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The sea is an unforgiving mistress, swallowing ships and men alike. Calm on the surface, almost serene, but tumultuous and greedy under the surface. It reminds him of Sabo, swallowed by it; But also of his pretty noble facade that hid viciousness and possessiveness just underneath.
He misses him, more than anyone he’s ever lost. His first friend and his first loss. Today was the day he’d died and he knew he was off the whole day and now…
Now, he doesn’t even quite remember how he got here. On the other side of the railing, staring out at the dark sea, hands white-knuckled and clutching the railing lest he fall, and faintly trembling. Not from the breeze, no.
It’s not the first time he’s been so close to death; it won’t be the last. The sea is endless. It seems to whisper to him You should just drop… fall. It would be quite easy. It would hurt a lot. It would hurt less than the ache in his chest, ever-present and burning.
Sabo’s voice counters it, from long ago I’ll be by your side, no matter what, so wait for me, ok? Don’t let go. Hang on.
It’s a reminder of a ghost from days long since passed, back when Ace used to sit at the very edge of the cliff, legs dangling, in the middle of the night debating whether it was the night he would jump or not. Sabo would come some of those nights, speak to him until he convinced Ace to come back. Had screamed and cried one day that he was scared one day he wouldn’t get there in time and Ace would be dead, to at least wait until he got there.
But he won’t come, can’t, lays dead at the bottom of the sea. Spread into ashes and swallowed whole.
And yet…
Ace waits at the side of the ship, for the brother who will not arrive.
Sabo is coming; he cannot let go.
Shaking, shaking. Waiting, watching. The sun starts to rise, the sea devours the gifted rays, sparkling with mirth.
He hadn’t even be able to get sake for their yearly ritual, and his failure claws at him and he misses Sabo, it gnaws at his chest, a burning that leaves a cavity where his torso should be, misses him enough that his brain can’t think of anything past the loss. His eyes heat, watery with the tears gathering, droplets falling to the ever-hungry maw waiting for him. A comfort.
It felt like everything was falling apart, like he was flailing. There was nothing wrong in particular, it was just… This ever-present pressure in his chest, that he wasn’t good enough, that he would never be good enough, that he’d failed every person he’d ever loved and so what made him think he could change- why did he bother to try? He was so weak and he couldn’t protect anyone and he was falling behind and he was so fucking tired. Always falling asleep these days, could hardly bear to stay awake- couldn’t take care of himself let alone anyone else, and the others never faulted him for it but it must be annoying for them. So behind, so far away, so utterly and completely worthless.
Save him? Retribution? How could they claim there was something worth anything left of him to save? How could they claim-
No, no, it wasn’t - they weren’t like that. Weren’t claiming to save him, they were just there, warm and ever-present and claiming him as family. A tear fell out and dropped to the deck and his hands shivered and it was cold.
There’s chatter now as people wake up to work, not quite seeing him in the corner he’s hidden away in, blocked by large interior parts of the ship. It’s only a matter of time for someone to spot him, though. He should either climb back over or just finally let go and jump, before he causes a panic. But indecision locks his limbs. He can’t.
He can feel the moment someone sees him, a loud yell calls out telling him to come back over before he falls and they have to fish him out. The underlying scold of what if no one had seen you lying right underneath his words. A hush falls over the deck as Ace doesn’t move even an inch, as people recognize him as Ace, a devil-fruit user all the more susceptible to drowning, as they recognize how he is bent over and slightly shaking.
Even now, with so many eyes on him, he can’t make himself let go. How embarrassing.
“Ace,” calm, direct, purposeful, commanding, “Come back over here now.”
He should listen but his limbs won’t obey and Marco’s words sound almost like they’re coming from a wind tunnel, far away and too close all at once. There is still the sea in front of him, beckoning him, and Sabo’s tiny hand clutching at him and whispering low and high-pitched in his ear. His words are clear; Marco’s are muddled.
A hand lands on his shoulder, warm and large and just a gentle pressure, and he jolts at the unexpected contact.
“Hey Ace,” he says, voice soft, “I’ve got you. Come on, let go now. Tell me what’s wrong, Ace?”
Ace’s focus shifts to that point of contact, to the soothing and yet commanding voice, to the muffled worried whispers in the background.
“I can’t,” he finally answers, “I’m not-” able to let go.
“Not supposed to let go,” he mumbles.
Marco hums, “I’m glad you didn’t, but it’s ok now, see?” he squeezes Ace’s shoulder, “I’ll help you back over. It’s ok, Ace, I’m here now, I"ll help you.”
The sound of name pulls him ever so closer to reality and away from the dark night where he could do nothing but stare and stare and stare, eaten up by the sea.
And Ace… listens.
He can trust Marco. Maybe he wasn’t the brother he was waiting for, but he had come nonetheless. Important to him.
Blinks as he finds himself kneeling on the deck with a blanket wrapped around him, arms wrapped around his shoulder as Marco whispered soothing things into his ear, one of his men shooing away onlookers.
“This ain’t a show, get back to work.”
And Ace flushes at the reality of how many people had seen him at his weakest point. It was bad enough they saw him angry and out for blood but too weak to do anything about it, but this too- Two bad sides of him they’d been introduced to now and he wondered if he’d finally get kicked out. Too much trouble to handle. Too much pain to be worth fixing.
He waits for the other shoe to drop the whole time, but Marco still holds him, and eventually (and it’s embarrassing but he blanks out a bit, lost in what-ifs and terrible conversations and words that would never leave Marco’s lips) he finds himself in the infirmary, sat in the bed and a blanket he doesn’t need curled around him. The weight of it is nice. (He doesn’t throw it off.)
Marco’s eyes are narrowed and worried though, “What was that?”
Ace struggled to find an answer, to speak, winces a bit, “It, uh, happens sometimes? Since I was a kid… Hasn’t happened since I became a pirate, but I guess bad habits never die.”
Triggered by the anniversary of Sabo’s death, no doubt, but also the recent stress he’d been under. As Captain of a ship, he could not afford weakness, but here they don’t need him to be strong, there are no men relying on him, and it is easier to let himself break down without the weight of the others on top of him. It still hurts to let them down.
“I’m sorry,” he says, hunching in on himself and wishing he could disappear.
“Don’t apologize, yoi,” Marco says, “I just need to know for the future. None of us want you hurt, Ace.”
Ace, whispered into his ear, from so long ago.
“I know,” he says, “I’ll be fine, it won’t happen again.”
More promises he doesn’t know if he can keep, but what does that matter, as long as it serves its purpose in the moment.
“Why’d it happen in the first place? Is there something we should avoid doing…?” Marco"s experience reared its head here, rarely did these things come from nowhere.
Ace is about to shake his head, avoid the question, when a knock on the door interrupts them and Haruta pokes his head in, shortly followed by Thatch fully opening the door.
“We heard what happened and wanted to check up on you,” Haruta says before looking towards Marco, “How’s he doing?”
Go away. Leave me alone.
I don’t deserve this… so many people worrying about me.
I don’t. Know how to explain. Don’t want to see disappointment carved into those eyes.
Leave me alone, leave me alone, leave me alone, I can deal with this on my own.
But isn’t it nice to have someone by your side again?
“I said I’m fine,” he growls, curling up even more, as if that would protect him from ever-nearing judgement. Still shivering, still empty. A gaping hole where his chest should be.
If he didn’t know gripping his head would make it seem worse than it is, he’d have grasped his hair and pulled, just to ground himself with the pain, if only a little bit. Instead, his fingernails dig into his palm, almost enough to make them bleed, teeth biting at the inside of his lips as he tries to stop himself from shaking.
“I’m fine,” he repeats, as if that would make it true, eyes burning in intensity as he looks up. It was time to leave, he’s made enough of a fool of himself here. He goes to get up and leave, before he’s being pushed back down, gently, but the barely-there pressure of palms against his shoulder is almost enough to make him ignite. The touch had felt scalding no matter how it was barely there and for a moment he wants to yell.
“Whoa there, can’t leave until doc Marco over here clears you,” Thatch says, “Even if you’re feeling better now.”
Ace’s face does something funny then, “Having Phoenix powers does not make him a doctor.”
“Eh? It doesn’t? Someone should tell that to Pops, he’s been practicing on ship for decades now…” Thatch muses and Ace can’t help the chuckle that leaves him, almost half a sob and he can’t quite tell why he’s laughing so hard and why he’s crying and it’s not even that funny and-
Fuck. Why can’t he stop?
The half-laugh, half-sob turns into full out crying and Ace struggles to apologize, and only manages to blubber before trying to hide. God, can’t even get a handle on himself enough to convince them to let him leave for the safety of his room, how utterly pathetic.
“Hey, hey, it’s ok,” he hears and he scrambles backwards from the warmth that approaches him, but it is persistent, and soon he is wrapped up in warm arms. Usually, he would push them away, would burn, but the scent of apple pie greets him instead, the warmth of the kitchen, and he recognizes it as Thatch, and he didn’t want to burn him, not when the other was just trying to help.
He finds himself leaning in further instead despite his own misgivings, because Thatch is warmth and safety and rumbling words that shouldn’t be so calming. A hand works its way through his hair and slowly the sobs peter out and he can think clearly enough past the intense emotions to realize that was now two breakdowns he had to be talked through today. His face flushes red at the realization. Weak.
It’s too late to be embarrassed now though, and that thought stops him from pushing Thatch away or trying to leave again. He’d already made enough of a fool of himself.
It’s quiet for a little bit, and he almost expects someone else to break it, but then there’s the realization they are waiting for him. He doesn’t owe them an answer but…
But, would it hurt to tell them, just a little bit?
“Yesterday was the day my brother died,” he finally says, knowing the flames catch on his shoulder just thinking about it, the anger at false deities preaching lies and pain, the anger at himself, left alone and wanting. There was no one to save Sabo; and there had been no one left to save Ace. Picked himself up from the dirt and pulled Luffy alongside him, spitting ideals that could keep the both of them walking even when one day they ended up inevitably alone, “That’s why I’m all over the place, I will be fine, I’m just…”
This kind of bond, he said, Do you think something as bleak as death could break it?
“I’m just really sad. I want to see him again.” The truth falls out of his lips before he can fully realize that it is the truth, picked from deep within his chest. God, does he miss Sabo, days when they were kids and everything was so much simpler. Anger wasn’t mixed with anything but anger, and there was no line blurring friend and foe.
Grief tastes like crocodile meat cooked too long, smells like the forest air, the tinge of blood from the deer laying dead and scavenged, feels like the bottomless pit with snakes at the bottom, or maybe like the air rushing past after you jump off a cliff, right before the painful crash into the waves.
“You said it happened since you were a kid, though, are there any other triggers than the date?”
“It helps, being off my home island,” Ace admits, all the worst things had happened there, after all. The sea was freedom, was an all-encompassing passion and was the one place Ace refused to leave regrets, “I don’t think there’s anything else?” Mentions of Roger, maybe, but he wasn’t about to tell them that.
Marco nods, though, and Haruta jumps on the bed to join Ace and Thatch, too small for all of them, and it creaks in protest but doesn’t break, “You should’ve told us sooner.”
“I didn’t…” Ace looks away, “Didn’t want to bother anyone.”
“Better bothered than to find you dead.” Marco says, and Ace has a moment of confusion when Marco moves towards them as if to- but no he can"t, wouldn"t- before Marco shows that while he is the responsible one, he can be every bit as childish, joining the cuddle pile as well, and this time Ace really does fear for the life of the bed, “Move your arm.”
Marco elbows Thatch’s arm out of the way as he settles in, and Ace is practically covered in arms and legs and Haruta’s hair is tickling his nose, but it’s warmth and it feels like family and he doesn’t want to leave the comfort, sinks into it instead.
“I’ll say something next time,” he says, and wonders if this is the time he will keep it, maybe if only for more of this warm comfort.
He doesn’t know how long he stays like that, but it’s enough for his breathing to completely calm, for his brain to stop buzzing, and for sleep to almost overcome him.
The door opens yet again, this time Jozu walks in and Ace has a moment to think oh no, before the other man says, “Wait really, without me?” and fucking full-body throws himself on the top.
There’s a threatening crack, and then the bed breaks straight in half, leaving them in a pile on the floor, limbs askew and Marco somehow ending up on the bottom completely squished.
Ace can’t help it, breaks out into laughter again, this time not edged with sobs, but wipes away the tears from the corner of his eyes that appear from laughing too hard. Giggles.
“Jozu no! I doubt we have that many beds!” he says, but he’s still trying to stop the occasional giggles, laying spread starfish across the floor, not bothering to move from the now tangled group of them.
“Sorry,” the other man says, hand scratching his head apologetically, “Guess I didn’t think.”
“That’s nice and all,” Marco growls, “Can you louts get off of me now.”
“Nope,” Ace says, and rearranges himself to curl up on top of the man, snuggling into a hard chest, not minding the broken pieces of bed surrounding all of them.