Chapter 51: (A/N: Hello again and welcome back once again! I'm very, very sorry to say I've once again failed to respond to reviews, but this time my excuse is that school starts in less than a week and I'm trying to finish this story before then, so I'm devoting all my writing time to writing the story instead of writing replies. I promise replies will be made available to all reviews – guest and user alike – just not yet. Bear with me, and if you're religious, pray for me that I can finish this story on time. If you're not, just send good thoughts and willpower. XDD We're coming down the home stretch, and I can crank out the conclusion if I really try.

This chapter has been rated T for VIOLENCE and LANGUAGE

And now, ON WITH THE CHAPTER!)

WHERE IS SHE?! Ace snarled over the shared mindspace. His whole chest felt like it was being ripped apart, like he was the one who'd been murdered.

Ace- Thatch started.

WHERE. THE FUCK. IS SHE?! Ace felt like he couldn't breathe. He wasn't crying, not yet. Around him, the Inhabitants were in a frenzy. Queen was screaming for vengeance, punishment. Dormouse was writhing on the floor, in seeming agony. Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum were sobbing hysterically, clinging to one another. The Dodo was ripping out his feathers, one by one, crying breathily, incomprehensibly shrieking. Hatter was staring at the wall, shaking his head slowly, his voice a drowned out murmur among the chaos.

"We're all undone," he muttered. Ace couldn't hear him over the cacophony.

Ace, Marco's voice was calm, but Ace could feel his grief, his sympathy. But that didn't matter now, Ace could tell that he knew.

Marco you tell me where she is RIGHT FUCKING NOW! Ace was already moving, already out the door, heading down a hallway. Marco seemed to sense that somehow, he needed this.

…She's on the bottom level, near the aft of the ship. But Ace…don't go there. There's a reason she shut that door. She didn't want you to see her. I'm already heading down there. There's…nothing you can achieve by being there. Marco's words seemed to only tear deeper into Ace's chest, further ripping him apart. He wanted desperately to defy them, to somehow disprove them, but Hatter – part of the crowd of Inhabitants trailing him – stared back at him and shook his head slowly. Ace bit back a sob, sprinting down the hallway, ignoring Marco's advice.

He himself didn't know where he was going, but he could see Marco's mind, could locate it. And Marco had said he was with her, or at least heading towards her. Marco finally stopped – on the bottom level, near the aft of the ship just like he said. Ace knew he could see him approaching as well, but he didn't try to further dissuade him. Whitebeard was with Marco as well. Ace practically leapt down the stairs, shoving himself back to his feet after his legs buckled under him, ignoring the fiery agony in his legs, so incomparable to the pain in his chest.

He skidded around a final corner and stopped dead, panting heavily.

He couldn't see her whole body, Marco, Whitebeard, and a few others standing around her. All he could see from here was the top of her head, her black hair already growing clumpy and matted with congealing blood. He thinks the sound he hears may have come from himself, as those present turn to look at him, but his whole reality is singularly focused on the corpse before him.

He rushes down the hall, shoving and worming between the people until he's beside her. His knees give out from under him when he finally sees her whole body, and he can do no more than stare at her.

"Don't cry here! There's people watching," Queen hisses. But Ace can't stop the tears once they start. Even the first sob is a violent one, gasping, choking, broken with sheer pain. The tears run hot and fast down his face, the sobs frequent and unstoppable, but he never lifts his hands to shield his face. He never tears his eyes away from her for a moment.

"You said we'd be safe here," Ace choked out. Bitterness, grief, guilt, rage, solitude, sorrow- all swam in Ace's mind. He finally ripped his gaze off of Serpent's body to glare over his shoulder. "YOU SAID WE'D BE SAFE HERE," he screamed at Whitebeard, the emotions tearing his chest apart. He stared at Whitebeard, tears staining his face, searching for justification, explanation, something. He could see heartbreak in the faces of the others gathered around, the sympathy and pity in their eyes as they looked down at him. He turned away, looking back down at Serpent, aware that he was trembling.

"Hare's man did it, he's the one that killed her," Ace said. Marco traded an uneasy glance with Whitebeard.

"We don't know that yet-" Marco started, Ace's head whipping around to stare at him, raw rage surging through his chest.

"Then it was a member of your fucking crew! What would you rather I believe, huh, Marco?! What bullshit are you going to feed me next?! What's the next lie that you're going to tell me?! That "everything's all right"?! Well it's fucking not, Marco! IT'S NOT OKAY!" Ace's voice broke. He bowed his head, a fresh bout of sobs crashing over his chest. He was going to die from this. This pain was too much. He couldn't survive this. There was no moving past this. She was gone, and never, never coming back.

Someone knelt beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. He flinched out of reflex, but didn't care about anything enough anymore to pull away. "You're right, Ace," Marco murmured gently. "It's not okay. It's not. We're going to find the culprit and they're going to be punished. That won't make it okay either, but she'll get justice and that's something." Silence, only broken by Ace's sobbing, hung.

"…How can you be so calm?" Ace whimpered. He hurt. He hurt so much. "How do you do it? How do you make the pain stop?" He looked up at Marco, tearstained, broken. "I'm…I'm not okay either, Marco." Ace wanted to break down, to truly collapse, but he didn't have anyone to support him, no one for him to collapse against. Not anymore. Slowly, carefully, Marco reached out. He pulled gently, weakly enough that Ace could wrench away if he wanted to.

He pulled Ace against him, holding him tremulously.

"…And that's okay, Ace. You don't have to be 'okay' about this," Marco whispered.

And Ace shattered.

He sobbed against Marco's shoulder, clinging to his shirt desperately. "Why did she have to die, Marco?" he sobbed. "Why does everyone I care about die?" His voice wasn't hoarse, not yet, but it was getting there. "I promised- I promised I'd never bury any more family members. Why- Why does everyone always die for me? I'd die a thousand times over for any of them! Why can't I be the one to suffer instead?" He didn't expect answers. He clutched to Marco, weeping hysterically into his shirt. Marco didn't offer a response. He couldn't explain away the world's unfairness. He couldn't explain how it was acceptable for the world to take away someone as compassionate and vibrant as Serpent. He couldn't explain how it was all right for the world to tear away the best friend and closest companion of a child who'd already endured more than his fair share of suffering.

He couldn't explain how the world could possibly think any of this was okay.

"I'm going to take you away from here, is that all right, Ace?" Marco whispered. Ace sobbed, shaking his head.

"No! I won't leave her!" He sounded so much like a child. Ace did his best to conceal his youth behind maturity, but now, now when raw emotion had torn all that away, he was just a ten-year-old kid. A kid who'd just lost one of the most important people in the world to him.

"Ace…" Marco started, chest aching. "…You and I both know she isn't there anymore."

Ace froze, even his tears pausing. He held there for a moment, before the most wretched sob yet tore out of his chest. After a long moment, he nodded miserably against Marco's shoulder. Marco, taking this as assent, scooped him up carefully, turning and heading down the hallway. Ace continued to weep against him, and Marco didn't fault him for it.

It took him a moment to decide where to take Ace. The infirmary wasn't a good idea. Serpent's body would be taken there for autopsy, and seeing the body again would only upset Ace more.

By the time they reached Marco's room, Ace's sobs had faded in volume, his tears seeming to run out. Marco set him gently on the bed, drawing back to see a hollow, dazed expression on Ace's face. He looked exhausted. Drained. Vacant. They watched each other, Marco more empathetic than he would admit, Ace completely spent. After a long moment, Marco turned away, walking to the shelf beside his desk, and pulling something from it. He crossed back to Ace, crouching so they were eye-to-eye, Ace sitting on the bed. Ace merely stared back at him listlessly.

Marco lifted the article, holding it between them for examination. "Ace, do you know what this is?" Ace gave a tiny shake of his head. "It's called a sachet. This was given to me a long, long time ago by someone very dear to me." Marco kneaded and rolled the bag in his hand, a sweet, earthy smell emanating from it. "In it is a combination of chamomile, lavender, jasmine, and hops." Marco placed the bag in one of Ace's hands, watching him rub cautiously at the fabric, noticing, no doubt, the curious texture of it. "It's meant to relax the mind. To help in times of stress. To soothe." Ace was staring down at the small bag in his hand, studying the intricate embroidery. "The characters sewn onto it are from a very ancient language. It's a petition for peace." Marco didn't smile. "…I know what it's like. To lose people. Sadness so deep it feels like it'll never stop, a void that no one, ever, will truly be able to fill. I know the rage, Ace. If you aren't careful, all those emotions can destroy you." Ace was looking back at him now, and Marco stared him right in the eye. "You need to find your peace in the storm, Ace. Don't let yourself be tossed around in it constantly. Find a refuge, let yourself take a break every now and then. And know that, someday, if you let it, it will blow over and you'll see the stars shining through the clouds. Nobody can replace her, Ace. Nobody. But there is still happiness for you to find out there, if you're still willing to try and look for it." He stood, looking down at Ace softly.

"Try to get some rest. I'll bring you something to eat in a few hours." Ace nodded mutely and Marco turned away, heading to his desk and sitting down. In truth, bureaucratic shit was the last thing he currently wanted to be working on. But he wouldn't leave Ace alone, not when there was some unidentified threat on the ship, and not when Ace was in such a state of emotional fragility. He could feel the overwhelming grief and turmoil in Ace's mind, currently subdued by a cloud of vacant numbness.

Marco settled into the work, keeping a piece of his attention carefully monitoring Ace. Whitebeard and Thatch sent quiet thoughts asking after his condition. Marco was always the one to respond to these, not Ace. Ace was silent, lying on his side, staring at the wall. He didn't move.

When they'd entered the room, Marco had intentionally shut the Inhabitants out of it, but even with the visual and audible hallucinations not present, he could hear them in Ace's mind. It was chaos. It was hell. Ace didn't seem to care at all, never responding to anything they said. One by one they stopped talking. Queen was the last one to go, snarling about revenge and judgment. Ace didn't respond directly to him, but Marco could sense his agreement.

After that, true silence existed in the room. Ace was still speechless, still motionless. Marco read each document more carefully than was probably necessary, taking his time, stretching out the work longer. He'd been careful so far not to show his own grief and guilt about Serpent's death to Ace, and the work was helping him subjugate those emotions further with its regularity. Time passed. Finally, Marco glanced at the small clock and rose. Ace still didn't stir.

"Ace, I'm going to go to the dining hall to get you some food. Stay in here. I'll be back shortly." Ace gave a nod of assent, not turning to look at him. Marco didn't press him further, heading out into the hall and shutting the door quietly behind him.

I could have brought you a plate, you know, Thatch said quietly. Marco sighed.

I know. I think…Ace needed a few minutes alone, though, Marco responded.

The hallways were about as busy as usual, but there was a somber reservation in everyone's movements. Everyone talked quietly. Nobody smiled as much. The dining hall was almost dead silent.

It was always this way the first day after losing a family member.

Serpent had been one of them, even if she hadn't worn their mark. She'd laughed with them, lived with them, loved and been loved. Her death hadn't been one to only hurt Ace. Everyone was aching, grieving at some level. It had been a complete shock as well, not in the midst of battle when one could at least accept early deaths.

Every now and then someone would stop him, asking after Ace, how he was handling it. Marco had the same response for each. "He's grieving. He just lost his best friend. I don't think we should expect much activity from him for a while." It was brief, but it conveyed the essential information, and silence seemed more appropriate somehow.

As he neared the front of the dining hall, where food was served, he paused for a moment, going completely still. Something had shifted, somehow. He couldn't put his finger on it exactly, but something was off. Somehow everything had gone even quieter than before, but the same number of people were quietly murmuring at the same volume. It was a feeling of deep-seated solitude. Marco examined the emotion, studying it closely, trying to analyze it more carefully. But he could glean no more information from it nor trace its source. He wrote it off as a byproduct of grief, letting it slip out of analysis and back into the amygdala.

The walk back to his room was filled with the same deep sense of aloneness. Nobody tried to stop or talk to him. Nobody even really seemed to look at him, and he didn't really look in return. It was only just before he turned down the last hallway to his room that the feeling seemed to pass. That, too, seemed odd. If it had been a product of his grief, shouldn't it have lasted longer?

As he opened the door, he let his confusion fade. Emotion, by definition, was not subject to logic. He'd become more emotional in general since joining the Whitebeard Pirates, it shouldn't surprise him that sometimes even his own reactions now escaped his ability to comprehend.

When he entered, Ace was lying on his side, staring at the same wall he had been for the last few hours. It was only as Marco drew closer that Marco noticed a difference. The sachet had moved from his right hand to his left. Marco cast this observation aside – the broken fingers of Ace's right hand might have grown sore from the position of holding the bag – and set the plate of food on the bedside table with a faint clink.

"I brought you some food, Ace. You should really eat something." Ace didn't respond, didn't even move. Marco let the silence stretch, waiting for some kind of recognition. After a long pause, he sighed. "…All right, I'll leave it there for you. But do eat something, Ace. You're still getting over the aftereffects of your malnutrition, it's important you keep eating." Ace didn't stir. Marco turned away, heading back to his desk. "You should sleep in here tonight. I don't want you alone for long when there's still a threat-"

"There is no threat anymore," Ace said quietly, moving nothing but his mouth. Marco turned to stare at him in confusion. Ace remained motionless, and didn't speak again. After a while, Marco felt his mind fade even further, the tide of emotions settling back into Ace's subconscious. Ace had fallen asleep.

Marco sat uneasily at his desk, turning over Ace's statement in his mind. The words themselves he could possibly explain – with Serpent gone Ace didn't think there was anything to be threatened and thus there could be no threat. Possibly. Predicting the thoughts of others wasn't something Marco was excellent at. But no, it wasn't the words that had unsettled him.

It was the tone.

Marco had expected Ace's voice to be wrung out, twisted with sorrow. But it hadn't been. For all that it had been at a low volume, Ace's voice had been…strong. It wasn't tinged with grief or sadness. Instead, he had sounded…Marco couldn't even put his finger on the correct adjective. He didn't sound happy. He didn't sound pleased. He sounded…

…satisfied.

Marco could make no sense of this, no matter how he examined it. Finally, with a last uneasy prod, he let it lie, settling it lower on his levels of conscious thought. He might have misheard, or misinterpreted. Emotion was not something he could deal with as fluidly as others. Perhaps he could get Ace to explain it in the morning.

The screaming roused Marco from the state of near-meditation he'd fallen into, working on paperwork all night. Marco instantly shot to his feet, whirling, alarm and surprise jolting his senses into hypersensitivity.

Ace was sitting bolt upright on the bed, clinging to himself desperately, his eyes wide and terrified. There were unheeded tears on his face, glistening in the soft light coming from the window – a mix of moonlight and pre-dawn glow. His breathing was harsh and ragged, far too fast. He was going to pass out if Marco didn't do something.

Marco crossed to the bed, kneeling beside it. Ace's eyes were roving wildly around the room, refusing to settle anywhere, blind terror dilating his pupils. "Ace, I need you to calm down. You're all right. It was just a dream. You're okay." Ace's eyes snapped to him as soon as he started speaking. As he spoke, Marco tried to convey some form of calmness across their mental link. He could feel Thatch and Whitebeard blearily returning to consciousness, Ace's level of panic crossing over to their minds and waking them.

Wha's goin on? Thatch thought blearily.

Ace had a nightmare. It's all right, I think I've got it, Marco responded, sending this answer to Whitebeard as well. By now, Ace's breathing had settled a little. He stared at Marco, wide-eyed.

"Am I a liar?" he asked, voice breathy, terrified. "You said you're a good lie detector. Am I a liar?!" Marco didn't let his bewilderment show on his face, merely continued to send reassurance over their mental link.

"No, Ace. You're not a liar," Marco responded soothingly, sending feelings of confidence and honesty over their mental link. He really, really hoped that was the answer Ace was looking for. A tense moment hung before a shudder passed down the length of Ace's spine and his body relaxed somewhat.

"I dreamed…" Ace started, only to trail off. He shook his head. "I…I can't really explain it. I dreamed that I…I dreamed that my name was a lie. And I kept trying to ask people around me what my name was, but I'd lied to everyone and they all thought my name was Ace. Finally I found Serpent-" Ace choked slightly on the name. "I-I found her and I asked her what my name was, because I knew she wouldn't lie to me. But she…she wouldn't tell me and I got angry, so, so angry." His eyes brimmed with fresh tears. "And I…I killed her, Marco. I just- I couldn't- I couldn't stop-" He sobbed, raising his hands to his face, cutting himself off.

"That's a terrible dream," Marco murmured sympathetically. "But I assure you, Ace. You're no liar. That is your real name."

"How do you know that? How can you possibly know that for sure?" Ace asked between sobs. Marco considered his answer, how much he should tell Ace. In this case, pure honesty seemed the best course of action.

"…Because I was there when you were named," Marco said quietly. Ace froze, eyes snapping open and locking on him, expression bent with shock and confusion. Marco met his gaze evenly, softness in his eyes. "I think Roger cried more than you did, when you were born. Their whole crew was a mess, honestly. Rouge was like a mother to all of them, they all loved you from the time you were conceived and now they could actually see you…" Marco chucked faintly. "I was almost embarrassed for them. Strongest pirate crew in the world, every one of them blubbering away over a baby," he snorted, shaking his head amusedly.

"You knew my mother?" Ace whispered wonderingly. Marco smiled at him, dipping his head slightly in acknowledgment.

"She remains one of the bravest, most compassionate, loving people I have ever known. During the time she was pregnant with you, Roger begged Oyaji to ask me to look after her. He and his crew were doing their best to raise a ruckus all over the world to distract the marines from you two, but he wanted to be sure nothing would happen to either of you. She became one of the few people outside my family that I rank among my friends." Marco paused, brief silence falling between them. He took the wonder and thirst in Ace's eyes as a cue to continue speaking. "…She had the most beautiful singing voice. I remember, a few months before you were born, she asked me to teach her all manner of lullabies to sing to you." Marco looked down for a moment, still smiling. "I…I don't sing, but I would teach her the lyrics and play the melodies for her on the piano. I must have taught her over a hundred. And every evening we'd sit by the fire and I'd have her sing them back to me to make sure she got all the words and notes right. And after she'd finish she'd say to me, "Marco, tell us a story. Something full of adventures and excitement." At first, I used folk tales. But after a while, your mother…" Marco trailed off, shaking his head, smiling ruefully. "…She got me talking about myself, eventually. She's one of a handful of people I ever gave my life story to. She…she cried for me at the times where I should have, but couldn't. It was one of the most precious gifts I've ever been given."

"…You loved her," Ace said quietly. Marco looked back at him, smiling warmly.

"Yes, I loved your mother very much. If Oyaji is the closest thing I'll ever have to a father, Rouge was the closest thing I'll ever have to a mother." He tipped his head. "That makes us half-brothers, eh?" Ace seemed to be mulling it over deeply. Marco chuckled quietly, standing, ruffling Ace's hair gently. "I'm going to go get some coffee. You can go back to sleep or get a book off my shelf, if you like. I'll be back soon."

Marco left the room, shutting the door behind himself. The memories swam behind his eyes, and he relished in them. It had been some time since he'd considered that golden, lovely segment of his life. He walked down the deserted hallway on autopilot, letting the memories occupy his thoughts. He passed a single person in the hallway, perhaps someone just coming off watch, heading the opposite direction. He gave a small nod of acknowledgment and continued moving, receiving one in return.

When he got to the dining hall, bee-lining towards the communal coffee pot, he also approached the two other early-birds, including Haruta. She looked upset, talking to one of the members of her division, gesturing wildly. As Marco approached, he began to actually hear the conversation.

"…what do you mean 'just gone'?! How could he have possibly gotten out?! And what about the guard?!" Marco grew more concerned as he approached, his interest in the conversation growing exponentially.

"Excuse me," he interjected before Haruta could rattle off more accusatory questions. "Who, exactly, is 'just gone'?" Haruta and the man's attention snapped to her. Haruta looked highly troubled, and her tone matched.

"The man. The stowaway. Hare's man. He's gone. And we have no idea how or where. We had a guard on the door all night. We searched him head to toe for anything bearing the slightest resemblance to a lock pick or a weapon. And the cell door wasn't even unlocked." Marco's concern had quadrupled in the last fifteen seconds.

Ace can you hear me? I need you to lock the door, okay? Marco thought at him.

Hmm? Ace thought back sleepily, clearly having been woken by Marco's message.

I need you to lock the door, Ace. Somehow Hare's man managed to escape and we don't know where he is. I'll be back in two minutes.

Oh, you don't have to worry about him, Ace drawled sleepily. Cheshire says it's a'right… he slurred, clearly on the very verge of falling back asleep.

Marco blinked, once, twice, trying to decipher the implications of that statement. He didn't let himself consider it for more than a moment, though. There were more important things to think about now. He shot off two thoughts rapid-fire, the first to Whitebeard and the second to Thatch.

Oyaji, somehow Hare's man got out of his cell at an unidentified time last night and is most likely somewhere on the ship. Everybody should be up and searching as soon as possible. Thatch, Ace is in my room and I really, really, really don't want him alone while we don't know where Hare's man is. I want you there yesterday. I'll be down shortly as well. But Ace is never to be left alone for any length of time.

He returned his attention to Haruta. "I've let Oyaji know the situation. The search should be beginning as soon as humanly possible. Tell me, concisely, about any evidence in the cell area that could give us any kind of hint as to his location or intention." Haruta looked bewildered at first, but she recognized the tone of command and responded immediately, saving any questions she may have for a more suitable time.

"As I said, the cell door was still firmly locked, and none of the bars were bowed or bent in such a way that he could have slipped between them. They are, as I'm sure you know, a very faint seastone alloy, just enough to keep any logia types from just sifting through them. So he couldn't have escaped using a devil fruit. And finally there are the guards, who claim that there were no disturbances during any of the watches. The only real evidence we have is a small bloodstain on the floor near the bars. We aren't sure whose blood it is, though." Marco pondered this for a moment.

"…Were there ever any periods of time where there wasn't a guard present? I don't care for how long. Were there even the briefest of breaks?" Marco asked. Haruta seemed to consider it.

"…One, maybe. The guard left for no more than two minutes to get dinner. But that's not enough time for him to pick the lock, get out, inexplicably relock the door, and then leave. Even Thatch couldn't do that in that timeframe." Marco pondered this, turning over the facts in his head. It wasn't sitting quite right. What was the point of escaping? They were in the middle of the ocean, there was nowhere to go. Even if he had stolen a lifeboat and supplies, he was fucked. This was the Grand Line. He wouldn't be able to find an island without a log pose before he ran out of food or water and died. So why escape? Why was the door locked? What about the blood on the floor, was that important? He couldn't answer these questions.

"…I guess we'll just have to ask him how and why when we find him. It shouldn't take long to search the ship once everyone gets moving. Haruta, get your division up and going, I'll check on Ace and start getting things organized. We need to be systematic, he's already proven to be quite gifted at hiding in unique locations." Haruta nodded and walked off briskly, the other member of her division trailing behind her. He could tell Oyaji was up and moving, could feel the steadfast resolve of his mind as he began ordering and directing people. He could also tell Thatch was with Ace, the two of them still holed up in Marco's room. That was for the best. Ace wandering the ship – even guarded – while someone this crafty was sneaking around was a bad idea.

Ace didn't seem frightened or upset about this development, which was good but concerned Marco. But perhaps just having Thatch there was enough to comfort him. Marco headed down the hallway quickly, walking fast. He'd quickly check in with Thatch and Ace, then head off to meet Oyaji and organize the crew into a systematic search effort.

His arm was grabbed, twisted behind his back, and before he could so much as process it, shackled to his neck. Marco instantly recognized the seeping, murderous cold of seastone. He tried to retaliate, whirling, lashing out with his elbow at whoever had done this, already knowing he was going to be too slow to do anything. His assailant dodged, moving with Marco so he stayed behind him and out of sight. Marco, in his instinctive retaliation, had overextended, and the attacker seized the opportunity, wrapping his arm around Marco's, pulling it out to the side, bracing his forearm against the back of Marco's neck. A knife appeared in his other hand, coming up to press the blade against his throat.

"You do know who you're up against, don't you?" Marco asked.

"Oh don't worry. I did my homework, Marco. A lot of it. It took a lot of digging to find out about you. Even more to find one of the few blades still in existence that can kill you." Marco stiffened, hearing the voice.

Marco? What's going on? And suddenly, it made sense. It made so much more sense. Why, exactly, Serpent had shut the door, had cut herself off from Ace at the expense of thinking she was going to die alone.

"You miscalculated," Marco hissed.

"About what?" he asked, and Marco could hear the cool, satisfied victory in his voice. "You, Whitebeard, Ace, and Thatch's little telecommunications stunt? No, Marco, I'm counting on it. Go ahead. Call for help. Deliver Ace right back into my hands." Marco, fighting himself, suppressed all the turmoil and rage and surprise in him. He collected himself. He smoothed himself down, pressing away the emotions until he could feign calmness.

Nothing, Ace. I was just surprised, coming around a corner and almost running into someone. Everything's fine. "To be honest, I was planning to wait until we reached the next island, the escape would have been slightly easier. But then that idiot Williams stranded himself here and then got caught. And now, worse, he's gone and disappeared, leading you and your crew to this inspection of your entire ship. I knew you would have found me, so I moved first."

"You're being awfully chatty," Marco sneered. "Aren't you worried about someone finding us?"

"Am I? Perhaps it's because I sense something of a kindred spirit in you, Marco. It's refreshing to talk to someone who's capable of understanding. I've been observing you. You would have done everything I did to Ace and worse to Williams to get even a shred of information, wouldn't you? You wouldn't have flinched or shied away at all. I must say, I'm so very eager to see how you break. I've always wondered what that would look like, in someone like us. As for being found…" He pulled Marco up straighter, pressing the knife tighter against his throat. "There's nothing they can possibly do, not anymore. Whitebeard won't risk your death for anything. He'll even let me get away, with you, rather than watch you die in front of him."

"They'll catch you. It doesn't matter where you go, they'll come get you."

Edward Hare smiled amicably.

"Maybe someday. But not today, Marco. And not for a long, long time. Now," he turned, putting his back to a wall, facing down the hallway. "I'm sure we'll have company shortly. Someone will find us here, alert Whitebeard, and then Ace will know despite your admirable effort to conceal it from him. Whitebeard's far too impulsive and emotional. Ace will pick it up from him in an instant."

"He won't come here. Even if he does figure it out. Especially if he figures it out. He's terrified of you, he'll probably discover a way to teleport when he finds out you're on this ship. He doesn't care about us, doesn't remember that we're his nakama. He won't come, not for me," Marco said.

Hare sighed. "Now this is just pathetic. You wouldn't think I'd know your own brother better than you do. But I suppose personally vivisecting his personality piece by piece lends me more insight than most into his thought process. You don't think he'll come, Marco? Now you've gone and miscalculated. You couldn't have played your role better if I'd written a script for you." Marco felt unease clenching in his stomach. "'That makes us half-brothers, eh?'" Hare said, imitating Marco's voice. Marco felt his whole body stiffen. "'I'd die a thousand times over for any of them! Why can't I be the one to suffer instead?!'" Hare repeated, this time pitching his voice up, imitating Ace. Hare laughed. "Oh Marco, you've done me so many favors. You're going to be so instrumental in finally tearing Ace down once and for all." Marco felt cold, down to his very core.

Marco talk to me, what's wrong?! You're not all right! Ace's concern was obvious, flowing over the bond between them.

Tell Whitebeard to come find me. Stay where you are, with Thatch. Stay. Where. You. Are, Marco responded, the last command thought firmly, authoritatively. He felt Ace's surprise, but after a moment's hesitation, he responded.

…Promise you're going to be okay, Marco, Ace thought. I'll do what you say if you promise you're going to be okay. Marco sucked in a breath.

…I don't make promises I'm not sure I can keep, Ace. But I'll do my best.

"You spoke with him didn't you?" Hare asked, grin clear in his voice. He sounded smug. Excited. "It doesn't even matter what you said, he knows you're in trouble now. He'll come. You'll see."

"I wouldn't count on it," Marco snarled back. He mentally heard Ace telling Whitebeard something was very wrong with Marco, as well as his location. Marco had known if he had tried to send the thought directly to Whitebeard Ace would have intercepted and listened to it. That's why he had to have Ace tell Whitebeard something was wrong, it was the easiest way to avoid letting anything slip about the exact nature of Marco's predicament.

"Ah, here comes the circus," Hare sneered, turning to face the approaching pirates, Whitebeard at their head. When Whitebeard's eyes landed on Hare they widened, a full spectrum of emotion showing on his face. Hare grinned. "And now Ace knows exactly who has you and what's going on." Marco wanted desperately to disagree, but not a moment later he felt Ace's whole thought process come to a screeching halt, focused on a singular image he'd pulled from Whitebeard's mind after the whirlwind of his reaction. Ace passed it to Thatch and Marco saw Thatch's mind shift from confusion to horror and rage in an instant.

"No further, if you please," Hare called, tightening the knife against Marco's throat, freezing Whitebeard and the crew in place. "The slightest hint of a wrong move and your dear phoenix is gone in an instant."

"He knows I don't fear death. He knows I'd rather die than go into captivity," Marco snarled. Hare smiled at him.

"You might not fear your death but he does. Terribly. Death is permanent, but he thinks he can save you from me if I take you. He won't act. And he won't let anyone else act either. That's why the whole crew is going to freeze, is going to be incapacitated. All except Ace, who doesn't remember he's even on the crew, and won't obey. I did not miscalculate, Marco. This has all gone exactly according to plan. Now, what's going to happen next is elementary. Ace is going to ask Whitebeard why in hell he's not doing anything. Whitebeard's going to tell him I'm threatening to kill you. Ace will say death is better than what's in store. Whitebeard won't respond and won't act. So Ace will take matters into his own hands." It was almost terrifying, how accurately Hare was describing the current silent conversation Marco could overhear. It had yet to reach the conclusion Hare predicted, but it was heading that way fast. He knew them all so well, had analyzed them so perfectly, he could anticipate even their thoughts. It was horrifying, to be so predictable, to be nothing more than pawns Hare had manipulated so seemingly easily into the perfect string of event and reaction to get him exactly what he wanted.

"You were the one who killed Serpent too, weren't you?" Marco asked. It would make sense. Ace, as fragile as he was after his captivity, was emotionally dependent. If Hare took away his main support, Hare knew Ace would latch onto someone else. He'd timed it perfectly too, so that Marco was closer to the body than Thatch, so that when Ace got there, he'd be the one there. He'd be the one Ace would latch onto.

"Of course," Hare said. "I knew there was something I liked about you, Marco. You're getting it now, you're seeing the whole picture, aren't you? Human emotion has degraded you, Marco. I'm sure you could have figured all of this out in a snap when you were younger. Who knows, maybe I'll be able to revitalize your true nature. But that'll take longer than breaking Ace, so you'll pardon me if that falls slightly lower on my priorities. Speaking of, he should be here any minute now." Marco wanted to deny it, but then Hatter came running down the hallway, screaming at seemingly nothing, begging for reconsideration, that this couldn't possibly solve anything, that he'd end up getting Marco killed more likely than not. Rabbit was just behind him, describing everything that awaited Ace, grinning manically, explaining every tiny agony he was sure to endure. Queen was after them, calling for blood and murder and retribution, his voice somewhat drowned out by Rabbit and Hatter.

Hare didn't see them, couldn't see them, but Marco's heart shattered at their appearance. If they were here, Ace was too, somewhere.

I thought you were WATCHING HIM! Marco shouted at Thatch. Thatch didn't respond. After a minute, Marco figured out why, his eyes shooting wide.

Thatch was unconscious.

Ace had apparently attacked Thatch to be able to get to Marco.

The Inhabitants skidded to a stop about five feet in front of Marco and Hare. "Ace, don't do this, there's another, better way. Don't do this!" Hatter implored. Rabbit described what it would feel like when Hare ripped his fingernails off.

The grate on the vent above and a short ways behind Hare and Marco came crashing to the floor. Hare smiled, murmuring so only Marco could hear.

"Checkmate."

Hare turned as Ace dropped out of the vent, a mere three feet away from them. He was pale. He was shaking. His eyes were wide, his pupils dilated.

He was terrified.

But he was there, and he wasn't running away.

"Ah, Ace. What a pleasant surprise," Hare said, smiling widely.

"L-Let him go, Hare," Ace said, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice. Hare raised an eyebrow.

"Now why would I do something like that?" Hare asked. Marco understood. This was the next move in his game. Making Ace believe there was something he could do, that somehow he had power here, that he could divert this. And Ace would play right into his hands, like they all had since the beginning.

"Because it's not him you really want," Ace said. Ace was following through with perfect form and Marco knew, Hare had this perfect as well. Even if Marco warned Ace, tried to dissuade him, it would only further couch him in this futile effort to save him.

"Oh?" Hare asked, tipping his head slightly. God, how had they not seen what this bastard was capable of sooner?!

"You want me," Ace said breathlessly. He was shaking so badly Marco thought they'd be able to hear his bones rattling soon. He swallowed, seemingly fighting himself to even get the next words out. "That's why I'll make you a deal. If you let Marco go, I'll…" The words seemed to catch in his chest, as if even his body were desperately fighting with him to stop. "…I'll go with you willingly. I'll ne-never try to escape or f-fight back." His voice grew progressively weaker with each word.

"What a positively heroic sacrifice, Ace," Hare mocked. He feigned confusion. "But why do it for Marco?" This was just a blow against Marco, Hare was setting him up to show him exactly how much he'd fucked up. Ace clenched his jaw, drawing himself up straighter.

"Because I promised I'd never let you hurt a member of my family again." And Marco hated himself. He'd walked Ace right into Hare's trap himself.

Hare smiled faintly. "Marco? Your family?" He laughed. Marco's mind raced desperately, trying to figure out where Hare was taking this, what he was planning next, how to divert whatever it was from causing whatever pain it would to Ace. He finally subsided back into bare chuckles. "No, Ace. Marco is no family of yours. He hates you."

"Liar." Ace said that with such assurance that Marco felt his heart break just that little bit more. But he still didn't know what was happening, what Hare was up to, and as such couldn't hope to deflect it.

"No, I'm not lying." Hare looked down at Marco, smiling triumphantly. "Hey, Marco. Why don't you tell Ace what you told me about a certain Monkey D Luffy living in Fuuschia Village in East Blue?" Marco felt his heart stop, his eyes widening in horror. However instantaneously awful he felt, Ace seemed a thousand times worse. He looked like death, like every molecule of blood had evaporated from his body. He stared between Marco and Hare, looking so betrayed Marco would have willingly cut out his own guts to make it better.

Ace's mouth was slack with shock, his eyes swimming with agony. He bowed his head, staring at the ground, hiding his face and his pain behind his hair. He felt everything fall away around him, everything he'd ever believed turn to dust. His whole world had gone up in smoke around him, and now, now he was willing to let go. "You broke it. I can't believe it. You broke it."

"Broke what?" Hare asked, perplexed. Marco stared at Ace, his earlier words repeating in his head. Something's breaking, Marco. Something important. The thousand apologies that had bubbled at his lips went dry. Only now did he realize how silent the room had gone, the Inhabitants all vanished. "We're all undone." Hatter's words from earlier, overheard from Ace's mind, echoed in his head.

Marco watched Ace raise his head slowly until he was staring at Hare. His eyes were wide, almost perfectly round, white visible all around the iris. His shaking had stopped.

His grin was wider than the human mouth was ever meant to bend.

"Me."

(A/N: "He believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that's no mater – tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther…And one fine morning-

So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past."