Hey guys,

I've been watching One Piece and honestly it is so AMAZING. I was especially ecstatic when I discovered Luffy has a brother until...well, until the Marineford Arc. Goodness. My heart just broke.

This fic will just be a series of chapters documenting Ace's journey from the time before he accepted being part of the Whitebeard Pirates. In the meantime, I do not claim to be a good writer. I haven't written anything in ages but I enjoy writing. So for those who do enjoy my writing, great! Win-win situation. I enjoy writing. You enjoy reading.

Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or any of its characters.

He was pretty sure his life was just fucked up.

How else was he stuck on this huge ship – a pirate ship – with no other option but to the join the crew of Edward bloody Newgate? Also known as the world's strongest man.

Portgas D. Ace should have known something like this would happen. Everything had been going a little too smoothly. He had left Dawn Island with a smile duly in place, had gathered a notable crew of pirates (he still smiles with that tinge of sadness as he remembers the first time he was called Captain) and was creating quite the name for himself and his crew.

The Spade Pirates.

He sighed.

..they were doing so well.

Ace tugged at his hair half-heartedly. Of course it would end. Nobody with his kind of luck – except maybe Luffy, he silently mused – would be in his situation. Back against the cabin door, hands clapped over his ears, eyes tightly shut and hopinghopinghoping no one will force the door open to see him like this.

It hurt everywhere. Part of his aching head was capped with blood while dark scratches and open wounds marked his torso in ugly designs. His back seemed to screech in protest whenever he shifted, and just when did he injure his right ankle? In short, he looked like crap. All this courtesy of his admittedly stubborn desire to take down the man who wanted to take him in as his son.

The fire-user grimaced disgustedly at the thought. Of all things…

On this ship, he had no freedom. His crew was taken and, as Captain, he could not take off and leave them behind. Any Whitebeard crewmember could walk into this room they had graciously – he sneered – given him and who was he to deny them that right when he was nothing but a prisoner? No matter how strong Ace thought he was, everyone needed to sleep. He was vulnerable.

The room itself was sparse. There was a bed which looked comfy enough, with a rickety desk and matching chair across the room. Next to the bed was a none-too-small window that gave to the peaceful view of the sea. Not too fine an escape route, however. The ship's residents probably knew he would just fall into the water and drown if he tried.

"Ace?" A knock on the door.

The person in question gritted his teeth as the slight shudders of the door jostled his back. He quickly recognised the first division commander, Marco.

Marco knocked again and called his name quietly. A pause. "I'm coming in."

Ace jumped a good distance away just as the door was thrown open, barely hanging on its hinges as the commander raised an eyebrow at Ace's defensive stance across from him.

"You should go to the infirmary. You look like you're going to drop," he commented idly.

The raven-haired teen almost snarled. "And wouldn't that be pity."

Marco sighed. The former Spades Captain was a good kid, but it has been over a month and even he was tiring of the younger's antics. "Just go to the damn infirmary."

"I don't need your pity!"

"This isn't pity, you idiot. We don't actually want you to die."

"Of course not. You want me to join your bloody crew and be the good little follower."

The commander reminded, "You attacked Pops. No one asked you to."

Ace shouted, "He kidnapped me! And my crew! Am I supposed to sit still and wag my tail or something?"

Somehow, Marco found that amusing. "Then that's too bad. As the super rookie, you should know how pirates work. Did you think we were saints?"

"We know that!"

"So give it up, Ace. You know how this will end."

Ace clenched his teeth, piercing an ice cold glare at the other fire-user. "When I stop," he said slowly, "it'll be when your precious Pops is dead."

Marco's features suddenly twisted into an ugly snarl, surprising Ace. He leaped across the room and crashed into the injured teen. He pinned Ace to the floor, a hand gripping the latter's neck tightly. "Don't you dare say that about Pops! I don't know what he sees in you, but that's the only thing keeping you alive!"

Recovering quickly, Ace snarled, "Then kill me and be done with it!"

The commander stiffened. His eyes met the raven-haired teen's and he silently wondered why he was surprised to see the burning hatred and frustration in his eyes. He distantly heard the sound of running footsteps. "You-"

"Hey, what's going on?" came a familiar voice.

Marco drew back, eyes trained on Ace who followed his every move. He stood up. "It was…It was nothing, Thatch," he said in a strained voice. "Nothing to worry about."

Thatch flicked his gaze between the two fire-users. He said to his crewmate, "You were going to bring him to the infirmary."

Marco shrugged. "He didn't want to."

Thatch hummed in response. He gestured to the door, smiling when Marco eyed him questioningly. Sighing, the latter shot Ace a last look before leaving.

Thatch turned to Ace to look him over critically. "Hey, Ace. I know you don't like it, but it's not an option. You still haven't recovered from that stint with Jinbei. Your fights with Pops aren't exactly helping either. To be honest, you look like you'd just keel over and that's kind of pathetic for someone who wants to defeat our Pops."

Ace dusted himself off and leaned tiredly against the wall next to him. He rested his face in his hands, mumbling, "Just go away."

Thatch's lips thinned. "You're not doing anyone a favour by being stubborn." He raised his voice when Ace started on a retort. "Not your crewmates. Not yourself."

Silence. Thatch suppressed a sigh and knelt in front of the fire-user.

Before he could say a word, Ace spoke up, though muffled by his hands. "I… I know that. I understand that…but what do you expect me to do? There's nothing else I can do."

Surprised at the admission, Thatch looked to touch Ace to offer what reassurance he could but thought the better of it. "You could join the family," he answered softly.

"I only have one family. And he's not on this ship."

"Not even the Spade Pirates?"

Ace stared at him in disbelief. "It's not the same," he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

The other pirate raised an eyebrow at that. "How is it different?"

Ace dropped his hands from his head with a sigh, eyeing the commander warily. "You can trust family with anything, but not with crewmates."

Thatch raised an eyebrow at that explanation. "But crewmates should trust each other. Just like family, right?"

The younger participant mulled over the question. "Yeah, but the world's not like that."

Intrigued, Thatch was about to ask what the former Spades captain meant when he noticed Ace's breathing getting heavier and his movements more sluggish. He narrowed his eyes. "Okay. That's enough. I'm going to get you a doctor." He made to get up but a hand caught his wrist. He looked back, surprised.

"I don't need one," Ace mumbled under his breath, mustering a rather ineffective glare at the older pirate.

Thatch only smiled slightly. "There's a doctor in your crew, right? I'm sure it's fine if we get him to take a look at you." He took Ace's stunned look as permission and, on impulse, ruffled the younger's hair, earning him a startled glare.

"I'll be right back." On second thought, he paused and looked over his shoulder. "Oh, and, sorry 'bout Marco. He had a rough day. Don't take it against him, yeah?"

Thatch walked out of the room, the smile still tugging at the corners of his lips. That one, he thought, was going to be a handful.

[2 hours later]

Thatch placed two full plates before Ace. "Eat up."

Ace tensed, glancing between the pirate and the food. "Not hungry," he mumbled.

Thatch blinked, amused. "Really? When was the last time you ate? I sure as hell didn't see you during dinner, or lunch. Or breakfast. Should I even talk about yesterday?"

Ace rolled his eyes. He cracked his neck, hoping to ease the stiff muscles. Hungry though he was (if the constant rumbles were any indication), the thought of being fed by his enemies on their ship was humiliating. His stomach growled. …he was so very hungry though.

Thatch barely withheld a smile. He pushed the plates nearer. "Come on. It'll make your crewmates feel better." Ace looked up at him, questioning. "Didn't you know? They've been asking after you for weeks."

The fire-user coloured. Thatch watched, highly amused, as the younger pirate lowered his eyes and reached for the spoon, his movements slow and hesitant. Yeap, he was right. This kid was a piece of work.

It was not just him. Everyone was sure there was something truly wrong with this kid. Sure, he was strong and super smart to boot (though with his record number of attacks on Pops, Thatch was seriously beginning to question his intellect). The kid managed to gather a crew who shared the fierce loyalty towards their captain as he did with them, made a name for himself and he will be damned if someone in the world had not heard of the Spade Pirates.

With Ace's limited experience as a pirate, the kid was fantastic. All his brothers and sisters knew Ace would be a fine addition to the crew, but Thatch supposed getting kidnapped into the idea was not exactly the best way to recruit the fire-user. Not that any other way would have worked, he mused.

The teenager refused to join the crew, refused food, refused to stop attacking their captain, refused medical treatment, refused to sleep as much as possible, refused to interact with anyone beyond the clear message that he wanted them dead, and refused to even look at his own crewmates' eyes when the Whitebeard pirates tried to get him to talk to someone. Hell, the only reason Ace stayed in the room they provided was the threat that they would throw his crewmates off board if he fell into the water again because clearly leaning against the railing was the best place and way to sleep in a ship as large as the Moby Dick.

Once one of the plates was cleared, Thatch decided to speak up. "How are you feeling?"

Ace's dark eyes shot up to Thatch's and he seemed to bite back a retort. "Fine," he answered curtly.

The corners of the older pirate's lips twitched. "Sure. But from personal experience, lack of sufficient food, sleep and medical treatment when you're injured doesn't exactly feel like paradise." Thatch grinned at the dark look he received. "Just saying, buddy."

Ace growled. He forced himself to stop eating for a moment to glance at Thatch, the latter catching the look.

"What?"

Ace looked away. "It's nothing."

"No, it's not. You wanted to say something," Thatch encouraged. "Go on."

Ace shot him another brief glance, poking at the remains of his food. "Why are you here? I tried to kill your Captain time and again. I pissed your friend off and your crew off." The pirate paused, face impassive. "Being nice to me won't convince me to join your crew."

Thatch hummed. He reached over and picked a sausage of Ace's plate and popped it in his mouth, grinning when the younger scowled at the loss. "'Course we know that. But Pops wants you to be one of us" – at this, his eyes gleamed excitedly – "and we've been with him long enough to understand that he doesn't choose lightly. If he thinks you're good enough, it means you are. No questions asked."

Ace scoffed softly at the explanation. "So basically if he asks you to roll on the floor, you roll on the floor."

Thatch laughed, not offended in the least. "Well, if that's the way you put it. But, Ace, you were the captain of the Spades Pirates. You may think crewmates don't make a family but you should understand that loyalty binds a crew together. To each other but most importantly to their captain. Without that loyalty, there's no respect. No respect, and there's no crew." He leaned forward with his palms out as if trying to emphasise his words. "Pirates ultimately choose who to follow or who to lead. And all of us? We chose Whitebeard as our Pops, as he chose us as his sons and daughters. There's no turning back from that. He's the one we'll follow until we die."

At the ensuing silence, Thatch drew up a small smile. "And no brat's going to come and rain upon us a barrage of attacks that's going to scare us into doubting Pops."

Ace fixed Thatch with a long, contemplative stare, not backing down when the latter returned it lazily. "Really. You're disturbing my meal."

Thatch was about to point out that Ace was the one who brought up the topic when shock flashed across the younger's countenance. He sat up in concern. Was there something in the food? Was Ace allergic to something he brought in? Damn! The kid would never trust him again if he suffered some seizure or something when-

"What is this thing?"

Thatch froze in his silent panic when Ace drew up a piece of something melted…brown? Ace looked at it in awe.

"It tastes am- I mean, good. It tastes good," the fire-user mumbled, eyes wide.

Thatch slumped in shock.

"You…you don't know what chocolate is?"

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