Kill the Rabbit Chapter 32, an one piece fanfic

Chapter 32: (Hello once again! Got something…special for you all. Welcome, dear readers, to SUPERCHAPTER. It's been a while since my last especially long chapter, so I thought I'd give you a nice lengthy one before Winter Break ended. :) Glad you guys liked the last chapter! I…don't really have anything to say here, so I'll just let the chapter speak for itself.

Panda bear: Wow. I'd recommend reading the book. The original (animated) Disney movie isn't terribly far from what happens, but it cuts out a few things. Soul Eater's freaking amazing. I preferred the anime over the manga because the manga's art style REALLY annoyed me…everyone just looked so derpy… Hahahaha yup. My thoughts exactly. (JK) Thank you! Glad you enjoyed it. C:

LordOfCamels: Hahahahahahaha thank you! Glad you enjoyed the chapter, and you absolutely HAVE to se Les Mis. Each inhabitant represents a certain part of Ace's mind. I'm going to go through later and find a way to tell you guys all who's who. Well…you'll find out later. That's all I can say without feeling like I'm spoiling something. Thank you! I'm glad that turned out well. :) Hahahahahaha it's so much FUN to write cliffhangers! Hope this is out soon enough for you.

Little: Hahaha quite. XD Poor Ace…he's in desperate need of a hug. Well, you caught several unintentional ones, ones even I didn't notice, so props to you! :D Thank you! Glad you enjoyed it. He was only trying to help, but in this instance you're right. He did do more harm than good. And you're right, Ace will have a hard time trusting him again. Thank you! Well…you're kinda right I guess… ^u^; but like you said, in order to give you a complete picture Whitebeard and co. shouldn't technically be able to see/hear anything while Ace is unconscious. This is third person omniscient, though, so you get stuff from other perspectives besides theirs i.e. Shanks, Ricky, etc. so it does make some sense that you see stuff from the past that Whitebeard, Marco, and Thatch don't. Thank you! Happy New Year to you as well! (I will definitely try to fill it with updates. ;D)

There's some probably incorrect medical info in here. Just to warn you.

This chapter has been rated T PLUS for STRONG LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE, and SEXUAL REFERENCE (RAPE MENTION).

And now, ON WITH THE CHAPTER.)

Shanks was about to yell again for their doctor, clutching at what he prayed wasn't Ace's corpse. Just as he opened his mouth to call out, he heard fast approaching footsteps, not quite at a sprint but close. He had just begun to turn his head to look at Ricky, who he was sure had just entered, when he felt the other person crouch, right beside him.

"Let me see." The voice was an absolute command, no question or hesitation in the words whatsoever. Shanks, in a state of emotional trauma as he was, was practically buffeted by the words, in too much shock to question or disobey. Shanks was swept aside, Ace's limp form pulled from his loosened grip.

He could only watch as Ace's body was laid flat on the floor on his back.

Cold blue eyes swept over the boy, taking in the makeshift bandaging on the left arm. An eyebrow raised upon noticing the red handprint on the right side of Ace's face, his mind instantly calculating the force of the blow necessary to leave a mark like that, and a glance at the pirate captain and his expression told him he hadn't noticed it yet, but there was no time for asking about that. The eyes darted around the room, taking in the amount of blood on the wall and pooled on the floor. They didn't have much time before Ace would be beyond helping.

He reached down and began unwinding the bandaging from around Ace's arm. It was then that Shanks seemed to rouse a little bit and he practically jump-tackled him to the ground, shoving him away from Ace with more than a little force.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Shanks' eyes widened as he looked at the man for the first time. "Who are you?" There was a low, dangerous quality to his voice. He was in full-blown save-my-friend-from-everything mode and it wouldn't take much to set him off.

The cold blue eyes gathered all of that from the posture and voice of the captain, and his mind both stored away that information for later and began forming a plan of action based on others who he'd encountered in similar emotional states. He also drew out the lie he'd created, reminding himself of the name and identity he'd assumed. Briefly he considered the man it was based on, comparing and contrasting the false identity with the man who'd really existed, but discarded this as useless. Accuracy didn't matter when the person you're impersonating isn't alive anymore and nobody here had ever met him. Well…nobody currently conscious had met him.

He was Gabriel Gowdel, a marine drafted from his home in East Blue. He didn't want to be a marine. He was cowardly, a ship's doctor who never involved himself in combat. He'd been a marine for 2 months. His mind studied this, instantly forcing his shoulders to assume the tension of a nervous or frightened man. He retracted his neck a bit, bringing his head closer to his shoulders, adding to the nervousness he portrayed through body language. He widened his eyes a bit more than was natural, displaying more of the whites around the chilling blue irises.

This all took place in less than a second.

"P-Please! I can help him! I'm a doctor, I know what I'm doing!" Stuttering was always a good way to convey fear, but you couldn't overdo it. He needed to be at least a little assertive in this situation in order to convey enough confidence to be believable in his knowledge of how to help. He watched calmly from behind his eyes, gauging the pirate's reaction. Shanks was still bent protectively over Ace, looking at the marine with hard eyes. He had to take this a step further. If this blasted captain didn't let him act now, Ace was going to die and everything would be positively ruined. A demonstration was in order.

"Look, I have a special medicine that will stop the bleeding." He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a tube full of a white powder. "Even your doctor won't be able to make it stop in time. This is the only way to save his life!"

"Don't touch him!" He nearly snarled in frustration at the pirate captain's stubborn lunacy. He understood that the pirate wouldn't see unless he explicitly showed him, but there wasn't much time left. He darted out and seized the scalpel from Ace's limp right hand.

"Watch. I don't mean him any harm!" He dug the blade harshly into the flesh of his left arm just below the wrist and dragged it brutally downward, creating a gash that mirrored those on Ace's arm. Shanks was watching him with wide eyes, confused and surprised. He didn't react as if he felt any pain at all and only uncorked the vial of white powder, pouring a quantity of it onto his arm.

The bleeding, which had been worrying in its severity, stopped almost instantly, scabbing over.

"You see? This is a special powder that makes white blood cells clot. It's the only thing that will possibly save him." The pirate was still staring at him with wide eyes. He met the gaze seriously. "Your friend has exactly 7 seconds left before he's beyond even my help. Your doctor won't be able to do anything then. You make up your mind now or your friend is gone." His voice was low and serious. The truth was, if the captain didn't let him act he'd kill the man and treat Ace anyway. He'd prefer to keep up the façade for a while longer, but if he had to drop it he wouldn't hesitate.

He'd invested time in Ace, and time was the only thing he placed any value in whatsoever. Everything else was always attainable or reattainable, but time was limited. The only truly limited thing in the universe. Time could never be given, only taken away. He'd invested weeks in Ace and he wanted to see that investment brought to fruition. One stubborn pirate captain was not going to make that much of his time go to waste.

Shanks was looking at the man with wide eyes. Should he let the man act? Was he telling the truth? The seconds ticked by.

"Four seconds remain." The man was looking back at him, eyes serious and cold. In his right hand he held the medicine that could possibly save Ace's life. How could Shanks be certain, though? Yet the medicine didn't seem to have any adverse effects on the doctor…

"Three seconds." Why didn't Shanks trust this man? Sure he didn't know him, but he'd never given them any trouble. He was a doctor. It was true that it was quite possible that Ricky wouldn't make it in time. And what about this man's estimate of how long Ace had left? Even if he were wrong, the seconds were ticking by and Ace had lost far too much blood…

"Two seconds." Shanks hesitated only a moment longer. He had to take a risk, betting Ace's life. It was possible the doctor could save his life. If Shanks didn't accept his help, it was quite possible Ace was going to die. He couldn't allow that to happen. Shanks backed off a bit, letting the other man get closer to Ace.

"Please. Do what you can for him." The man gave him a serious nod, but was smiling behind his eyes. Perfect. His left hand released the syringe he'd been grasping inside his pocket, letting it fall back to the bottom. It was full of a neurotoxin that would have had the pirate captain dead in seconds if he'd chosen not to let Ace be saved.

He had the bandage off in moments, moving with the efficiency of long practice. It took only a moment longer to apply the proper amount of the white powder to the cuts on Ace's arm. The bleeding stopped in an instant, the cuts scabbing over as the one on his own arm had. He reached into his jacket pocket and drew out a roll of clean bandages, wrapping the injuries to protect them from infection or breaking open again.

He painted a reassuring smile on his face and placed his hand on the pirate captain's shoulder in a practiced gesture of comfort.

"He's going to be okay. He'll be unconscious for a while, and if your doctor has any of his blood type stored I'd recommend a transfusion, but with or without it he'll live." The pirate smiled back at him weakly. It was clear his nerves were completely shot. Mentally he gave a sigh, feeling disdain. He wondered if the captain were going to cry, then. If he were going to have to pretend to comfort him.

All this pretending was boring him. Pretending to be Gabriel, pretending to be nervous all the time, pretending to be friendly, pretending he gave a damn about anything but getting off this ship, Ace in tow.

He was getting sick of pretending to be human.

Just as he was certain he was going to have to pretend something else, pretend he didn't want to kill this man in front of him before the pirate made himself any more of a fool in his eyes, he heard someone else come in.

It was the audible gasp that he heard, causing him to turn his head. As expected, the Red Haired pirates' doctor was approaching, almost at a run. He knew what he had to do and shifted backwards, allowing the pirate to get close to Ace. As the pirate passed, he spoke in a quiet voice to him, faking nervousness.

"Your friend used a surgical scalpel to cut his wrist. He managed to cut into the ulnar artery. If…If I may say so, I…" He faked a hesitation, biting his lip in an act of false anxiety. "I think he was trying to kill himself. I-I stopped the bleeding. He should be fine." Another fake pause. "If…If I may, I'd recommend a blood transfusion." Ricky seemed to pay him no mind, passing him by and dropping to his knees beside Ace.

Ricky took in the unstained bandaging on Ace's arm and realized the other doctor hadn't lied; the bleeding really had been stopped. Ricky looked around then, assessing the scene. Blood was everywhere, staining Ace's clothes, making his hair sticky and clumped. It pooled on the floor where Ace had lain before Shanks had moved him and ran down the wall in tiny streams from those three words.

TICK

Ricky looked at the words in confusion, then down at Ace's relaxed, unconscious face, and finally came to rest on Ace's left arm, mentally visualizing the self-inflicted injuries beneath. Is this…Is this my fault? Did my forcing him to talk about what he was seeing really drive him to this? Memories of their conversation, of how scared Ace had been, replayed themselves in Ricky's mind. Finally, that last moment played itself out, Ricky mentally seeing Ace running down the hallway, away from him, look of betrayal and hurt and terror dancing in his eyes. I…I know I didn't hit him, but he thought I did. Is that what drove him to this? He shook himself and halted his thoughts where they were. What was more important now was getting Ace to a more comfortable place and getting a disinfectant on his injuries.

"We should take him back to the infirmary. If we get him started on a blood transfusion now, he should wake up in a few hours. Could you take him up to my office, please? I'll be there in just a moment." Shanks nodded, looking relieved to have something useful to be doing. He stood and scooped Ace up gently.

Ace's form was loose and limp in his arms, the right side of his face pressed against Shanks' chest as his head leaned against him. Shanks was beyond relieved. Until Ricky had confirmed it, he hadn't been 100% sure Ace was okay. Hearing Ricky say it, hearing his nakama say it was alright, that let Shanks truly know he could relax.

Ricky stood and turned to the other doctor. "Thank you for your help." He glanced around the room, at all the blood. "Without you, I might not have made it in time." In response, a tiny smile formed beneath the cold blue eyes.

"It was no trouble. The least I could do to repay you all for letting me aboard. And besides, I wasn't about to just watch him die." It was half-truth, he reflected. It was true he needed a way to get the pirates to trust him more, and he wasn't about to watch Ace die.

Well, not yet anyway.

"How did you do it, out of curiosity? His arm was bound but with the artery nicked like that…" He faked a smile and brought the vial out of his pocket.

"This is a special powder I developed. It makes white blood cells clot almost instantly, but only in the presence of oxygen gas. In this way it doesn't cause clots to form under the skin, so it's much safer. Wouldn't want to stop the bleeding only for the person to later die of clogged arteries and heart failure." He faked a thoughtful pause. "If…If you'd like I can show you how to make it." Ricky blinked.

"That would be helpful. Thank you."

"My pleasure." Ricky turned and gestured for him to follow, leading the way back to the infirmary. For a moment, though, he paused, grabbing Ricky's arm, allowing his curiosity to finally ask what he'd been wondering.

"By the way, who was it that hit him?" Ricky froze.

"I…beg your pardon?" A quiet thrum of surprise resonated in his brain. It was him? The doctor? It was rare he was surprised. He'd never seen any anger or resentment from Ricky towards Ace, so this was unexpected to say the least.

"Don't play dumb. The right side of his face. He had a handprint on his face like he'd been slapped. It was clear as day. He'll probably bruise." Ricky pulled his arm out of the other's grasp.

"To be perfectly honest, I don't know who hit him. But you can be damn sure that when I find out the truth, somebody's going to pay." Whatever you say, Doc. He was smiling mentally. But if you didn't hit him, why do you so clearly feel guilty? He didn't voice the question, didn't want to break the newfound – and temporary – trust the other had placed in him.

He faked a smile. "I can see he's got a lot of friends on this ship. I'm sure whoever did it will pay dearly for their transgression." He took a step forwards, coming beside Ricky. "Shall we?" His voice was conversational, light. The tension melted off of Ricky's shoulders and he turned, leading the way out of the infirmary, never hesitating an instant in leading him to where Ace's unconscious, helpless self was currently kept.

He allowed a satisfied smile to come to his face. This was almost too easy.

Ricky was a quick walker, and when they turned down the hall that led to the infirmary they caught up with Shanks, still carrying the unconscious Ace. Ricky smiled at him comfortingly, opening the door and directing Shanks to lay Ace down on one of the infirmary's beds.

Apparently the rumor had spread that Ace had been found, as several pirates had now conglomerated in the infirmary, asking what happened. All their faces showed a certain concern, and the captain was currently answering their questions, telling his part of the story.

"But what made him do it is what I'm wondering." Benn stated, leaning against a wall. Shanks paused, considering the question.

"I…I don't know." There was a long pause then. Shanks was sitting at Ace's bedside and had just finished pulling another blanket over him, as per Ricky's instructions.

Ricky had explained that with so little blood, Ace's body temperature would probably be below normal and it was very important him keep warm. Shanks, being Shanks, had then proceeded to almost pile blankets on the unconscious boy, and had just finished robbing another bed of its covering and draping it over Ace.

The tension had left Shanks shoulders, or at least almost completely faded. Ace was going to be alright now. Ricky said so. Ricky was their doctor and Ricky could take care of him.

At the same time, though, Shanks had been wondering what Benn had asked. What had caused Ace to do this? To try to kill himself? Shanks could scarcely believe it had even happened. Ace…didn't seem depressed. I mean, obviously what had happened to him would be bothering him, but he'd never tried anything like this before, had never expressed any kind of suicidal intentions. So why now, when he had just begun to walk again, when everything was getting bett-

Shanks' eyes caught on the right side of Ace's face for the first time.

"…Who was the last one to see Ace before he ran away?" Shanks' voice was quiet. Everyone, upon hearing his tone, fell silent. His head was bowed low, hair shading his eyes. His mouth, usually in a jovial grin, was in a thin, grim line. Shanks looked up, looking around the room at his various crewmates. His eyes were hard as steel, meeting each and every present pirate's eyes. There was a moment of complete silence, perfect and unbroken.

After a moment, though, Ricky swallowed and took a step forward. He did his best to meet his captain's gaze evenly.

"That would be me, captain." Shanks' eyes remained focused on Ricky.

"Everyone else, get out. Now." The other pirates shuffled uneasily out of the room, Benn seeming especially hesitant, glancing over his shoulder and looking at Shanks before leaving. Nobody else had seen the mark on the right side of Ace's face, and everyone was confused as to what was going on. Benn was the last to reach the door, and Shanks' eyes remained focused on Ricky. "Shut the door on your way out." His voice was cold, glacial, even. Hard.

Ricky stood before his captain, trying not to melt under his frigid gaze.

The room was dead silent and Ricky waited. Waited for his captain to say something because he knew at that moment that to speak before Shanks wanted him to would be a grave mistake.

When Shanks moved he was practically a blur.

He seized the front of Ricky's shirt and slammed him hard against the wall, lifting him off the floor a ways. All air was driven from Ricky's lungs at the force of the impact and he gasped for air.

Shanks' face could have melted steel.

His eyes were harder than stone, angrier than the pits of hell. His mouth was turned into a snarl of rage and for an instant Ricky was convinced he was actually about to die at the hands of his captain. When Shanks spoke, his voice was harder than his expression.

"You have three fucking seconds to explain this to me." Ricky swallowed audibly. He took a deep breath, trying not to be paralyzed by the killing intent his captain was giving off.

"It wasn't me, captain. I swear to you it was not me. Why would I possibly hurt Ace? He's my friend too. I'd never, never hit him, especially not after everything he's been through. Only a monster could do something like that."

"Oh really? And will Ace's story match yours when he wakes up?" Shanks' voice and eyes were still just as hard as before.

"Captain, he's been having multi-sensory hallucinations. He's not in a state of mind where he's aware of the difference between reality and non-reality, much less being able to understand and differentiate between the two."

"Oh? So his story will differ from yours? Hallucinations don't leave marks like that, Ricky." Ricky raised his hands placatingly only to notice how badly they were shaking.

"I'm telling you the truth captain." His voice was seemingly calm. He was doing his best to force back his fear. He knew how bad this must look to Shanks. There were no other witnesses, no other proof besides that condemning mark on Ace's face. When Ace woke up, he'd probably believe it was Ricky that had attacked him. There was nothing more he could say or do to defend himself. It was in Shanks' hands now. Ricky left his judgment to his captain.

Everything had just been completely shot to hell in one day. It was hard to believe how much had happened. Ricky had finally gotten through to Ace, finally gotten Ace to talk openly, and then everything had just completely fallen apart. Now here he was, facing the wrath of his captain for something he didn't do. He wondered what Shanks' course of action would be. The moment stretched.

"…Tell me the full story. We'll see if I believe it." The captain slowly released Ricky. His face was still hard as steel, but he was reserving his wrath until he was sure Ricky really deserved it. Shanks didn't want to believe his doctor, his nakama would do something like this, but all the evidence was against Ricky. Shanks truly didn't know what he'd do if he found out it had been Ricky who'd hit Ace. Should he kill Ricky? The protective, almost parental side of his mind was out for blood, but he didn't know if he could do it. They'd been friends for a long time now. Banish him? Kick him out of the crew? More possible, but it'd still be hard for Shanks and they were still out in the middle of the ocean with Ace, who still was in very great need of a doctor.

"W-Well. It all started very, very early this morning. About…2 or 3 AM. I was asleep at the time, but based on what Yassop told me later, Ace got up at some point in the night.

"Yassop said Ace somehow got out onto the deck of the ship. Based on what he saw, Yassop said he thought Ace must've had another nightmare because he looked completely terrified. After…a while, Ace began to speak, talking to someone who just wasn't there, addressing him as "Rabbit." Yassop listened for a while, picking up on some very strange terms that all seemed somehow relevant to this "Rabbit."

"Ace spoke at length to this "Rabbit" about a place called Wonderland, which Ace called a delusion. He called the Rabbit a delusion too, but talked to him as if he thought he were real. Ace seemed to grow annoyed at this Rabbit and told him to leave, after which he stopped talking.

"Yassop was shocked to say the least, and came and immediately woke me up. He told me everything he saw and heard, and we both came to the conclusion that Ace was having some kind of audio-visual hallucination. I knew this was serious, but I thought it'd be better to confront Ace about it in the morning, after doing a little research.

"After Yassop told me what was going on, I went back to the infirmary. I was looking for a specific book on different kinds of mental maladies when I noticed Ace had left his sketchbook on the nightstand. It was open.

"The page it was open to was an image Ace had drawn earlier that day. Here, look." Ricky pulled the notebook out of his pocket and flipped to the page.

The image was done in watercolor. As a piece of artwork it was beautiful, but it was clear the creature in it had no place in reality. It was tall and thin, pale skin with no blemishes. The arms were long, the hands hanging below the creature's knees. It was entirely hairless, even its scalp was completely bald. It had thin grey lips and enormous dark eyes.

They were almost like insect eyes, but not faceted. They were oval and vaguely human, but much, much too large to be in human proportions. They were completely pitch black save for white lines, which formed a ring, almost like an iris. The creature was apparently female and wore a loose, flowing piece of fabric about her hips. She wore no shirt, but there was no detail to her breasts beside their general shape. Tied about her neck was what might have been a necklace. It was silver and no definite links could be seen in the thin, fine chain. Every now and then the chain was interrupted by beads that looked like starlit dew.

The necklace looped and dipped, the chain seemingly having no beginning and no end. Some of the loops hung off one shoulder or the other, other loops more closely wrapped about her throat. Others still hung low, one reaching her waist, almost touching the fabric of her skirt which hung high on her left him but dipped far lower on her right.

The skirt was made of silvery-white material, composed of a single piece of fabric. It rested high on her left hip but the waist of a skirt was at an angle, the right side of it resting partway down her pelvis. Her right leg was exposed as the fabric was cut in such a way that it revealed the leg with each step she took. It didn't show anything more explicit than that, but the skirt was…revealing. About the exposed right ankle, another chain like that of her necklace was wrapped twice, once loosely, the other a little closer about the appendage.

Pale, pale grey smoke curled all about the creature, welcoming and embracing her like one of its own. She almost blended into it, and in some places they were actually blurred, the color of the creature's skin, which almost perfectly matched the smoke, blending with the white-grey of the haze behind her.

The creature was elegant, yet Shanks felt unease looking into those black eyes. It was a pretty being, but it was fundamentally inhuman. It unnerved him.

Above the creature, written in Ace's simple, legible script was the creature's apparent name. Estrella. Star…? Shanks was confused by the image. He understood why Ace would name it, it was a piece of artwork after all, but there was…something about the drawing, something more familiar than just an image created on the spot.

"And that's not all. Look at this." Ricky turned the page over in the sketchbook. On the other side was more of Ace's neat writing, filling nearly half the page. He wrote in depth about the creature's appearance, briefly described their method of communication, though he seemed at a loss of words for how to do so, and finished with a few words about where they lived.

The bottom half of the page was occupied by an image of a city, drawn as perfectly as Ace remembered it. The crystalline towers, the ephemeral glow the entire place gave off, the curling wisps of airdarksmoke that wound through the streets, and finally the much larger tower that Caterpillar occupied.

"He provided dimensions for the place too. Look here." Ricky directed Shanks' attention to a specific place on the drawing of the city. Each tower had its own label with estimated heights and number of stories.

They ranged from 3 to 14 inches tall, save for the last, which soared at 24 inches.

None of this made sense. Why would Ace go into so much detail for a piece of art? Why would he be so invested in the drawing of the Estrella that he'd actually create an entire fantasy civilization to back it? Not to mention the fact that Shanks had only ever seen Ace drawing scenes from real life. It simply didn't add up that this was just a piece of art.

"That's not all. If the images were all this…lighthearted, I wouldn't be as worried, but there's something that troubles me deeply. Look at this." Ricky flipped through more pages, coming to rest on a scene Ace had drawn a while ago, the same one he'd pointed out to Ace when he confronted him.

It was the image of the pirate crew at lunch, the entire crew enjoying their meal. Most of the expressions were of joy, fun happiness, pleasure, and even though the people in the background were only silhouettes, most were in positions of merriment.

There was one key exception though, one that Ricky pointed out to him.

There was one person in the background, a silhouette like the others. He was in no position of joy or involvement, though, and none of those around him seemed to be in any way interacting with him. His shape was facing directly towards the point of capture, seemingly staring out of the image at the beholder.

From this angle it was easy to see the rabbit ears arching off the top of the humanistic head.

"Wha…"

"There's more. Look at this." Ricky flipped through yet more pages, this time coming to rest on the next image he'd shown Ace, the one of Shanks sleeping in the chair.

Once Ricky pointed them out, Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum were obvious and…frightening. Shanks didn't like their expressions, those impossible smiles. They got under his skin and creeped him out.

What scared him more was that they were grinning right at his sleeping form.

"Who are those two?"

"Ace calls them Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum. He wrote an entire page on them like the Estrella. Said they live near the Gate, the apparent entrance to this "Wonderland." He says he only created them recently, in an attempt to "turn the tide", but I have no clue what that means. But that's not what's really important in this image. Look here."

Ricky then drew his attention to the other side of the image, to the silhouette, closer than before. The rabbit ears still protruded from the anthropomorphic form, which seemed human save the ears.

It still stared straight at the point of capture, and even though Shanks couldn't see its eyes he felt he was being watched.

"There's still more, but I think you've seen enough." Shanks gave a shocked nod and Ricky moved on. "This Rabbit is what worries me. He shows up in many of Ace's drawings, far more frequently than anyone else Ace draws. Ace seems to have a fixation with this particular hallucination, and when he writes about Wonderland in reference to one of his drawings, be it a creature or a place, he's almost always mentioned. This obsession worries me, and it only seems to be getting worse. After looking through these and having a similar reaction to yours, I decided I had to confront Ace about this. The fact that that Rabbit keeps getting closer worried me and still does, so I confronted Ace.

"At first he outright refused to talk to me about it, but after I showed him these images to disprove a lie that he used to try to turn me away, he became much more open. He told me a bit about Wonderland, about these things he's been seeing. They all represent different pieces of his mind. The Mad Hatter, this one here," Ricky flipped again through the pages, stopping on the image of the Hatter. "Represents Ace's logical part of his mind. His intelligence. The Caterpillar," Again he flipped through the pages, stopping on the almost Hindu-like image of the blue insect. "Represents Ace's creativity. As…" Ricky hesitated, a little unsure how to continue.

"As he talked about it, he began to grow…frantic. Frightened. He seemed certain there was something coming to get him. Someone, rather. He was terrified. I'd never seen him so scared. It was like he was having one of his nightmares but worse. He asked me if I could help him, if I could save him. I told him I'd do my best and I tried to calm him down, reassure him, but he only grew more frantic. At this point he was having a complete panic attack." Ricky paused for a moment, losing himself in the memory. When he spoke again his voice was quiet. "He spoke as if he didn't know me. Asked if he could really trust me." He paused again, remembering the fear and mistrust and Ace's eyes and trying not to let it show how much that had hurt. When he spoke again he forced his voice to be stronger. "He told me there was one more person I "needed to meet" and began looking through the notebook for another drawing. He grew progressively more frantic, begging me to save him. Well, as it turned out the drawing he was looking for wasn't in that notebook. At this point Ace grew more scared than ever.

"He seemed convinced he was running out of time, that it wouldn't be long before something terrible happened." Ricky paused, seeing again those three blood-red words on the wall, mocking him. TICK TICK TICK. "I tried to convince him to come back to the infirmary with me so I could give him a sedative to help calm him down, but he wouldn't hear of it. He told me I had to…I had to "see" before it was too late, had to know this last being of Wonderland.

"Ace was completely and utterly terrified at this point, shaking, stuttering, eyes darting around, flinching at nothing…I'd never seen him like that. He started to introduce this last being, but his voice, his speech…it was weird. It was like there was someone who kept cutting him off. After another moment of inner conflict, Ace finally told me his name, the name of the one that had been scaring him so much.

"He said there was a being in Wonderland named Mr. Savage." Something about the name was…frightening. It was just that one word. Savage. It was just so violent and primal and animalistic and spoke of nothing beautiful or enjoyable. The word was brutal, nothing about it light or human. Ricky continued.

"After he said the name, for an instant I thought I heard something, almost like a voice but more like a roar, just at the very edge of perception. Then there was a noise like air rushing past something moving fast, and finally a loud noise like a slap. The blow hit Ace and he was carried to the ground with the force of it.

"I'd extended my right hand in order to lead him back to the infirmary a few minutes before this happened, and when Ace looked up after being hit he saw my outstretched arm and assumed I'd hit him. He looked so lost, so betrayed. He said that "they" had told him I'd attack him, that "they" had told him I couldn't be trusted." Ricky looked down, feeling something constrict in his chest.

"He said I was just like him." Shanks was having a hard time taking all this in, and didn't know if he should believe Ricky or not, but all the same he wanted to comfort Ricky. Being told something like that, being compared to the monster that had tortured Ace for weeks, that had to hurt. Ricky took a deep breath and shook himself, forcing down the hurt.

"After that he ran. I tried to look for him myself, but when I couldn't find him I involved you and the rest of the crew. Then you found him, and he's going to be okay now. That…brings us to present, I think." A moment passed, then Ricky spoke again.

"If you don't believe my story, captain, then believe the facts." Ricky gestured to where Ace was lying, loosely pointing at where the right side of his face was already developing a bruise on his cheekbone. "Do you have any idea the kind of force it would take to make a mark like that?" Shanks glanced over his shoulder at Ace, then looked back to Ricky. He shook his head. "Well, it would be possible for someone as strong as I am, but in order to make the blow hard enough to make a mark like that and carry Ace to the floor like it did, I'd have had to raise my arm high above my head before doing so." Shanks' eyes widened. Ricky knew he was getting through to Shanks now, that Shanks was understanding the final piece of evidence that proved his innocence. Shanks' voice was quiet, breathy.

"And you can't do that." Ricky nodded assent.

"That's right. Two years ago we got in a fight with a particularly nasty group of pirates and the rotator cuff in my left shoulder was completely severed by some bastard with a sword. You know I haven't been able to lift my arm beyond about 80 degrees since then. I couldn't have put enough force behind a blow in order to hurt Ace to the point of bruising like he is. I've shared my full story with you, presented all the evidence I have in my defense. I did not hurt Ace. It's up to you now whether you believe me or not." A long moment of silence followed.

"I…I believe an apology is in order." Ricky blinked at Shanks. Shanks was looking at the floor, but after a moment he looked up, meeting Ricky's eyes. "I'm sorry. I really am. It wasn't fair of me to accuse and attack you like that, I should have trusted you more than that." Shanks was mad at himself. How could he have doubted his own nakama? Of course Ricky would never hurt Ace! How could he have ever thought otherwise? He'd failed Ricky as a friend in his lack of trust, and he would just have to wait and see whether Ricky would forgive him or not.

A moment of surprised silence passed, then Ricky chuckled. Shanks looked up at him, shocked, and wasn't prepared for the light punch he got on the arm. Ricky smiled at him.

"Idiot. You better not have put a dent in my wall."

He leaned back from his position near the door. He'd been a bit annoyed at being kicked out of the room so shortly after arriving, but he didn't protest. He knew the pirate captain had to have his little tantrum about the mark on Ace's face. He'd listened, wondering exactly what had transpired and driven Ace to this. That knowledge might help him in the future. He'd spent quite a lot of time trying to break Ace. More than he spent on most. Ace was special for one reason and one reason only.

He was interesting.

Very little in this world caught his interest. He didn't build relationships with others. Relationships were pointless. Only to be used for gain. And they required time. Time he didn't feel like wasting on something so uninteresting. Emotions didn't exist for him. Happiness, sadness, love, anger…none. He felt none. Just logic. Calculations. The smooth inner-workings of a properly employed mind.

He could appreciate beauty, though.

His definition of beauty was different than most. He knew this, and he understood what others considered to be beautiful and could emulate the reaction, but he never saw the appeal of a fine painting or the soaring spires of a church. His first memory of his definition of beauty came when he was just a boy, no more than 7 years old.

He saw a man die.

That in and of itself wasn't beautiful. Death was everywhere. Not rare enough to be valuable. No, the death wasn't the extraordinary part. It was how he died, the act of his death. That was the beauty.

The man had jumped from a building.

He'd seen the man standing on the roof. He remembered looking up, looking into the man's face. The man had locked eyes with him, taken in his expression of bored curiosity. He'd been wondering what that was doing on the building. It hadn't been interesting enough to actually pique his interest, but there was a quiet passing thrum of curiosity. The man had looked in his eyes and seen his boredom, his disinterest in the man and what the man was doing on the roof and what the man was going to do next. The man recognized he was only a passing thought in his mind. Less interesting than even the question of what he was going to eat for dinner that night. The man saw that. And then the man jumped.

And, finally, there was something he could find interest in.

There was that moment of perfect silence as the man fell, and they still maintained eye contact. Even when the man hit the ground with the meaty crunch-splat expected after such a fall, he continued to stare straight forward in wonder, eyes wide. The man's blood and a fleck of bone splattered onto the right side of his face warm and wet, yet he barely felt it.

All he could see was the man falling.

The seconds replayed themselves in his mind's eye over and over and over again, even as the people around him ran for help that wouldn't help, children screaming, women fainting. He stood there through it all, breathless, exhilarated. He licked dry lips, tasted the man's blood on his tongue and didn't care. His mother had come at him then, crouching before him, wiping the blood off his face,

It was clear to him that she had been terrified. She wiped the blood off his face with a handkerchief, trying to suppress a shudder that he noticed anyway. He didn't care, though, too wrapped up in the awe and wonder of what he'd just seen. When she spoke his name and took him into her arms, he realized she'd misinterpreted the expression on his face. She thought he was in shock, or traumatized.

He felt disdain for her then. For everyone. Because nobody could see. Nobody understood. None of them. Were they really so blind? They were stupid, worthless creatures, fulfilling only their dirty animal needs. They couldn't understand the true beauty that had just been exposed.

He didn't sleep that night. Couldn't get his mind to relax the way it should. Always those instants of complete awe, complete perfection replayed themselves, over and over.

After that first sleepless night it became his goal to see, to find that beauty again.

He started with rodents. The field mice in his backyard were his first attempts at recreating that day. He dropped them out of trees, then from his roof. They splatted and died as the man had, and they did bring him a fleck of that awe he'd felt before, but there was something missing, something not right. The mice were seemingly as afraid as the man had been, but they were lacking something vital.

So he moved on, still seeking that perfection.

He trapped rabbits next, catching them live in special snares. He discovered they required a higher drop than the mice had after his first attempt with them ended with a squealing, bloody mess. So he began roaming further from home, searching for the right place.

A concealed grotto on the cliffed shore of his home island fit his criteria perfectly.

He dropped rabbits from here and again felt a piece of that same wonder, that same awe, but it wasn't fulfilling, only made him want more. Rabbits weren't enough, all the warrens on the island couldn't slake his thirst.

One of his neighbor's cats went next.

At first it seemed no more gratifying than the rabbits had been, but when he passed his neighbor's house the next day, he found their other cat wandering about the yard, crying loudly.

In its face he recognized a piece of something he'd seen in the man's eyes.

It wasn't complete, though. Could never be complete. The cat didn't understand enough of the world and of happiness and gratification. He made a mental note of that, storing it away under the section of information that most occupied his thoughts these past weeks. He referred to this section of information with two words.

The Fall.

It was then that he realized his gratification in the man's death all those weeks ago hadn't come solely from his physical fall, though that was something that held his interest, at least for now. No, it wasn't the man's stepping off a rooftop and letting gravity do the rest that interested him.

It was the Fall he'd seen in the man's eyes.

The man had looked broken, like everything that had ever had meaning was now gone. Like there was nothing left to live for. Like death was his only option.

Nonetheless, the man had hesitated.

The man hesitated when they had locked gazes. It was as if the man had been searching for some purpose in his eyes, looking for something that could reanimate his life with meaning, bring back everything he'd lost.

But when that man had stared into his cold blue eyes, all he'd seen was boredom. Disinterest. Uncaring.

And that was what pushed him over the edge.

After that, it hadn't taken him long to get even closer to the perfection he longed for.

His next victim was a pregnant stray dog. He'd taken her in, fed her, trained her, went through the motions of loving her until she was entirely devoted to him. She had her puppies six weeks later.

He'd taken them all to his grotto, tied the bitch to a tree, and made her watch as he drowned each puppy.

Her reaction was interesting, to say the least. Worth the time he'd invested in her.

She went mad.

She struggled violently against the chain and collar about her neck, throwing herself forwards against the bonds. She frothed at the mouth and her eyes spun wildly in her head. She bit her own tongue off in her raging snaps at him, who always stayed beyond her reach.

She strangled herself on her bindings in her attempts to get free.

In her eyes he'd seen something achingly similar to what he'd seen in the man's eyes all those months ago. She'd lost everything. The pups she'd instinctively loved and the human who'd given her a home. Her whole world had been turned upside down and then smashed. Yet…her Fall had been so much different than the man's. In her swiveling eyes that he watched drain of sanity he'd seen the same loss and hopelessness he'd seen in the man, yet her reaction had been so different.

It was then that he realized his calling in life. Then he knew how he truly wanted to invest his limited time.

He would find every way that every being could possibly break. Make a catalogue of every reaction he could, seeking something to surpass even the perfection of that first one he'd witnessed.

He joined the Marines as soon as possible.

It was a simple deduction. He needed a way of getting access to humans that nobody would mind if he broke without attracting the attention of the World Government. He knew they often used torture as a method of extracting information from criminals, and through his experimentation he'd discovered this was one of the most efficient ways of breaking someone down. Imprison them, taking them away from their homes, families, and friends, and then torment them to the point where there's no more strength, no more courage.

Then he'd give them a final push tailored to their individual weaknesses and relish in their Fall.

He'd become a surgeon out of necessity. The torturing was messy and he needed to be able to judge and gauge how far he could physically push someone without them dying. He'd push people to the brink of death over and over again only to pull them back at the last possible moment, stealing away their one chance of release from him. It was an efficient way of breaking people, repeatedly denying them that one thing that should come naturally to anyone and be impossible to take away.

But he did. Over and over and over again.

His catalogue grew as the years went by, and that exhilaration never faded. Every time he discovered a new Fall, a new way someone became less than human, he felt he grew closer to that one original Fall he'd witnessed.

Eventually, though, the responses began to repeat. He began to wonder if maybe he'd reached the end of all the ways the human mind could snap. He felt disappointment. One of the very, very few times in his life he'd ever felt anything. Nothing had ever surpassed that first Fall. No one had Fallen because of him in the same way that first man had. Despite all his perfected techniques, he'd never been able to get inside someone again the way he had that first day. He began to wonder if he ever would.

And then Ace had come along.

At first Ace had been just like the others, defiant, strong, brave. It was only when Ace refused to scream that first day when he noticed something different about Ace. Something most didn't have much of.

Pride.

Ace held his head high, wouldn't even scream that first day. Forced himself to stand after losing that much blood in that little time.

He knew this was one of Ace's greatest assets, one of the things he'd have to take away if he were to Fall. But the proud ones always Fell hardest, Fell from the highest points. He'd break that pride completely apart. It was the quickest way through. Destroy what one thinks of themselves, how one subconsciously feels about oneself, and that person has reached a very, very fragile place.

Ace's loyalty and companionship with Sabo had surprised him and he realized he'd have to break these apart too before he could get at Ace's pride. Killing off the relationships Ace had built up and carefully arranging everything so the guilt would lay heavily on Ace worked well. It was when Ace had spoken to Sabo's face like it were alive and talking back that he began to realize that Ace's Fall may be something truly special.

The next day he'd reaped the fruits of his labor.

It was surprising when he reached Ace's physical limits before his mental ones. He'd never seen anyone go that far, especially not a child. He realized Ace's pride was the only thing left to him and he knew just how to take it away.

But then Ace had done something unexpected.

Ace had fought back. Weeks of careful work seemed to have evaporated to nothing and he had no idea why. He'd begun to look forward to Ace's Fall, anticipating what it would be like, trying to guess how it would appear. Part of him wondered if this would be that special Fall, the first to surpass the original.

And then Ace had spat that back in his face.

He was not about to let years of preparation and anticipation go to waste. Not going to waste any more time playing around. Ace would break and he would break today. So he broke Ace's fingers, shoving Ace back into his place, taking away the piece of Ace's pride that Ace had somehow regained.

As he was about to leave, about to make preparations for the nudge that would send Ace down, he looked into Ace's eyes and discovered something.

He was inside Ace's head, just like he'd been in that man's all those years ago.

He tried to make the most of this opportunity, wondering if cruel words would be enough to send Ace Falling, in a state of vulnerability as he was. The words he'd spoke hadn't been enough to send Ace completely over the edge, but he thought he saw something in Ace's eyes shift. Something new building itself.

It reminded him of the pregnant dog he'd made Fall all that time ago.

He left Ace then, knowing words hadn't been enough and not really minding. After what had just happened, Ace's Fall was sure to truly be something special.

He returned about an hour later, 11 men in tow.

It had all gone exactly as planned, and he watched and wondered how many men it would take before Ace Fell. He knew they were close when Ace cried for the first time in front of him. This was the final sign that Ace wasn't even holding onto his pride anymore.

He knew Ace had changed when the tears stopped and his body went slack.

He let the other men have their way, a promise was a promise after all, but was impatient to study the results of all this invested time.

When the last man left, he approached Ace again, pulling up his shorts and rolling him over onto his back. What he saw confused, baffled him, even.

Ace wasn't like any of the others he'd seen Fall.

He'd seen others give up, surrendering themselves over to the torment, recognizing it as the only life they'd ever had. While the others had been raping the boy, he'd been wondering if that had been what happened when Ace went limp like that. It wasn't the case though.

His mind couldn't formulate a response to this reaction. Ace's eyes were cloudy, as if dead, and he showed no response at all to any stimuli whatsoever. He'd been confused, and hadn't known enough to take stock of the situation. It was possible this was a new type of Fall, but he hadn't felt that rush, the burst of complete exhilaration…

Further research revealed that Ace hadn't Fallen at all.

He was angry. How dare Ace disobey him like that! How dare he undermine all the time he'd spent in preparation of a truly spectacular Fall. He was completely enraged.

He'd spent weeks pushing Ace to the limits, bringing him closer and closer to the precipice. He'd finally gotten him there and was prepared to witness a Fall unlike any other. He'd pushed Ace over that edge, awaiting that gratifying rush, but Ace had disobeyed him to the last.

Ace hadn't Fallen. He'd pushed Ace over that edge that so many had careened over and down before and Ace had Flown.

Flown away. Out of reach.

But that couldn't be it, simply couldn't be the end of the story. He needed to complete his catalogue and he was now certain that Ace was the final piece. He'd needed Ace to complete his search and Ace had wriggled from his hands and out of his reach like a worm. How dare that insolent brat escape. The only freedom he ever granted anyone was death, yet Ace had stolen a kind of freedom from his hands.

He'd just have to wait. He knew he'd have another opportunity. This wasn't the end of the story and nobody can hide forever. He'd already invested so much time, and Ace was a true masterpiece of his craft. Surely he could spare a little more to complete his collection?

When the Red Haired Pirates had attacked the ship, he instantly knew what he had to do. He traveled to the infirmary, killed the doctor, and swapped clothes with him. Based on research, he knew Red Haired Shanks fought with a sword, and a few careful, practiced knife-strokes had the former doctor looking like he'd been on the wrong side of an incoming attack.

He built his false identity in the time it took for Shanks to find him in that room.

Ever since he was a child, he'd been able to stunningly emulate any emotion anyone ever had. It had amazed those that knew him how well he could impersonate people. He did it through a careful observation of body language, facial expressions, and voice intonations. With his mental database of how humans behaved while under the influence of various emotions, he was able to assemble all the necessary information for a complete, flawless enactment of the reaction referred to as "fear."

The pirates had been overconfident and overly sympathetic. All it took was some shaking, some stuttering, and an assumed name later and he was aboard the ship and practically free from suspicion. Nobody expected any threat from the meek, nervous doctor.

He could bide his time for as long as need be. It didn't matter to him if he had to wait years. He would see Ace Fall. He would. And he would make sure to be there when Ace hit the ground, poised to show Ace exactly how impatient he'd been. There would be no miraculous escape, no second Flight. Ace thought he could get away, fly out of reach. He would make sure to break his wings before he could get the chance.

Because there's nothing more beautiful than watching something Falling from a great height.

He smiled and pushed himself off the wall. It was almost time. Everything had been made ready. The proper time was finally drawing near. One final act. One last lie.

One last lie and then Edward Hare wouldn't have to pretend to be human anymore.

When Ace began to show signs of waking, Ricky thought it best if he leave the room. He didn't want Ace to be afraid of him, but until Shanks explained that it wasn't Ricky who'd hit Ace, Ricky thought it best if they avoid all contact. It hurt to know that Ace would be afraid of him if he saw him, but that was just the way things were and they were going to do their best to remedy the situation.

Ricky waited outside while Shanks spoke to Ace. After several moments of muffled conversation, Shanks opened the door.

"You can come in now. I explained about your shoulder and I think Ace is ready to see you." Ricky nodded anxiously, and when Shanks stepped back he walked through the door.

When Ace first saw Ricky, his immediate, involuntary reflex was to pull back, to shy away. Ricky saw this and tried not to feel like someone had just punched him in the stomach. He remained where he was, practically on the other side of the room from Ace, giving Ace plenty of space.

Ace forced his shoulders to relax, but one had still remained tightly clenching a fistful of bed sheet. He forced himself to meet Ricky's eyes, to look at his face. Ricky looked back and there was a moment of silence. Ace's eyes flicked over Ricky's left shoulder for an instant, then returned to his face before he looked completely away, instead staring down at the blanket on his lap.

"Shanks…Shanks said you can't lift your arm high enough to have been the one that hit me." The words made something in Ricky's heart relax and he felt he could breathe again. For a minute he'd feared that Ace would never speak to him again.

"That's right. The rota-"

"Prove it." Ricky blinked in surprise. Ace's eyes were back on him, and his gaze was cold. His voice had been hard, direct. Ricky nodded, surprise showing on his face.

"…Okay." He took a step closer, but stopped when Ace flinched back. "…May I?" Ace seemed to consider the question for a moment, and glanced at Shanks. Seemingly reassured by his presence, he nodded. Mr. Savage can't be here now. Shanks doesn't know about him. He can't exist in Shanks' reality. As long as Shanks is in the room I should be safe, unless this is Mr. Savage…but I need some way of proving this isn't. Shanks knows about the injury the real Ricky sustained, but Mr. Savage didn't. There's no way he could replicate it based on my knowledge either, because I don't know anything about rotator cuffs or anything like that. Ricky approached slowly, letting Ace grow accustomed to his presence. He stopped when he was right beside Ace and sat on the floor next to Ace's bed, trying not to notice how Ace leaned away from his proximity.

"Put your first two fingers on my right shoulder." He placed his own first two fingers over the correct place on the joint, demonstrating. "Here." He removed his hand and waited. Ace hesitated for an instant, then reached out slowly with his left hand. He placed his fingers where Ricky had indicated.

Ricky moved the arm slowly, not so fast as to startle or scare Ace. He paused twice, first at 90 degrees, then at about 130 degrees. Ace's fingers remained on his shoulder the whole time, and when he reached the 130 degree angle he left his arm there.

"Did you feel that? Could you feel how the muscle in my shoulder moved?" Ace nodded, a look of uncertainty in his eyes. Ricky turned so his left shoulder was closer to Ace and indicated Ace should put his fingers in the same place on this shoulder.

Ricky raised his arm equally slowly this time, but it stopped about 8 degrees short of a right angle, his jaw clenched with pain. He forced himself to leave the arm there, and watched Ace's face, the look of curiosity and then understanding that spread across his features.

"It didn't move that time." Ricky nodded and released his arm, letting it fall back to a more comfortable position. "It was like there was something missing in your shoulder."

"That's because there is, Ace. There's a specific, important muscle that connects two parts of your shoulder. Mine was cut on the left side in combat. It was completely severed. I won't ever be able to completely raise my arm again. Since its not being used, the muscle has become stunted over time. That's why you feel a tiny dip in my shoulder. That's where the muscle is supposed to go, but I don't have it anymore." Ace was looking in his face, meeting his eyes. When Ricky finished. He nodded. A smile came to his face, relieved and tired.

"So it wasn't you that hit me." Ace leaned back. Ricky nodded. A smile came to his face too,

"That's right, Ace. So there's no need to be scared." Ace nodded again.

"Sorry I…Sorry I thought it was you."

"It was perfectly understandable in the context. Don't worry about it." A short silence followed, then Ricky spoke again. "…If I may ask, who was it that hit you?" Ace's head snapped to the side, wide eyes focused on Ricky.

"Don't ask that. Don't ever ask that." His eyes darted over Ricky's shoulder again, then returned to his face. Ricky paused for a moment. He'd seen Ace's eyes move the first time, when he first entered the room, and then again just now. It was time to figure out what Ace was looking at.

"…Ace, is someone from Wonderland in the room?" A laugh sounded, and Ace's eyes widened.

"Look at him. You've been awake for two minutes and he already thinks you're crazy." Ace glared over Ricky's shoulder at the figure.

"Shut up. Nobody asked for your opinion." It shrugged.

"Doesn't mean I can't provide it, though." A smile, tiny yet victorious came to Ace's face.

"You can't do anything to me right now. Shanks is here and Shanks doesn't know enough about you for him to be afraid of you. Ricky got scared when I talked to him about it so you became real to him. You entered his perception and thus his reality and as a threat no less. But not Shanks. And you can't impersonate him as flawlessly either." The figure tsked twice.

"You have so little faith in me, Ace. Shanks thought it was ol' Doc over here that hit you, and he got upset. Ricky had to explain it, of course, or else face Shanks' wrath. What do you think was the first thing they talked about?" The figure laughed. "And Shanks is such a spineless bitch. He's even scared of Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum." The figure shook its head. "Can't do anything to you? Bullshit. I could kill you right now. But that's not what I want. Oh no. And I only and always get what I want." Fear began to creep up Ace's spine.

"What is it you want?" An impossible, insane grin spread across the figure's face.

"I want you to be afraid. I want them to be afraid. I want them to be afraid of you. I want you to be afraid of yourself." The figure moved then. It was no longer behind Ricky but directly behind Ace, its face directly beside Ace's, breath hot and vile on his neck and cheek. It moved Ace's hair out of the way and whispered into his ear. "I don't have to kill you because one day I'm going to get you to kill yourself. That's how I win this game, Ace. That's the only way this game will ever end. You can't get away from me, you never will. One day I'll be too much and you won't be able to take it anymore and then…nothing. Glorious nothing." Ace's voice was almost frozen in his throat.

"But then you'll be dead too." It jerked sharply on Ace's hair as it threw its head back, spreading its arms wide and grinning at the ceiling.

"And I'll go laughing my way down into the hell from whence I came, dragging you along with me. We can burn forever, then. But enough about our wonderful future." He turned his grin towards Ace, eyes wide and mad. "Wanna play a game?"

"No." The figure's face went dead serious then. The smile left and the eyes went impossibly hard, burning into Ace's very soul. His voice was cold, monotone.

"That's not an answer I like to hear, Ace." Its grip on his hair tightened and he pulled Ace's head back slowly until he could look into Ace's eyes. "You wouldn't want to make me angry now, would you Ace?" Ace was wincing at the pressure on his scalp.

"…No." The pressure on his hair was gone instantly, the smile back on the figure's face.

"Good. Glad to hear it. So, I'll ask again. Wanna play a game?"

"…Fine. What is it?" Ace had the feeling something bad was about to happen. The figure's grin widened.

"It's something I call Puppet Show." The figure released his hair just long enough to draw his hand back for an instant, then dart forward.

Ace gave a gasp of pain as the thing's fingers pierced through the skin on the back of his neck. The hand only sunk further in, the fingers wrapping around his spine. Simultaneously, its other hand drove through Ace's back at about waist level, these fingers also grabbing onto the spine. They settled there, grasping the top and bottom of his vertebrae firmly. Ace tried to pull away, but found himself frozen.

It jerked once sharply and Ace went still.

It was one of the strangest things he'd ever experienced. He was still sitting in his mind, but was no longer in control of his body. He couldn't even speak out loud. He had no way of resisting this foreign control and could only watch what happened next.

Ricky was staring at Ace with wide eyes. It would seem Ace had forgiven him for their misunderstanding, but now he was having some kind of…hallucination episode. He understood how Yassop must have felt now, hearing only one side of a conversation. And as it progressed he began to grow just a touch nervous with what was being said.

When Ace went still he wondered if it was over and reached out slowly, trying to get Ace's attention. He placed his hand very, very gently on Ace's shoulder.

"Ace, are you alright?" His voice was gentle, quiet. He knew now that hallucinations were usually accompanied by strong emotional responses, namely fear, and didn't want Ace to freak out. Ace watched as his body's head turned and smiled at Ricky, one hand reaching up and grasping his wrist from its place on his shoulder. His grip was firm, not quite to the point of being uncomfortable, but it was certainly unexpected for the doctor. Ace's body smiled at Ricky.

"Ace isn't here right now, Doc. If you'd like to leave a message, though, I'll make sure he gets it." Ricky's eyes widened. He jerked his hand out of Ace's body's grasp and stood, staring into Ace's body's eyes.

"Who are you?" His voice was hard. Shanks blinked from his position leaning against the wall and looked at Ricky, confused.

"It's Ace, Ricky. Have you gone blind?" Ricky maintained eye contact with Ace's smiling body, but spoke to Shanks.

"This isn't Ace, captain." His words were directed once more at Ace's body. "I ask again. Who. Are. you?" Ace's body sighed and stood out of the bed.

"You know, you're no fun at all. You sound just like Caterpillar. He asks that question all the time. Besides, we've already met, remember?" He turned to Shanks. "You're not very perceptive, are you? You honestly can't tell the difference between me and your friend?" He took a step closer, smile coming to his face. "Shall I show you, then?" He took a step closer. "Well? What do you say?" Another step. "Shall I show you things beyond your imagining?" Another step. "Do you want to see? See as your doctor failed to?" He was right before Shanks now. He reached out, aiming to grip Shanks' loose wrist as Shanks stared down at him in surprise.

"Don't touch him." Ace's body stopped moving, feeling the weight of Ricky's grip on his shoulder. The smile dropped from his face. "Well, Doc, I'm outright shocked. First you hit me, now you're going to stop me from talking to my friend? Are you really so like Hare?"

"I didn't hit Ace and I'm nothing like that monster." Ace's body spun fast and grabbed Ricky's wrist, twisting it at a painful angle.

"Oh but don'tcha know, Doc, down here we think you are. I've been here long enough to know what makes Ace tick, what he's afraid of." The grin came back to his face. "And wouldn'tcha know it? He's scared of you, Doc. Of course, I did have some hand in that, just like I had a hand in his fear of Shanks. But you were easier. It's easier for him to be scared of you than of Shanks. That fear lets me impersonate you. Whether or not it was you that hit Ace is irrelevant. He thinks it was and no matter what you say or do he always will.

"You've fallen out of his trust now, doctor, and there will be no getting it back, no matter what you say." The body laughed. "He'll never even mention Wonderland to you again, and certainly not me." Ricky's eyes widened.

"It's you. You're Mr. Savage." The body grinned up at him.

"Indeed. Did you like my message to you, Doc? Well, you were too slow. Time's run out."

"You were the one who wrote on the wall." Ace's body clapped his hands together, faking delight.

"Very good! Give the boy a prize, he actually has a brain. How the hell could Ace have gotten up to the wall near the ceiling? Of course he had help." Ace's body turned more fully, still gripping Ricky's wrist. "Now then. Aren't you going to ask of me what you asked of Ace about the others? Where are your questions, Doc? You wanted, needed proof that Ace's mind is as broken as it is. Right now you're thinking he has Multiple Personality Disorder, right? Not terribly far from the mark, but incorrect. So…here's the deal. I'll give you three questions. Three questions that I'll answer truthfully. After that, I'll let Ace go."

"…Are you sure? There doesn't seem to be much benefit for you." Ricky didn't want there to be any strings attached, but somehow he doubted that was how this game worked. Ace's body looked up at him coldly.

"What I want and what I'll gain is none of your concern. Do you really want to pass up this opportunity, Doc? Let me tell you, there's a lot about Wonderland that Ace has still hidden from you. And I know some things better than even Ace does. One, for example, is that this is it. Time's run out, Doc. Ask you're questions quickly, would you? We're on a tight schedule here." Ricky stared down into Ace's body's eyes for another moment, then spoke again.

"…Why did Ace create Wonderland?" Ace's body sighed.

"'The mind is its own place, and in itself

can create a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n.' John Milton, Paradies Lost."

"That doesn't answer my question." Ricky's voice was hard. Ace's body only laughed.

"Sure it does, Doc. Surely you're capable of analyzing literature?" He faked a disappointed sigh. "And I had such high hopes for your intelligence." Ricky shook his head and thought for a moment. He refused to sink to this baiting. He had two more questions, he wanted to use them carefully.

"If Wonderland is Ace's refuge, why are you in it? He's clearly frightened of you, why would he have something in there that frightens him?" Ace's face pouted.

"That was a touch rude, Doc. Wonderland is Ace's mind. As much as you'd all like to deny it, I am a part, now a strong part, of Ace's psyche. He didn't consciously put me in Wonderland, but he'll never be able to expel me from it, nor could he have denied me entrance if he'd tried." A smile came to Ace's face. "What's it gonna be, Doc? Your last question?" Ricky considered it. There was no way to get all of the information he wanted with just one question. He thought deeply for a moment, closing his eyes. Should he ask more about Wonderland? Should he be more specific? He wanted to know more of this "Mr. Savage." He didn't seem like a friendly and as they say, "know your enemy." He paused, considering how to phrase it.

"…Where is it you live, Mr. Savage? Hatter lives in Ace's mind, Caterpillar in Ace's hands, so where do you come in?" A moment of quiet passed as Ace stared up at the doctor.

"That's not a fair question, Doc. You've asked two in one. But I'll answer." A smile found its way onto Ace's mouth.

"I live in the wounded. And in the weak. And now?" Something happened, something strange. There was a blur, like movement, and suddenly he wasn't himself anymore. His perspective had changed and he was staring up into his own face, which grinned back at him.

He was staring out of Ace's eyes.

"And now I live in you, Doctor."

Ricky jerked up with a start, nearly falling out of his chair. He looked around the room wildly, heart pounding in his chest.

A dream? But…when did I fall asleep? He couldn't remember. He looked over and saw Ace in his bed, sleeping. Shanks had left at some point, and the door was a tiny bit ajar. Ricky rubbed his eyes. What a bizarre dream. As he pulled his hand away, he noticed a shaking in his fingers. He almost laughed at himself. It's been a while since I've had a nightmare. Huh. Guess I kinda forgot how it feels. He pushed himself to his feet.

I think I'll get some fresh air. It feels a bit cramped in here. He walked to the door, closing it behind him with a soft click.

The noise roused Ace, who'd really only been dozing. He looked around the room, a little surprised to find it empty. He looked over to the left corner of the room, glaring. "Why'd you have to do that? You scared him!"

Mr. Savage grinned up at him a thousand times from the broken shards of mirror on the floor.

Ace approached Ricky silently, trying to gauge what state of mind Ricky was in from the tension in his shoulders. He seemed more relaxed than he had been before, and Ace could understand that. There was something about the sea wind that blew away the darkness and doubts Mr. Savage always brought with him. He walked up beside Ricky, leaning against the railing and staring out at the sea next to him.

"Dream?" Ricky glanced down at Ace, surprised.

"Yeah. Weird nightmare." Ace nodded.

"…They suck, don't they?" Ricky laughed.

"Sure do." A quiet moment passed, Ricky contemplating Ace and his being here, trying to comfort Ricky as Ricky had tried to comfort Ace in the past when Ace woke from his own nightmares. Ricky thought for another moment, then spoke again.

"Hey, Ace…?" Ace looked at him, indicating Ricky had his attention. "Do you think…You could tell me more about Mr. Savage?" Ace's eyes widened and he shook his head, turning back to look out at the sea.

"No. I can't." He touched the bandaging on his left arm. "And we all know how well it worked out the last time I tried." Ricky turned to look out at the sea again too.

"Okay. I won't press the issue. But you should try to talk about it some time." Ace nodded, but he knew he'd never actually follow through on Ricky's implicit request. He couldn't and never would talk about Mr. Savage again. It gave Mr. Savage too much power, to be recognized like that.

A long moment of silence passed, quiet but for the sighing of the waves. A thought occurred to Ricky and he turned to Ace again.

"I almost forgot to tell you! There's someone who wants to meet you." Ace turned to Ricky, confusion on his face.

"But I've…I've already met all of the crew." Time's run out, Ace. Ricky smiled down at him.

"This guy's special. You've never met him before, and he's fairly anxious to meet you." Tick, Tick, Tick. I warned you, Ace. Ace could hear footsteps approaching from a ways away, but didn't turn. Cold dread was beginning to creep up his spine. He swallowed hard, trying not to let his fear be heard in his voice.

"What's his name?" The footsteps were much closer now. Time's run out, Ace. Ace's eyes softly closed as the footsteps stopped close behind him. His lungs were trying to shrivel up and die, and his heart was beating so fast it hurt. Ricky was smiling over Ace's shoulder at the man who'd stopped just behind him.

"His name's Gabriel Gowdel. He saved your life." Oh Ricky you poor naïve fool. Run. Don't let him get you too. Ace turned his eyes up to Ricky's face, expression displaying the terror he felt.

"Ricky, Gabriel Gowdel died five weeks ago."

"Ace, lying isn't nice." Ricky was looking between Ace's face and the man behind him, confusion written on his features. Ace's terror only grew, pushing its way up his throat.

"Ricky, I thought you said Shanks killed the captain." Ace's voice was fast and panicked. He was terrified. He'd run out of time and there was nothing more he could do, nowhere to run, no way to hide.

Ricky's eyes darted to the face behind Ace and widened. He was reaching for his belt, for the knife he kept strapped there at all times, but Ace already knew what was about to happen. Because, as he'd said, Ace was out of time.

Ricky's knife hadn't made it clear of its sheath by the time Ace had been jerked back, left arm twisted painfully behind his back, hand about his throat.

"Don't move or I snap his neck." Ricky froze where he was, knife half drawn. He looked between Ace's terrified face and the face of the man holding him.

"You lying bastard! You're no doctor. You're the captain of that ship, the one who started this whole mess! You're the one that took Ace!" The man smiled.

"Nice to meet you. My name's Edward Hare."

"Not for long." Ricky's voice was a snarl. "Yassop!"

"Your sniper's a talented man, but there's one blind spot from that crow's nest he loves to sit in. Care to guess where it is?" Ricky's eyes widened in surprise before he glared again at the marine.

"You sneaky son of a bitch." Hare only chuckled in response. Others were beginning to come out on deck, having heard Ricky's yell. Shanks was the last to come on the scene. He looked between Ricky, Ace, and Hare. He began to march closer.

"What the hell's going on here?" Ricky held his arm out, stopping Shanks before he got any closer to Hare.

"That man is the marine captain. He lied to us. That's Edward Hare." Shanks stared at the man in shock for a moment.

"That's him? I thought he was dead."

"Apparently not."

"Well we'll remedy that soon enough." Shanks glared at the man for a moment, then turned to Ace. He put a warm smile on his face.

"Don't worry, Ace. We're going to get you out of this. This bastard's not leaving this ship alive." Ace seemed to wake up then and pulled against Hare's grip, wide, desperate eyes staring into Shanks.

"Don't let him take me again, please! Just kill me! I'd rather die than go back! You can't save me, Shanks. He's too clever for that! Just kill me before hurts me again! Please, Shanks!"

"Aw, Ace. I'm put out. Don't you enjoy my company?" Hare's voice was mocking. Ace's face pulled into a snarl. "Fuck you!" Hare chuckled.

"But you've already done that, remember?" Ace's eyes widened and he froze. Shanks was staring at Hare in complete shock. Marco raised a hand to his mouth.

"Oh shit. He's going to tell them."

"What did you just say?" Shanks' voice was quiet, containing the same utter shock that was written on his face. His eyes were wide, and the same expression showed on the faces behind him. Ace grit his teeth and hissed at Hare.

"Shut up!" Hare glanced between Ace and the expression on Shanks' face. Hare's face fell into a look of surprise, then a lecherous, close-lipped smile crawled up to replace it. His eyes were focused only on Shanks now.

"Oh he never told you." Hare looked at the faces of the rest of the crew, malicious interest and pleased surprise on his face. "Any of you." He glanced at Ricky, then looked back down to Ace. "You know you really aught to tell your shrink everything, Ace."

"Stop talking right now."

"No I really think it'd be beneficial to your health if we got everything out in the open now, don't you?" Shanks was looking between the two, and something in his chest was constricting painfully, telling him whatever was going to be said was going to do no less than break his heart. Ace writhed in Hare's grip, but Hare's solid grip on his throat prevented him from struggling effectively. The smile was still on Hare's face, and he seemed to barely notice Ace's wriggling. His grip on Ace's wrist didn't loosen, and when Ace refused to stop his squirming Hare twisted his arm further up behind his back, eliciting a hiss of pain. Hare bent down so his face came next to Ace's and Ace froze, petrified. Hare looked up, meeting Shanks' eyes, a dark glint in his own. "Your friend here has a little secret he's been keeping from you." Hare turned his attention back to Ace, a look of genuine curiosity on his face. "And why is that? You're really quite the enigma. Is it possible you're actually capable of shame?"

"What are you talking about?" Shanks had a sinking feeling in his stomach, and felt a deep dread coming over him. Ace's mind was racing desperately. If he didn't get away now, all his lies were going to come crashing down around his ears and they would know. They would see exactly how broken and disgusting and used Ace was. Hare continued on mercilessly.

"You know, as the son of the Pirate King, I would have expected him to have at least some pride, but it would seem the apple has fallen rather far from the tree."

"Enough bullshit, what do you mean?" Shanks could tell Hare was enjoying this, but he was done playing this game. He had to save Ace, yes, but he had to know what Hare would say next. Hare chuckled quietly at Shanks' forceful impatience.

"Your friend isn't the innocent child you seem to believe he is. Honestly, I've never even seen prostitutes behave so shamelessly." Hare paused for a moment, smile still on his face. "You see, the voyage to Impel Down is quite long. Quite…lonely. Your friend helped make the nights shorter." Ace was trying to shrink in on himself, away from the look of complete shock and horror that had come onto Shanks' face. Shanks shook his head and took a step back, staring at Hare with wide eyes.

"You're lying!" Hare smiled cruelly.

"Oh but am I? Look at his face and tell me what I'm saying isn't true." Ace couldn't meet Shanks' eyes. He stared at the floor, face angled away. Shanks' heart was falling to pieces inside his chest. It all made sense now. Ace's complete aversion to physical contact, the unease in his face and voice whenever someone looked at him for too long, the tension in his shoulders whenever someone so much as brushed against his bare skin…and the nightmares. Shanks remembered Ace waking up once, tears on his face, calling himself disgusting and dirty and stained.

And it all made sense now.

His sorrow and guilt nearly brought tears to his eyes, and he wanted to fall to his knees but knew he couldn't. Rising inside him was a black tide of anger, shoving his remorse out of the way and occupying his mind.

"You're a monster!" The words were nearly a roar and Ace flinched at them while Hare only chuckled. "You despicable, inhuman animal! How fucking sick do you have to be to rape a ten-year-old boy?!" The smile remained on Hare's face, unfazed by Shanks' words. He acted nonchalant, no real emotion in his voice besides a mocking boredom.

"I don't think it really counts as rape when it's consensual." That froze Shanks where he stood.

"Oh you fucking liar!" Marco knew nobody but Thatch and Whitebeard could hear his outburst, but he couldn't help it. Righteous fury pumped through his blood and he was out for vengeance.

Hare lifted his hand from its position at Ace's neck and caressed the side of Ace's face down to his throat again, eyes locked on Shanks' the whole time. Ace shied away from the touch, but couldn't pull away because of Hare's grip on his left wrist. Ace's breath hitched in his throat and he trembled lightly, fear plain on his face. Shanks was looking at Ace now, and still Ace could not meet his eyes.

"…Ace…?" Shanks' voice sounded so lost, so broken. And yet…Ace couldn't deny Hare's accusation. He turned his face away, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. A single tear rolled down from his left eye.

Ace's entire reality consisted of nothing but complete self-loathing. Hare was right. He was shameful, he was disgusting, he was no more than a toy to be completely used up and broken. All of these must be true because they were based on that one truth, that one truth that Ace couldn't deny.

He hadn't fought back.

He had tried, sure. But trying only means something if you succeed.

"Our little whore was quite shameless." Hare kneeled down so his face was right next to Ace's and looked at him. His face was so close Ace could feel his breath on his cheek and neck. Ace's body was tense and his breath froze in his throat. He wanted to pull away but found himself truly petrified with fear. Having Hare this close, this present, this real completely terrified Ace and for the first time it sunk in that Hare could truly do anything to him right now, regardless of the crew of pirates standing nearby. They wouldn't, couldn't do anything as long as Ace's life was threatened. Hare once again had him completely cornered.

Ace was helpless.

"And when was it that Ace's mind finally broke?" The cruel smile was still on Hare's face and his eyes showed his enjoyment of breaking Ace and Shanks down in one fell swoop. Hare looked back to Shanks, smirk full of sadistic enjoyment painted on his face. "I think it was somewhere between Thompson and White."

Shanks went into a state of denial again. He truly couldn't believe it. Not only had this happened once, but three times? At least? Hare was still half-smirking at Shanks. Shanks' heart was falling to bits inside his chest. He must have been so scared, in so much pain… "There's something else you should know too." Shanks didn't want to hear any more. Hare continued on, seeing the pirate's heart shattering. The cruel smile widened.

"He was absolutely convinced you'd come to save him." Hare allowed a pause, savoring the look of pain that came into Shanks' eyes. A moment later, he faked a disappointed sigh. "But, alas, you never showed. A pity, really. I'm sure you could have joined in the fun. I doubt Ace would have minded, as willing as he was for all the others. And there were others. All in one night, no less. Our little harlot must have been quite good at his craft to get through so many so efficiently. How many came to you that night, Ace?" He looked back up to Shanks, cruel smile in place. "I stopped counting after 10." Shanks couldn't believe what he was hearing. Any guilt he had felt before over what Ace had suffered while he was too late was utterly insignificant compared to what he felt now. The weight of his failures was nearly crushing him. 10 men? More? In one night? How could he have allowed Ace to go through something like that? And Ace had still believed in him, believed that Shanks would be there to save him, to protect him from something as disgustingly inhuman as what Hare and those men had done to him.

And he had failed.

It was as simple as that. There was no denying it, no other, kinder way of phrasing it. He had failed Ace when Ace had needed him most. He had broken his promise.

The Whitebeard Pirates didn't have any kind of close bond or alliance with the Red Haired Pirates, but Marco didn't think he'd ever seen any single person who looked more like they needed support than Red Haired Shanks did at that moment. The man looked like everything he'd ever lived for had been a lie, like he was so totally lost, like what he believed he stood for had all been completely torn away from him and smashed on the ground. He looked practically a child again.

Marco had always found Shanks somewhat annoying, his petulant antics nothing more than obnoxious distractions, but for the moment all of that was forgotten because as childish as he was, as annoying as Marco found him, he was still human and at that moment, Marco wanted nothing so much as to walk through the invisible barrier between him and the scene, kick Hare's fucking head off, and tell Shanks everything was going to be okay.

Ace couldn't believe this was happening. Every word Hare said served only to bring him lower, break him down more. He hadn't thought it was possible for him to sink any deeper than he had been before, but he was being proved entirely wrong in that assumption. Why does the world always have to prove me wrong? Every time something seems to be going right for once in my life, I'm brought to my knees again. What kind of reality could do that to someone? A thought began to creep up the back of Ace's spine, whispering into his brain. Reality can't be this cruel. That's the secret. This can't be real because no reality could possibly have this much destruction, this much bitter ugliness in it.

Ace's mind was strangely detached, pondering something much different than his current predicament. The entire universe consists of Substance A. If this is true, Substance A ceases to exist. It has become indefinable and thus is void to human perception. There were flits of movement at the edges of his vision, like something was dancing just out of sight, just out of reach. Twice he thought he heard Cheshire's dark chuckle. Marco was looking at Ace in confusion.

What the hell? Why is he thinking about stuff like this now? What is he even trying to prove? As part of Ace's memory, they could hear Ace's thoughts as well, providing them with a deeper understanding of Ace's side of the story. But this seemed so irrelevant to the moment that Marco wondered if this was something Ace was currently thinking as opposed to something he had thought in the past.

"No, this is going on in the past. And it's influential. Pay attention, you might miss something." Serpent's voice was calm.

"What kind of sick bastard are you that you're enjoying this? That you enjoyed raping a defenseless child?" Introduce Substance B. Substance B is the opposite of A, and this opposition is all that defines either one of them. It is only through the existence of B and thus its opposition to A that Substance A can exist at all. Marco could follow Ace's logic, but he still didn't understand why Ace was thinking this now and why it was so important.

"As I said before, is it really rape when it's consensual?" Shanks shook his head, snarl of rage on his face.

"It wasn't consensual." Substance B isn't real. Therefore, Substance A cannot exist either.

"Oh wasn't it? I never heard him protest." Ace reached a pause in his logical deduction. He was on the precipice, the edge of something monumentally important. This was the step off the cliff, the plunge into the unknown. Ace mentally took a deep breath. Substance B is Wonderland. Wonderland isn't real. Therefore… "The whore didn't even fight back. More than 10 men in one night and not a word out of him." Hare turned his attention down to Ace. "Well, Ace? Why don't you defend yourself? Have I lied?" Ace stepped into the unknown.

"Reality isn't real." He was calm. Perfectly calm. All his emotions had completely faded away. He was a being of logic right now, surpassing petty things like feelings. This was just another dream, just another Wonderland. More importantly, this was his dream.

And he could manipulate it to his will.

Cheshire sat before him, a little off to his left. His grin was as wide and present as ever, flecks of blood spattered across his near-human teeth. He was meeting Ace's eyes, and for once the manic grin seemed genuine as opposed to its sometimes more sinister appearance. "Glad you've finally come to your senses, Ace. Now stop thinking and act. It's not hard. You've done it before. Just like Rabbit." No one else could see or hear Cheshire, they weren't part of that false reality. Ace knew this. He raised his right hand as if reaching for something.

"Just like with Rabbit." The words were whispered more to himself than anyone else. Ace's hand closed, seemingly around nothing, and yet reality itself seemed to bend, folding and scrunching in his hand like fabric. For one moment everything froze, time itself seeming to go still for that one moment.

Then a lurching sensation, like Ace's core had just been jerked harshly back. The others felt it too, some doubling over or even falling. Then there was a deep, primal, undeniable feeling that something was completely and utterly wrong, something so fundamentally not right that the mind couldn't even comprehend it. It swallowed nearly all other sensation and made Ace almost physically ill.

The one thing Ace still perceived through all of this was the noise.

The sound was like that of tearing fabric, but magnified. Something in Ace's mind hated that sound, continued to deny it as not possible and unfeasible. Nonetheless, the sound penetrated into his mind, louder than any tear had the right to sound.

"What the hell is going on?" Thatch's voice broke the stunned silence that had formed between him, Marco, and Whitebeard. All three were feeling the adverse affects of this recent development just as Ace was, but they didn't understand it any better than any of the others present at this moment.

"Just watch. This is very important. You may learn something." Serpent's voice was calm and cool, perfectly collected. Thatch squinted at the scene, looking specifically at Ace's hand. Something in his mind tried to turn away from that, and it was almost as if his eyes couldn't accept the image he was seeing.

There was a hole in reality.

Ace had torn a hole in the fabric of existence.

There was…an indefinable color on the other side. It looked almost white, but if Thatch forced his eyes to focus on it, he could see…things, things he couldn't define, things with no shape, form, or substance racing, blurring past, shading the space with grey smudges that lasted half as long as blinking.

And Ace was sticking his arm into that space up to the elbow.

Ace's arm didn't come out on the other side as one might expect, but seemed to sink into this other place the farther he reached. He seemed to be searching for something, and after a moment he spoke. His face was calm, devoid of emotion.

"Handle: Aluminum-steel-chrome alloy, lightweight but strong, doesn't have the same brittleness of steel, 8.5-centimeters long, 2.5-centimeter diameter. Blade: Same material, 21.5-centimeters long, 4 centimeters and 2 millimeters wide at its widest, 2.5 millimeters thick at its thickest, top of blade rounded, unsharpened, goes straight to point, bottom of blade tapers from widest point at base in a curve up to the point, sharp. Very sharp. Weapon type: dagger/knife. Weapon location: Wonderland. Weapon name: Vorpal Blade." Ace's hand closed around something, and he withdrew his hand sharply from the hole he had created.

As Ace's arm grew closer to the entrance of the hole, Thatch could see the blurring bits of…stuff slowing as they neared Ace's hand, each tiny piece settling within his closing palm. The pieces were tiny and appeared almost like shards of glass, each no more than a few millimeters long, but they each formed a little piece of the blade, fusing together seamlessly and taking on the shade of steely metallic grey indicated by Ace's description. The handle formed first, perfectly matching the proportions Ace had described, then the blade, once again fitting and filling the exact measurements Ace had provided. The process of the forming blade took only a moment, no more than two seconds.

And then Ace drew out the knife.

There was a feeling like a concussive blast, like a shockwave, not physical but perceived all the same. And in that moment, Ace was no longer a being of logic. He started feeling again.

He felt hate again.

"I'm so fucking sick of you!" Ace darted the knife towards himself and Hare, stabbing it into Hare's left elbow. Hare gave a grunt of surprise and pain and his hand automatically released Ace's throat in response to the injury. Ace didn't stop there, drawing the knife back out and slashing at Hare's torso. Hare dodged backwards, releasing Ace's left arm in the process. Ace spun to fully face him and turned the knife in his hand so that the blade came out the bottom of his closed fist. Everyone in the room including Hare was staring at Ace in complete shock. More specifically at the knife in his hand, the knife that hadn't existed until a moment ago. Ace darted forward and tried to stab at Hare, the knife arching gracefully through the air. Ace hadn't been able to practice his combat skills for the past month and a half, but the Vorpal Blade felt so natural in his hand his body moved with the ease of long honed skills. Hare stumbled back a step, barely dodging the blow. He couldn't comprehend what was happening. He was too confused, too shocked to be able to effectively retaliate. Ace's face was a snarl of fury.

"I'm fucking sick of you and your god damned sadism you bastard! Haven't you already done fucking enough to me?!" Hare stumbled back another few steps, barely dodging Ace's enraged assault. He finally reached the edge of the ship, the railing pressing into his back. There was nowhere left to run.

"Well I say enough! I'm tired of you, I'm tired of your bullshit, and I'm tired of being scared!" Ace charged forwards, throwing himself at Hare. At the last moment he leapt up in the air, higher than should be possible, but this was a dream, Ace's dream, and he could damn well do what he wanted. He raised the knife high above his head, coming down from the peak of his jump to land on Hare.

"Well the rules have changed. This is my reality and you don't have a place in it anymore!" Ace left foot was planted on Hare's shoulder, his right on Hare's chest. His momentum had Hare stumbling, trying to keep his balance, and drove Hare's back flat on the railing. In the same fluid motion of his falling, Ace brought the knife down, driving it into Hare's eye. Hare screamed in pain, both in response to the abuse to his spine, which nearly broke, and because of the knife driving almost into his skull.

The pain assaulting his brain plus Ace's bodyweight and momentum overbalanced Hare, and Ace realized that they were going to fall into the sea, the cold depths reaching up to swallow the pair of them. Ace backpedaled furiously, leaping off the falling Hare's torso. They were at an angle now, and as Ace pulled the knife out of Hare's eye it created a deep gash that ran over part of his cheekbone. Hare screamed again as the knife was removed, and for a moment Ace's heart stopped.

"I don't think I shall be seeing you for quite some time. So before I go, I'll give you one last piece of advice." Cheshire's eyes went dark. "Aim for his eye. And don't stop until he isn't screaming anymore." Ace watched Hare's form falling into the sea as he leapt away from him. He wanted the moment back, wanted to drive the knife deeper because Cheshire had told him to and if Cheshire spoke directly it had to be important. Now his future was uncertain. Following Cheshire's advice had always led him to better conclusions than if he tried to go it alone, and now he had just failed.

Ace landed on the deck of the ship, barely managing to keep from falling over. For a moment he stared down, over the side of the ship. Watched as Hare hit the water, staining the crest of a wave crimson, then sunk.

He didn't resurface.

Ace continued to stare off the side of the ship, panting lightly, until the splash where Hare had hit the water was far behind them. Once it had faded until it was no longer distinguishable, Ace seemed to go slack. The knife fell from his limp hand, the blood-spattered point embedding itself in the floorboards. Ace felt completely drained, his mind barely even functioning anymore. The nothingness continued to spread through his mind, hazing it over with white as thought faded out of existence. He was tired, so, so tired as if his brain didn't have the energy, the will, to continue.

Ace slumped to the deck, unconscious.

Marco, Thatch, and Whitebeard were staring out at the scene, wide-eyed. Whitebeard recovered first, crouching as close as he could to the knife embedded in the wooden floor. As soon as Ace had fallen unconscious, the hole he had torn resealed itself perfectly, no mark of it ever having been there.

The knife remained, though.

As Ace fell unconscious, the scene around Whitebeard, Marco, and Thatch faded, replaced by darkness. It happened whenever Ace fell unconscious or fell asleep. Whitebeard wasn't really thinking about the darkness around them or wondering when Ace was going to wake up, he was more concerned with something else right now. Whitebeard was no physicist, but he remembered Ace explaining a specific point in astrophysics to him not too long ago.

"All matter in the universe is conserved. No matter what happens, nothing can ever be created or uncreated. The entire mass of everything that was to ever exist was created at the very beginning of the universe as hydrogen, which the stars fused for a few hundred million years, billions, even, into the heavy elements. All through that, no matter is lost. Neither is any created. It's the exact same number of protons and neutrons and electrons that were created at the beginning of the universe. They just change form, suiting their purposes in different situations, forming bonds to create new and entirely different molecules, but never is anything lost or gained." Whitebeard's eyebrows furrowed in thought. But if that's true…where did this knife come from?

"Don't try to apply logic to this. It won't help."

"Then explain what happened, Serpent. Where did this knife come from?" Whitebeard heard Serpent sigh.

"I'll try, but it's a bit of a long story. Ace and I watched this particular bit of memory hundreds of times, and it took us nearly 10 years to come up with an answer." Serpent paused. "Well…a bit less than that, but it was only a partial answer until recently."

"What do you mean by that?" It was Marco who spoke this time. Serpent took a deep breath.

"…Do you remember that document Ace was translating from Persian when Jericho was being an asshat about 3 weeks ago?" Marco nodded. "Well, that was a very, very old document. That document is why the answer is less partial now, but there's some stuff you need to know before we get to that." Serpent paused for a moment. "Alright…where to start…" She hesitated. "…Go back in time about 2500 years. Back then there was a powerful general that had been taught a very old, very rare technique. Others called him a monster or a demon or a sorcerer. What was important, though, was that this general was capable of creating objects with his mind." The others were stunned into silence. "Before reading this document, Ace only had a partial answer to what exactly transpired on this day. He got this partial answer by translating the campaign journal of that general, a man by the name of Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad. Ace hadn't been that interested in most of the journal, only the very end truly caught his eye. Altaïr was going to explain the secret of creating objects. He had been building up to it for the whole book and Ace was about to finally get an answer to exactly what happened. It was one line. One line after years of wondering.

"Nothing is true. Everything is permitted." Serpent paused for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was a near snarl of rage.

"And that was it. That was fucking it. All those years looking for something, anything, and that was the only answer we could find." Serpent paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and trying to calm down. "Ace wouldn't give up, though, and that document he was translating was an answered prayer. He told you it was Persian, but it wasn't. It's something much, much more ancient. In Altaïr's writings, he continually talks about these beings he encountered, powerful beings capable of anything. He called them angels, but Ace didn't believe it. These beings, according to Altaïr, are far, far older than humanity, the creators of humanity, of all life, of everything. Altaïr claimed to have met one, to have been taught the secret of creation, and said everything anyone needed to know in order to do the same was to follow his words, to follow the words he said had been spoken to him.

"Nothing is true, everything is permitted.

"This older document that Ace was working on that day is written in…a language untranslatable for most people. The nearest thing in appearance you know to it are the characters found on the poneglyphs. Ace…made an accidental discovery early that morning. That document was never meant to be read in the way we think of reading. It would seem an intricate, impossibly complex piece of Haki had been tied to the paper. When one's mind interacts with the piece of Haki, the document becomes legible. It's a puzzle, though. A test. It's like a half written sentence and you have to guess the correct ending. But it's more three-dimensional than that. It's an incomplete idea, a shape and a concept and a knowledge all at once. The nearest thing I can compare it to is trying to make a key for a lock. You have to map out the interior of the lock and conform the shape of the key to match it. That's essentially what Ace had to do, but instead he had to conform his mind to the shape of this ancient bit of Haki. It took him a while and distractions forced him to completely start over again. That's part of the reason he was so short with Jericho. The "translation" he was writing down on the other page was mostly bullshit, but he didn't want anyone to distract him by asking him what he was doing staring at a sheet of paper for 3 hours. Ace is good enough with Haki to be able to sustain brief conversations with others while still maintaining the shape of mind he'd been working on before, but strong emotions throw off the entire process, as does something like large movement. Ace stayed so calm because he knew if he got too upset or moved, he'd have to start all over again and he was so damnably close." Serpent paused again, taking another deep breath in an attempt to not explode at the thought of how Jericho had ruined everything.

"Ace had just begun to get through, to understand what it was trying to say. When your mind is correctly interacting with the Haki, the characters become moving pictures, almost like a memory, but on a sheet of paper. The characters on the page each become their own scene, and because thought travels at the speed of light, these scenes can be really, really long because while they're processed in an hour in "brain-time" in "real" time it's only been an instant, maybe two. Ace had watched the first two scenes and…" Awe began to creep into Serpent's voice. "…You wouldn't believe the things he saw. The things that could be made possible, with the correct application of knowledge. Altaïr hadn't been lying, there really were some kind of beings capable of creating things from nothing and you wouldn't believe what their civilization was like. Unimaginable technology, perfected medicine…they had everything.

"And then we learned the secret. How Altaïr could create things, how Ace could create things. These beings did it too. It's a special, nearly impossible technique called Synthesis. It was all Haki. Haki and that one truth among all lies: Nothing is true. Everything is permitted. Altaïr was right here too. That's all you need to know in order to create objects. You have to completely and honestly dismiss this universe as fundamentally untrue, all the rules breakable, nothing solid fact. You heard Ace a few minutes ago. This world isn't real to him. Or…wasn't. I don't know if that's still true now. Ace hasn't created anything since…" Serpent trailed off, hesitating. "…Well. You'll see. But now you understand, don't you? That knife isn't some illusion Ace superimposed onto the minds of those around him. The law of the conservation of matter is complete bullshit. Well…for some people it is. Creating objects, though, comes at a heavy price. It takes such a gargantuan amount of Haki that only those who have a truly remarkable amount of it can actually do it without dying. The…beings in Altaïr's journal and that old document, they were…beyond gifted. True masters. The first sentient beings. The first things to ever use Haki. They took this process a step further.

They created life.

First they started very, very small, micro-flora and fauna. Plants were less complex than animals, so they were created first. After a while they mastered the creation of single-celled organisms and moved bigger. Reptiles, amphibians, birds, mammals…nothing held their interest for long. It was too easy. And they grew lonely, living in their lofty minds with nobody to really understand them except each other. So they began working towards that pinnacle of their craft, that which seemed forever out of their reach. Sentient life. Something with the same intelligence, something with a soul." Serpent paused here.

"…And then?" Marco prompted. The story wasn't over. There was more. What happened to these beings? Did they really create humanity? How'd they do it? Serpent's voice came out hard. She was angry. Very, very angry.

"And then Jericho spilled motherfucking ink on everything." The words were a complete snarl of rage and Marco didn't think he'd ever heard that much anger, that much bitter frustration in a single sentence. He was actually a little staggered by it. Why is she so upset about this?

"But Ace saved the document. You can still go back and look at it later, right?"

"No. No we can't. Ace's mind was linked completely with the Haki that had been imbued into that document. His mind was still joined with it when Jericho threatened Luffy, and…" There was grief and hate and loss in her voice. "It broke. It was too intricate for that kind of anger, that fury Ace felt. I don't…blame him for feeling that way in response to what Jericho said, it's just…hard to see an opportunity like that go to waste. We could have finally had our answer." Her voice dropped, talking only to herself, but still barely audible. "I could have had my answer." There was bitter loneliness and insecurity in her voice. Marco didn't understand why it was there, but to hear the cat actually expressing herself like this in front of them…it was different than the snide, sarcastic face she usually presented. Serpent seemed to rise out of herself and changed the subject.

"Ace'll be waking up soon. You'll want to pay attention to this next bit. You're going to learn something new." After this she fell silent, not speaking again. Marco didn't press her. He could tell there was something on her mind and didn't want to upset her.

Ace opened his eyes groggily. He felt horribly lightheaded, dizzy like the whole ship was spinning. The light seemed bright, too bright even with his eyes closed, burning through his eyelids and stabbing at his brain. He squinted, barely opening his eyes, and looked around the room. He was back in the infirmary, back in his bed. His eyes slowly adjusted to the light and feeling the solidness of the bed beneath him helped with the lightheadedness that began to slowly fade.

"Are you awake yet?" Shanks' voice drew Ace's attention to his left. Shanks' expression had Ace sitting up in bed despite his spinning head. Shanks was leaning his forearms on his knees, head bowed, hat shading his eyes.

"…Yes." Ace swallowed, waiting for Shanks to speak again. Several moments of silence passed, Ace waiting to see what Shanks was about to say. One of Shanks' hands curled into a fist and he half-scowled, a hitched breath sticking in his throat as a tear found its way down his face.

"Why, Ace?" He looked up for the first time, pained, tearful eyes meeting Ace's own. "Why didn't you tell us?" Ace met his eyes for a moment, shocked by the tears in Shanks' eyes. After a moment, though, he turned his face away, swallowing hard. They knew now. Just because Hare was gone didn't mean they'd forget about What Hare had said before Ace attacked him. Ace felt hollow. He was tired of lying. Tired of lying to a man he trusted like family. Well…used to trust. He wasn't sure where he was with that now. Because somewhere in you, you know, don't you? Know that things will never really go back to the way they were before. You'll never trust him again like you did before. You'll never rely on him completely like you did that night. Never expect him to be there to save you. Ace hated that voice, hated what it was saying.

But he couldn't completely deny what it said.

Ace choked back a sob at this realization and decided answering Shanks' question would be better than continuing to talk to this voice.

"Shame? Disgust? Bitterness?" Ace spat the words. His voice faded though, going quiet, barely a whisper. "…Fear?"

"Fear of what, Ace?" Fear that if he sees you the same way Hare did, he'd do it too. Fear that if he found out, he'd see you as nothing more than the toy Hare made you into and he'd be just like them, fucking your brains out every night while you sob your life out. NO. Fear that this would happen, that he'd be hurt like this! The voice only laughed.

"We're your friends, Ace! We're only trying to help you!" Shanks' voice cracked. "Why didn't you let me help you? What good did keeping all this to yourself do?" Ace met Shanks' eyes for another moment before looking away again. He hugged his knees tightly to his chest, pressing his forehead against his kneecaps.

"I never wanted you to feel this way. You, Benn, Ricky, everyone, you all already felt guilty enough. What good would making it worse do? And…" Ace trailed off for a moment. "…I never wanted you to see me like that. To see me the way Hare did. I didn't want you to see what he'd made me into, didn't want you to see how absolutely gone I am." Ace's voice was raising in volume. "It's disgusting. I'm disgusting and I didn't want you to see that. You were all so happy I was back, and everything was perfect, everyone so happy at my oh-so-speedy recovery, and none of you needed to see that part of me died there, Shanks! It doesn't help that you know now, it only makes things worse. You can't fix this, Shanks. Your knowing about it only makes you feel worse and there's nothing either of us can do to make it better." His voice was somewhat muffled by his position, but Shanks could still hear him.

"Avoiding the issue now doesn't help anything, Ace. I know it must be painful for you, but we have to talk about this. You need to be open about what happened, or else you'll never be able to leave it behind you. It's part of healing, Ace." Shanks' voice was dead serious. "Talking openly like you did just now, it helps. It feels like it hurts, but it's the only thing that will help you in the long run. You don't need to worry about protecting us. You've already been strong enough for far too long. Let us be there to protect you." It sounded cheesy, even to Shanks, but it was the truth. Ace raised his face slowly, turning to look at Shanks with wide eyes. He swallowed thickly.

"You really think it'll help?"

"I do." Ace looked down.

"I don't…I don't know if I can." Shanks gently placed his hand on Ace's shoulder and pretended not to feel like a knife had been twisted in his heart when Ace flinched.

"I know it must be hard for you, but I really think you should try." Ace met his eyes in silence for a moment, then nodded.

"O…Okay." Ace was silent for a moment, not sure how to begin, not sure he really wanted to. But Shanks had asked him to, Shanks said it would help, and Ace wanted to disprove that voice in his head, the one that said that he could never trust Shanks like he did before. He swallowed hard, steeling himself.

"I'd been there for almost two weeks." Ace stared straight ahead, eyes unfocused. "It was the same day Hare broke my fingers. He…He did two things that day he'd never done before. He came back a second time in one day and he brought others with him." Ace's voice was monotone, devoid of inflection. "When I first saw them, I was confused. I didn't know what they were doing there. Hare had never brought others with him before, and I saw no reason he should have brought them then. There was…" Ace shivered, unfocused eyes moving as if he could see the scene before him again. "…There was a darkness in each of them." He closed his eyes for a moment. "It scared me, but at the time I didn't understand it." Ace swallowed thickly.

"At that point, Hare he told me…he told me to turn over. I still didn't know what was going on, but I wasn't about to just give him what he wanted. I fought back, refused. He branded me, then." A moment of quiet passed, then Ace resumed speaking. "After the first burn he again told me to roll over. I couldn't…I couldn't even speak anymore, Shanks. I was in too much pain. But I was still strong enough to deny him. I spat on him." Ace took a deep breath.

"He burned me again after that, longer this time. He moved the metal down my arm for what felt like an eternity. When that was finally over, he again told me to roll over." Ace swallowed hard. "I couldn't even move at this point, Shanks. My body wouldn't move, despite my mind screaming at it to do something." Ace looked down, looked away. "I couldn't fight back anymore. I couldn't even run away." A shiver passed down his spine, the fear of that helplessness writhing in his mind. He forced himself to continue.

"Hare rolled me over once he realized I wasn't going to fight back anymore. He used a scalpel to pin my hands to the floor, above my head. After that, he walked down behind me and I lost sight of him. I assume you can figure out what happened next. I don't…I don't know if Hare was the first." A pained smile came to Ace's face, quickly dying away. "It doesn't matter, though. It didn't matter then and it doesn't matter now. I didn't care if it was Hare or not, it hurt just as much either way. They came to me, one after the other, and the pain only got worse. I was crying. It was the only time I ever cried in front of Hare."

Shanks' head was bowed, his hat shading his eyes. It hurt to hear this, to hear what Ace had gone through. There was one last piece of information, one last knife to the heart that Shanks needed, though.

"How many were there, Ace?" His voice was quiet and he forced it not to crack. There were tears in his eyes, but he shoved them back, not allowing them to fall. Ace looked at Shanks, then looked away, shame coursing through him.

"I…I don't know how many total, but that first night…" He paused for a moment, clenching his jaw. His eyes closed. "There were twelve."

Twelve? My God…how could I have let this happen? What kind of failure am I that I let him go through this? Shanks reached out, meaning to comfort Ace.

"Ace-" Ace pulled away, not meeting Shanks' eyes.

"If you don't mind, captain, I'd like…I'd like some time alone." Ace's voice was quiet. Shanks could hear the pain in his voice and knew he'd pushed Ace far enough for one day. He swallowed and nodded.

"Okay." He stood and walked to the door. Ace didn't speak, while he moved. His head was bowed, hair shading his eyes.

Shanks reached the door and opened it. He was about to go through, out into the hallway, when Ace's voice, quiet and broken, stopped him.

"Shanks, what…" He swallowed thickly. "What Hare said, I-" Shanks' eyes widened. Oh God. He's managed to hurt Ace even after he's dead. Shanks crossed the room in an instant and knelt by Ace's bedside. He took both of Ace's hands in his own, holding them gently. He looked seriously at Ace's face, but Ace refused to meet his eyes.

"Listen to me, Ace. Look at me." He squeezed Ace's hands gently. Of all the things he'd said today, this was obviously the most important and he needed to make sure his words really got across to Ace. "You're not a slut, and you're not a whore. Those men did something horrible to you. You weren't given any choice. What happened to you should never happen to anyone, and the men that did it are less than animals. It's their fault. They're the ones that should be feeling like this, not you." Ace had clenched his jaw, squeezing his eyes shut.

"If it's their fault, then why do I feel guilty?" His voice was hard, full of hurt. "I didn't fight back, Shanks."

"Yes you did. You suffered more than anyone should ever have to. It's not your fault that Hare had hurt you too much for you to fight back. It's not like you chose for that to happen. You didn't submit to them, you didn't "let" them do anything." Shanks' voice was serious and direct. "Ace, look at me." Ace opened his eyes slowly and looked at the captain. Shanks could see the pain in his eyes, the solitude and insecurity.

"What those men did was horrible and absolutely none of it was your fault. Don't ever blame yourself for what happened. They deserve a fate worse than death for what they did to you. You didn't choose any of what happened and you fought back and fought harder than anyone could have ever asked you to. Hare lied. You're not a slut, you're not a whore, you didn't break, and you're never, never going to have to go through something like that again. I know I didn't do such a great job of keeping my last promise to you, but I swear to you I will fight with everything I have, I'd give my life to ensure you never have to go through something like that ever again." Ace stared at Shanks for another moment, then looked down.

"I…I don't want to feel like this anymore, Shanks. I want to get better."

"And you're absolutely going to. Nobody said this was going to be easy, Ace. But it's okay. I understand that this is hard for-" Something in Ace snapped at that word. He threw Shanks' hands away and turned to look at the captain. His eyes were hard and angry, his look practically a glare. His words were a snarl.

"Understand?! What could you possibly understand, Shanks?" Ace's voice contained the same anger, his voice slightly raised. "You don't understand. Do you have any idea what it felt like? What it still feels like? I was so alone, Shanks. I was bleeding and broken and scared, yes, I was terrified, of them, of what they were going to do, of what they did do, and I had to face that alone. There was nobody left I could turn to. Nobody saved me. There was no all-loving God, no pirate captain best friend, no one." There were tears in Ace's eyes and he tried to blink them angrily away. His voice continued to rise, his anger gaining momentum. "You have no idea what this feels like. I feel dead, Shanks. Inhuman. A toy. A doll. That's what they made me and that's what I became. I hate myself!" Ace's last outburst faded away. A sob choked its way out of his chest, and another followed. There were tears on his face and he made no attempt to hide them. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter. "Understand? You don't understand this, Shanks. You can't. You never will. And you should be damn glad of that."

Shanks was staring at Ace with wide eyes. Ace's outburst surprised him, and what he said hurt like a punch to the gut. He felt sorrow too, and guilt. Always guilt. He stared at Ace for a moment and Ace semi-glared back, tears staining his face.

Shanks leaned forward in one fluid movement, not so fast as to startle Ace, but too quick for him to react.

His embrace was gentle, loose enough not to panic Ace. When Shanks wrapped his arms around him, Ace automatically stiffened. He was surprised, his eyes wide with shock. He'd expected Shanks to be angry after his outburst, to be upset with Ace for Ace's partially blaming him for what happened. He'd expected him to yell or to storm out of the room. He hadn't expected this, not at all. He felt a tiny pinprick of wetness on his shoulder, soon joined by another. He blinked, surprised yet again. Is Shanks…crying?

"I'm so happy." Shanks was smiling, his voice shaking with his tears. He let them fall freely from his eyes, not bothering to try and hold them back. He brought Ace a little closer. "I'm just so happy. You've finally, finally let me in." Ace's eyes widened with surprise. Shanks continued, smile still on his face. "You're angry and upset and sad and that's okay. It's okay that you're mad, even at me. I'm just…so happy that you finally told me that, finally let yourself be mad and upset and sad in front of me." He squeezed Ace gently. "…I'm just glad to have one of my best friends back." Shanks could feel Ace trembling in his arms, could hear his ragged, uneven breathing. Ace gave another choked sob, then buried his face in Shanks' shoulder, wrapping his arms around the captain, clutching to him like his life depended on it.

Ace wept in earnest then. All the pain, all the bitter solitude, all the anger and sadness and grief and disgust and self-loathing finally exploded. He'd been wearing masks for so long, hiding behind stupid lies and fake smiles for such a long time…and now he didn't need to. Shanks had broken through his masks, peeled back all the times Ace had told himself it was better not to share, not to burden anyone else, that no one else would care enough to listen and gotten to the scared, lonely, lost child beneath. Not only had he seen all of Ace's weaknesses and faults and ugliness, but accepted them. Wanted to see them. Called them best friend. Called the pathetic, miserable wretch Ace felt he had become friend.

Shanks held him while he cried, speaking soft, soothing things. Ace didn't know how long they remained there, knew only that Shanks was warm, his arms solid about Ace's smaller frame, that he didn't pull away.

Once his tears finally ran out, Shanks held him for a few moments longer, then gently released him, pulling back and meeting his eyes. Ace took a moment to wipe the tears off his face.

"I…" He swallowed hard and a tiny, genuine smile came to his face. "Thank you." Shanks smiled back at him.

"Anytime." Ace began to laugh at himself then, at his no doubt red and puffy eyes, wiping at them again.

"Look at me. I'm a mess." Shanks only smiled at him and ruffled his hair.

"Don't worry about it. It doesn't matter." A moment of silence passed.

"It's hard to believe he's really gone." Ace's voice was quiet, yet Shanks could hear an edge of doubt to it. He sighed quietly.

"Nobody could have survived that, Ace. Even if he didn't bleed to death, he'd never be able to swim to any land from way out here. He's probably been chowed by a Sea King by now." A tiny pause. "The point is, Hare's dead, Ace. You're safe. He'll never come for you again." Ace looked into Shanks' eyes, into the complete resolve there. After a moment, he nodded.

"You're right." Shanks smiled at him and decided it was time to ask about something else.

"Ace, about that…how exactly did you do it? Where did that knife come from?" Ace met his eyes and shook his head.

"I honestly don't know." Shanks seemed to consider this, then shrugged. He reached back behind his chair, grabbing something he'd placed out of sight.

"Well, in any case, this is yours." Shanks turned back around and handed the object off to Ace.

They'd found a sheath that at least somewhat matched the size and shape of the blade, and the Vorpal Blade felt just as comfortable and perfect in his hand as it ever had. Ace accepted it and looked down at the knife. It really was exactly the knife that he'd created in Wonderland. He could even see some of Rabbit's blood, darker crimson than human blood, still stuck in the swirling engraving near the hilt.

Some of Hare's blood was still on the knife too.

The blade was clean, but it was nigh impossible to get dried blood out of those minute etchings near the hilt. Ace studied the knife for a few minutes longer, only turning to look as he heard Shanks stand.

"Well, I think it's time to get some well-earned rest. There's been more than enough emotional trauma for one day, and I think we could all use a break." Shanks turned and began walking for the door. He reached it and turned one last time to address Ace. "Goodnight, Ace." Ace smiled back at him.

"Goodnight, captain." Shanks left then, shutting the door softly behind him.

Ace studied the knife for another moment, then placed it on a table near his bed. He'd worry about that later. Ace began settling himself down in the blankets, getting comfortable. There was a peaceful smile on his face, something that hadn't been seen for almost two months.

"Isn't it nice when your friends lie to you? It just makes one feel all warm and fuzzy inside." That had Ace sitting up again, looking around the room for the source of the voice. He found his intended target and his eyes hardened.

"Cheshire." The grinning cat was sitting about halfway across the room from Ace. "What the hell do you mean by that? How dare you talk about Shanks like that!" Cheshire shrugged.

"I'm not the one that's partially lying to you, the one that's doubting you. Don't get mad at me." Cheshire stood and strode closer, sitting next to Ace's bed. "You know he doesn't fully believe you. You could see it in his eyes too. He doubts you. It may only be a part of him, but he'll never fully believe your story. He doesn't understand you, he doesn't understand Wonderland, he doesn't understand what you've been through. Why bother trying to explain any of it to him? He'll never understand. Never. You need a different companion. You need someone who does understand you, who doesn't judge you for what you've been through, for what you've lost, for what you've suffered. You need someone who doesn't judge you for what you've created. Shanks isn't and can never be that person." Ace glared at him.

"Shut up. You're lying." Cheshire arched an eyebrow.

"Am I? It's so hard to tell these days. You've become more proficient at deceiving yourself and others than I would have ever expected." Cheshire began to disappear then, fading away as he always did. "But I don't believe I'm the one that's lying, Ace. Deluding yourself about something doesn't make it the truth. Be realistic." Cheshire continued fading, only his eyes and grin left. "I thought you might like some company of a different variety, but if Shanks is really the perfect, flawless companion for you I won't interfere."

"Cheshire wait." Ace was staring at the bed sheets in front of him. Cheshire stopped his disappearing and reappeared his head.

"Yes?"

"Does Shanks…does he really not believe me?"

"Only he can know that. But you let Mr. Savage scare him too much, I think. I'm not sure, but I don't think he completely trusts you anymore. But that's a mutual thing, isn't it? You don't trust him like you used to either." Ace jerked his head to the side, sharp rebuttal on his tongue, and was met with Cheshire's cold blue stare. The words died on his tongue. He swallowed and forced himself to try to say them, but they tasted like a lie in his mouth. Ace bowed his head.

"…You're right."

"You need a companion who isn't afraid of you, Ace. Someone who doesn't pity you either." Ace looked up, into Cheshire's grinning face.

"I know what it is that you want." Cheshire raised an eyebrow and tilted his head to the side.

"Oh?"

"I don't…I don't know if I can or should give it to you, though."

"You've done it before. It's not like we're treading on new ground here. It'd be mutually beneficial. I don't see why you're hesitating. I can be there for you in a way Shanks can't. How many times have you secretly wished for my advice, asked yourself what I would say in certain situations in order to get through them? I bet it's more than you would care to admit. I'm part of your mind. I'd be the perfect companion for you. I could never betray you or turn away from you because I am a part of you. I understand you, Ace. Understand you like nobody else can. I've been your only real friend in Wonderland as well, the only one who didn't try to kill you for that stupid key. You can trust me. I can trust you. We understand one another. Isn't that what you need? Someone you can undoubtedly trust right now?" Ace considered it. Weighed the pros and cons.

"…You're…you're right. I don't know how to do this, though. It was miracle enough the first time."

"Just imagine me, Ace. Imagine me exactly as I am. Everything about me, everything you know and everything I am. Imagine what I look like and what I think like. Imagine how I act and how I feel. You know me. You know all of this. So do it. It won't be hard." Ace's eyes drifted softly closed. He began thinking. Thinking about everything he'd ever known about Cheshire. The sarcasm, the knowledge, the vague hints he gave, the disregard of everything he didn't care about, his grey fur, thin body, large head, his grin, his tail, everything.

Ace didn't know what he was doing, didn't know how to do this, but he felt some kind of progress was being made. His mind was feeling that same drain of energy it had before after he created the Vorpal Blade. It was working. It was really working.

And then, of course, things started to go wrong.

Ace felt the blankness that ate away at his will change. It expanded in one great leap, overtaking a large area of his mind. Instead of just covering over it like it had when he made the Vorpal Blade, though, it pulled this piece away, separating it from the rest of Ace's mind. His energy was leaving him fast now too. He felt he was about to collapse from exhaustion, to pass out or die. He couldn't sustain this any longer, didn't have enough willpower to do it. He couldn't do this, he wasn't strong enough.

Ace cut off the Haki where it was.

He was left panting, gasping, and was glad he was already lying down or else he would have surely fallen over. He brought up a shaking hand and pressed it to his face.

"I can't do it, Cheshire, I'm sorry." A pause. "…Cheshire…?"

"You tried." A pause. "You failed."

Ace knew Cheshire had left again.

Ace took a deep breath, squashing his disappointment in himself. He gave himself a few moments to catch his breath, waiting for the mental fatigue to subside. It did, slowly. As it pulled back, Ace could begin to think again.

Except it didn't completely pull back this time.

The part of his mind that it had swallowed stayed somehow separate. Ace could access that part of his mind and it didn't feel fatigued, but it was somehow different from the rest of him. He explored the area mentally, trying to deduce its purpose.

Hello out there. Ace just about jumped out of his skin. It was as if Caterpillar had talked to him, but different. This voice was clear in his mind, as natural as breathing.

It came from the cut off place in his mind.

…Hello…?

And I say hello again.

Who are you?

…I don't know.

Why are you here?

I don't know that either. You created me, don't you know?

What are you?

Open your eyes and find out. Ace obeyed, opening his eyes slowly. He blanched in shock.

A small black cat was curled on his lap in a near perfect ball, large green feline eyes staring up at him.

A cat?

Well you were trying to make Cheshire, weren't you?

Yes…

So you didn't get all the way there. I'm the end result. You didn't make a complete Cheshire. I'm as close as you could get.

…What's your name? The cat seemed to consider this, green eyes narrowing for a moment.

I'm not sure. I think you have to name me. Ace blinked, then smiled.

You have your own mind. Name yourself.

I don't have my own mind. The best I could do was steal a piece of yours. Sorry-

Don't. That's not your fault. It's mine. That mind is yours now. He could tell the cat was still upset about it. What's the matter? Why are you so upset? It's not like you chose this…

Well…What am I, really? I'm not my own being but I'm not part of you. How was I created? Why? What purpose can I possibly serve in this life if all I am is your failed attempt to make something else? Ace smiled down at the cat and stroked its fur gently.

Don't say that. It's okay if you don't know what your purpose in life is yet, I mean, you were only made a minute ago! You want a goal right now? Name yourself. And let me pet you. Your fur is very soft… The cat chuckled at this.

Well thanks for that. It purred softly. It does feel rather nice… The cat opened its eyes and looked around the infirmary, catching on the objects on Ace's nightstand.

A knife, a sketchbook, and a copy of Paradise Lost? You seem to have strange hobbies. The cat's eyes remained fixed on the book. …But I think that book has given me inspiration for my name. The cat presented it quietly and Ace examined it.

…That's being a bit hard on yourself, isn't it?

Nonsense. It's the truth. I shouldn't try to avoid it. The cat chuckled again. It's meaningful and perfect and ironic. I like it. That is what you should call me from now on.

I still think you're being too harsh.

I am your first failure. It's fitting. I was your fall from perfection, wasn't I?

I wouldn't call myself perfect by any stretch of the imagination.

But I was your first failure at using your mind to manipulate the world, was I not? So it's perfect. I destroyed your perfection. So that is what you are to call me. Ace stroked the cat in silence for a while.

"I don't altogether approve of it, but I said I'd let you choose your own name. I'll introduce you to the crew tomorrow. We're going to have to come up with some clever lies to explain you."

We could tell the truth, you know.

"Theoretically yes. But I don't want everyone freaking out. But that's for tomorrow. For now, go to sleep."

Goodnight, Ace. Ace's mind was already half asleep.

"Goodnight Serpent."

(A/N: Whew. That was the longest thing in the history of forever. This even beat chapter 28. Hope you liked it! And therefore and thusly you now all know where Serpent came from. And you know the origin of her name, too! Well…assuming you know at least a little bit about Paradise Lost/The Fall (from Genesis). It makes sense, doesn't it? And I'll explain more about her angsting later. But what did you all think? Did you like it? Did you like hearing about Hare's backstory? Blob Fishington had requested it, like, forever ago, and now its finally been revealed. Hope you enjoyed. I also hope this chapter didn't seem too long…but I wanted to give you guys a super uber long one before school starts again. I have to go back on the ninth. Whoopdee-freaking-do. But anyways, could you please, PLEASE review this monster? I put a lot of work into it and I'd love to hear what you think. :) Love you all. ~Mountain97 (I'd have typed a longer Author's Notes but my fingers are tired. XD))