Title: Aches

Summary: Luffy doesn't notice how much of his life is filled with Ace until he's gone.

Disclaimer: I don't own One Piece or any of its characters

At first he doesn't really understand why eating meat right off the bone or climbing trees or any number of other things he used to love now make his scar ache and remind him of sticky too hot blood coating his hands. He still does them of course, because he loves them and he loves his crew, and since he's the captain he can't let his crew worry about him, not when they all have their own scars.

Their happiness is the most important thing, he decides, and so he still does all the things he used to love but now make his scar ache and his hands drip blood.

For a long time fire and freckles and dark haired older brothers make his heart clench with everything he's lost at the same time it reminds him of everything he still has, but in time, the pain fades, because he knows there's no use in thinking about the past, no use remembering something that doesn't matter anymore. So after fire and freckles and dark haired older brothers stop reminding him, he doesn't understand why everything still hurts so much.

He's running from the angry owner of the diner he just dashed from when he realizes his chest hurts and his hands are running red, and as he takes a quick turn onto a crowded street he can't help but think, It's all my fault.

Just as quickly as it comes though, he stamps it out, No, it wasn't. There was nothing I could do.

He knows there's nothing to be guilty about, he's been told so a million times, and he believes it, he really does. So why can he still feel it burning in his chest? He's supposed to be over this, he thought he was. So why? Why did it still hurt? Why couldn't he just believe it when someone said it wasn't his fault?

Slowing to a stop, he stands in the middle of the street, wide brimmed hat shadowing his eyes. The crowd parts around him, perhaps recognizing him, maybe unconsciously avoiding the pain and confusion he seems to radiate. Either way, the world fades away and suddenly it's just him and that awful ache that should be long gone.

It should have been me. That nagging voice is back, and even if it's true he still tries. He wanted me to live.

He's sure of that, at least. Sure that the one he sees in fire and freckles and dark haired older brothers wouldn't have done that if he hadn't meant to save. It still doesn't detract from the original point though, no matter how much he wishes it would. Even if he wanted him to live, he did, there was no doubt, it still couldn't stop him from realizing he shouldn't have.

He wanted me to live, he repeats, like that will somehow make it truer than the other truth. There was nothing I could have done.

He tenses suddenly at that, because even if the first one is true, and he doesn't think he could take it if it wasn't, the second one is also true. True in a way that makes the aching worse, makes him think he can feel the pressure of tears behind his eyes, if only there were any left to shed.

It's true, but it shouldn't have been.

I was too weak, he thinks, and there's no refuting it because that's what the training was for. That also is true. That event showed him he wasn't strong enough, there was nothing he could do, but now he can.

I couldn't when it mattered. And that also is true, but it seems to sting less than thoughts of he shouldn't have, he didn't have too, he did even though it defeated the entire purpose of going. So he goes with it, because even if he should have been strong enough when it made a difference, at least it was something he could fix. Now, he is strong enough. Even though he couldn't then, he can now. That will never happen again, he'll make sure it won't.

But it still doesn't seem to be enough. He still can't shake the cloud of guilt thickening overhead, but he thinks at this point trying might just make it worse. Like he's trying to forget him. So instead he does another thing he should have gotten over long ago.

He remembers the promise he made. Maybe not in the way promises usually are, but said with all the conviction of one. I'll save you even if it kills me. It almost happens.

He remembers holding him in his arms, his vision blurred by sweat and tears and exhaustion that should have long since stopped him. He holds him and denies. He's fine, he tells himself, he's going to be okay, there's no way he'd die like this, not after everything else. And he almost believes it, until he looks down at his hands and sees how red they are, covered in blood he knows isn't his, blood that no amount of wishing will make his.

He's gone. But he knew that already. It's different now though, he's sure it is. He just doesn't know how. He can't forget though, can't just brush this all aside and pretend it doesn't matter anymore because it does.

It's then he realizes why everything makes his scar ache and his hands run red and reminds him of fire and freckles and dark haired older brothers. It's then he knows why every time he's told himself it's in the past, it just feels like an excuse.

I know it's pretty OOC, but I like to think this is something even someone like Luffy would need a while to work with. Unfortunately, it does pretty much ignore everything I know about Straw Hat Logic, but when I really thought about it, that has more to do with faith in the abilities of your Nakama or things having to do with possibility than it does with dealing with grief.

Also sorry if my insistence on the pronoun game was kind of confusing for this one, not all of them are going to be like this I swear.

Anyway, any feed back on this would very much appreciated. I'm not all that good at writing angst and I don't have a whole lot of practice, so I'm not really sure how this turned out.