as he was now, but still old enough for Marco to see him as a father. It had been the two of them at first, but over time, they picked up more and more family members, the first sixteen of them establishing the commander system with Marco as the first mate. No matter how big the crew got, Pops loved every single one of his children. Eventually the crew grew into its size of over 1600 today.

Being with Pops provided Marco with the ultimate feeling of freedom. Admittedly, he had been skeptic of the older man at first, but once he was able to call him his father, he realized that he belonged with Pops. He belonged out on the open seas as a pirate. No longer did his phoenix wings have to remain bound to his home island. This was why flying was so comforting to him. It was a reminder of his family and his freedom.

He would do anything to save this feeling.

That's why it was good that he was on his way again. He had to save Ace to save the family.

But no. That... that was impossible. What was Marco looking at right now? That was the island that he was just on. Marco had already flown away. There was no way that he could have gotten distracted enough to turn around completely.

He would just have to turn back and fly away again.

There it was once more! This could not be happening! Some sort of force keeping him there! He needed to leave! Turn around again! And again! And again!

Yet it was to no avail.

He said he would do anything to save that feeling, and unaware, that feeling was taken from him.

It must be because of that woman.

Considering the circumstances, it would be useless to continue flying. He would only expend more of his already wasted energy.

He flew back down. He needed to settle things with this woman.

"What the hell did you do to me?" Marco hissed, leaning over the counter. Thankfully, the inn remained mostly empty, so Marco could avoid making a scene. When he arrived the woman was sitting there behind the counter, a bored expression on her face.

"Should you really be blaming me?" She shot almost smugly.

"Cut the bullshit! This is because I didn't pay. Isn't it?" Marco interrogated. Frankly, he didn't care much for the answer. He just needed to leave. As stubborn as he was, he did not have the time to fight. "Well guess what? You win. You can have your money." Marco dug a pouch of money out of his bag. "Just break whatever it is you did and I'll be on my way."

The woman did not even glance at the money. "I'm warning you, sonny," she started. "Paying me won't change a damn thing for you."

A growl escaped the back of Marco's throat. He calmed himself. There was no need to be overly vicious. "What do you mean?"

"Fool," she spat.

Marco stepped back feeling a bit insulted. "Excuse me?"

"You came to this island without knowing?"

He stayed quiet.

"This island is easy to find, but hard to leave," she continued. "This is why is full of partiers and drunks."

"That doesn't explain a thing, yoi."

"I wasn't finished!" she barked. Marco decided it was best to remain silent. This woman seemed stronger and more fearless than she looked. "Whether they know it or not, people with questions come here. Big questions. Life-changing ones. Some people never found their answer. They never leave, and they let go of their lives, adapting to this... environment."

There was no way. So Marco should not have been able to find this island in the first place. He did not have any questions. He only had a destination, an end goal. Did that mean...

"I have nothing I need to know," he insisted. "Why is the island keeping me here?"

"Weren't you listening to me?" she sighed. "I said, 'whether they know it or not'. If you don't know what your question is, then it's not my problem."

No way. That confirmed it. There was the possibility that he would be stuck here forever on an island full of dead-ends. There was the possibility that he would become a useless drunk.

He would lose his family... He would lose his freedom...

He would lose Ace.

Marco blacked out.

When Marco came to, he was looking up at the dim lights of his inn room from last night. Something cool rested in his forehead. Presumably a damp cloth. He supposed the innkeeper brought him back to this room since he fainted.

How weak he must have looked! Damn! He was the First Division Commander of the Whitebeard pirates! He could not afford to faint in front of civilians.

"I see you're awake." Marco craned his head. The innkeeper woman was hovering near the bed, sitting in a rickety wooden chair. "I guess it was too much for you," she noted.

"I need to leave," Marco replied immediately, sitting straight up. "I need-"

"Leaving again won't change a thing. You need to find your answer."

"But I don't even know my question!" She had a point though. What could he do? It would be futile to resist. He was supposed to be a responsible adult. Now, all these words made him feel differently. Marco slumped back. "Damn," he muttered bitterly. "I feel like such a kid."

He could have sworn that he saw the innkeeper roll her eyes. "Don't be like that. To me, you're still a child anyways."

Marco scowled. The only person allowed to refer to him that way was Pops, and this woman just called him a child like it was nothing. He was a responsible adult, thank-you very much. She raised an eyebrow in response.

"I'm old, sonny." she answered simply. "Why do you think I refer to your father as Edward?"

It was a fact to be considered. Not many people knew that Pops's real name was Edward Newgate. It was so strange hearing him addressed that way. Even Marco himself did not refer to him as Edward. He had always seen Whitebeard as his father. It would be too strange.

Still, he couldn't help asking, "How do you know Pops?"

"Are you sure you want to know? It's a really boring story."

Why not? It would be interesting to learn more about his father. He silently apologized to the man before nodding at the innkeeper.

"Edward came here alone once, a long time ago," she started. "He was quite fond of the abundance of alcohol," she added.

Marco chuckled. Of course he would be.

"He was very kind to me. Stayed at this inn in this very room."

"Is that why you gave me this room?"

"Quite possibly. Now hush up, sonny."

He really did sound like a child there. Didn't he? Cursing himself mentally, he allowed her to continue.

"His question was... not unusual. It was a question about himself- Well, more like one that others imposed on him." She leaned forward, looking at Marco seriously. "He was entertained by the idea of romancing a woman."

This time, Marco almost burst out laughing. The concept was almost silly. He knew Pops well, and as far as he knew, the man had never been in love like that. Upon seeing the woman's expression, he stopped himself, realizing that the woman was serious about Pops questioning himself about being in love with a woman.

"Seems strange. Doesn't it?"

"Of course it does, yoi," Marco agreed.

"He thought it was strange too, but people thought it was strange that he didn't have a lass hanging off his arm."

Trying to picture that made Marco shudder. Pops may have been a pirate, but he was never one to flirt. The image was quite disturbing.

"He kept asking me what I thought of it, and I tried to give him some advice. In the end, he found the answer for himself. He didn't need my help. The fool was thankful nonetheless." There was a faraway look in the innkeeper's eyes, as if she were remembering these events from years ago fondly. She suddenly snapped back to reality, eyes returning to Marco. "And that's that, sonny." She stood from the chair. "I'm not sure if I can help you find your answer, but maybe you can take a lesson from your father. Now get some rest unless you want to start looking now." She turned to leave.

"Wait!"

She stopped.

"Thank you, uh..." Damn! He had forgotten to ask for her name! How impolite of him.

"Madame Myra to you, sonny," she stated, stopping in the doorway. "Welcome to the Isle de Petere." She walked out, shutting the door behind her.

This Madame Myra was still quite the enigma, but she had helped Marco. He now knew that he needed to find an answer, but to what question? He decided to rest first. That needless flying from earlier had exhausted him.

When Marco woke once more, he could smell food. He sat up to find a tray of soup and bread lying on the small table next to the bed. Just then, he realized how hungry he was. How long had it been since he last ate? He made a mental note to thank Madame Myra later before shifting the tray into his lap and eating. The soup wasn't too amazing, but it still had a nice flavor to it. It was warm and comforting.

When he was finished, he placed the tray back on the table and brushed his clothes off. It was time for him to at least try to find his answer, though he would have to know what his question was first. He would not discover either by sitting in his room.

Madame Myra said she couldn't help him, but it never hurt to try. She was a strange old woman. Surely she would have some sort of advice.

So here he was, leaning over the counter once more. "Whaddya need?" she asked.

"You told me the people on this island are trying to answer their questions." He paused. "Why are you here then?"

Her eyes grew dull, as if she did not want to speak of the events that led to her residence on this island. "What did I tell ya'?" she grumbled. Marco was about to interject to apologize, but she began speaking anyways.

"I ended up here after a storm," she said simply as if she had told this story many times. "Got separated from my husband and son, and I've never been able to leave. And that's it."

Marco frowned. That was not helpful at all. That couldn't be it.

"Don't give me that look, sonny," Madame Myra continued. "There's not much to it."

But something nagged Marco to ask further. "Do you know what happened to your family?"

She sighed. "My husband? Dead. My son? Well…" She quieted as if she was reluctant to answer once more. "I have a few ideas."

Marco could only assume that both of her family members were dead, though her son possibly worse off. It was unlike him to be so rude as to stir up painful memories of family since he himself had many bad experiences with his own. "I apologize."

Madame Myra seemed to have been annoyed with him with the way she rolled her eyes. "Nothing gets accomplished with that, sonny. Now, go! And come back when you're ready." She left her place behind the counter and shoved him out the door, leaving him blinking and confused outside of the small inn.

She was right. He couldn't just stand around. He might as well walk around town for awhile.

Unfortunately, another day had already passed (he was surprised that he had gone that long without eating, but it happened often when he was distracted by work). He was wasting time. He needed to complete this task soon if he wanted to reach Ace.

Despite the time of day, there were still people partying out on the streets. Marco wondered if any of the inhabitants of the island slept. Partying all day and every day was obviously detrimental to one's health. The partiers obviously wouldn't be of any help to him. He really would have to find the answer for himself. And in finding the answer he would know what he had been asking himself all this time.

Where should he start? Well, a walk outside of town would be nice considering the unsightly atmosphere. The smell of alcohol was not good for a clear head. He put his hands in his pockets, turning towards a dirt path leading out of town.

Marco was not sure if he should be surprised or not. The field he found was beautiful compared to the town itself. He supposed it was because people spent their time drinking, leaving the wilderness alone to thrive. Colorful wildflowers of various shades of bright reds and soft blues grew all around him, creating a sight to behold. He could see the sky so clearly from where he was. It was a wonder he didn't spot this place when he first arrived. This environment was good for thought, only noises the ambiance of nature left to listen to.

He found the perfect place to think on the beach the field opened up to. He stood in the shallows, letting the cool water lap at his ankles (he removed his shoes prior of course). In such a time, staying connected with the sea, his calling as a pirate, really helped clear his thoughts. It was time to figure things out. Marco was a logical man. He could do this.

One: He must have been thinking of his question beforehand. Marco had been around this area of the Grand Line, and this island had not been here before. It could be concluded that the question itself served as a trigger for finding the island. This limited his options.

Two: And he was cursing himself for this one. Pops knew. Marco remembered that when he left the ship, Pops had told him, "You will find your answer soon." How could he have possibly have known that this was going to happen? Maybe that was not as impossible as it seemed when Marco considered that Pops had visited the island before. They would talk about this when he got back.

Three: If Madame Myra said that he should take a lesson from Pops, then maybe his own question related to what Pops's question was. Pops's question was about a woman, and Marco couldn't think of anytime recently when he met a woman that he particularly liked. But on terms of actual attraction, he could only think of one person.

Ace. There was no one else this could be about.

Their relationship had been rocky for the past month now even though they never had a definitive relationship. Whatever was between them, it mostly consisted of sex, though they still regarded each other as family, which neither Marco nor Ace was entirely opposed to.

Marco vividly remembered when he first found out the existence of this burning attraction that existed between them.

It was a pleasant day out, so the many of the crew decided to stay above deck. This included both Marco and Ace, who, at the time, were on opposite ends of the ship, but from Marco's position overlooking the lower deck, he could still see Ace perfectly. Ace, who had been shirtless as always, decided to train, showing off his toned body.

Marco couldn't help his staring, though he was completely aware of Izo's presence next to him. Thankfully, he was busy sipping on a cup of tea, so he didn't make any remarks about this. That unfortunately changed when Thatch approached, saying, "He wants to suck your dick, you know."

He had been addressing Marco, but his words still made Izo spit out his tea, gasping at his blunt vulgarity. "Thatch!" he had growled, setting his tea down on the railing. "Must you be so inappropriate? I'm sure Marco could have figured it out on his own."

The cook merely shrugged, choosing to ignore this opinion. "Not with that stare."

Izo opened his mouth to chastise Thatch once more, but Marco decided to take over this conversation. It concerned him after all. "My attraction to Ace is none of your business. Neither is Ace's attraction to me."

"So you know it exists, but you still won't make a move? See, Izo? He does need my help!"

"Somehow, I doubt that, dear. Though I do agree that he needs a little push."

"You too, Izo?"

"Oh, Marco," Izo sighed. "You think I don't see the way you look at him? Everyone does. Even Ace himself. There's obviously something…"

He was right. There had been a tense, sexual air around them both ever since Ace was put on this ship. It was easily ignored at first, but now that Ace was a commander, they were closer than ever. Glances became more lustful, words became more teasing, and touches became more intimate. Their desire was about to become a dance, a hot dance, burning with their flames fueled by desire. Marco most certainly wanted to see that hot body underneath him, and he was sure Ace wouldn't mind as well. It wouldn't hurt to try. Now would it?

That night, due to the coaxing of his brothers, he approached Ace. They ran into each other in the hallway between commanders' rooms, and conveniently, they were alone. He wasn't quite sure how he should start off. Ace ended up starting for him, biting his lip seductively. Marco, without a doubt, knew that Ace already figured out what he was here for.

"Hey~" he whispered. He stepped closer, dangerously closer. Their bodies were almost touching.

"Hey, yourself," Marco whispered back. He moved his hands down to grab Ace's hips. This stopped Ace's advances, but he no longer needed any. Ace countered by moving his hands up along Marco's tattoo, lightly brushing over his nipples.

"How long are we gonna play this game, pineapple?" he asked teasingly.

"Ace." Marco brought their faces close so that their lips were practically touching. His grip slid down further, so his hands were somewhere that would prove less than desirable to a passerby (though to Marco, it was exactly what he desired). "We're just getting started, yoi."

With that, he claimed Ace with a forceful kiss, stealing the his breath. They somehow made their way into Marco's room with all of their clothes on. That would be the first of many nights they would spend together: moaning each other's names in hot, rough, dirty, sex. Nothing pure, nothing innocent.

Marco had been annoyed at the time, but now he looked back on the memory with fondness. It was when he finally decided to indulge his and Ace's desires thanks to Thatch and Izo. Their only desires at the time had been touch coupled with mind blowing pleasure. It started with only once a week, but eventually they wanted more until they were finally sharing a room, so they could satisfy themselves whenever they wanted. Yes. Their relationship remained strictly physical, and yet…

His dream. Ace confessed to him.

The confession was sudden. He saw no reason as to why Ace would suddenly want a change in their relationship. As pirates, they had no time for such a thing as romance. That's why their relationship was the way it was. That's why Marco agreed to satisfy the physical desire but not the emotional one. Marco was serious with work, so Ace should have understood this. He had no reason to be angry or upset with Marco specifically for not returning his feelings, yet, despite all the other things happening right now, he was.

None of it made sense. He guessed that after all this time, Ace was still an anomaly to him. What should he have expected? Ace had been a teenager (though he was now twenty). It was likely he was still experiencing such things as hormones and mood swings. That's what his love confession must have been: something spontaneous with no real feeling behind it.

Ace didn't love him, but if that was true, how come that fact made Marco's heart hurt?

Marco turned away abruptly, rubbing at his temples. Gods. He didn't want to think on this any further. He needed to drown it all out. He needed a drink. As much as he did not want to leave this beautiful field for the squalid surroundings of the town, he really needed a drink. He was a pirate. He could handle the place.

The bar he entered was still fairly crowded, but it the quietest one he could find. Many people sat in groups and few tables remained vacant. There were a couple of empty barstools: a perfect place for Marco to mope alone.

He started off by downing a good glass of rum. Downing this was like drowning his feelings, drowning his pain. It would be a good way to pass time until he worked up an answer.

Why would Ace love him anyways? What they had was a pure attraction of fire, nothing else. Surely he was just desperate to continue and wanting for sex. Ace was young and free, but for some reason, he directed his attention at Marco. He had no need to. Ace could probably get whomever he chose. Their relationship was just a way to satisfy desires. Marco took another swig of his drink as, once again, a pang of hurt pounded in his heart.

Why? Why? Why did it hurt? All these wild emotions swirling around in his mind made him want to yell and slam his glass on the ground, but thankfully, he had a good hold on his self-control. His frustration remained though. There was still something in the way.

"Hey there, handsome," a sultry voice purred in his ear.

Marco hadn't even noticed the woman approach, but she was much too close for his comfort. She leaned against the counter, displaying her voluptuous assets, not that Marco was affected very much. A sharp, manicured fingernail ran over his bicep lightly in a seductive manner. It was obvious what she wanted. He was reminded a bit of... that night.

The night that Ace confessed.

His eyes silently widened in shock. How? How could he have forgotten? Had he been too busy drinking to notice?

That night... He never noticed, yet he was truly remembering now. He decided to get drunk that night and Ace? Ace had been there.

He must have missed it the first time, but he was certain that this was the truth. The night had been like this one, in a semi-crowded bar with Marco nursing a drink quietly, and just like this night a woman approached him trying to get him into one of the poor quality rooms upstairs for a little "private time". Then, as Marco hardly remembered it, Ace's presence briefly flickered at the edge of his senses.

All of this was Marco's fault. Ace saw him that night with that woman, and that's why he confessed. Because he was jealous. Because there was something there. Marco was a fool for not seeing it in the first place.

And he was also a fool for not realizing why he was drinking that night.

He was drinking because he was worried about Ace. They had been docked at one of their islands, and Ace had yet to return from his mission. He was a week late. None of the others stressed over it as much as Marco had. They reassured him that Ace would be fine, but he couldn't stop worrying. He couldn't get Ace out of his mind. His burning fire. His beaming smile. Everything, everything perfect. Ace distracted him even when he wasn't there. Marco had to do something to take his mind off of him!

So he drank, and in his haste to forget, he hurt the one he truly wanted. Ace wasn't the only one who desired an emotional bond. Marco had as well.

He loved Ace.

The woman's hand crept down his body, and Marco, finally broken out of his trance, stopped it with a firm grasp. This is what happened the first time. He couldn't allow this to happen again.

"Not interested," he stated adamantly, no hint of apology in his voice. He shoved his chair out and stood. "I already have someone to love, yoi."

"Slow down, sonny!"

When Marco got back to the inn, he rushed upstairs. Curious, Madame Myra followed him. He was gathering his things. He needed to get to Ace now more than ever.

"You found you answer?"

Complying with her earlier command, he stopped packing his things to answer. "Yes, I have. I'm surprised that I didn't realize it sooner actually."

"Most people never do," Madame Myra snorted. "Consider yourself lucky."

"It's easy to see why people become the way they do here," Marco mused. He returned to his packing. "Even took a few drinks-"

He was cut off when Madame Myra smacked the back of his head.

"Hey!" He turned back to her only to see that she was glaring.

"You drank? And you're going to leave like that? Are you sure you didn't lose your head, sonny?" Her questions came rapidly like a formal interrogation.

"You have no reason to be concerned, Madame. I am a pirate. I am plenty experienced with alcohol."

"You're staying the night." This was not a question.

Marco shook his head. "I need to leave, yoi. There's someone who-"

She growled and slammed a fist against the wall. Marco jumped. "Didn't you hear me the first time? Now go to bed before I knock you out myself."

He gulped. He may have been a strong pirate who has dealt with sea monsters and fierce adversaries, but he knew that defying a woman's concern was more than bad idea. He learned this from the nurses, and considering Madame Myra's attitude, he wasn't going to even consider refusing a second time. He wanted to return to Ace in one piece, thank you very much. "Th-thank you for your hospitality."

Marco was all ready to leave in the morning when Madame Myra slammed a newspaper down in front of him.

"What's this?"

"That's one of your crew mates isn't it?" she asked. "I thought you would find it interesting."

He took it and folded it open.

Fire Fist Ace Spotted in Alabasta!

The infamous former rookie has returned to Paradise! It's well known that he quickly made a name for himself, joining the Whitebeard pirates a few years back and becoming a commander. Is he on a mission for the emperor? What business could he have in the first half of the Grand Line? Stay on high alert. Things might get ugly soon.

Marco saw that there was more to read in the article, but it did not matter to him. Whatever Ace was doing in Alabasta had nothing to do with the crew. People always assumed the worst. At least this gave him a hint of where to go.

"Well?"

He closed the paper. "You've been very helpful, yoi. I want to thank you for everything you've done." Despite his short stay, he wouldn't have realized that he loved Ace if she hadn't set him on the right path. Marco bowed low in gratitude.

"None of that here, sonny," she said. He stood up straight once more to see that Madame Myra was looking away, embarrassed from the amount of respect Marco had shown her.

"I mean it though."

"Are you gonna stand here talking, or are you going to go after your answer?"

Madame Myra followed him to the edge of town to see him off. Marco didn't seem to mind. He had only known her for a few days, but there was a certain trust now between them. There was no waving, nor were there tearful goodbyes. He was not one for such things and he could tell that she was not one for such things either. She stood there silently, but she was smiling.

"I have one more question," Marco asked. He had been wondering this for a while now. "Were you in love with Pops?"

At first, he thought he was too quiet or rude, but eventually Madame Myra answered. "I loved your father in more ways than you know."

He wasn't quite sure what to say, so he elected to stay silent.

This time, Isle de Petere did not appear again to hold him back. He was free. He had found his answer.

Ace was his answer.