Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The symptoms had started two hours after the battle. Some stupid rival pirate crew had attempted to attack the Whitebeard Pirates- a foolish mistake. Oyaji hadn’t even given them the pleasure of fighting them- he’d just let his sons handle it. 

And handle it the Commanders did. They wrecked the crew and sent their asses packing.

Since Marco was busy doing paperwork (‘Go away Ace, you know how to fight, I gotta finish this shit’,) and Thatch had been cooking (‘If I step away from this it’ll burn !’), Ace was left with the others to deal with it.

He growled, still a bit miffed about it, and sent a flaming fist towards the dumbass captain’s face. Apparently the captain didn’t appreciate it that much.

“You bitch !” he howled, clutching his broken nose and burnt face. Ace raised an unimpressed eyebrow.

“ Bitch ? That’s the best you could come up with?” The Logia snorted derisively as he kicked the other in the stomach. “I coulda done a whole lot worse , y’know. Be glad that I didn’t break your fucking jaw .”

The captain roared in anger as he charged Ace. The latter did nothing- he was a Logia , after all, and even if the Captain used haki on him, which he probably would, Ace’s haki was irrefutably stronger. A metallic black sheen covered his abdomen and-

Impact .
The fire-user’s eyes widened as he choked back a gasp- what the fuck -

The captain grinned. “Don’t like my devil fruit, eh?”

“You little…” Ace snarled. “I’ve had enough of your shit !”

He proceeded to dropkick the guy into the high seas and watched in satisfaction as a sea king gobbled his dead body.

“Oi Ace, ya good?” Izou shouted above the pirate’s dying screams. “Looks like he landed a hit on you~”

“Yea, yea,” Ace rolled his eyes, irritated. “I’m fine . A weakling like that couldn’t beat me anyway.”

( Ace ignored the uneasy feeling pooling in his gut- after all, the pirate had mentioned a devil fruit, but he quickly dismissed it. After all, it couldn’t be that bad.

…Right? )

Symptom One .

Ace was in his room, mindlessly flipping his seastone dagger in between his hands when, ironically, his throat felt like it was on fire . Literally was unlikely- after all Ace was holding a seastone dagger for Seas’ sake. So unless his dagger decided to defect and morph into regular steel or iron, his throat was decidedly not on fire. But it was definitely an uncomfortable feeling- an unfamiliar one as well.

Ace coughed a bit, which did nothing to lessen the pain in his throat. The more he coughed, the more raw his throat felt, which didn’t help his feeling of unease. Maybe it was just a simple fever…?

“ Fuck !” Ace cursed, bringing a hand to his throat. He ran to the bathroom, coughing, hacking -

Blood .

Bile rose in his throat and Ace felt queasy. Hands clenching the sink, Ace hurled. It was a mixture of a dark red substance and this afternoon’s lunch.

Ace cursed heavily once again as he washed the substance down the drain, brushing his teeth hard . His throat still felt like hell, as did his churning stomach, but there was nothing he could do. Ace briefly considered seeing Marco, after all, he was the head doctor, but then quickly dismissed the thought. The phoenix had too much on his plate already- he didn’t need to add Ace to his list of worries.

Ace sighed and looked in the mirror- not like it did anything. He did notice his skin was a bit paler than usual- which made his freckles pop- and that his eyes were a bit bloodshot, but otherwise nothing was out of the ordinary. The logia ran a hand through his hair, sighing. It was probably just a simple fever- he’d sleep it off.

Ace looked out at the darkening sky- it was maybe four, five o’clock? He had an hour to nap.

He didn’t remember much except for stumbling back to bed and crashing into it the moment he hit the sheets.

Symptom two.

(loss of appetite, difficulty swallowing)

Ace woke up an hour or two later. He didn’t feel better; on the contrary, he felt worse . He groaned, peeling off the bed sheets that stuck to him due to sweat and made his way to the bathroom to freshen up- or, at least, look decent enough for dinner.

The devil fruit user splashed his face with cold water, dried it, and made his way to the mess hall. Ignoring the strange looks he gained, he sat on his usual spot at the Commanders’ table.

Marco hadn’t seemed to make it to dinner, and neither had Izou. Thatch was in the kitchen cooking somewhere, so…

Haruta slid into Marco’s usual spot next to Ace. “Hey!” The cheerful Commander perked up. “I think Thatch has made chicken pot pie for dinner! It’s one of your favorites, right?”

Ace managed a smile. “It’s good. Has meat.”

Haruta rolled his eyes and bumped Ace’s shoulder playfully. “It’s not just meat,” he said, mock-exasperated. “It has nutrients! Fiber! Veggies!”

“Not you lecturing me on proteins too,” Ace groaned, playfully pretending to be annoyed.

The cooks brought out the food and set a huge, steaming plate down on every table. On it was a giant chicken pot pie, the outside wonderfully golden brown and unbelievably crispy. The scent emanating from it was delicious- but there was one problem.

Ace wasn’t hungry.

The fire logia blinked- he was always hungry, no matter what, as he had a ‘D’ appetite. So why the hell wasn’t he already salivating and digging in? Normally he would, but..

Ace took a small portion and picked at his food, mainly pushing it around his plate. Maybe if he spread it out, it would look like he’d eaten more.…

“Hey, Ace,” Haruta piped up, “Why aren’t you eating? Normally you would be through your sixth plate already!” Haruta teased, a grin stretched on his face.

Said person shrugged, acutely aware that he probably looked like a toddler who didn’t want to eat his veggies. “Dunno,” he responded, “I just ate a lot earlier.”

The other seemed to buy his lame excuse. “Of course you did,” he said, “you’re Ace , after all. Why am I not surprised?”

Ace flashed a grin at Haruta, stabbing his fork into the food and shoving it down his throat. The chicken pot pie just seemed to be stuck there, and he had a difficult time swallowing. In the end, he simply downed some water and prayed that it would loosen up his throat.

It did, and he managed to swallow. The logia pushed his plate away; he wasn’t hungry anymore.

“I ate a lot earlier,” he said to no one in particular, “I think I’m going to go back to my room and do some paperwork.”

“Doing paperwork?” Jozu, who sat across from him, snorted. “That’s a first.”

A hint of a flush crept up Ace’s cheeks as he stood up from his chair. “I can work, y’know!”

He went back to his room, bile rising in his throat again, but he managed to tamp it down. What was he going to throw up anyway? One bite of chicken pot pie? 

Scoffing at himself, Ace scribbled away at his paperwork, blissfully unaware that this was only the start.

Symptom three

(More prone into injuries- ex: a simple stub on the toe leads to a nerve wracking horrible agony)

The next morning, Ace forced his eyes open, peepers blurry and crusted. Ace groaned, cracking his stiff neck as he stretched. The awkward position he’s slept in (he’d fallen asleep doing paperwork) finally caught up to him, and now he was paying the price for it. Dearly.

Forcing himself up, Ace went to the bathroom once again. He felt the same as yesterday, the burning sensation in his throat still present. Sighing, the pyromaniac made his way out of the room and downed three cups of coffee at the ‘community pot’. Thanking the heavens for the goat herder Kaldi (what he would do without coffee, Ace didn’t know,) Ace made his way back to his room.

And promptly stubbed his toe.

“ Fuckkkkkk ,” Ace groaned, banging his head on the doorway and slamming the door shut. 

It fucking hurt.

Sort of like a burning, stabbing sensation, shooting through his leg from his toe without any mercy or any signs of stopping. It was as if tiny daggers were repeatedly piercing through his blood vessels. It was intense, persistent, each throb sending a wave of agony through his leg, and, by extension, his body. It was difficult to focus on anything else.

It throbbed with each heartbeat, creating a relentless, seemingly inescapable barrage of suffering.

Ace screamed, but it came out as a hoarse whisper. He didn’t remember much after that.

Symptom four

(severe weight loss due to lack of appetite)

Ace stared at himself in the mirror.

What the absolute fuck?

It had been a week since this strange sickness had started, and he seemed to be losing weight at an alarming rate. Alright, so maybe he hadn’t eaten any meals. Since he knew he would throw it back up. And had no appetite.

But still. What the fuck?!

He could barely recognize himself anymore, his pale face and sunken, bloodshot eyes. His shorts hung loosely off his frame, (he still refused to wear a shirt) and his upper torso? Forget it. It was simply just skin and bones, any signs of muscles seemingly dissolved into thin air. He felt weak and fatigue and ill and sick , and he knew-

( what if he didn’t survive this)

-he needed immediate medical attention. Despite his attempts to eat more (he’d gone to the kitchens long after everyone left so they couldn’t notice his state), his health only seemed to rapidly decline. 

Ace laughed. He collapsed.

(He cried).

Symptom five

(Coughing gets more violent, blood when throwing up, bleeding of gums, hysteria)

Ace's coughing fits had worsened significantly, each one more violent than the last. He felt as if his lungs were being torn apart, and he could literally taste the metallic tang of blood in his throat. Whenever he ran his tongue across his gums, he felt the stickiness of fresh blood. His ribs ached horribly from the force of his coughs, and Ace just wanted to curl up and-

( die )

-sleep.

…No one had seemed to notice his absence. If they did, well, maybe they didn’t fucking care . Ace laughed, bitterly, hollowly. If he even survived whatever the fuck this was, he’d probably just kill himself in the end. Join Sabo, his useless father, and his mother.

After all, no one checked up on him- but why would they, after all? He was just a waste of space. Especially since he was being fucking useless right now, laying in a room for a Commander , not a piece of shit like he was. His current condition was living proof that he was a failure.

Well, Ace mused, it wouldn’t be living proof since I think I’m going to die soon.

And that would be a good thing, wouldn’t it?

Eyeing the knife nearby, Ace considered it, not for the first time. He’d tried before, sure, but it was merely his promise to Luffy that had stopped him. He’d been too weak to do it. 

And he was still weak.

Well, if he killed himself now, he’d probably go to hell for breaking his promise, not like he wasn’t suffering enough already. 

He reached for the knife.

Marco felt like offing himself. He’d come back to life, probably , phoenix fruit and all, but still.

Slamming his head on the table for the umpteenth time, Marco nearly tore the document he’d been working on for hours to shreds. He really felt like torturing someone at the moment, preferably an entire marine fleet. He could definitely sell their organs for a good price-

No. Stop it , Marco reminded himself, selling organs is bad.

Eyeing the damned paper, Marco decided to fuck it and went to go get some coffee.

He’d been holed up in his room for three or four days now, the other commanders coming to check up on him and to bring him food. He was very thankful for all that, but something nagged at the back of his head.

As the eldest brother of the crew, Marco usually had a sense when something was wrong (which Thatch said was because he was such a mother hen) but this time… Marco knew he was missing something.

Arriving at the mess hall, Marco scanned the room, seeing Thatch in the kitchen. He wasn’t sure what to say, but he somehow instantly knew .

“Hey, Thatch…?”

“Hm?” The chef looked up from whatever he was cooking. “Yeah, Marco? What d’ya need?”

Marco shrugged, holding a hand up to his forehead. “I don’t know, honestly. I just feel like something’s off.”

Thatch hummed a bit, “Well, actually, I’m not sure. Why don’t you ask Ace?”
Ace . 

Oh . Fuck .

Marco sprang from his place on the barstool and fled the kitchen.

Ace .

Ever since that day. How haven’t I noticed? Since that fight, he’s been acting strangely. Holing himself up in his room. Not coming out for periods of time. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen him in the mess hall for a couple days now- is that just because I was in my room doing paperwork or something else?

He was outside of Ace’s room, and Marco didn’t bother to knock.

“Ace?”

Blue eyes scanned the room, finding the second division commander reaching for a fucking knife . Years of being a pirate kicked into play, and Marco swept the knife off the table. It clattered to the floor.

“What the hell are you thinking ?!” The phoenix roared, anger simmering down when he saw Ace’s form.

It was clear that he didn’t look well- he was sweating, pale, and was that blood on his lips? Oh hell no . Marco couldn’t see the rest of him due to his lower body being covered by the blanket.

Kneeling, Marco lowered himself so he was eye level with Ace. “Hey.” He nudged the younger tentatively, “Are you feeling alright?”

The obvious answer was no.
“I don’ feel well,” Ace slurred, bloodshot eyes glazed over, “And it hurts. Make it stop .”

He gazed at Marco pleadingly, eyes meeting his for the first time, before he went limp. Unconscious.

Marco cursed.

They were inside the medical bay, the commanders and Pops gathered around the sad, small form of Portgas D Ace.

“Fuck,” Izou cursed heavily, “how could I- how could we let this happen? I was in that fucking fight !”
He growled, gripping the handles of his twin pistols tighter, “And I just- I joked about it. And he joked right fucking back !”
None of the commanders tried to stop Izou’s rant, knowing full well that they should just let him finish.

“And just- fuck ,” Izou groaned, “I didn’t even notice.”

Haruta gazed at Ace mournfully. “I should have noticed the first time, too. I should have noticed something was wrong when he didn’t eat . It’s my fault. I’m sorry.” The commander trailed off, mumbling as he looked at the ground.

Marco looked up briefly from where he was treating Ace, casting bright blue flames that licked at his skin. Before he could say something, though, Thatch cut in.

“It was all our fault.” The cook swallowed the lump in his throat. “We all should have noticed- for fuck’s sake, he’s our family , dammit.”

Whitebeard’s voice cut through the grim, overwhelming silence that had fallen.
“It’s a devil fruit- it poisons the user, attacking their white blood cells first, lowering the body’s capacity to heal. Then that’s when the toxin strikes, it starts slowly, but progresses more and more until it kills the afflicted.”

“Is there a cure?” Jozu finally asked, shifting. “Because.. Well,” he gestured aimlessly, words failing him.

“It was in its last stages,” Marco said. “The sickness, I mean. Was going to reach his heart, cause it to eventually fail. The death would have been like a heart attack, but with more prolonged suffering. There is a cure though, it comes from the crushed-up petals from the lotus. Mix it with certain antidotes, and you get your cure. Nurse Selma is currently making it.”

The only answer was nods and the occasional sniffle. The doctor moved back, summoning his flames back to himself. “That should do it,” Marco said, flexing his fingers, “and now we just wait for the antidote.”

One hour later, the antidote was produced and placed into a syringe. The liquid was injected, with much precision and great care, into the fire user’s veins. 

It took some time for Ace to regain consciousness, but when he did, he saw the concerned, worried faces of his family.

Family.

The people he’d cared about, the people who cared about him , had all worked hard together, suffered beside him and manufactured a cure for him.

Ace had been caught up in the situation. He’d been out for three days, and during those days the Commanders and Pops had poured all of their efforts into finding a cure for him. The rest of the crew had worked tirelessly, going above and beyond to try and get Ace better. 

Ace couldn’t help but feel a surge of love for everyone around him.

Not all endings are happy, but this one was. For that big black weight of self- hate and anger, uncertainty and hate, dissolved with ease when his family smiled at him.

Well, Ace had finally found the answer- the true answer, the one he’d always been looking for but never truly knew he was looking for.

He was loved and cared for. He had people to call his family.

He had a home.