(A/N: HEY ALL. Well…sorry about not even friggin being here for about ever. Truly, I'm very sorry. I started a new school year, and it's about 800 times more stressful than the last one. I haven't had time to write, and it's really, honestly, making even me upset. Writing is as fun for me as it is for you to read it, so you can be sure it's not that I'm ever, ever intentionally ignoring you or this story.

That said, this is only going to be kind of a baby chapter. I wrote it in about 50 minutes just to post something so you'd know I'm not dead. Expect better length and quality for chapter 43. And response to all the reviews I still haven't gotten around to replying to yet. Thank you all for your patience and support, and I hope you'll stick with me and the story until I can update more frequently. C:

This baby chapter has been rated T+/M for GRAPHIC VIOLENCE and SWEARING.

And now, ON WITH THE BABY CHAPTER)

Selma was pretty damn close to being at the end of her rope.

She leaned back against the wall, trying to control her breathing, trying to find a shred of the inner stillness and strength she usually had more than enough of. Because she needed it. And so did her brothers and sisters around her. Selma took another shaky breath, fighting down pointless tears of stress or frustration.

The infirmary was quiet, its current inhabitants all asleep at this hour. Selma was glad for it. She didn't want anyone to see this little breakdown. She didn't need help. She was independent, self-sufficient, strong. She could handle this. She would handle this. Even if monsters kept hurting her brothers and sisters, even if it got worse by the day. She would handle this. Because if people kept getting hurt, she'd keep being there to patch them back up. They needed her right now, dammit, and she wasn't about to fail them.

Some of her resolve restored, if not necessarily her strength or spirit, Selma pushed off the wall, walking softly on the wood floor of the infirmary. She checked each patient carefully, making sure no bandages had come loose or I.V.s run out of fluid. And then she came to the last four.

Oyaji.

Marco.

Thatch.

Ace.

She felt tears rising up again, tears of bitter frustration, of resentment. She took a shaky, choked breath.

"What are you all doing?" she asked quietly, voice low enough to not disturb the other patients. Her breath hitched. "What are you doing?" she hissed again, forcing back her tears, letting some of her anger escape in that question, that accusation. She whipped to Thatch.

"Where the hell were you when Vista got attacked?! He needed backup! He needed another sword at his back!" She turned to Marco. "And you, you, didn't you say, didn't you promise that you'd always be here to protect the crew, your family?" She turned to Whitebeard, her breathing hardly more than choked back sobs at this point. "We need you. We, your children, need you now! Where are you? What are you doing? Why haven't you saved us?" she felt terrible, she felt wrong, she felt unjustified, yelling at them, letting them hear the strain and break in each of her words. This ugly part of her, this part that she wished didn't exist, the part that blamed. Sure everyone had it. But she was supposed to be better than this. She turned to Ace.

"And you." She shook her head slowly. "You." Her voice became wretched. "Why are you doing this to us?" A sob, and somehow she wanted to lash out, but she wouldn't, she couldn't, she'd never. "Why, Ace?! What did we do to deserve it?!" Tears were rising again and she hated herself for this moment of weakness. "You're our brother we're supposed to be family so why are you killing us?!" She wanted to shake him, to get an answer, to find justification for the three siblings they'd had to say goodbye to. Today they hadn't even been able to recover the body. He'd just been gone. She fell to her knees, shaking. "…why?" She asked quietly, former passion evaporated. Now all she felt was hurt. Emptiness. Cold. Alone.

A knock sounded on the door.

Selma blinked, her eyes snapping up to the entryway. Nobody came in and silence fell again. But Selma knew she hadn't imagined it. Eventually, she forced herself to stand, to walk over, to wipe any signs of her inner struggle and her fatigue off her face. She reached for the cold handle. "Yes?" she asked softly, moving the door open.

There was no one there.

Selma's brows furrowed. What…? She looked both ways down the hallway, but saw no one. Only darkness. Unsurprising, at 3 AM.

Just as she was about to close the door, she heard another knock. This time from a door a little down the hall, off to her left.

Selma licked her lips. Everyone was asleep at this time of night…right? Except those on watch, and they'd be up on deck. It was only her down here. Her, and those currently dead to the world.

The knock sounded again, softly, unobtrusively, nearly polite.

Maybe… the timing was a little too perfect for it to be coincidence, right? She swallowed, feeling absurd hope rising in her chest. Maybe it's them.

Part of her found this entirely ridiculous. But a lot of her just wanted it. Just wanted it so badly that she didn't care anymore.

She ran across the hallway, down to the door that had been knocked on. She opened it, finding, once again, nothing on the other side. But soon enough, another door was knocking, and she was off, down several consecutive hallways, through a few connecting rooms, until finally the knock came from a door that she knew was a dead end, and this was it, she knew it she could tell. She'd get to see them on the other side.

She threw the door wide, elated smile pulling at her face for the first time in what felt like forever in this hell, her heart tight with happiness.

She faltered, staring at the figure whose back was currently turned to her. He was facing the window, pale moonlight matching his blue jacket to the color of the night sky. Selma didn't recognize the outfit, but she'd know that tousled black hair from a mile away.

"Ace?" she asked breathlessly. "Is that…Is that really you?" The figure stiffened.

"Don't!" he snapped, as she moved to take a step towards him. "No closer! I…I don't want to-" The muscles in his back seemed to spasm and he hunched in on himself, clutching his arms tightly to his chest, clearly in pain.

"Ace!" She tried to move forward, but her foot had barely touched the floor before he flung one arm out to the side, the other still clutched against his chest.

"DON'T MOVE," he snarled. "Stay the FUCK away from me!" She faltered, something in her chest smarting at his words.

"…Alright," she said quietly after a moment. "But will you tell me what's wrong?" Whatever was happening seemed to pass, and he eventually relaxed, straightening again.

"What's wrong…?" he asked, his voice smoother, cooler than before. She could almost see the smile on his face. "Dear doctor, isn't it obvious? I am." He turned, slowly, to face her, and her eyes widened in shock and horror. His face, Ace's, her brother's face, mutilated to such an extent. The fishhooks, the stitches, the blood.

"Oh my God Ace, let me help you! What happened? Who did this?" She took another step forward, and this time he didn't rebuff her.

"Ace did," he said monotonely, voice dead. Selma stiffened, hesitating.

"What?" she asked quietly. His eyes, sewed open, turned to her and he'd somehow gotten taller, his limbs elongated strangely, his head near the ceiling, nearly 9 feet off the ground.

"Ace did," he repeated. "He infected me." He moved his mouth, perhaps trying to actually smile, and fresh blood began to track down his face. "But that's alright. Yes, that's alright. Because…" he trailed off, then turned away, facing the window, his back towards Selma. He seemed to stare out at the sky, stars, moon, or perhaps something only he could see and Selma remained there, unsure, confused.

"Ha. Ha," he said softly. "Ha. Ha ha. Ha ha ha ha ha. Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!" His voice rose in volume until it was a near demonic screech. He flung his hands suddenly at his face, spinning to face her once more.

"BECAUSE I CAN SEE WITHOUT MY EYES!" And his fingers dug into his skull before pulling back out, but his eyes didn't pop out, the optic nerves didn't snap under the pressure. His eyes stretched. The white seemed to elongate as if he were grabbing some form of malleable putty, and he drew his five-foot arms away from his face, his eyes always stretching and bending with them. Selma screamed instinctively, adrenaline and survival instinct throwing her back out the door, slamming it behind her, and sending her running down the corridors, back to the infirmary, her place of being, her place of safety.

She threw the door open, then quickly shut and locked it behind her, not caring if the bang of it woke her patients. She tried to turn, tried to run again, but slipped on the wood, collapsing to the floor. She lay there, trembling, and, as the memories of what she'd seen played out again and again in her mind, she felt tears rising and this time didn't even try to stop them. They flowed, hot and fast down her face, and she sobbed desperately. It was too much. She couldn't handle this any more. Not alone. This needed to stop. No more death, no more injuries, no more waking nightmares.

She half-crawled, half-stumbled across the floor towards the beds of her comatose patients, not caring what they'd think of her if they could see her now. She flung herself at Whitebeard, tears still streaming from her eyes, clutching at his jacket. These monsters had made her a child again. And only daddies can chase away nightmares.

She clung to him desperately, her sobs renewing again when he didn't stir, didn't turn to ask her what was wrong, didn't wrap his arms, his strength, his protection around her.

"Please, please come back. We need you, we need you, I need you please please please I can't do this anymore I need help! Oyaji!"

Selma, for the first time in years, eventually sobbed herself to sleep, still clutching at her father.

Still waiting for him to chase the nightmares away.

(A/N: yup. Baby chapter. But I hope it'll tide you over until I actually get the time to write again. I truly apologize for the heinous delay, but I'm really doing my best, so I can't do any better. I'll write when I have time to, and update as soon as I can. I hope you understand and continue to enjoy the story!

If you think Selma was OOC for being so freaked out by what she saw…remember, she doesn't know who Hatter is. She thought that was Ace. Her big brother. Imagine how you'd feel if you saw something like that.

Yeah. Please review! It motivates me! And I'll respond to all chapter 41 and 42 reviews by the time 43 is out, that's a promise!

Oh, and I didn't have time to actually edit this, so apologies for any grammatical or spelling mistakes.

Well, see you all next time! ~Mountain97)