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Chapter Text

“ACE”

Billows of smoke poured through the cracks in the ground. Luffy’s muscles felt like they were melting. Molten liquid sloshing inside the rubber casing of his skin. Each step was starting to burn. The adrenaline was wearing off and his bones were no longer solid but splintering. His voice was barely there. Hollow sounds scraping, tearing and cracking against vocal chords that threatened to rip out from his throat. They were so close to being free but Luffy had seen this same scene before. Ace was stubborn to a fault. It was something the brothers shared since they met and Luffy almost felt like he was back there.

“Ace please.”

Once again staring at Ace through blurry vision as he stands just out of reach. Was he still not good enough? Not fast enough? Not strong enough to keep up with Ace? Even after going through all the levels of Impel Down? Even after surviving Magellan’s poison? Even after freeing Ace from the podium? It was a fair way to the boats and yet Ace was walking back towards the battle. Back towards the danger.

“I’M NOT LOSING ANOTHER BROTHER!“

Luffy’s eyes widen as his legs give out and his skin sears against the ground but he can’t move. The sizzling of tears. The steam. The smoke. He tries to reach out but his palm sticks to the heat hazed surface, saving his fingerprints at the cost of his now bloody palms and rubber melted into the ground, stringily tethered between the shimmering surface and his hand. As he manages to crane his head up he sees a grassy landscape. A cliff overlooking the water with a gentle breeze as two seagulls fly overhead. The third one lost to the sea. Ace stands at the edge of the cliff with a metal pole and a bandage on his face. They both have scraped knees and fingernails caked with dirt. As he stares at his hand, his vision flickers between harsh red hues, a mix of flames, fire, pooling blood dripping from his palm where his skin was singed off. Blood caked beneath fingernails to dirt and blues and greens. He knows what happens next. Ace is about to turn around and scold him for being a cry baby.

“I’m supposed to be stronger now”, his voice starts to crack and waver, whispering to the grass now singed. With the salt of sweat and tears, there’s now a coppery taste in his mouth. The seagulls split up. A sky choked by fumes.

Ace’s form shimmered in the mirage of the heat as Luffy pushed himself to his feet, swaying along with the hot air on the worn down soles of his sandals. He exhales forcefully - charred lungs aching - wiping the tears from his stinging eyes. Ace has stopped walking. Both of them remain still. Luffy’s hands ball into fists, his fingers sinking into scorched flesh. The smell of burning rubber lingered. With a hardened expression, much like the one he’d seen Ace give him many times before, he finally realises that he is strong enough. Or even if he isn’t, he’s stubborn enough to get Ace out of here alive. Even if he gets yelled at in the process.

What stops him? Something shatters that brave new perspective of Luffy when his mouth hangs slightly open and his eyes widen. It isn’t the mirage that’s making his brother shimmer and tremble. As he gets closer, stumbling over the uneven terrain with increasing urgency. Ace keeps his back to Luffy, his shoulders tensing, hands clenching and unclenching. Sweaty palms drying off against faded denim. Trembling fingers hooking into beltloops. Out of beltloops. Into. Tugging lightly. Clenching again. A shuddered exhale.

Somewhere above the smog and the smoke and the chaos of war, the seagulls try to navigate back together.

His body tenses up again before hesitantly turning around to face his little brother. Why was he here? A boy in a war. Luffy wasn’t supposed to be here.

Luffy looks up at his brother, both of them bruised and bloody. Ace can barely see Luffy through his tears or hear the cracking of the floor beneath their feet over his thoughts or feel the hands keeping him upright over his aching broken bones. Cracked ribs and shooting pains with each ragged breath.

Despite Luffy’s unwavering form his hands still trembled on his hips and his joints were barely supporting his own weight, but a toothy grin stretched across his battered face. He laughs - a raspy sound from smoke filled lungs and dry scratchy vocal cords. The sound is harsh and forced, his chest heaving, each sound mirrored by a convulsion.

“There’s nothing to laugh about.”

A deep voice nears with the sweltering heat. Each footstep sending embers, melting the ground below the feet of the admiral.

“Luffy. go.”

The words are supposed to come out stern, maybe even tinged with frustration, but they waver and crack. Ace can’t even look his little brother in the eyes. He knows his fate. He accepted it. Maybe he always knew. Or maybe, just maybe, there was a push to survive. At least there used to be. Now the flame has been snuffed out. No matter how hard he tries to escape the stain of his father’s legacy, Ace remains tainted. Damaged goods. A good for nothing worthless sack of rotten meat and corruption running through his veins.

“I promised I’d look after you. So go-“, the words are barred behind gritted teeth and are lost in the thick grey clouds, wavering in the heat mirages.

“You promised me that you wouldn’t die. That you’d never die as long as you had a wimpy younger brother like me around.”

With staggered movements and barely any control over his own muscles, Luffy’s charred flesh is indented with intertwined straw.

“And I’m still around, aren’t I?”

The yellow straw hat - faded, worn, smudged and ashy and frayed - adorned with stitches and a red ribbon, now resides on Ace’s head. He can’t bring himself to look Luffy in the eyes. His eyes are barely open. Just enough for tears to spill out as he watches them fade and evaporate below.

The marine was still talking, or maybe that was the sound of orders or destruction or the countless explosions or the whizzing of bullets or the crack and hiss of barrels and grenades.

“I, Monkey D. Luffy…”

    Sweat and tears sizzle on the ground below them. Blood coagulates and boils.

“…your brother,”

    The admiral continues to approach. The sound of shattering glass and the gurgling of lava rings in their ears over the sounds of war.

“… promise to get you out of here.”

    Luffy’s melting rubber bones start to elongate. Fighting against every fibre and cell to wrap an arm around his brother.

“Alive.”

Luffy crouches down, his knuckles sear against the floor as he rasps out poorly pronounced words between ragged gasps for air. His vision starts to blur, “Second gear”. His vision is starting to fade as he practically teleports periodically across the battlefield, narrowly missing bullets and slashes, dragging Ace along with him. The ship is getting closer but so is the bubbling Lava which is popping and hissing close behind.

There’s a lack of grip for his sandals when they reach the icy portion leaving him slipping forwards. As he does, he uses the motion to fling Ace forwards to the ships, barely catching a glimpse of a bright blue and yellow light gliding through the air to catch his brother.

Ace struggles in Marco’s grip – the Straw hat only staying on his head by the adjustable string - as he watches the inertia propel Luffy backwards towards the lava. His eyes widen as adrenaline floods him once again. His fraying nerves protesting as he thrashed around, screaming Luffy’s name till only airy whistle-like sounds left him, gasping for air in sharp shallow breaths. Everything goes black.

Chapter Text

Sea prism shackles rattled against cold stone walls with each breath he took. His aching muscles cramped, just trying to keep him sat upright as another bucket of sea water was dumped over his head. His eyes, once filled with hatred, anger and fiery determination, now half lidded and vacant. Fingers threaded into his matted hair yanking his head up as barking laughter echoed off the cell walls. A gloved hand wrapped itself around his neck, thumb pressing against his adam’s apple as he coughed and spluttered. The hand shifts higher, prying his mouth open. Desperately, he tries to protest, but it only results in more metallic clinking and a sharp smack of skin against skin ringing in his ears.

It’s dark.

The familiar swing of the Moby Dick across the ocean sends shooting pains through his battered body and aching bones. Ace can vaguely make out softly spoken words telling him to open his eyes. When he does, his vision spins and he tries to blink it away. There’s a hand on his forehead keeping his head up. Someone else has a hand on his chest, another on his back, narrowly avoiding freshly stitched up wounds. It’s so hot in that room but underneath it, the cold night air sinks its teeth through his flesh and bones. Everything is so fuzzy. As his eyes start to adjust he realises that he’s being held up over a bucket. Splattered with blood and bile and saliva. It smells just like that cell.

No. No. He’s being held up by hands not chains. Right?

Instead of grating laughter or fingers sinking into his flesh, he’s greeted by soft muffled words that he could only assume were ones of reassurance. The realisation that he was sitting up took some mental gymnastics to adjust to. Ace’s internal systems were all over the place. Most notable his digestive system, his shoulders jerking forwards again as more bile splatters into the bucket, leaving him hazier and more confused. He tenses as the hand on his forehead moves and is pleasantly surprised when he isn’t met with a solid or spiky object to the face. Instead, the fingers comb through his hair, mindlessly detangling it. He knows that he’s safe now. That’s what he is being told. He wants to believe it but something is sending a sinking feeling in his stomach. He can’t quite place it in his haze. He can’t remember where—

“Luffy?”, he rasps, his voice barely audible.

“He’s not here right now. Just focus on yourself for a moment, Ace.”

He’s pretty sure it’s Marco who said that, but everything feels so far away as he recollects the pieces before passing out. He remembers Luffy being flung back towards the lava and that shithead marine. He remembers hitting the deck - splinters still embedded in his skin - barely being able to breathe as he begged his crew to save Luffy.

Ace blearily looks up at Marco, “Is he safe? Alive?”.

Marco looks away as he thinks then goes back to examining Ace as he tries to piece together a suitable sentence for his younger crewmate to hear, keeping his physical and mental state in mind. The truth was, he wasn’t sure but that wouldn’t help Ace right now. He didn’t want to lie either, Ace would be able to tell… or maybe he wouldn’t. Not in his current state at least. Meanwhile, Ace was finding it harder to breathe with each second of waiting. The soothing motions of the Moby Dick made his stomach sour.

“If he’s as stubborn as you, then I’m sure he’ll live.”, Marco expected a chuckle or at least a snicker from Ace. They both knew he was stubborn. Marco witnessed it all first hand when Ace joined the crew - or, in reality, adamantly tried everything in his power not to join the crew and kill whitebeard. His expression falls as he notices how vacant Ace’s eyes are but he pushes his concern away for now. He’s a doctor and Ace still needs to be physically stable before his mental health can be assessed. With some help, Marco lays Ace back down on the medical bed. He pushes up his glasses that always seem to slip down his nose with the back of his hand before checking over Ace’s ribs. There wasn’t much reaction from Ace besides involuntary flinching or slight grimaces.

Ace could feel his skin tingling in the dizzying haze of hot and cold. A sharp pain radiated from his chest with a popping sound. His eyes widened as more hands answered muffled words, holding his arms and legs in place. He tries to take a deep breath but it stops abruptly, stuttering and catching in his throat as it causes another flare of pain. Someone is talking to him, trying to get his attention but Ace is too busy trying to break free from the blurred figures holding him down. Each movement making his vision flash white with searing hot shooting pains. A familiar voice cuts through the chaos. Despite not being able to make out the words he knows who it is. Even if he’s hallucinating, like all those times back in Impel Down, he finds himself relaxing. The thrashing slows and the pain starts to decrease as he takes smaller more measured breaths.

“Wait ‘till he’s more lucid before continuing”, A deep voice tries to stay quiet but resonates throughout the room. It’s slightly strained but warm and familiar.

“Pops you shouldn’t be out of bed”, Marco whispers almost dumbfounded by how the man was standing. Then again, Whitebeard wasn’t one to be underestimated. The man sits beside the medical bed, brow furrowed with worry, looking much less like a pirate and more like a concerned father. Marco keeps his movements slow and gentle to not startle his barely lucid crewmate, pressing two fingers to his wrist to take his pulse - thankfully no longer racing or threaded but near stable. He looks for signs of recognition that flicker across Ace’s glazed over eyes as his gaze settles on Whitebeard.

“Can I continue?” Marco asks his captain, awaiting orders. Whitebeard shrugs and puts his warm hand on Ace’s head, “I shouldn’t have intervened in the first place. You’re the doctor.”

Seeing Ace start to calm down Marco tries to get his attention to explain what he was doing before resetting the man’s ribs. Thinking about it now, he realises that it was a bad idea not to have done this earlier. He could’ve avoided a lot of pain and panic. He can tell the words aren’t being absorbed but it’s a good sight that Ace’s eyes loosely tracked his movements after calling his name.

Chapter Text

The ominous clanking of a metal baton against sea prism bars jolts Ace upright. His breathing irregular as he looks down at his hands. No chains. No shackles. His body tingles as his nervous system starts to wake up and he grits his teeth as tingles turn to stabbing pains. His organs throbbing and muscles protesting. With staggered breaths and movements he leans back against the headboard and closes his eyes. The door opens and he has to stop himself from covering his eyes as light spills into the room, squinting at the sunlight he thought he’d never see again. His eyes trace the line of golden light across his battered skin to the bedside table. A singed straw hat residing just out of reach of the warm rays. The red ribbon visible even when shrouded by darkness.

The path of light is briefly disturbed by a shadow and vanishes as the door closes behind Marco. He opens up the window, illuminating the room and sits on a chair beside the bed, handing Ace a bowl of soup, “Glad to see you’re awake”, he smiles, the skin under his eyes creasing. Ace holds the bowl and stares at the liquid. His empty stomach growls as he looks up at Marco, “How’s Luffy doing?”.

Marco sighs and leans back in his seat, “Eat first”, he says casually, sipping on a mug of steaming coffee. Ace swallows thickly and looks back down at the soup, “Don’t know if I can”, he smiles weakly, slowly stirring around the contents of the soup with his spoon. Marco doesn’t budge, watching silently as he blows on the steam from his mug before taking a sip and repeating the process. He waits. Watches as Ace’s shoulders finally start to drop before taking a few tentative spoonfuls of soup. “I’m sure you know to take your time after, I assume, not eating much at Impel Down”.

Ace nods with a grimace. He didn’t really want to think about that right now. Luckily his mind was flooded with ‘what ifs’ about his brother rather than being bombarded with snapshots of his time in Impel Down.

It took longer than it should have but he finished the soup, fighting against the mental urge to down it and the physical urge to let it come back up. It felt stupid and pathetic. It was a bowl of soup. Nothing more. Nothing less. He was hungry and exhausted and probably sick but a basic task like this shouldn’t have been so hard. He puts to bowl down and mumbles a thank you absentmindedly as his gaze resides on the tattered straw hat.

“How is Luffy doing?”, Ace repeats, met once again with silence. Marco takes another sip of his drink, the steam fogging his glasses and shielding Ace from the uncertainty in his eyes.

“I don’t know,” is all that Marco is able to come up with.

“What?”, Ace’s brows furrow in confusion as he tries to shift into a more comfortable position, “What do you mean you don’t know?”.

He quickly finds out that there is no comfortable position when you’re bruised, burned, malnourished and dehydrated. He winces as his stitches tug on his inflamed flesh, deciding to just sit back against the pillow propped on the headboard. Marco exhales deeply and takes off his glasses, “You’re not in a stable condition and knowing you, you’ll try go off and find hi-”

“Find? Find what exactly?”, the word corpse lingers on Ace’s tongue like charred flesh, “Where even is-”.

“Ace.”, Marco’s tone is stern, catching Ace off guard and out of his accelerating internal maelstrom. “In your current condition you can barely sit upright. You can’t be so rash.” He rubs his eyes with a sigh, “Which is what got us into this mess in the first place. Everyone told you not to go after Blackbeard and yet…”.

“I know.”, Ace’s voice is strangely hollow as it wavers and his wide eyes look through Marco. Ace lowers his head. His usual fidgeting was gone. His energy had left him. There was no flame and no fight, just something Ace had been avoiding for all his life. Grief.

Marco knew he was being harsh but nothing else ever got through to Ace. He knew that Ace had been angry about what happened to Thatch. That Ace needed a solution. Revenge. Something. But what scared the doctor was that Luffy was Ace’s brother far longer than anyone on Whitebeard’s crew – in fact, the bond was completely different – meaning Ace would go beyond the lengths he went for Thatch if it meant ensuring Luffy was ok.

He looks Ace in the eyes. The absence of his usual fiery energy and wit is so jarring. A shell of a man. Barely a man – as Marco scans Ace over, he remembers that Ace isn’t even half his age.

He lowers his voice, trying to deliver his next words calmly, “Sending out scouts to search through an active warzone and charred debris when the crew itself was barely standing wasn’t an option.” There was no good way to say it, but Ace wasn’t fragile. He was anything but fragile.

Ace merely nods. Memories of his friends, comrades and crew mates being slaughtered before his eyes as he remained helplessly chained up on top of that podium, seep over his vision. He remains motionless. Expressionless. Never fully rooted in the present.

“By the time we sailed off I couldn’t see him on the battlefield anymore.”

Marco didn’t know if Luffy was alive or if he somehow managed to make an inexplicable escape. He tries to recall the finer details. Luffy on his hands and knees, trembling with exhaustion and skidding across the ice towards Akainu’s lava. However, the memory isn’t clear. In all honesty, he was focussed on Ace and the rest of the crew and getting the hell out of there.

Marco doesn’t leave. Even when his coffee is done he remains sat beside the bed. As Ace’s shoulders begin to shake, Marco puts his empty mug down and sits on the bed next to him. He isn’t angry – not at Ace. He doesn’t blame him for what happened or the lives lost because the crew wouldn’t have shown up without wanting to be there. They all had known the risks. They had all been given the option not to join Whitebeard to save Ace. Everyone showed up. Knowing that not all of them would leave the battle was the only certainty they had going into it.

Ace’s eyes widen as he feels Marco’s arms around him. He didn’t deserve it. He didn’t deserve any of this. He should’ve died on that stupid podium like his father. “I’m so sorry”, Ace’s words waver and crack, broken up by hitched breaths.

It was understandable that Ace was breaking down, sure, but Marco still wasn’t expecting it. He thought that maybe Ace would just pretend to be fine until he left the room. But no, Ace was merely human or what was left of a confident, snarky idiot who had been tortured and running on fumes. If anyone goes through that for long enough, their spark starts to fade. Listening to Ace’s fragmented ramblings broken up by shuddered breaths and quiet sobbing, Marco was out of his depth. Nevertheless, he was trying. Keeping his voice gentle and words simple and reassuring, almost in the way one might reassure a child. It felt odd, honestly, since Ace was in fact a grown man. Maybe it was because Ace could usually shake off whatever was thrown at him or was quick to fight as a solution. Now, trembling and crying, Marco’s younger crewmate was broken, exhausted and lost. Worse off than when he first boarded the Moby Dick. He could understand that physically, Ace was barely stable, but that distant look in his eyes was something that had no medical explanation. A look he’d seen a few times before, during the years he was on Whitebeard’s crew prior to Ace joining.

All he could do was sit there and try his best to mend something far beyond any medical knowledge he was aware of.

Chapter Text

Days and nights blurred by sweat soaked sheets, bloody bandages and feverish hazes lasted for over a week. Finding Ace in varying states of lucidity, Marco received a glimpse into the horrors of Impel Down. If the physical damage wasn’t evidence enough, the incoherent ramblings and pleas definitely were. It was almost too much. Many of those late nights, Marco almost dreaded entering that room to see Ace’s glazed over eyes stare him down with fear or apprehension.

After 4 days, Ace was slowly starting to come back. He was quiet but making jokes again. Marco’s shoulder’s were less tense, listening to mundane conversations or out of pocket jokes about Impel Down that somehow never failed to make him snicker after the deadpan look he’d give Ace. However, it was clear to him that nothing was ‘back to normal’. There was no laughter. No spark. No passion. Just a watered down flame with grey embers.  

…

It had been a week and a half laying in that room. For the first time, Ace was able to move without his vision flickering from the pain. No matter how long he slept he was still exhausted. Yet, simultaneously, he was itching – craving – to get up and walk around. He knows he isn’t supposed to get up, can practically see Marco’s look of disappointment in his mind as he cautiously moves his legs over the edge of the bed. Each movement slow. Shaky.

It was weak and pathetic.

His bare feet tingle against the wooden floorboards, creaking with the light swing of the waves below. A chill breeze ruffles the curtains, allowing the silver moonlight to spill inside and paint the room. With a few deep breaths and some internal debate Ace manages to push himself to his feet. A genuine smile stretches across his face despite his unsteady footing – a small achievement that felt so freeing – but it’s quickly overtaken by a frown. Why should he be proud of merely standing? He’s meant to be a wanted, fearless pirate. Whitebeard’s second division commander. Fire First Ace. No. He can’t possibly be any of those when he was smiling at the mere action of standing – barely standing –  on his own two feet.

He stays there, trying to make his foot move. Just one step. But he couldn’t. Some sort of fear was clawing at his gut. What if he couldn’t do it? What if he couldn’t take a single step? What if he fell and made more of a fool of himself? Ace grunts and shakes his head exhaling sharply before shuffling his foot forwards. Then again. And again. One foot in front of the other until he made it to the deck. He holds onto the railing, letting his tender palms trail over the cool metal, etched and marked by years of battle. The night sky above was dotted with stars. He missed that. A stone roof and pitch black darkness for all hours often lead him to hallucinate stars spreading across the ceiling of his cell in Impel Down. Seeing them again, he realises how many details and patterns he failed to remember.

How long had he been in that cell? He still didn’t know. He still hadn’t been told.

A lone seagull flies over head, breaking his peaceful reminiscing. A caw makes him jolt and subsequently wince at the sudden movement. He leans heavily against the railing as he hobbles across the hull to the bow where a mail bird is perched. He grabs the paper, almost losing his footing with the lack of support from both his hands but manages to steady himself. The paper starts to speckle with light rain. So do his bandages. Predicting the scolding he’d get for being out in the rain in his current condition fuels him to stumble inside to the dining area. Reaching for the oil lamp hanging from the roof, it begins to sway. The weather mildly picks up as he lights the candle with his finger. In the warm orange glow he sits and spreads out the paper to read but he was naïve to think he’d be left in solitude to do that.

The weather continues to pick up causing the light to sway and flicker, rendering it more difficult for him to read. An unstable, flickering light source, rain speckled words and Ace’s sub-par reading abilities were not a good combination. His eyes squint and his finger trails across the smudged words, too focussed to realise the incoming footsteps from various parts of the ship. The crew – some alert, some half asleep – go to their respective places to prepare for an oncoming storm. A few of them notice Ace, giving him a groggy wave while others walk over with excited grins to see him out of bed. He misses his crew, of course, but something is driving him to read this paper, clinging to the belief that it’d give him information about Luffy. It was an unfounded and unsupported belief. Hope at best and desperation at worst.

Before he knew it, someone was holding up a glass of booze to his recovery – though it was far from over. The crew were singing and drinking. Ace had a drink in his hand. One thing led to another and Bink’s Sake was echoing through the internal areas of the Moby Dick. Ace – with a smile that didn’t quite match his regular spark, the absence of his rowdy laughter and the taste of beer on his tongue – is struggling to read the words on the newspaper that blur together in his unfocussed gaze. Someone nearby is talking about needing supplies and more booze with Marco, planning out a route to an island nearby that Ace doesn’t listen long enough to hear the name of. His usual alcohol tolerance failing him due to his weakened physical state, the fleeting fever and whatever medication was still in his system. This is actually working in his favour as alcohol is a very effective pain suppressor. The stinging from his wounds, aching from his bruises and tugging of stitches started to fade each time someone refilled his glass.

Ace hands the newspaper to a blurry face that climbs onto the dining table in a less than graceful manner. The crewmate clears his throat and yells to get everyone’s attention. Many heads turn but others continue talking and singing and laughing across the ship. He clears his throat dramatically once more and begins to read. Skipping over less interesting segments with ‘blah blah’s or snide jokes about the World Government, receiving a rise in drunken laughter. Even Ace chuckles along but he’s still anxiously awaiting something. Anything about his brother. The liquid in his glass sloshing around with the swaying of the ship.

“OH!”, the crewmate exclaims, tracing his finger over the heading of the next page as he reads, “The war in Marineford is still causing strife for the World Government and the loss of brave marines is felt in our hearts…”. He feigns sympathy with some comedic movements and rolls his eyes as the crew once again cracks up, clinking their glasses. Ace remains silent. The man continues, “The execution of Fire-Fist Ace unfortunately did not go to plan but citizens should rest assured that he, along with the other treacherous pirates, have either been slain, brought to justice, imprisoned or tracked down.” A collective booing mixed with laughter ensues. As the crewmate continues reading misinformation spread by the World Government about ‘winning’ the war, “No pirate will be left unpunished!”, the jeering becomes more distant to Ace. Stumbling past his crew mates with a bottle, he pushes through the crowd. Too drunk to notice that Ace has left, the crew continues their heckling and singing in oblivious joy across the ship.

Ace stumbles into the railing, the rain pelting against his warm skin as he raises the bottle to his lips, savouring the familiar taste of liquor. Despite his drunken state and the harsh waves, he manages to stay standing with a firm grip on the railing. The line about all other pirates being captured or killed echoes in his mind. ‘No Pirate will be left unpunished’. He tilts his head back to drink the last of the bottle and lets it slip from his hand to hit the deck. All? What about Luffy? Was he locked up somewhere in Impel Down or dead? Ace wasn’t sure what was worse.

Thunder rolls across the grey clouds above and as Ace looks up at the sky his spinning vision settles on the mast. He trips over his own feet, landing on his hands and knees on the deck. Numbed pain shoots through his kneecaps, the scrapes on his knees reopening and absorbing the murky rainwater. He stays there for a moment or two – a little confused as to how he got there – before crawling over to the mast, sliding around with the rocking of the ship. He manages to climb the ladder to the crow’s nest and huddles up under the cover that he had set up about a year ago. An oil lamp and a few blankets were stored up there. It seems no one moved them when Ace was gone but he wasn’t thinking about that, he was still hooked on all those pesky ‘what ifs’.

With a blanket wrapped around him, the alcohol numbing his aching bones and the rain muting the singing below; Ace felt at peace in familiarity. Almost like he could climb back down with agility and swing into that makeshift treehouse-pirate-ship in the forest, in Foosha Village. That Sabo would be there to scold him for being too hard on Luffy and-

Ace pinches the bridge of his nose, willing his alcohol fogged mind to focus. He tries to think positively or even rationally but all the pieces point towards two seemingly clear options. Luffy was dead or Luffy was being tortured in Impel Down.

Collective yelling manages to break through the sounds of the storm. Ace fumbles with his hands for a few moments before gaining a steady grip on the edge of the crow’s nest and looking over it. The movement combined with hostile waves and his less than ideal balance at that moment resulted in Ace tumbling over the edge of the crow’s nest and – SMACK – falling onto the deck. A strangled gasp leaves him as the air is knocked out of his lungs and he props himself up. The splintered deck is soaked with water and as the ship goes over another massive wave, Ace skids across the deck crashing into the railing and grasping onto it.

More shouting, barking of orders. None of the words reach Ace, only muffled sounds as seawater splashes over the side of the ship, drenching him and almost pulling him overboard. He coughs and splutters, his wounds stinging from the salt and his energy leaving him. Blood soaks into the wood below him with the salty sea water. With a pained grunt behind clenched teeth, Ace manages to pull himself to his feet, clinging to the railing as the ocean tries to swallow the Moby Dick. The ship slams down over another wave and Ace’s legs almost give out. His joints crack and stitches yank against his skin. He tries to figure out how to get back inside but his vision is spinning too fast, interrupted by waves crashing over the deck and his strength is being sapped by the sea water. Someone is calling out his name over the roar of the ocean but Ace’s ears are ringing too loudly to pick it up. Struck by another wave, Ace’s hand slips. He loses his grip and is flung off the Moby Dick.

For a moment, he is weightless. Soaring above the ship wondering if this is what it felt like to have wings. The waves below almost seemed inviting. How long had it been since he had gone swimming? Probably one of the times him and Sabo pulled Luffy out of a lake 10 years ago.

He crashes into the water, enveloped by the freezing cold water. Thrashing around in the water, he sinks lower and lower. His thoughts race and images flash before his eyes. Bubbles leave his mouth with silent screams muffled by the ocean herself. Smother her son.

It’s quiet, and as he notices the absence of chaos it’s quite peaceful again. He’s tired. Exhausted even. Maybe if he stopped fighting and thrashing around…

The tension leaves Ace’s body.

He’s still not too sure about Sabo’s plans for the tree house but he trusts Sabo. Luffy is bouncing around behind them, begging to see. Ace hides his snicker with a sigh and shoves Luffy. Sabo does the same to Ace. They all start scrapping with each other on the ground until rain pelts down and they scramble into the nook at the bottom of the tree, huddled together for warmth. Sabo takes out the poorly sketched plan and shows it to Ace. The fire they made outside, which took them all day, sizzles out. In the poor lighting, sheltered from the pouring rain above, his shoulders relax, and he smiles. Sabo is still rambling with excited gestures and wide eyes about the plans. Luffy watches along with dwindling energy as his eyes start to close. Ace sits between them, an arm around each of his brothers. Cold skin against rain soaked, mud-caked clothes. Shivering in a tree cavity with uncooked drenched meat over an extinguished fire. All three of them, together. Ace glances over at Luffy, asleep against him with that bright yellow straw hat on his head.

That straw hat…

Ace needs to return Luffy’s straw hat.

His eyes snap open and he is met with darkness. A sliver of moonlight refracts through the water as his lungs sting and burn. He can’t move but he needs to because… what if Luffy isn’t dead? No sound escapes him as the last few bubbles leave his mouth and he pushes every fibre in his body to reach upwards as if it would do anything to help him survive so deep under water.

The ocean turns her back. No mercy. Only ruthlessness towards a child of Devil Fruit powers.

Chapter Text

A soft periodic beeping sound becomes clearer as Luffy’s eyes crack open. The metal walls creak ominously in an unfamiliar room. Wires and cords are embedded into his bandaged skin. He tries to move but he can’t. His unfocused gaze darts around the room slower than he’d like and latches onto the masked figure that enters. The figure’s posture is slightly hunched as they washe their hands and stretch. Tired eyes flick over the charts and screens by the bed. They pick up a clipboard and jot some things down with a sigh, pinching the bridge of their nose as they read over the last few notes left on the page. His grey eyes finally settle on Luffy. No change of expression behind the medical mask.

“Ace?”, Luffy’s words are muffled by the oxygen mask his fingers weakly grasped at.

The man shrugs, paying more attention to what the machines were saying than the boy. The beeping started to steadily increase making his brows furrow. He looks over at the boy again, watching his chest rise and fall in motions too fast and shallow for his liking. He takes the stethoscope from beside the bed and places the cool metal over Luffy’s bandaged chest, listening out for any crackling or popping sounds but found nothing. He shouldn’t have doubted his own work like that.

“Who are you?”, Luffy asks hesitantly, not trusting his blurred vision or the masked man, “Where’s Ace?”. His voice is still strained and raspy from screaming, each word burning his throat. He manages to pull off the oxygen mask, trying to speak more but is cut off. The man puts the mask back on Luffy with a sigh, “Who I am is not of your concern right now.”

His eyes widen as bandaged fingers weakly grasp at his wrist. He could feel the heat radiating from under the bandages, another thing that he should probably write down. He’s still unsure as to why the boy’s heartrate won’t slow down. Nothing medically should have changed.

“Your heart rate is too fast. Breathe.”, his voice is flat and monotone. Unfamiliar.

“Where is my brother”, Luffy chokes out, gritting his teeth as he refuses to let the man pry his seared fingers away.

The man pauses. He shouldn’t have come in to check on the teen. He shouldn’t have been at Marineford in the first place, actually. However, here he is, stuck with a stubborn kid. On top of all that, he needs to deal with reassuring this kid. Or something like that. He’s not entirely sure. He went too far by showing up. He stitched up the boy’s wounds, operated on him and managed to keep him alive. Letting him die now would be a waste of time and effort. Or at least that’s what he tells himself.

“Your brother was taken back to a ship by his crew.”, the man states, trying to hold back his frustration, “I do not know if he’s alive. I don’t tend to associate with Whitebeard or his crew. Especially not in the middle of an active warzone which, might I add, you caused.” His rant is cut short by nonsense ramblings from the boy about a piece of paper as the sedatives kick in. Paper? That’s at least what he thought the boy was going on about. As Luffy’s grip loosens, the man washes his hands again and adds to his notes. Then he rummages through a box of Luffy’s charred clothes, searching for the paper he spoke of.

“Uhm… Captain? What’re you looking for?”

Law jolts, almost smacking his head on the table he was under, his hands freezing in the box. “The kid was going on about some piece of paper”, he grumbles, resuming his search. He doesn’t turn around to look at whoever is in the doorway because he knows who it is and he knows what they’re going to say.

“Right…”, Bepo pauses, awkwardly scratching the fur at the back of his head, “So, he’s alive?”

“Yes. How would he be speaking if he wasn’t?”, Law snaps back, irritated as he pushes the box back into its place and gets up from under the table. Either he didn’t look hard enough or Luffy was spouting nonsense due to the medication because there was no piece of paper amongst the boy’s belongings.

…

Luffy’s eyes track the cracks in the wooden ceiling. The stench of fire and smoke still linger, latching onto his hair and embedding itself into his sheets. He can barely lift his hands to check that he’s still got all his fingers as he waits anxiously for Dadan and Ace to return home. He isn’t sure how long they’ve been gone or when they will be back but he has to keep believing because, what else did he have if not adamant hope. As he blinks away his tears, the cottage washes away with them. That muffled beeping sound penetrates the familiarity of whistling winds and hardwood floors.

The sedatives aren’t keeping Luffy asleep as long as they should. After sampling some of his blood, it appeared that Luffy formed some sort of general antibody to poisons. Despite the sedative not technically being a poison, Luffy’s body was treating it like one. His hormones were all over the place too, most likely due to some sort of adrenaline shot. Or abuse of adrenaline. Law wasn’t quite sure how or why this was the case but it was only making things more difficult with trying to keep Luffy in a stable condition.

The rest of his crew were asleep. Realistically, he should be asleep too, but he was cautious to leave Luffy unattended. He might just be a teenager - a bedbound teenager at that - but Law was aware of the boy’s capabilities from their time in Sabaody. Too much of an unpredictable risk to be left unattended. Logically, he could just tie Luffy down to lessen the threat but that could cause panic and thrashing around and then he’d have to redo all those stitches. No. He had no obligation to do that.

Before he can further internally evaluate why he had Luffy on his submarine in the first place, Luffy starts speaking. Great. Just what he needed. The boy is rambling about Ace and that damn piece of paper again.

“My hat”, Luffy murmurs, the monitor showing increased activity.

“You didn’t have it when you were dropped onto my ship”, Law states bluntly, “It’s just a hat.”

With no hat, no certainty of his brother’s survival, no crew, in an unfamiliar place with people he barely knew; Luffy went quiet. He pushes himself to sit up against the pillow behind him, his vision flickering with prickling pains as he tries to remember what happened. Desperately retracing through his memories for any signs of Ace’s survival. The memories were patchy and fuzzy. His brain refusing to let him in on all the details. The more he thought about it the more uncertain he was about who was there or the order of events or even whether his memories were real or something had made up.

“The Vivre Card,” Luffy’s voice comes out weak and quiet, foreign to his own ears, “Did you find it?”. He looks over at the man beside the bed, watching him process a realisation in real time.

“No.”, Law states, schooling his expression, “I also don’t have your hat.”

“I don’t remember where I put it. Or if I lost it in the battle”, Luffy puts his head in his hands, “Or if it’s behind the ribbon on my hat”. His eyes squeeze shut as he tries to focus through the fog, begging his brain to cooperate, “Or if I watched it burn away”. His trembling fingers anchor themselves in his hair, “Or if-“

“Mugiwara-ya. You’re going to break your internal stitches.” Law grumbles but doesn’t move to intervene. He can see and hear the medical equipment telling him that Luffy needs to calm down but he doesn’t know how to. What can he say to an unstable teenager that might have just lost it all? All things considered, Law of all people should have an idea of what to say. Yet words fail him and his mind goes blank.

“I DON’T CARE!” The hoarse words are muffled by Luffy’s bandaged hands covering his face. His fingers digging into his scalp as his body starts to tremble. Suddenly, he swings his head backwards to smack it against the wall, only to be stopped by a hand. Law glares at Luffy as the light in the hallway flickers and stumbling footsteps can be heard along with distant voices echoing through the submarine.

A man who’s face is hidden by the shadow of his cap leans against the infirmary doorframe asking if everything is alright. Shortly after, another man and - what almost makes Luffy forget about the surge of emotion - a polar bear. They enter the room and manage to grab Luffy’s limbs to minimise sudden movements as Law tries to inject a different sedative into the IV, muttering under his breath. Luffy’s thrashing and verbal protests start to slow down as his vision blurs and his chest feels heavier. The need to expel his emotions physically starts to dissipate but tears still silently roll down his cheeks, murmuring slurred pleas for his older brother.

“Captain. He’s just a kid.”

Luffy can barely make out the words let alone process them. His eyes remain cracked open and vacant as his takes shaky breaths. He feels something warm tentatively cover his hand and instinctively grabs onto it.

“He’s a pirate. Just like you. Just like me. He isn’t to be trusted.”

Law freezes as the words leave his mouth and the words of doctors from his childhood faintly echo in the back of his mind. He looks down at Luffy with a scrutinising glare. Luffy really was just a teenager but externally, Law’s slightly judgemental demeanour remains. He glances over the smiling Jolly Roger on the uniforms of his crew and sighs, muttering, “Ok. Fine.”, his frustration still clear in his voice, “Then… Then you guys watch over him. I’m going to bed.”

Th door slams shut. The creaking of the submarine morphs into the creaking of wood nailed together by three kids. A sturdy treehouse. Blankets and scraped knees. Sabo and Ace are talking in hushed tones by the makeshift helm while Luffy pretends to be asleep, hiding under his blanket, trying to stay quiet. He can’t quite make out what they’re saying and, as always, ends up falling asleep.