Chapter 22: (Hey guys! I have absolutely nothing of value to say here!

Wolfgirl1272: Gabriel Gowdel is the patron saint of children. Hence, the name was 'perfect' :) Aww, thanks, and I'm sorry. Thanks because that means the emotional pitch was right, but sorry for making you cry! :(

E: Don't worry, Wonderland will be coming along shortly. We've got maybe…2 more chapters (including this one) until Ace goes into it for the first time. But Marco, Whitebeard, and Thatch won't be left to explore it for another while…about…3-4 chapters after that or so? Depends on how long each chapter is.

The unknown: Thank you so much! I'm glad you're enjoying it :) Wow…sadistic/morbid much? I think you're the first one to ask for that. Not that I'm judging you (I'm pretty morbid/sadistic myself to be writing this). Hope this chapter's up soon enough for you!

WARNING: This chapter is rated T borderline M for VIOLENCE.

And now, ON WITH THE CHAPTER!)

Sabo stared at Gabriel's body. He hadn't been able to hear the quiet words Ace had shared with the man before he died, but he could see the peaceful expression on his face and knew Ace had found a way to make him happy, in his last moments. The cellblock was silent, Ace apparently wrapped in his own thoughts.

And then Ace screamed.

Sabo flinched at the sound. It was a primal noise, pure and unadulterated emotion. In it, Sabo heard Ace's sorrow, Ace's pain, Ace's loneliness. But he also heard Ace's guilt. Lots and lots of guilt. Sabo crawled over to the bars, making a futile attempt to get a look at Ace through the bars.

"Ace! Ace, what's wrong?" He heard the noises of Ace shifting around in the cell next to his. Ace was close to the bars, close to Sabo.

"It's…It's my fault. He's dead and it's all my fault." Ace's voice was uneven and broken, grief and remorse tearing him to pieces. Sabo felt his heat constrict, hearing that raw mass of pain in his brother's voice. He wanted nothing more than to go into Ace's cell and hold him, comfort him, anything to make that pain go away.

"Ace, no, it's not your fault. He-"

"But it is my fault, Sabo! If he hadn't shot me he wouldn't have felt bad and wanted to make it up to me! It's my damn fault that he's never going to see his little boy again! It's my fault that a 6-year-old boy has to grow up without a father! It's all. My. Damn. Fault!" There was so much self-loathing in Ace's voice, so much hatred for his existence.

"No, Ace! Damn it, shut up!" Sabo's voice went hard. He wasn't really angry, but he had to get through to Ace. His tone surprised Ace into silence, and Sabo resumed speaking, voice soft. "No. It's not your fault. It's Hare's fault. Hare's the one that pulled the trigger, Hare's the one that wouldn't feed us so that Gabriel had to, Hare's the one that put you here in the first place. You made Gabriel happy. Took away any fear he might have felt in his last moments. That's a great gift, Ace. The greatest you could have ever given him. He'd be grateful, if he were here."

Silence fell over the pair for a moment.

"…How do you do it, Sabo? How do you possibly stay sane in this hell? When you've lost everything, when there is nothing left to hold dear, how do you keep from collapsing?" Ace's voice was quiet, the hatred and anger gone. Now there was just hollowness, fragility.

"Everyone finds their own way." Sabo's voice was equally quiet. "As for me…well…" A slight blush crept to his cheeks. It was ridiculous, he knew, being embarrassed in a place like this, but he did feel a touch of self-consciousness. "…I write poetry."

"Really?" There was interest in Ace's voice, and Sabo could hear Ace moving around in his cell, coming to lean against the wall that separated them.

"Yeah. I know it may sound kind of…weak or effeminate, but-"

"No. Why should a beautiful manipulation of our language be considered girly?" There was a pause, an intake of breath. Sabo glanced out the bars and saw blood spreading slowly on the floor. It wasn't Gabriel's.

"Ace? Ace, what's going on? You're losing way too much blood! Why are you bleeding?" Sabo, upon seeing the blood, had instantly gone on high alert, concern and worry thrilling through him.

"It's…It's nothing, Sabo. The bullet wound just opened again. I'm…fine." His voice was quiet and breathy, and Sabo felt desperation setting in. Over the time here, Ace had lost way more blood than was healthy and that his body could replace given the amount of food they got each day. No doubt Hare had made him bleed today, and while he was always careful not to make either of them bleed to the point of death, the damage he did today plus this new blood loss was dangerous. Really, really dangerous. "…I'm tired, Sabo."

"No, Ace! Don't go to sleep! I need you to stay awake, okay?" If Ace fell asleep, chances were good that he wouldn't wake up again. And Sabo couldn't do it. He couldn't lose someone else. He had been able to hide behind pretty words and careful phrases through the loss of his family, his home, his world, but it wouldn't be enough, not if he lost Ace. You don't know despair until you know hope, and Ace had given him that hope. Promising him a little brother, a new home, a new life. Sabo couldn't live without it, now that he had had a taste. "Ace, you have to stay awake, seriously! Stay awake!" Sabo's desperation was overriding everything else.

"…It's very, very dark in here, Sabo… Why is it so dark…?"

"Ace, stay awake! Please, Ace!" Sabo felt tears beginning to roll down his face, a choked sob escaping his chest. "Please…"

"Sabo? Why are you…crying?" Ace sounded more aware, after hearing Sabo's sob. He sounded worried.

"If you…If you sleep, Ace, you probably won't wake up. And I can't do it! I can't go back to being alone! You're my family, you and Luffy, and your home is mine, remember? That's what you said! But…But it won't be a home unless all of us are in it. So don't…don't leave me. Please."

"…Okay." Again, Sabo could hear Ace shifting in his cell. "Do you…Could you help me stay awake?"

"How?" Anything. He'd do anything. Anything to keep Ace here.

"…Read me your poems." Sabo blinked in surprise. He'd never actually shared his poetry with anyone. His parents had been disinterested in his existence and hadn't wasted their oh so precious time to hear their son's work, and he'd never had any real friends. Nobody had ever cared enough to see the world through the lens of Sabo's perspective. But now someone did, someone cared. Someone who would actually understand what he was saying. Just as he had understood what Ace meant by the sound of the waves, he knew that Ace would understand what he saw in the world.

"…Okay." Sabo crawled to the back of his cell, back to the mound of fabric that was his coat. He rummaged in it until he found the breast pocket and from it he drew a small, faded, brown leather notebook. He crawled back towards the bars, leaning against the wall opposite Ace. He swallowed, flipping back the front cover and title page, going to the first poem he had recorded there. He'd had this notebook for years now, writing in it late at night after days, weeks, months, years of being pushed aside, belittled, and ignored. And there they were. Words shining in faded and lightly smudged black ink. His friends, his companions on those lonely, candle-glow nights. He took a deep breath.

"Shape and Form

And so the moon returning is like geese and a paper lily.
Through papyrus I have seen your silhouette.
In my mind you stand couched in the channel of my sorrow and
I do not dream of you anymore.

You tell me a duck's quack doesn't echo and
that elephants don't know how to swim and I think
you must be unaware a dragonfly really is a monster,
all we have left.

The summer goes, pear blossoms on the water
tell me their secrets and I dapple them, shade with glowing words
the promise of a place below the muck
where loons are loose-silt angels and so

the moon that wanes is more like darkening hills.
My love-poem is steam above the kettle and a flock of carved umber
letters I could never form as well as you.
Migrating. The way geese sing.

I wonder how it is up where I could not breathe.
To fly in the delicate sipping-bowl of twilight.
I wanted a world where adventure was more than loving you where
solitude tasted like tangerine.

And a moon gone is my memory of you
that wavers in swan-disturbed reflection a thousand
universes—broken china teacups on the floor.
I cut my hands, bead blood at the edge of the floorboard river,
bend to supplicate that lanterns could take the shape of wings
and show me in illuminated sandalwood
the way to you."

The final words hung in the air, glowing, shining, iridescent as they were on the night they were written.

"…It's beautiful." Ace's words held complete awe and Sabo felt special, Sabo felt important, Sabo felt truly seen for the first time in his life. There was a slight pause, as if Ace were lost in the words. Then he spoke again. "Could you read me another one?" He sounded uncertain, as if he were asking a great favor of someone high above him. Sabo felt tears of joy prick at his eyes for the recognition and the appreciation in that request, in that voice. His heart was full to bursting.

"Yeah. Yeah I can." All this time, no one had wanted to see him, no one had cared to look at him and now Ace was here, wanting to know more of him, wanting to see more of Sabo's world, more of the strange beauty that Sabo sketched in simile and sleepless nights. Sabo turned to the next page.

They stayed up all night. Sabo wouldn't risk Ace sleeping, and so he read him poetry hour after hour. After every poem, he would have a brief conversation with Ace to keep him engaged and make sure he was still awake. Finally the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs floated the two of them out of a quiet conversation about one metaphor Sabo had used in a poem and both looked up to see Hare coming down the stairs. His face was calm, devoid of all emotion, as usual. He stopped at Gabriel's body and nudged it with a booted toe. Sabo felt outrage rise in him. Hare bent down and checked for a pulse on Gabriel, and finding none motioned to several men in the hallway. They came and picked up the body, dragging it away on the floor.

"You bastards, you've already taken his life, leave him is dignity at least!" Hare turned to Ace sharply at that, looking at him coldly.

"Does a sack of dead cells deserve the title of human? And who said humans had dignity in the first place?" Hare moved to enter Ace's cage and Ace dragged himself back, away from him. Sabo pressed forwards, pushing his head against the bars.

"No, wait, stop! You can't! He's lost too much blood! Any more will kill him!" Hare stopped and turned to look at Sabo. Sabo looked back up at him, eyes wide, fearful, and desperate. Hare looked back to Ace and took in the blood caked to his chest and arm from his shoulder's bleeding last night and the fairly expansive bloodstain on the floor. Annoyance crossed his face. He sighed, turning as if to walk away, but stopped. He turned again, once more facing Ace's cell. There was a small smile on his face. He looked at Sabo.

"If the blood loss is really bothering you that much, would you like me to make it stop? I could cauterize this too." Sabo's eyes widened. Hare began walking towards Ace's cell's door once again, and Sabo reached out desperately, trying to get him to stop.

"No, don't! Stop!" He managed to grab the edge of Hare's coat and Hare came to a stop, turning to look at Sabo.

"What's this? Friendship?" He looked between Sabo and Ace. He crouched down and grabbed a fistful of Sabo's hair through the bars, pulling on it painfully. Sabo winced but continued to meet Hare's eyes. Hare was looking into his face, studying him closely. "Now that's interesting. That's very interesting. You haven't looked me in the eye in a week. So, what changed?" Sabo swallowed and didn't respond. Hare glanced back at Ace's widened eyes, then back to Sabo. A smile found its way to his face once more. "…Would you like to make a deal, then? Take his place for today. If you agree, I won't lay a finger on him until tomorrow." Sabo stared into Hare's cold eyes. He swallowed.

"Done."

"No, Sabo, don't you dare do this! I'm fine! Please, Sabo! I don't want this!" Ace's voice was full of anguish. Sabo knew what he was doing would hurt Ace, but he couldn't bear to watch Ace die.

"Do it. I'll take his place for today." Hare released Sabo's head and Sabo just caught himself before his head collided with the floor. He heard Hare opening the door to his cell and felt his usual fear uncoiling itself from the pit of his stomach. He took a deep breath and turned to face Hare. Hare crouched down in front of Sabo, grabbing him by the throat and pushing him against the wall. Sabo struggled to breathe, trying to loosen Hare's grip with his own hands. Hare brought his face closer to Sabo's and Sabo froze.

"You know you won't survive this. It's not like you have very much blood left in you either." Sabo swallowed and nodded.

"I know." Hare smiled and punched Sabo hard across the face. He released his neck at the same time and Sabo's head collided with the floor, hard. He automatically let out a small cry of pain, hovering on the very border of unconsciousness. Hare grabbed a fistful of Sabo's hair and began dragging him across the floor, Sabo to busy pushing away the darkness clouding his vision to fight back.

When Sabo came back to his senses, both his wrists were shackled to the wall behind him and he was in a sitting position. Hare was in front of him, standing with his back to Sabo. For a moment, Sabo thought that maybe he had made it through and he had managed to survive the day, but then Hare turned back around and Sabo's dread returned.

Hare was holding a scalpel.

Sabo pressed back against the wall as Hare drew closer, his breathing growing fast, bordering on hyperventilation. His terror was tightened like a vice around his heart and when Hare crouched in front of him again, Sabo shut his eyes.

"Open your eyes." Sabo automatically obeyed Hare's command, instinctively trying to appease the danger before him. He watched as Hare slowly raised the knife, Sabo's head shying away from the object impulsively. Hare scowled and grabbed Sabo's hair again, holding him still.

The knife punctured his skin on his jaw, just below his ear. Sabo gasped in surprise and pain as the knife began tracing the underside of his jawbone, moving unhurriedly through his flesh. Eventually the knife reached the end of his jaw just below his other ear, but it didn't stop there. Blood leaked down Sabo's neck from the fine cut on the underside of his chin as the knife continued up, past his ear, just below his hairline, tracing the outline of his face until it reconnected with the beginning of the cut.

The knife paused and Sabo took the moment of respite to gather his strength. Hare then angled the knife and Sabo gasped in pain. Now the knife was parallel to Sabo's skin, but underneath it. The process began again, Hare tracing the same cut but this time the knife was under Sabo's skin, pulling it away. Sabo couldn't hold back his screams this time. After what felt an eternity, the knife had finished its circuit. Again there was a moments respite and for a moment, Sabo's screams stopped. Hot blood was flowing down his neck and chest and he could hear Ace calling his name, desperation and panic filling his voice.

The blade of the scalpel was small, no more than an inch and a half long, so Hare would have to repeat the process several times before he was completely finished. A minor annoyance, really, but Ace seemed to be responding well. Hare grinned to himself, hearing the terror and pain in Ace's voice. I've almost got him. He'll break shortly. Hare lowered the knife once more, digging it deeper under Sabo's skin. Sabo screamed again beneath him, but Hare also heard Ace's screaming renew, calling for Sabo to hold on, to stay with him. Sabo's blood was everywhere, staining Hare's hands, staining the floor, clotting Hare's once white uniform with red. Again and again the knife dug further and further under Sabo's skin, and Sabo's screams only intensified as time went on. Sabo began to feel himself slipping, the darkness floating at the edges of his vision no longer actual shadows. He swallowed thickly. So this is how I'm going to die.

Sabo knew this was it. The darkness was closing at his vision, shadows claiming the boy who wrote poetry on candle-glow nights. The pain was growing distant, his screams echoing off the walls growing vague and unimportant. One more then?Words formed themselves sluggishly in his brain, glowing gently and pushing the darkness back. The final opus. And the title? The words, his friends, his companions, asked in hushed, excited tones. …I don't know. You name it. Our final masterpiece deserves something obscure, don't you think? Something as bizarre and irrelevant as this world? …Yes. But it's about me, too. So. To you, what am I? The words laughed and twirled. Oh but don't you know? They smiled and leapt across his mind, a ballerina in wax and lace. She came to a stop just behind Sabo's eyes, smiling playfully. You're a crab. Just a little crab on the beach, swept and tossed by the tide. To the world you are disposable and unimportant and just like all the other little crabs. But sometimes one crab is allowed to meet another. Sometimes you find another little crab and together you become two little crabs instead of just one. Tell me, little crab, did you ever become two little crabs? …Yes. I did. Dark hair, hazel-grey eyes, somewhat childish freckles. Two little crabs. Two little crabs thrown against the rocks. That's what we were.

I learn the art of counting backwards.
Toes splayed: one, three, four.

I wish I could hear my own voice press
the delicate cockle-shell of my ear up
to the worn cave where my heart forgets to sing.

Hopscotch time, move to step on cracks and feel
my mother's spine
just underfoot.

Sadness is
a delicate crab-shell that gusts along the dirtied coin
of seashore.
The husk of bitter things
I pick and wonder at:
The way claws move the
baubles of eye-dark I

am reflected there.
Without my ears, my skin—
dull clown it makes of me, that shell!

Dull clown…

I'll never get to meet Luffy. I'll never get to see our home. I'll never smell the cacophony of spring wildflowers or taste the cold, starlit winter as Orion patrols, standing sentinel over the cosmos. I'll never see the island afire in shades of autumn and frost, and the mist will never flow at my feet after the rains. Tears pricked at Sabo's eyes, the bittersweet of a future lost biting him. But, Ace. I can hear the waves. I hear them breaking on the cliffs. Sabo's eyes drifted closed, a grin coming to his face even as the salt of his tears burned him. You're right. Freedom is a beautiful sound.

Four
Three
One

Zero.

I learn the art of counting backwards.

(Line, line, line, line, line, line, line, line, line, line, line, line, line, line, line, line, line)

(A/N: :'( *sniff* …Sabo…*sniff**sniff* Please tell me his death was at least mildly tragic. I hope so. I deeply, DEEPLY apologize if it wasn't. Sabo deserves a tragic death, so I'm sorry if I screwed it up. I'd like to give a MAJOR, MAJOR, MAJOR thank you to OperaRose94 for letting me use her absolutely BEAUTIFUL poetry. I hope you guys like it as much as I do, because it DESERVES RECOGNITION. I wish I was as good at poetry… oh well. Anyways, no bonus question this time, sorry. Next chapter will hopefully bring us into Wonderland! Hopefully. Probably. We'll see. Anyways, see you guys next chapter! ~Mountain97)