Chapter 50 (A/N: sorry for the break guys! Life got really busy and I had exactly 0 time to write – the short of it is I had to start the application process for college and on top of that I got kinda sick. But in any case, we're back. I haven't responded to reviews yet just because of how busy I've been, but I promise I'll get to it soon!

This chapter has been rated T+ for SWEARING and VIOLENCE.

And now, ON WITH THE CHAPTER

"He's coming to get you, he's coming to get you," Rabbit chanted delightedly, over and over, tipping his head back and forth in time with his off-kilter beat.

"Ace, try to rationalize-" Hatter started, but Ace couldn't really hear him, not over the pounding in his ears. Rabbit's voice should have been a broken shriek with the volume it seemed to have over all the other voices in the room, but he just continued singing normally, the sound inexplicably amplified.

"Ace!" Queen called, shouting, trying to be heard. "It's okay! You don't have to be scared! You can fight back this time, we can kill him instead, hurt him, whatever! It's okay! There's no need to fear! Don't listen to Rabbit!"

"He's coming to GET YOU, he's coming to GET YOU," Rabbit's voice was gaining intensity and he drew closer, standing just before Ace, grinning, looming over him. Ace could almost feel the thrum of each blood cell against his eardrums. He was dimly aware he was shaking, his hands clenched into such tight fists that his fingers on the right side felt like they were being stabbed, the wounds to both palms no doubt open and bleeding again. He felt a tug on a few strands of hair near his ear.

"You're not alone," a tiny voice murmured into his ear. "It's okay this time. You're not alone. They'll take care of you now. Thatch and Whitebeard and Marco. They'll make sure you're safe." The tiny form on his shoulder was wraithlike, the movements of his mouth not synchronized with his speaking. Dormouse's tiny, rodent hands were the only part of his being with flesh, the rest being bare bone, aged, fragile, connected by grisly, exposed sinew. His tail was nearly 3 feet long, curled under and around Ace's shoulder, anchoring him in place.

"Something's breaking, something important," Ace whispered. His blood rushed, hot, fast, maddening in his ears. He searched his mind desperately, feeling things slipping out of his grasp like playing cards. "What's breaking?" he asked desperately.

"Ace, I need you to calm down. Now." It's okay, it's going to be okay. The man they caught isn't Hare. He wasn't even on Hare's ship when you were in captivity there. Ace's eyes snapped to the source of the voice. Serpent. She stood just beside him, speaking calmly, sending reassuring words and emotions over their mental link.

How do you know?!

I went to see him, once I found out he'd been captured. I know from your memories that he wasn't on the ship – that and he didn't recognize my face. If he'd been on the ship, he would've known what you look like and mistaken me for you. "You need to breathe. If you keep hyperventilating you're going to pass out." Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Ace fought to match the steady, even tempo Serpent was setting, tried to wrestle the panic down.

As the blind terror began to subside into a more rational response – still fearful, but at a more manageable level – Ace became more aware of his surroundings. Whitebeard was kneeling before him, concern etched into his face. Thatch hovered uncertainly beside him, clearly wanting to help but unsure of how to go about it. Marco stood just beside Serpent, brow furrowed, and looking ready to catch Ace should he really pass out.

See? You're safe. Nobody's going to get you. Ace, you can feel how much they care about you. Do you really think they'd let anything happen to you? Serpent was right, he could feel Whitebeard, Marco, and Thatch's concern, their worry. Ace took a deep breath, feeling his heart rate begin to settle somewhat.

"I'm okay," he said. He knew they'd be able to sense his reduced terror and know he wasn't lying. He saw some of the tension leave Whitebeard's face and mind. The man who'd brought the news was still standing in the doorway, shifting uneasily. You're the captain; you've got to handle this. Go, Ace thought at Whitebeard. If Whitebeard was unsettled by a foreign thought being impressed directly into his mind, he didn't show it. He hesitated a moment longer, then stood, turning towards the man in the doorway.

"Lead the way," he said. He won't be anywhere near you, Ace. Ever. And you won't ever be unprotected. I promise. The sheer conviction in his mind convinced Ace more than the words themselves. To his mild surprise, Marco straightened as well, moving to follow Whitebeard. Something seemed to have shifted in his demeanor. When he turned back to look at Ace, his voice was warm, but his face was placid and removed.

"I'll catch up with you later, Ace. Stay with Thatch."

As it turned out, his hands were bleeding again. Selma insisted on checking them, and that he lay down. And eat something (Thatch had promptly disappeared to the kitchen to fulfill this particular order. Ace had assumed he was one of the ship's cooks, but now it was confirmed). Before, Ace might have panicked, but being able to see Thatch, Whitebeard, and Marco's minds, he could see the absolute faith they placed in her. They trusted her. And Ace, seeing their minds and knowing they had no ill will towards him, trusted them. So, by extension, he trusted Selma. Hatter had talked him into it.

A man Ace vaguely recognized from the dining hall before his excursion to Wonderland entered the infirmary while Selma was busy unwrapping the palm of his left hand. The man had long black hair, and appeared to be a cross-dresser. Ace regarded him warily when he first entered, but this time it had been Serpent to run back through the logic that if the others trusted this man – which they obviously did – then Ace could trust him too.

You certainly got very friendly very quickly, Serpent, Ace thought. She rolled her eyes.

Ace you're smarter than this. They've had thousands of opportunities to hurt or kill you if they wanted to. Think about it. You were comatose for quite a long time, and not only that, but your mind was unleashing the Inhabitants here. They actually hurt some of the people on this crew. Yet even so, they didn't retaliate, despite the fact that you wouldn't have been able to defend yourself. They're not going to hurt you, she concluded.

Old habits die hard, I guess, Ace responded, still eyeing the room's other occupants. He hissed as the last layer of bandaging was removed from his left hand, the fabric pulling slightly as it was lifted from the wound. Selma winced in sympathy.

"Sorry…" she said. She frowned down at his hand, turning it over gently to see the other side as well. "Well, you didn't break any stitches, at least. Strained them a bit, but I don't need to redo them." Selma turned towards a cabinet. "I'll rewrap this hand and then examine the next, okay? Just sit tight."

Okay so…I have a question. With how long we were in Wonderland, up here it's been over a week, right? So why in hell did it take you guys that long to find an intruder on your own ship? Ace didn't restrain the thought, but rather broadcasted it out to Thatch, Marco, and Whitebeard.

Well to be fair, while we were unconscious the crew was focusing on the Inhabitants and maintaining as few casualties and injuries as possible. Their movements were highly limited during that time. And on top of that, the man was hiding very cleverly in a place we don't go much, and a place one wouldn't exactly search for a stowaway in. We caught him when he snuck out looking for food, Whitebeard responded.

Where was he hiding? Ace asked.

The brig, actually. It's counterintuitive enough that it was a really good idea, Whitebeard thought. Ace half-expected Marco to chime in, but his mind was still, cool as marble.

…What's up with Marco? he had a feeling Marco wouldn't be the one answering, so he asked the question generally. He felt Whitebeard pause and Thatch's consciousness perk up with curiosity. Interesting. Thatch didn't know either, then.

"What's wrong, Ace? I'm not hurting you, am I?" Selma asked, concerned. She was studying his face, and Ace knew some of his edgy uncertainty had shown on his face.

"No, you're not hurting me. I was just thinking," he said, aware the excuse was weak at best. He was too curious about Whitebeard's response to waste concentration on coming up with a better lie. Selma seemed to accept it uneasily.

…Marco-

I don't empathize well, yoi. Marco joining the conversation startled Ace slightly. When I meet new people, I make zero assumptions about them. When one human meets another an instinctive bond- well…recognition might be a better word. Essentially, one human recognizes the other as also human, and that similarity and the recognition of it makes them, at the very basest of unconscious levels, trust and identify with the other. I don't. In this way, I am a better judge of character, lie detector, and interrogator of strangers than anyone else. Even subconsciously, I don't trust them not to lie to me, or not to try to hide things from me. So that's why I'm the one currently trying to get information, yoi. Because if it really came down to it, I'm prepared and capable of doing whatever's necessary to get the information we need. I won't let you suffer like that again, Ace. Regardless of what that asks of me. Ace was sure his shock was blatant. Marco seemed to anticipate incoming horror and continued. I only go to extreme measures in extreme situations. I'm no monster, Ace. I find no joy in extraneous cruelty. As long as there are other means available- Ace cut him off.

…You think I care what you do to Hare's man? Bullshit. Tear him to pieces, wipe him off the face of the planet. I don't care. Hare crafts his crew to be composed of monsters so they can stomach and participate in the horrors he commits. This guy's gonna be just like the rest of them. The ones that destroy monsters aren't monsters themselves, Marco. They're heroes. Do your fucking worst. The world will be better off for it. If Marco was surprised by this response, he did a good job concealing it.

"…You're worried about Hare coming back for you, aren't you?" Selma asked. Ace quashed his exasperation. After that shoddy excuse he knew she wouldn't believe him. But he was finished with his interactions with Whitebeard and Marco, so he shifted his attention back to this room. Selma had checked his other hand and, seemingly satisfied that these stitches were also still in functional condition, was carefully and methodically rebandaging it. She was studying him closely, her face serious. He didn't respond, merely met her gaze evenly. He couldn't deny it. He was pretty sure he was going to be worried about Hare coming back for him for the rest of his life. Especially now that he knew he was still alive. Selma's eyes softened slightly. "It's okay, Ace. It's not going to be long. We'll find out where he is, and after that, it won't matter where he goes in the entire world. We'll find him. And we'll kill him." Her expression was resolute, firm, determined. They would find Hare. They would punish him for everything he had done. She was sure of it.

So it came as a surprise when Ace burst into short, incredulous laughter.

"No, doctor. I don't think you'll be doing anything to Edward Hare." He wouldn't deny the way the name still made his stomach clench, but he tried not to show any outward sign of it.

"We will, Ace. He won't be able to get awa-"

"That's what you think this is about? Him getting away?" Ace was grinning wonderingly, shaking his head. "You've got it all backwards, doc. It's not a matter of him getting away. It's about your very reality ceasing to exist. Because that's what he does. He unmakes everything you care about, and then he unmakes you. You're not ready to fight Edward Hare because you still have so much you're unwilling to lose."

"We're not afraid of him, Ace," Selma said firmly.

"Yeah that's another one of your problems," Ace replied. "You don't take him seriously enough because you overestimate the effectiveness of your crew. That's because you don't understand him, not like I do."

"Ace-"

"How is war won, doctor? What do you consider to be victory?" Selma frowned at the sudden question.

"…One side attacking the other until they are no longer able to reciprocate," Selma said. Ace tipped his head, smiling, faintly patronizing.

"Wrong. War is won through means. Soldiers stop fighting when their children are put on enemy front lines. You'd never dream of doing such a thing. But Hare would. Without hesitation. You and this crew are always, always going to lose against Hare for one reason: you have rules. You have standards you hold yourself to. Things you can't stomach doing. Hare doesn't share this weakness. He will do anything he has to to achieve his goals and safeguard his own life. There is nothing he wouldn't do to get what he wants. Morality is a foreign concept to him, right and wrong don't exist because he doesn't care about them. You and this crew's dewy-eyed ethics and idealism will do nothing but get you and everything you've ever cared about killed if you pursue Edward Hare." Serpent watched him, concerned.

"Ace…" she said lowly, Ace waved her off, still not looking away from Selma.

"You aren't even close to understanding what you're dealing with. You think he's human. You think he must have limits."

"Ace!" Serpent said more urgently. Stop it. You don't have to-

I don't know them, Serpent. I don't care what they think of me. They need to understand how fucking out of their league they are.

"Well here's a little taste of the man you claim to be human. He used a knife to pin me to a floor, then he and eleven other men raped me." He watched the horror cross Selma's eyes, saw her face pale. "And it wasn't for some sick fetish or personal pleasure. It was to prove a point. The actual act of it was meaningless to him, it was only meant to show me that, just as nobody had come to save me, I was incapable of saving myself. To show me exactly how pathetic, weak, and worthless I am to him. To tear down any remaining notion that I meant anything to anyone or even myself. That, that is the man you're saying you can win against. I doubt you'd even kill a man in cold blood. Hare was willing to carve his name into my back and cauterize it with acid for no reason at all, besides that he wanted to see how I'd react. There's nothing he won't do to preserve his own life. Nothing. I don't care how much more manpower you have or how well prepared you think you are. As long as you aren't willing to use the same level of tactics as him, you won't stand a chance." Ace was still smiling insincerely. "You think everyone has some kind of border, some kind of line they will not cross. You believe there are no monsters among men. Well, in that way you are right. There are no monsters among men because all men are monsters. Edward Hare isn't special, he's just willing to win."

Marco sighed heavily, leaning back against the wall. Serpent smiled sympathetically.

"How'd it go in there?" she asked. Marco ran a hand through his hair, mild frustration agitating his movements.

"We're getting nowhere. It's not a matter of him lying or hiding anything, he honestly doesn't know." Marco's mouth twisted. "…Not that I can say I'm particularly surprised. Hare doesn't seem the type to share his plans with anyone. Apparently with the haste that Hare's ship left, he simply didn't make it in time. Stranded. Half-starved at this point, and scared to death. I know what Ace said, but he doesn't seem particularly threatening to me. But we're keeping him locked up until we decide what to do with him."

"…Give it a break, then. Let him worry and doubt overnight and see if he remembered anything new tomorrow. There's…not really a need to rush. You look exhausted Marco. Get some sleep." Marco snorted, smiling sardonically.

"I appreciate the sentiment, but you know better than that. Cheshire told you more than you're letting on." Marco looked Serpent in the eye. "Am I wrong?" She looked away.

"No, you're not wrong. I…I do know everything Cheshire knows, when he lets me. But I figured, since you never said anything, that I wouldn't…" She trailed off, biting her lip, still looking at the floor. "I'm…I'm sorry that he manipulated you. I'm sorry that he barged into your memories without your permission. It was…cruel." Marco softened.

"It's not your fault. I don't pretend to understand Cheshire or his motives, but blaming yourself for someone else's actions will only make you miserable, trust me." Marco pushed off the wall, patting Serpent gently on the shoulder as he passed her by. "I'm going to find Oyaji. What little I did learn he needs to know." Serpent chuckled.

"…Still not used to the whole 'telecommunication' thing, huh?" she asked. Marco paused, looking back over his shoulder at her.

"I just prefer face-to-face conversations. Not being able to monitor who hears what I'm 'saying' is discomforting to me. I don't like the Inhabitants eavesdropping."

"You do know, though, that if it makes enough of an impression for Oyaji to have any kind of emotional response Ace will get curious and investigate, right?" she asked. Marco smiled blithely.

"Don't worry, I have a lot of practice delivering potentially upsetting news. Just…maybe try to keep Ace distracted for me for a while?" She smirked.

"What if I want to know too, though?" she asked, half serious.

"You know me well enough to know that I'd tell you if it were truly necessary. As soon as I know something worth sharing, I'll share it." With that, he turned and continued down the hallway. Serpent considered her options. She knew, with their minds intertwined as they were, that it would be an easy feat to find whatever information Marco had gained. But she also knew that he was no liar. She knew she trusted him. She knew that – truly – if he had important information he wouldn't hide it from her. She sensed his mind turn down the hallways of the ship, winding among them effortlessly. After considering a moment longer, she shrugged, turning to walk back towards-

The knife slid effortlessly into her back, her expression morphing to one of shock.

The pain didn't take long to catch up.

She gave a bloodstained cough, the knife feeling like a bar of solid fire shoved into her back. Nonetheless, she smiled hatefully.

"Wrong one you son of a bitch," she choked out. Serpent?! Serpent What's wrong?! What's going on?! She could feel Ace's concern, his surprise, his uncertainty. Serpent knew he couldn't see what was going on with her physically, but this rage was uncommon, beyond rare.

"Call Ace." Serpent's eyes widened, rage turning to shock in an instant. Serpent?! What is it?! Talk to me! Ace was growing more upset, more desperate. And Serpent knew exactly why. Because something had crossed over, from her side to his, that had never passed that way before.

Fear.

But not for herself. She felt the blade in her back and somehow knew she was beyond the point where she could rationally fear for herself. No, this was fear for Ace. Serpent's green eyes closed gently for a moment. It wouldn't take long for Ace to feel her pain, for him to realize what was happening, what had already happened to her. Serpent felt the knife in her ribs and the blood pouring down her back and knew. She could see it coming.

I won't make him watch this. She could picture Ace's face, if she failed to do what she knew she had to. She knew he'd be sad. Knew he'd cry. She'd promised herself she'd never, never make Ace cry. She felt a lump rising in her throat, tears pressing at her eyes. She knew what she had to do. She couldn't hesitate now.

She shut the door between her and Ace's minds.

For the first time since her creation, Serpent's world was silent. There was no constant exchange of sensation or the occasional commentary. There was none of the familiar companionship, that perfect closeness with someone else. None of the shared emotions, the shared pain with someone else who cared enough to listen all the time.

For the first time in her life, Serpent was entirely alone.

Tears began to run down her face, falling from her eyes and dripping from her chin. It hurt, to be alone. To know she was going to be alone forever. It scared her more than anything.

"Call. Ace." The knife was twisted in her back and she gave a cry of pain. A tiny, quiet sob came up her throat, but not from the physical ache of the knife. Tears ran faster down her face, but her mouth pulled into a broken smile.

"I can't. I can't anymore," she whispered. A long moment of silence followed.

"…Then die alone." Serpent's heart shattered. The knife was pulled from her back and without its support she crumpled to the floor, blood pouring out of the wound. She heard repeating footsteps and couldn't turn to look after them. Serpent felt the tears still running down her face and made no effort to stop them, couldn't if she'd tried. She hated this. She hated being alone. She'd been separated for less than two minutes and already missed everything about being connected with Ace. She pressed against the walls that separated them, tears pouring down her face. She'd never been alone in her whole life, and even after these brief moments apart she knew it was hell for her. She hated being alone. And here she was, lying in a rapidly expanding pool of her own blood, nobody there panicking, trying to save her, fighting for her life.

Here she was dying alone.

Even pressed against the wall that now separated them, Serpent could feel none of Ace's familiar, comforting presence. The blood was draining rapidly from her body, and her hands and feet already felt cold, that chilling numbness beginning to spread up her legs and arms. No, she sobbed mentally. I…I don't want to die like this! The tears fell hot and fast down her face. She wanted Ace. She wanted to be held, to be told that she had done the right thing. She wanted them to be as they always had been, two broken, failing creations stumbling along, leaning on each other for support.

Serpent wanted her best friend with her as she was dying.

The coldness had spread, climbing up to her mid thighs and all of her arms. Her breathing was ragged, tattered with sobs, and she felt utterly wretched. She hadn't yet let herself consider the underlying fear, beneath the crushing dread of this solitude, of dying. She knew it was there, but compared to the bitterness and horror of this aloneness, it didn't currently feel like it mattered. It was beginning to become more relevant, though, and as the chill of bloodloss brushed at her torso, she made a sound – a mix of a sob and a cry – of fear and despair, hurling her psyche at the wall between her and Ace. It didn't shift or falter and she fell back, crying almost hysterically. The silence was destroying her.

A quiet thrum sounded, like a gentle knock on a door.

The foreign presence waited for some kind of response, but when it received none pressed forward, into Serpent's mind. Serpent didn't notice the new presence until she found herself entirely and completely wrapped in it, cradled, even. Her eyes widened and her heart froze in her chest, but after only the briefest moment's hesitation she latched onto it, sinking into it, clinging to it with all the desperation and abandon of a child.

The presence made no verbal response, only seemed to embrace her tighter. She closed her eyes and leaned into it, weeping against it mentally even if she couldn't physically. With how completely he'd wrapped himself around her consciousness he'd undoubtedly traced her pain to the injury.

…What's going to happen to me? What's going to happen when I die? Serpent couldn't help the question, it just slipped out. She asked it timidly, like a child. She knew he couldn't possibly have the answer to her question, but she let it hang there, her growing trepidation clear with it. A long silence followed, but Serpent didn't rationally expect a response. She didn't expect him to have one.

...White shores. The thought was sent to gently to startle her, but a response hadn't been expected. Confident warmth was sent over their link, assurance. Certainty. You'll see white shores. Serpent hung on each word with childish wonder and he fought to keep the grief from spilling over so she'd notice it. And beyond. Serpent could feel the edges of her mind beginning to ebb away, growing distant.

That doesn't sound so bad. The chill was creeping further into her torso and she stared at the wall in front of her.

No. Not so bad at all. A moment of silence passed between them, Serpent leaning against him like a crutch, him accepting and supporting her, soothing away the tiny worries and little doubts, sending nothing but warmth over their link.

…Did I do the right thing? Did I do good enough? Good enough to deserve this life that Ace gave me? Did I deserve his companionship, his support, his friendship all these years? Silence again, him seemingly preparing his response.

The first image was of Ace, Thatch, and Serpent all at a table during a meal. It was from some alternate perspective, looking in on the scene. Thatch's face was pulled into an indignant scowl, blush coloring his cheeks, in response to the verbal blow Serpent had dealt him. Ace had his head thrown back in raucous laughter, grin as bright and wide as anyone had ever seen it, lighting up his whole face, the whole room. Serpent stared at the image for a few moments, recalling the time from her own memory as well.

The next was of Ace and Serpent seated at a table, again from some alternate perspective. There was a chessboard between the two of them. Ace was staring down at the board, a look of deep concentration on his face. In his eyes, though, you could see the fierce, joyous glint of competition. He was clearly relishing the game, the challenge. Serpent's tears dried, slowly. How could she cry, remembering the joy and companionship she'd had all through her life?

The next image was obviously late at night. The perspective was looking through a doorway. Through it, she could see herself and Ace sitting in a pool of lamplight emanating from the lantern next to them. Their backs were to the door and they were both hunched over something as if focusing on it deeply. Scattered all around them were a variety of gears, screws, and other metal bits accompanied by the tools to properly use them. You could just see the edge of whatever it was they were working on, bits of metal protruding from the gizmo. In the image Serpent was staring at the device intently, clearly sharply focused, but Ace wasn't. Ace was looking at here.

There was a smile on his face, soft as a breeze.

The cold had spread through most of her chest, but Serpent didn't care. She was getting another chance, getting another look at everything she had to be grateful for.

The next image was of the two of them sleeping. Serpent was sprawled out, her body stretched almost to its full length. She lay on her side, her head tucked under Ace's chin, her ears tickling his chin, one forepaw up on his cheek. His body was curled around hers, his entire front side in contact with her. He had his arm wrapped gently around her, cradling her to his chest. His face was peaceful, serene. The smile was quiet, one of someone who's doing it subconsciously, not even realizing how happy they are. To have given this much joy, to have shared so selflessly with someone else… Do you really have to ask those questions? he asked quietly.

Serpent's tears had dried by now and there was a smile on her face that almost perfectly matched that of Ace's in the image. She was calm. Serene. Happy.

She wasn't alone.

Thank you. Her voice was quiet, barely moving across the mindscape. Her joy flowed over the mental link and she didn't try to hold it back. She had served her purpose in this life. She'd made those around her happy and had gained her fair share in return. Thank you. The cold had spread all through her chest, only a tiny spark of warmth remaining at her very core. Their connection was very weak now, Serpent's mind fading out. Thank you. She left.

One final tear slid unfelt down her cold face. It wasn't like the others, though. Because this tear was happy. It paraded quietly down her temple and into her hair, proclaiming its existence to no one, its truth proved only through the quiet, truly joyous smile on her face.

Serpent's sightless green eyes stared at the wall in front of her.

Marco didn't cry, when he felt Serpent fade out of their connection. But across the ship, when the mental wall Ace had been furiously hurling himself against since she'd slammed the door just evaporated, all of that mindspace back as if it'd never disappeared anywhere to begin with, Ace tipped his head back and screamed.

(A/N: Welllllllllllllll…yeah. I hope that was at least slightly emotional for you guys? To be entirely honest, I didn't do as good a job of establishing Serpent's character just in general as I should have, so it's possible you guys didn't get all the feels I personally did. She's much more developed in my mind, but in the interest of streamlining the story, a lot of the area where she's characterized more and where I got very attached to her isn't in the written story. If this character death didn't tear you up as much as Gabriel's, that's fine. I tried, so no one can criticize me. Well…here's hoping you at least felt a smidge of sadness. I'll see you next time, and I promise to respond to reviews by then!

~Mountain97)