Art on the cover image by Shekilaria given from Ao3, where i posted the link for the art. Thank you so much for this and please check them out!

WARNING: Description of non-graphic child abuse and the aftermath, and violence in general.

Hello, you know what this means: Writer's block. Yeah. A quick little thing while i have some time in my hand.

Came across an art (actually i think it was from Oda's SBS?) where Ain, the girl from Movie Z turns people into kids and we got Kid Law, Kid Kid (As in, Eustass Kid as a, well, kid. You know what i mean), Kid Shanks and for major ROFL moment, literally a pineapple with Marco's clothes around it. It was hilarious and i was going to write maybe a crack fic based on that, but then my mind went 'let's make it sad because you just finished Yakuza 6 and is an extremely sad and empty human being' and i go 'ok'.

Please forgive me for any (more than usual) mistake, i will come back to fix mistakes once i have some time to spare. Probably.

Enjoy!

"Rain, rain go away, come again another day, i want to go out and play, rain, rain go away,"

Of course, Grand Line's storm won't be so kind as to hear his little ditty and comply. Outside, a flash of thunder struck somewhere far away, the noise unconcealed by the seemingly endless drops from the gloomy sky and the uncontrollable waves that sways Moby Dick around. It's been going on since yesterday, and according to the navigators, this rain will either end tomorrow or next week, showing to them once again just how unpredictable Grand Line's weather can be.

He never did like the rain, not ever since he arrived in Grand Line the first time.

"Rain, rain go away, come again another day, you made things wet and i hate wet, rain, rain go away,"

It's one of the drawback of being a logia, especially with the element of fire, as he learned. Ever since he got his Devil Fruit coming out during rain is such a pain, with his skin sizzling at every drop. Not to mention the lethargy that comes with being wet in general, as well as the raised chance of his narcolepsy to appear. It doesn't only affect logias, as far as he knows, but it would seem like his conflicting element added the extra burden on him.

The lantern on the far away work desk flickered when the wind outside picked up briefly. From the bed, a pair of grey eyes kept themselves fixated on the outside dark sky when a flash of thunder could be seen followed by a rolling storm.

"Rain, rain go away, come again another day, i miss sleeping on the deck, rain—"

"—Rain, rain go away,"

Ace let out an embarrassed yelp at the second singing voice, and turned towards the door to indeed found Marco closing the door behind him, hair still dripping wet underneath the towel hooded over his head, and an odd look of thoughtfulness across his face. Not that Ace particularly cared about what he's thinking about now, because he has more pressing issue to address, "When did you get here?!"

"Hm? Oh, right, i think since you started singing actually," By now, Ace can see the telltale twitching on his lips, showing that he's actually trying to hold back from laughing. He ducked his head down under the towel he had on his head when Ace glared, and when the barely contained smile turned into laughter, with a little harrumph, the younger turned around on the bed and pulled the blanket around himself, hiding away the redness that bloomed across his face.

The bed soon dipped and he felt himself, along with the blanket he's curled in, being dragged back effortlessly, "I'm cold, let me in the blanket,"

"Suffer," the younger of the two tried to roll away, but the arms trapping him and the blanket he was holding on too tightly, effectively trapping him in one place. He held on to the blanket even tighter when another hand started trying to tug it away, "No, this is my room, and people who secretly listened to me making a fool out of myself don't get to be comfortable,"

"Oh come on, i wasn't even making fun of you," he heard a warm chuckle from beyond the thick material, which soon faded away to a curious hum, "That song just sounded pretty familiar for some reason. Like i've heard it somewhere before,"

That piqued Ace's curiousity enough to poke his head out of the bundle he cocooned himself into, finding himself staring up to Marco's face and almost bumping his nose, "What do you mean, familiar? It's a song Luffy made up when he was a kid, i highly doubt you ever heard it,"

"Huh, maybe i heard you sang it any other time?"

"I never di— Whoa!"

In his distraction, Ace failed to notice the hand that slithered inside the blanket and tug it off from him, and now instead of the woollen cover, Marco was curled around him, their legs intertwined forcibly with both of the older man's cold and slightly damp arms wrapped around him. He tried to struggle but know he won't get too far, and it's not like he wanted to get out of the sudden embrace anyway, "I'm still mad at you,"

"Will you forgive me for listening in if i say you have a beautiful singing voice?"

"I will make your non-cold resistant bird ass sleep on the floor,"

They tussled around a little bit more, giggling like stupid children to each other's mouth in the privacy of their own - well, Ace's, but they stayed over each other's room so often the degree of ownership blurred as of the late - room, a rather immature activity that quickly descended to something a little more steamy and not at all juvenile. Hands glide over skin, fingers tracing every crook and asymmetrical lines, taking in shapes and outline, and through the heady pleasure, a thought emerged from Ace's mind.

Even with the power of regeneration, Marco was not completely without scar.

He knew this well, intimately well even, when time and time again, he could feel ridges and jagged edges of old scars along the man's body. The most prominent one, and coincidentally the one that always made him the most upset whenever Ace's hand accidentally strayed there and he has to keep in mind to avoid, was placed in the middle of his chest, right where he bore Whitebeard's mark. Each of these scars are nigh invisible to the eye, and how deep they ran were unknown to many, but not to him.

It had only been a few months since they started regularly sharing the same bed, but during those short months, Ace had bore witness to plenty of fitful sleeps, thrashing, waking up in cold sweat, and even days without rest. For him, it was easy to mask the fact that he himself was awake - or perhaps Marco was too distracted to notice he wasn't quite asleep - and it was because of it did he often saw the way the blonde would sit for hours on the edge of the bed, his hand tentatively tracing a seemingly shapeless pattern across his tattoo, right around the odd scar he was so secretive about.

Just like right now, looking tired and much older, with a face that spoke of life-long misery.

There's things about me i don't want you to know, was the only answer he was given before, the first and last time he ask of those scars, and i'm afraid if i ever tell you, you'll be disgusted by me.

That had been a warning, even a plea to stop him from prying, and unbeknownst to Marco, it had been a reminder that Ace himself hadn't been the only one unforthcoming in this burgeoning relationship. He didn't quite have scars to show for them, but he had the very same fear, he knows what it's like wanting to hide a detrimental part of yourself and it was the only thing that stopped him from ever asking any further.

Still, it didn't mean that Ace didn't want to reach out sometimes, assuring him that it would never be the case. Marco meant more to him than things that may be in his past. Maybe if he could say that, he'll have the courage to confess his own secret.

But as his hand faltered from trying to reach over that hunched back, Ace knew that won't happen tonight. The logia pulled his hand back silently, and soon fell into deep slumber, distantly hearing a muffled, somber rendition of an otherwise cheerful tune.

"Rain, rain go away…,"

He hated the rain. He always did. Especially when it rained in Grand Line, because something bad always happened whenever it rained in Grand Line.

If it hadn't been raining so hard, they would've been able to see the approaching ship much earlier, prepare much better for the ensuing battle. If it hadn't been raining so hard, then his fire would've been much more efficient, it would've done a short work on that daring pirate ship and he won't have to stay back. If it hadn't been raining so hard and thick, then he'll be able to see things better, and he'll be able to warn Marco to stop going after the fleeing opposing captain when suddenly threw an oddly shaped projectile upwards, clearly aiming for the zoan.

But it did rain, the hardest it did in days, and so Ace could only watch in horror when the moment whatever it is the captain had been using made contact with Marco - accompanied by the sound of breaking glass and bright coloured splash - he suddenly plummeted down to the water, disappearing into the raging waves.

His feet already moved by itself, but he was held back with a large arm clasping his shoulder tightly, holding him back, "Namur!"

"On it!"

"Front line, retreat, commander down!" Behind him, Jozu's voice became even louder, piercing through the windy wails and far away thunderous clap, "10th and 16th Division, ready your aim! Sink their ship!"

A single giant cannon broke through the smaller pirate's ship, sinking it immediately, and with the level of precision only Izou's division can achieve, soon, the entire deck was littered with their assailant. No mercy granted to those who managed to harm one of their own. But even as the last of the men died an anguished death, there was no celebration or declaration of victory, and every capable body on deck had their attention turned to the fact that Namur has yet to resurface with Marco.

The hand on Ace's shoulder, still encased by hard diamond, tightened its grip.

A wave of relief rushed through the entire ship when there was a splash and the fishmen commander was back on board, but it was quickly chased away by an even larger scale of panic and concern when he held no body in sight. Instead, his expression was one of bewilderment and panic, and perhaps if his biology had allowed him to, Namur would've gone pale, "Pops!" he shouted, almost flailing while he climbed the rails and made his way over, "Pops, something's wrong!"

It wasn't until he was closer, close enough to be able to be seen through the thick rain curtain, did Ace could see that he wasn't completely empty handed. Cradled in his arms was a small bundle of purple, the same shade as Marco's shirt, and at the sight of yellow peeking out of the shirt, Ace's stomach lurched in uncertainty. He shook off Jozu's arm - whose grip had gone lax - and rushed over to where Namur was showing whatever it is he held in his arm to their captain.

Ace stopped on his tracks, almost simultaneously as everyone suddenly gasped, when they finally caught sight of what Namur had been holding.

Whitebeard's face turned ashen, holding the expression of terror and distraught as if he had seen a ghost, "Marco,"

The child in Namur's arms barely stirred at the tremor that calls his name, still as the dead.

He had seen people being tortured before; whether it was his doing or he rescued someone from one before and after joining in with the Whitebeard Pirates. It is a cruel world out there, after all, where often times, injuries were inflicted towards those who were undeserving of it, simply because the ones who put those wounds there could.

In Ace's most humble opinion, it took a special kind of sick fucker who would do that to a child.

They have no idea how this could possibly happen, but the longer he sat by the infirmary bed, watching how mangled the small, barely breathing body on top of the pristine and sterile bed, the longer Ace didn't think it mattered about the how, but why. If this child truly is Marco - and Pops was certain of it, an acknowledgement he gave gravely - then what sort of life could a boy who looked barely older than a toddler could have led that resulted to this? What sort of monster did this?

(Could Ace find him, exact revenge on them?)

Everywhere he looked, there seemed to be more bruise than actual skin, the amount of discolouration all over the sleeping child's body was already stomach-turning on its own without the various amount of laceration, scabs and marks that could only be made by the kind of objects children has no business being close to. Even after cleaned, bandaged and changed, he looked horrible, with the darkened ring around his eyes and face that spoke of restless sleep. His wrist were both red and slightly pale, the sign of lack of circulation, the same way with his neck, where they found handcuff and a bomb collar strapped tightly on to both respectively.

Pops had raged tremendously the moment he saw them, barking orders to quickly have them taken off. Once Rakuyo handed it to him with at his request, they all watched as he crushed the instruments with both of his hands, face contorted in extreme anger even when it exploded between his giant palms and caused him to be cut rather deeply across his palm. He walked away without another word to his own quarters, ordering them to immediately tend to Marco and find out what had caused this sudden de-aging.

Ace had never seen their patriarch act the way he did, never with that much anger, and judging by the shocked silence all around them, neither did any one of them.

But he could hardly blame him.

Taking a deep breath, the fire logia reach over to the small limp hand, and felt his chest clenched at how small Marco's hands were, or at least, how they used to be. He remembered the first time he met Luffy and the first time he willingly held his brother's hand, and know this is much smaller than that, when he was sure this Marco was roughly around Luffy's age at that time. Tracing his hands upward, trying not to grimace every time his fingers brushed against a healing scab or deep cut, he realized everything about Marco was much smaller than Luffy from back then, who he always thought was the tiniest kid he would ever see in his life.

But Marco wasn't just tiny, he recalled from the conversation he overheard between the nurses and the fleeting explanation he was given from the doctor, he was malnourished and in such a condition it was a miracle he's still alive. There was none of the fat a child his age should have, his ribs were protruding painfully, and nothing, nothing could be more horrifying than how the bruises on his body were shaped and placed.

Ace's eyes, tracing along with his fingers, came across one, a hand prints shaped bruise that was turning yellow and thus quite old, stacked over the bruises left by the collar. Someone held that thin neck, feeling how fragile it is underneath their obviously much stronger hands, and yet they still decided to— For someone to leave that deep of a mark…

With a shuddering breath, he withdrew his hand and wrapped it around his own throat, eyes squeezed shut when he found he couldn't complete his own thoughts. His body involuntarily lurched and he could feel goosebumps all over his arms, taking deep breaths to stop himself from whimpering and wishing for the horrifying image to go away.

But beyond all, the one that made him feel all the more ill about this sight, was the mark in the middle of the child's hardly moving chest, an ill sight even above the plethora of gruesome sight on such a small body.

He felt sick to his core when he realized he knows that shape. He had only felt it once, but there was no mistaking it.

"They call it the 'Hoof of the Soaring Dragon'. It's a mark used by the Celestial Dragons to show that someone's a slave," Ace must've been highly distracted if he couldn't hear someone as big as Whitebeard moved around and enter the infirmary, but there he was, manouvering with ease considering the limited space inside of the room for someone with his bulk. He managed, sitting right on the empty space right across the bed. From where he sat, Ace could smell the sharp reek of alcohol permeating from the old captain, "They would sear it to the slave's back, forever marking them as an object instead of a living being. Plenty of the men here has them, with the life as a pirate the only thing that allowed them to retain their humanity after what they go through during their years as slaves,"

"But Marco's on his chest,"

"It depends on the 'master'. Some enjoys the pain the marking process brought to their slaves, and watching their faces was a lot more appealing to them," Whitebeard's breath stuttered, and for a second, shadows of the rage he showed earlier appeared before it fizzled with a deep sigh, "And sometimes, they like it even more coming from a defenseless child,"

Ace could taste bile from his throat, surging as he recalled every single time Marco would stop his hand from wandering to his chest, the pain that crossed his face the first time he ever asked about them, "Monsters,"

Whitebeard's face was solemn, as he kept vigilant to the small figure on the bed, "They are indeed, my boy, they are indeed,"

Thunderous clap of great magnitude was heard outside, flashing in from the windows on one side of the infirmary. On the bed, Marco whimpered in his sleep, tossing his head to the side with his brows furrowed. On instinct, Ace stood up and gently shush him, caressing one arm as carefully and gently as he could, mindful to the various gauzes. From the corner of his eyes, he saw Whitebeard reaching to his side, pulling on to the flimsy curtain attached over the circular windows and pulling them all close.

"He never," the dark haired commander began, faltering slightly when he couldn't find the right words to say, "He's never forthcoming when it comes to his past," as he said this, his hand wandered to the half-concealed slave mark, watching it with no small amount of contempt. The face Marco made the first time he asked were always imprinted in the back of his mind, the grievance and self-hatred, something Ace could tell only because he himself was all too familiar with the feeling.

"Can you blame him, son? It wasn't something you can easily admit," his captain went silent, and when he spoke again, his voice was oddly gentle, fragile almost, "It's even harder still dealing with being inevitably reminded of your days down there. I had only spent minutes in that place, the first time i took him away. Sometimes i would be reminded of it, and it would take me several strong drinks to forget and not hate myself for not coming sooner. I can't imagine living there for as long as he did,"

Held in his hand, Marco's face seems so small, everything about him seems so easily breakable. It was a far cry to the man he knew today, the one always standing proud right next to Whitebeard, but at the same time, Ace couldn't help but to compare this child to the man sitting on the edge of his bed, hunched and breathing heavily from nightmares every other night, and found them the same person. These scars he's seeing now never did heal completely, he knows, and Marco has to live with it to this day.

Trapped in his own deep reverie, Ace nearly missed it when the head he cradled shifted and pushed against his palm, but he was immediately alert the moment a pair of - dead, dull, nothing bright like the ones he know so well - eyes flickered from behind bruised yellow eyelids. One of them opened slower than the other, but they were both focused on him silently. The logia froze, rooted on the spot.

There's no recognition in those eyes, no surprise, not a single hint of emotion. They look tired, resigned, too much older than they're supposed to be.

"Marco," he called out in a soft whisper, trying to smile but found it painful to do so, "You're awake,"

The boy kept staring at him, until chapped and blotched lips moved, letting out from between them a coarse, confused whisper, "Mar… co?"

This is what the rest of the commanders and their respective divisions has uncovered, while Ace stayed by Marco's side to watch over him.

The pirate crew that attacked them hailed from West Blue, and before their venture to Grand Line - and the ultimately failed plan to attack a Yonko ship - their last conquest had been raiding a famous scientist's laboratory in Paradise. They found that the supply they robbed had the ability to shrunk grown men into children, which made abduction and selling them to the auction house even easier. Of course, it wasn't long until the captain decided random people they came across weren't enough, and they planned on moving to much more known figures, hoping they'll get an even higher pay.

Children also bid for higher than adults, and a child version of someone infamous would fetch an incredible price. That was what they were promised.

When they first attacked Moby, their target had obviously been Pops, but the rain and waves led them to encounter Moby before they had a proper plan. It had gone badly, just as expected, so in a last ditch attempt to still gain something out of it, the captain had obviously seen Marco, not quite a Yonko, yet second only to Whitebeard himself in the crew, and decided he's good enough as a target.

Their plan obviously failed, with every single one of the crew dead except for the man Haruta interrogated, and the moment he was done spilling everything, it was with great vengeance did 'Swift Saber' cut his head off, and had his men toss him to the waters to be eaten by the nearest sea king.

Locating and contacting the scientist was easy enough. The old woman's Devil Fruit allowed her to create just about any potion with any desired effect, but with one drawback; everything she created will have a side effect just as strong as the main effect. The concoction that the pirate crew stole was supposed to be her magnum opus, a time travel potion that allows someone to switch places with themselves at the exact age of 5. While she had succeeded on that front, the scientist never managed to work out the side effect; the person who was applied with the potion, the adult self, would not appear in the past, but seems to fall into a limbo of nonexistence. To make things worse, if their position was not reversed in a certain time frame, then the switch would be permanent.

In other words, if they don't hurry, the Marco they all know will disappear, but saving him would mean sending this Marco back to his time, back to the terrible life he led.

A small hand curling weakly on his chest brought Ace back to reality, and he looked down to find that he had inadvertently gripped the Marco too hard while listening to Vista's explanation. He apologized, and the way Marco looked back at him with incomprehension, as if he didn't understand what the word 'sorry' means, hurts him more than he think it could.

Turns out Marco's Devil Fruit was already present at this young age, which means that not long after he regain consciousness, he immediately healed by himself. He had been obviously confused by the lack of handcuff and collar, but had not said a word since he woke up, not to anyone who tried to speak to him and not even to Pops, who looked deeply crestfallen by this. Going with the assumption that his regenerating ability was about the same as the one he has as an adult, the nurses allowed Ace to take him outside, unwilling to leave him alone or simply with anyone but himself.

Despite all of their best effort, however, he stayed silent, even fearful to his surrounding. Ace wasn't sure why he was fine with being held by him and seated on his lap, but figured from the way he shiver that Marco was cold, and he's good enough as a heater. Guess some things stays the same, after all.

"We can talk all about that later," Thatch spoke on the midst of silence that descended the Commander Meeting room, while each of them tries to digest the recent development, "For now, are you hungry, Marco? You must be, right? You're all skin and bones, and that's something a chef like myself cannot stand," he made his way to a far away table and lifted a hefty looking tray, filled with various assortments of food. The delicious smell that has been filling the room suddenly became stronger as the auburn haired commander made his way over to where Ace sat with Marco, and placed it on the table right in front of the boy.

It only took Ace a single glance to realize that all of the food were Marco, the adult Marco's favorites; Plates filled with cold seafood platter and a bowl of steaming hot seaweed soup were placed right on the front, followed by seasoned summer fish - both cooked and served raw - smoked salmon and roe, assortment of fresh fruit from different seasons - probably digging deep to their reserves - and a mixed bowl of berries. There's two other bowls on the back, filled to the brim with noodles and rice.

The moment they were presented, as if triggering his hunger, Marco's stomach growled with the sort of intensity you would not expect from a body so small. Something that was usually funny shouldn't be so heartbreaking, especially when Ace caught sight of his tiny hands curling on his lap until his knuckles turned white.

With every eyes in the room on him, Marco sat still, watching the vast selection of food but doing nothing.

In front of them, Thatch's face fell, "Uh, do you… Oh, if you don't like any of this, it's not a problem. Just say what you want, and i'll make it in no time—"

"Poison,"

The smile on Thatch's face dropped in a flash, "What?"

Marco looked away, eyes pointedly looking anywhere but the array of food that has been presented to him. Just looking at his side profile, Ace could see that the boy was holding himself back with tremendous will, though he could obviously see the telltale glisten of a drool forming on the corner of his small lips, "Poison… make s-sick. I know,"

"He means that there would be poison put inside the food specifically to make him sick," from one corner of the room, Atmos told them quietly, "Back then, the Noble who bought me did the same. They like looking at the slaves fighting each other for food, and then getting tremendously sick and pleading for help. Those who got wise and refused to join in will be whipped and refused food for a days. It's entertainment for them,"

The robust man made his way over to the table, eyes fully focused on Marco, who warily met his stare. With a deep inhale, he turned around and unclasped his armor's strap, lowering them just enough to reveal the same mark as the one on Marco's chest. On Ace's lap, Marco let out a near inaudible gasp, shocked written all over his face.

There's a sound of cloth shifting from the other side of the room, coming from Kingdew, who lifted back his ever-present cape and reveal yet another slave mark. He laughed sardonically, "I didn't get the joy of having a sadistic owner, but day and night, i worked in a mine, paid only with half loaf of bread and a glass of well water. By the time Pops got me out, all the other slaves were dead, buried under the rubbles when the mine collapsed as a last ditch attempt from the Noble to escape. I was the only one who survived,"

"Heh, guess i'm the only one who missed out on the fun," the mark on Namur's back wasn't as stark as the other three exposed ones in the room, but it was clear as daylight the moment he took his shirt off, "I was more of a display than anything else. Back then, fishmen fetched a higher price than they did now, especially one they ripped off from their family while they were just a fingerling like myself. Didn't know any other life besides posing and looking scared for creepy looking humans until Pops took me in,"

Marco's hand was still shaking on his lap, his disbelief still apparent on his face. When Atmos leaned towards the table with a grim face, he quickly look back up at the division commander, eyes wide, "We're not… we're just like you, Marco. There's no need for you to be scared here. We're family,"

With trepidation, Ace watched as his lover's child self scanned each person in the room, slowly, assessing, like a hunted animal unsure of the danger it's in. His hand hadn't stopped shaking, his knuckles now all white and his veins popping on his wrist. In the end, he looked back down to the table, lips quivering and the drool from earlier dripping out from his lips to his jaw, but he still didn't make any move to the food.

Ace shot his hand out, making the tiny form on his lap jump in surprise, and with his bare hands grabbed a handful of rice from the furthest bowl, stuffing it all, still steaming hot, into his mouth and chew only once before he swallowed it all with some degree of difficulty. With severe, pleading eyes he looked down on a pair of wide blue eyes, "It's not poisoned, see? I'm not sick. It won't hurt you, we will never hurt you so please, please just eat, Marco,"

Marco looked at him strangely - unfamiliar, and for Ace, that was what hurt the most - lips pursed tightly as he audibly swallowed.

By the time he finally reach out for the bowl of seaweed soup and took the first sip, Ace felt like a huge burden was finally lifted off from his body. All around him, the same goes for everyone else in the room.

What little tentative sips becomes an over-indulgent gulps, and once he was done with the bowl, Marco moved on to the other plates, grabbing and stuffing them into his mouth not unlike how Ace himself had done it earlier. It was messy and downright savage, and a couple of time, he would cough and choke briefly but never once faltering in gorging down everything laid out for him. The second he started coughing again, Ace could only pat Marco's back gently, quietly telling him to be careful yet doing nothing to actually stop him.

He ate like a person starved their entire life, and seeing that the boy's waist was only as wide as his palm, that was probably true.

Ace heard a sharp inhale and look up to see Thatch with his face scrunched up and a deep flush across his nose and cheek, eyes obviously watery but kept at bay by sheer will. Not that everyone else were any better, and the dark haired male was sure that he himself was no different.

They watched Marco ate in silence, too many thoughts running through each of their minds.

"What… family?"

Ace paused from his scrubbing through Marco's hair, finding foggy, tired eyes looking up at him inquisitively. He figure the boy felt sleepy with how quiet he was since he finished eating, and he was sure he had been nodding off when Ace had only started washing his hair.

"Family?' he parroted, scooping a handful of warm water from the bucket next to them and dripping some of it to the bubbly mountain he had made on top of the - temporarily - younger boy, "Well, family's… family. They're people who care for you and you care for in return, people who are close to you, people who loved you," he swallowed, pretending to be distracted by washing the grime off of Marco's hair when he felt his chest stuttered at what he himself was about to say. In the end, he spoke softly, almost afraid to say it, "People who loved you for who you are,"

"Love?"

The logia took a deep breath and gaze upon the curious face of a young boy, and he thought right now, he looked like a proper child, with open expression and endless questions, "Yes. Love," with one sudsy hand, he pushed back a wet golden strand to join in with the pile of bubbles on top of Marco's head.

By the time he was clean and clothed, Marco had fallen asleep as expected. His expression was much more peaceful than it was in the infirmary, not stirring once even when Ace carefully transfer him over to Pops' awaiting hand. The commander's toddler form looked even smaller in Whitebeard's enormous hands, "Thank you Ace," the captain rumbled lowly as he raised his hand and the precious cargo cupped inside carefully, closer to his face, "And thank you for the report. Jozu and Vista will be taking over for the moment, we're sailing off to West Blue to pick up the antidote,"

Ace gave a noncommittal hum, just to show that he's at least listening. He licked his lower lips, carefully watching Marco's slumbering form before speaking, "He doesn't speak well, does he?"

Whitebeard pursed his lips sadly and shook his head, "If what you're saying is true and this really is Marco from back then," his tone shifted oddly, almost contemptuous in their delivery, until it went back to normal in a second, "Then no, he doesn't. It wasn't until i took him under my care that anyone would start teaching him something so basic. I've always suspected that he's either born in captivity, or maybe he was captured at a really young age. It's quite rare to see children who has a Devil Fruit, and that rarity was probably what attracts people to them,"

Luffy did, and the thought of his little brother being in Marco's position made Ace genuinely sick.

"He taught himself back then actually, on how to speak and read," Whitebeard continued, and for the first time since Ace came in, he sounded less heavy hearted and more fond, "Always been a quick learner. I remember only teaching him words and how to string sentences one day, and suddenly he was reading out loud from the newspaper and from navigating books. As a bird zoan, the expertise in direction and navigation probably comes easy to him, but it wasn't long until i have to rely on him to stir the ship,"

Using one large finger, the old man carefully brushed away fallen blonde bangs from the child's eyes. Ace couldn't help but smile tightly, watching the obvious care his captain has for his children,"I felt ridiculous back then, out of my depth and not really knowing what i can do for something so small he barely came up to my knee, but i can't help the great pride in my chest the first time he came up to me and made an entire full sentence. I think i was even moved to tears then," he chuckled, glancing down at Ace, "Silly, isn't it?"

But the smile soon disappeared, when the giant of a man lowered his hand carefully, offering to Ace to take Marco again. He spoke softly, a whisper that almost sounded like he was talking to himself, "What is a father to do, in times like this, when either way you choose, you risk hurting your own son? You do what you have to do to save him, but at the same time, you can't help but feel like you're tossing him back to the lion's den,"

Silently, Ace understood what he meant. Getting Marco back would means sending this one back to his time, but even though they know it was for the best, it won't make the bitterness on his tongue go away.

"We'll be arriving to our destination in 2 days and no later. The scientist responsible for this de-aging told us that would give her ample time to create an antidote and reverse the effect," Despite the good news, Whitebeard's tone was solemn. Once the toddler was safely held in Ace's hold, the captain looked away, eyes downcast, "Please, make him as comfortable as you possibly can while he's still here. It is the least we can do for him, if only for a little while,"

Around Moby, rain still poured down in torrents, the endless loud noise making it hard to sleep. Not that Ace was sleepy in the first place, which is probably a first.

Sitting in Marco's desk, aimlessly reading through the miscellaneous reports he found there, he suddenly found the appeal of stressing over complicated paperworks over sleeping with your mind full and understood why during those sleepless nights, this would be the first place Marco turned to. For a moment, while endlessly signing and dealing with reports, they made it feel like they're your only problem in the world, instead of whatever it is festering you from the inside.

With a sigh, Ace placed the well worn quill back into the half empty ink pot, but instead of picking up another file to look at, he glanced to the bed, to the small bump on the sheet that hid Marco's child form. He's been sleeping for hours, not a stir or a single noise, and deep down, he has to wonder if slaves ever did get enough sleep. Could this be his first peaceful rest in a while, maybe even years, or ever? The thought of it horrified him to no end.

"Was this," the freckled male softly muttered to thin air, addressing the Marco that was not here and yet is at the same time, "Was this what you think would disgust me?" He didn't feel indignant or angry if it was the case, since the very moment he learned what caused such a child to be so battered in the first place, he just felt sad. That was a life he never get to outgrow to this day, kept him awake at night for years, and maybe no one else but Ace ever truly knows about it.

There's a flash of lightining from outside of the window, and that was his only warning when seconds later a loud boom of thunder could be heard, shocking even Ace at the intensity. He didn't quite have time to be surprised, however, when he heard a sharp gasp from the bed and quickly, without thinking, he rushed over pulling a panting and gasping Marco into his arms, "Hey, it's okay, it's okay, it's just the thunder,"

"Loud," the boy flailed against his hold, voice quivering in fright, "L-loud,"

"I know, i know, but it's okay, it won't happen aga—" He hasn't even finished saying it when there's another flash followed by an even sharper, louder crack. Marco let out a muffled yell, his face pressed against Ace's chest and little hands trying hard to reach on to anything they can grab hold of. Right above them, probably from the direction of the deck, Ace could hear muffled shouts, possibly from the helmsmen and deckhand trying their best to steer through the storm. It was something he was used to and often times he should be up there as well, but the added voices did little to calm the shaking child in his arms.

Finally, he decided to climb on to the bed fully, laying down against the headboard and pulling Marco to lay down sideways on his torso with his head on his chest. The blonde boy immediately latch on to him, grabbing on to his shoulder and the arms Ace wrapped around his tiny body to secure him in place, eyes cautiously watching the window on the far away wall, "It's just the rain now, Marco. It'll be alright,"

"R-rain?"

"Yeah, the water falling down from the sky," Has he ever seen one before? Has he ever been told what they are? "As long as we're here, we'll be fine,"

"Don't… d-don't like.. r-r-rain,"

At that, Ace can't help but smile. Maybe that really is something all Devil Fruit user have in common, "Me neither. It's wet, uncomfortable, a bit cold, it made my skin sizzle," his smile slowly faded, and he held on to Marco a little bit tighter, "And bad things always happened whenever it rained in Grand Line,"

He felt Marco staring up at him curiously. But Ace kept his lips pressed shut, holding the tiny, warm body even closer against his chest.

"Rain, rain go away, come again another day," the logia lifted one hand, high enough to tangle them through blonde locks, smoothing out the knots that he could not make disappear during their bath earlier, "I want to go out and play, rain, rain go away,"

Marco winced when he tried to pry out a particularly tangled strand, and as an apology, Ace leaned down and pressed a gentle peck to the top of his forehead. It was something he would do to his Marco, with him laying his head on Marco's chest while the older would read a report or another, and sometimes he would find a particularly nasty knot, which he tried to take care off none too gently. Marco would pinch him to stop or duck down, and Ace would chase after him that they'll ended up rolling around on the bed, report and hair forgotten as they kissed and held on to each other.

It's not even a day and he realized he already missed the adult Marco. He wanted to meet him again and tell him he knows now and he will never think any differently of him, will never think of him as revolting. He wanted to say that he knows of the nightmares, wanted to apologize for never saying anything, he want to hold on to his Marco and tell him he now understood. And he wanted to tell him what he himself has been hiding all this time, because it was only fair that he did.

Because he trusted Marco. Trust, love, and he missed him something terrible.

"Rain, rain go away, come again another day, i want to go out and play, rain, rain go away,"

"R-rain, rain go— go away…,"

A thin smile bloomed on Ace's lips, "That's right, that's how it goes,"

Marco stared at him in wary silence, but then his lips twitched and he gave Ace a barely there smile, as if trying to replicate his own, "Rain, rain, g-go away…,"

"…Come again another day," Ace's breath hitched, the same time as he felt a prickle on the back of his eyes. He closed them and leaned his forehead against Marco's own, feeling thin, wiry arms trying to reach around his neck, "We want to go out and play, rain, rain, go away,"

As they fell asleep holding on to each other, the rain turned into light drizzle, before it completely disappeared.