A/N: this is 10k and I don't even know what happened /sighs heavily
I am about half-way done w/ my giveaway contest stuff but I've been ehhh lately and I haven't uploaded anything and it's 12am so on a scale of bad choices this is probably one of the best. Divided in two bc ew it's to long for me to justify putting it in one, but idk when the next part will be up? when next my self-control crumbles, I guess (Saturday? probably sometime this Saturday tbh)
I have no idea if that made sense but aNYWAY
part of a really (really) old art trade with the cutie-pie that is Sabolus. vuv enjoy ye tiny fiction lovers

also if it is not clear in the fic this is a few months before Dressrosa? yeah

Trees sped past in a haze of orange and mute reds, trunks blurred as he darted in pursuit of his quarry. Autumn leaves crunched beneath his boots and as he rounded another tree he finally caught sight of the man's back in front of him, scarred with the symbol of the Celestial Dragons.

The runaway had stolen supplies from the Revolutionaries, food they'd obviously scoffed down as soon as it'd been within their grasp, and while Sabo would've let the stranger get away with that, they'd also stolen papers with a list of all the Revolutionaries' supplies. The time it took to catalogue everything again would be much better spent distributing said supplies to their ships and those that needed them, so Sabo had given chase.

Though he knew running after the escaped slave hadn't been the best plan, it was the only one he'd been able to think of on such short notice and Sabo knew he'd soon catch up with the runner, considering the massive differences in their physique.

The runaway cast a fearful glance over their shoulder, and Sabo saw terror flash across their face. Instead of the last desperate sprint he'd been anticipating, however, they skidded to a stop, throwing their palm out flat and aiming it right for Sabo's sternum. "Get lost!" they shouted desperately, and Sabo's own forward momentum meant he couldn't slow, though he tried.

His chest erupted with pain as the runaway's palm got driven into it but before sound could even leave his mouth or he could think about retaliating, his eyesight went black and his stomach dropped sickeningly.

He'd barely had time to adjust to the sensation of falling through nothing when suddenly he could see again.

Disorientated, Sabo stumbled and tried to regain his balance, the flashes of bright green confusing him even further. Where was he? The autumn island he'd been on only a few moments ago couldn't possibly have grown like this in the few seconds when his vision had blacked out. He couldn't remember falling unconscious, but neither could he remember waking up. Was this some sort of dream?

Maybe the runaway had eaten a devil fruit – but then, what power had they even had? Had they sent him away to another island like Kuma could? He certainly hoped not – trying to find Koala and the others again would be hellish on the Grand Line.

Mind preoccupied by questions, Sabo was about to turn his head to see if he could spot anything familiar when he heard a branch crack. Immediately, he strained his ears and prepared himself for some sort of fight, hands snapping up in front of him and body instinctively falling to a defensive position.

"Who the hell are you?" came the demand from behind him, angry and surprised and achingly familiar, and Sabo felt his heart fall through his chest, creating a hollow spot where it used to rest. His mouth dropped open, the voice practically ringing in his ears, and he didn't begrudge his own voice from shaking as he asked,

"Ace?"

"Who are you?" the person who sounded like Ace growled lowly, and Sabo could feel the glare burn holes in his back, even as an icy flush raced through him from head to toe. "Turn around and face me if you don't want a fight!"

No! screamed part of him, the part that'd latched onto Ace's voice and was repeating like a mantra he's alive he's alive he's alive, (or you're dead but either way you can see him again).

There was fear in another part of his thoughts; what if he recognises you and gets even angrier? What if he gets mad at you for abandoning him on Foosha with Garp, to take care of Luffy on his own?

Then there was the other part of his mind trying to appeal to his common sense, the scientific side of his brain that analysed and researched and tore away any option that couldn't be true–

And Sabo had watched the footage from Marineford enough times that he knew that this couldn't be true; that there was no way Ace could possibly stand behind him.

He had watched that footage so many times that every horrendous detail, every flicker of hidden agony on Ace's face had been branded into his memory, like a sign shouting, 'you should have been there to help, you should have remembered, you should have known.'

How could it possibly be Ace?

He couldn't turn around; he couldn't! He didn't want to see if the freckles on Ace's face were still sprinkled under his eyes, if he still glared the same way when he was upset; like he was trying to challenge an army, desperate and angry and always ready to go down fighting instead of wrapping his mind around a concept he didn't want to be true.

Ace took the choice away from him.

His hand grasped Sabo's shoulder, viciously pulling him around and closer to him, and Sabo caught sight of the fist flying towards his face. His eyes closed on instinct, the spare second when he'd been grabbed unsuspectingly having been not nearly enough time to get out of the way (and there was a part of him that didn't want to, wanted to feel something break under Ace's hand for Sabo's betrayal, for not coming to the rescue, for the anger he thought his brother was warranted.)

The knuckles of Ace's hand tapped his cheek, barely clipping his jaw as Ace pulled the punch and Sabo frowned, opening his eyes and staring into Ace's confused gaze. Ace's arm was shaking, centimetres from Sabo's face, and Sabo could see the flecks of gold in Ace's eyes, the tiny snapping sparks that burned in him.

He couldn't help but search Ace's eyes for any indication that he recognised Sabo, and so he saw how they widened, how Ace's mouth parted as though he wanted to say something, how his adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.

Ace's eyes turned glassy and he saw Ace lock his lips together, brow furrowing and face twitching as though he had no idea what emotion he was meant to express. He felt Ace's shaky exhale on his lips, almost no space between them, and could feel Ace's body heat rise and rise until he was sure that one of them would be set alight.

Then Ace's eyes hardened, fury burning in him as he locked his gaze on Sabo, and his fist rose again threateningly, his other hand tightening into a choke hold around Sabo's collar.

"Who the fuck are you?" Ace spat, and Sabo could hear the unadulterated rage in those words, a purely vicious bite that hid the broken shake to Ace's voice. Sabo bit the inside of his mouth so hard the skin tore and began to bleed. The taste of copper filled his mouth, and he found he couldn't speak; couldn't even think about what he was meant to say. "Who are you!" Ace yelled, jolting forwards and practically screaming into Sabo's face now. Ace's fist trembled, sparks flicking from his hand, chest heaving and breath to fast, and Sabo wanted to reach out and–

and just–

calm him down, and touch.

(feel warm skin under his hands, the beat of Ace's heart, trace his cheeks and his neck and run his hands along Ace's shoulders so he could feel every breath. He'd even settle for the pain when Ace hit him for it, just so he could assure himself that this wasn't a dream – or a nightmare.

He'd had more than enough of those that'd gone like this, that'd left him curled into as small of a ball as he could make himself, nails clenched against the skin of his thighs as he tried to make himself even smaller.

Like if his body wasn't big than the pain wouldn't be either.)

He could feel his stomach roll, the sight of the dead man in front of him making every nerve practically scream 'this is wrong!' but Sabo couldn't listen to that.

He didn't want to, not with the knowledge that Ace was right there.

Even if it was some illusion, some trick thought up by his opponent's devil fruit, Sabo found he didn't want to know about it. His voice finally managed to work, but he still couldn't decide on what to say, and his brother's name fell weakly from his lips again. "Ace–?"

"Stop saying that! Stop saying that!" Ace cried, spitting the words out, and he held his fist higher, threateningly; but the quavers in his arm grew even more pronounced. "Stop saying that in his– stop saying my name in his voice!"

"My voice," he said, brain no longer functioning, taking every moment and treating it like it was part of a delusion. He was allowed to talk back to dreams, to phantom people who should have been long dead. "And– it's– it's your name. What else am I meant to call you, Ace?"

Ace's breath hitched, but only the barest hint of hesitation flashed across his face as he drew back his fist and socked Sabo in the jaw. The pain that flared along his mouth and through his head as he was sent sprawling made him feel dizzy for a moment, but with that pain came the horrifying realisation that this really wasn't a dream.

And, if it was a hallucination formed by the runaway's devil fruit, than it was a damned good one.

Ace was standing in front of him, fists balled at his sides, and Sabo could see the flickers of fire along Ace's shoulders. "Who the hell are you?" Ace demanded again, voice a biting growl, and Sabo hesitantly moved from where he'd been sent, slowly sitting up.

"I'm– I'm Sabo," he said, and though he knew it sounded like he was begging he couldn't help but let the desperation he felt enter his voice. "It's me, Ace."

"No–" Ace said with a sharp shake of his head, the whites of his eyes showing. "No. No, you're not Sabo. You're not! He died!" Ace whipped his head around, taking his eyes off Sabo for the first time since he'd appeared. He directed his next words to the forest surrounding them, stalking around the grove like a caged beast, "If this is a joke it's not funny! If you're going to fight me get out here and do it yourself! Don't send lousy illusions to do the job for you!"

"I'm not an illusion," Sabo spat, unable to deny how much those words had hurt him, and he pulled himself to his feet, forcing his limbs to listen to him. "It's me!" he cried, pressing one hand against his chest as though to prove he was still corporeal. "You can ask me any question you want and I'll know the answer!"

"Yeah?" Ace demanded, and this time anger seeped into his tone as he whirled around to glare. "Then where were you?" Ace's voice rose in pitch, volume growing along with it, and every word felt like a barb. "Why did you leave us?" then, suddenly, the burning fury seemed to flow out of him, and quiet hurt filled Ace's voice. "Why didn't you ever come back?"

"I couldn't stay there," Sabo said, feeling his eyes sting at the harsh words, "There wasn't anything there for me. My family hated me!"

"What about Luffy?" Ace shot back. "What about me? Didn't you say we were your family?"

"What was I supposed to do?" Sabo asked him bitterly, instead of trying to answer the painful questions that Ace had given him. "Did you want me to die there?"

"No, but I want to know why you never told us you were alive!"

"I was scared!" Sabo shouted, the words ripped from him unwillingly, "I didn't– I was–" breathe, he reminded himself, but his voice was still quiet and shaky as he admitted, "I didn't want you to hate me for having left. Or– or that you–"

"You're my brother," Ace growled, "I would have been happy knowing you were alive."

"You punched me," Sabo pointed out, and Ace shifted on his feet.

"Thought you were an illusion," he mumbled in his defence, but when Ace's eyes fastened on Sabo again he could see the guarded suspicion that still hung there. "Still think you might be."

Sabo's fingers dug into his leg, trying not to show how much those words had hurt him, and he half–mumbled, "Yeah well you haven't exactly given me anything to let me prove myself, you know."

"Well I dunno what I'm meant to ask!" Ace said, almost helplessly, and Sabo had to fight back a grin at the bare hint of a pout he could see on Ace's lips.

"Well it's not like I can give you suggestions," Sabo said, and he saw Ace pause, jaw clenched and eyes blinking to clear away the film that made his eyes glisten.

"It really is you, isn't it?" Ace asked, voice shaking minutely. He took a hesitant step closer, hand raising from his side and hovering just in front of Sabo. "How are you even alive?" Ace asked, tone almost reverent, and Sabo wanted to grab him and ask how are you? Unable to figure out a way to answer, Sabo gave a small, jerky nod, letting Ace's fingers gently press to his jaw, moving Sabo's head to see the place where he'd been punched. "Sorry," Ace apologised, wincing at the red mark.

"My fault," Sabo murmured, unable to believe that the fingers on his cheek weren't cold – that he could feel the heat from Ace's hand on his skin.

Ace stepped away, hand dropping back to his side, and Sabo almost instantly felt the loss, especially when Ace spoke again. "Where were you? What have you even been doing?"

"I–" he said, thinking of being trained by Dragon and Ivankov, thinking of forming his (at first, tumultuous) friendship with Koala, thinking about everything that'd happened to him since the scars on his cheek had left him half–blind but free. "A lot," he grinned ruefully, shifting on his feet and tugging at his coat, "It's a really long story, Ace."

Ace's tentative grin made the tight feeling that'd been fastened around his heart since he'd been punched finally loosen. "I've got some time to spare."

"Tell you mine if you tell me yours," he replied, and Ace's grin widened even more as he slung his arm over Sabo's shoulder like they hadn't been apart for so many years.

"Wow," Ace said a few hours later, leaning back on his hands and looking up at the tree they'd chosen to rest under as they traded stories. Though Sabo hadn't told him everything (such as the niggling, stomach–knotting suspicion that rested heavy in his gut about what had happened after the Devil Fruit user had punched him,) he'd still told Ace about most of his adventures, and what had happened to him after he'd left the Grey Terminal. Ace was silent for a moment, absorbing everything that Sabo had told him, but then leaned forwards and fastened his amazed gaze on Sabo again. "You run the Revolutionaries?"

"I don't run them," Sabo said, shaking his head at Ace's assumption, "Dragon-san is our leader. I just help."

"Oh yeah, second–in–command 'just helps'." Ace laughed as he finger–quoted Sabo's words. "Like Marco 'just helps' Whitebeard, huh?"

Sabo stuck out his tongue, unable to form a response, and Ace just laughed harder. "Well I can't believe you joined up with a crew!" Sabo cried, shoving him in the shoulder. "Do you know how surprised I was when I read that in the news?"

Ace shrugged, his laughter finally dying, but his smile stayed, and Sabo felt happiness coil in his belly. He hadn't seen Ace's smile for so long – bounty posters didn't count, because he knew the difference between a cocky smirk and Ace's honest–to–goodness smile, and this one Sabo had only ever seen a few times when they were younger. "He's a good man, Whitebeard. And joining up with his crew felt right."

Sabo hummed softly, letting his shoulder press even closer to Ace's warmth and relishing the fact that his brother didn't pull away, only shifted to make him more comfortable. "Well I'm glad," he admitted quietly, and to that Ace didn't seem to have anything else to say.

A comfortable silence fell between the two of them, most of their stories having been told, and Sabo listened to the rustle of the leaves above them, letting them lull him to drowsiness. Though worries tried to press into his head, the simple knowledge that Ace sat next to him was enough to keep them at bay for now. He knew he'd have to deal with them all later, especially if what he suspected happened had actually happened, but for the moment he let himself drift.

Ace's quiet, wistful voice broke through his lazy half–sleep, making Sabo's eyes open to prevent him from drifting off as his brother talked, but the words made him wish he really had fallen asleep. "I wish you'd told me you were alive earlier."

Sabo bit his cheek again, the barely healed bite he'd made earlier splitting again, and the reminder made him loosen his teeth and his tongue. He owed Ace more than just his apology, but an apology was all he could give.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, studying the weave of his coat and how his fingertips rested against the blue fabric to avoid looking at Ace, because half of this was a lie and half of it was longing and he didn't want either to show on his face. "I know that– I mean, I should have–" The fabric bunched beneath his hands, and he took a deep breath, ordering his fingers to loosen their grip. "I thought about it," he admitted finally, words drawing out slow and flat, "but I– I was always scared. And then when Iva told me what Luffy had said, that he only had one brother in the world, I–"

"What?" Ace asked, brow furrowed in confusion, "Why would Luffy say that? Haven't you met up with him?" Sabo rubbed at the back of his suddenly hot neck, pursing his lips, and Ace's tone dropped. Sabo just knew he was giving him a suspicious, disapproving look, the kind he always saw on Ace's face whenever Luffy did something stupid."You have told him you're alive, right?"

"Uh–" he said in response, stalling, and Ace jolted from his shoulder.

"Are you kidding me, Sabo? He cried for ages after you left with your parents, and he cried even more when we thought you'd died, and now you're telling me you didn't tell him?"

"Well I wasn't ever planning on telling you either!" he shouted, and before the words could stop he'd lashed out, helpless fury making him fasten a glare on his stunned brother. "And it wouldn't matter anyway because you–!"

Ace's open–eyed, shocked expression made him stop, words a chokehold in his throat, and there was a moment of tense silence as the crushing realisation of what he'd almost said hit him. His mouth opened again as he tried to say something else, but he couldn't do anything except remain silent; could only watch as Ace stood slowly from the tree root and stopped, still for a moment. His eyes were shadowed as he held his hat lower on his head, and for a shattering second Sabo feared that his stupid, careless words had ruined the tentative trust that'd reformed between them.

"If you ever think about doing that again…" Ace growled, the brim of his hat twisting in his tight grip, but he didn't continue, instead lifting his gaze to lock Sabo in place. "Promise me," he said, in a tone that said there was no argument, "that you'll tell Luffy next, before you go back to your Revolutionaries. Tell him that you're alive."

"Ace–" Sabo tried to protest, because how could he? How could he face Luffy, when he was the only one who hadn't come to Ace's aid almost a year and a half ago? How could he, when he'd hidden away from the two of them like a coward for so many years? Even if he wanted to, even if Ace said that he should, was there any guarantee that Luffy would even want him back and would ever want to call him brother again?

Ace's expression told him all he needed to know - that he'd had caught the hesitance and fear that flashed across his face, the barely stifled longing he'd tried to quash for years. "Promise me!" he shouted, teeth bared and sparks on his shoulders, "Promise me as soon as you have the chance, you'll tell him!"

"Ace–" he tried to say again, this time standing too and ready to argue why he shouldn't, but Ace cut him off again, this time an unstated agony underlying his words.

"Sabo- we thought you were dead." He could see Ace's jaw clench, his nails digging into the ASCE tattoo that neither of them had bought up, "We mourned you."

Sabo's body shook, shivers racking him that he tried to fight back, and he let his own hat shadow his features, unable to look at the heartbroken expression that was all over Ace's.

"I–" he tried to say, the word choking him again, but he spat it out because he had to. He had to let Ace know, that he wouldn't fail Luffy as he'd failed Ace. "I promise. When I can, I'll find him again. And–" he could feel the tremors return, the ones he'd had for weeks after Marineford, the sting behind his eyes informing him of the tears that likely brimmed on his eyelashes, ready to fall. "And if you can't protect him–" the words, again, felt stuck to the inside of his throat, but he continued. "I promise I'll be there. My duty as the eldest brother, huh?"

"Eh?" Ace said, openly staring at him, and with a breath Sabo forced down and bottled up every image that flashed before his eyes, of Ace bound in chains, desperate and broken and hopelessly hoping for a rescue he couldn't let himself believe would come. "You're not the eldest! I am!"

"Nu–uh," Sabo said, fastening a grin on his features to hide the shakes he knew would make everything crumble apart, "You said 'cause you were taller you were the eldest. But now I'm taller."

"You're wearing heels!" Ace protested, indicating towards his boots, and Sabo gave a languid shrug, self–satisfied smirk on his face. "You're a cheat, Sabo!"

"I'm still taller than you without them," he sing–songed, and Ace huffed, glaring, before he let his smile return – just a little more painful, a little more jagged then before.

"Well, you said you were stuck here, right?" he asked, taking a step in the direction they'd originally met and glossing over their argument, "Do you want a lift anywhere?"

"How're you gonna get me anywhere?" he asked suspiciously, but still dutifully followed after Ace as he began to lead them back to the shore, "Don't you ride around in a teeny tiny slip of a boat?"

"Hey, Striker's got me plenty of places just fine! She's a good craft."

"Good craft meant for one," he shot back, and Ace pouted petulantly again, obviously offended on his ship's behalf.

"You could always hold on to me if you want," Ace said, giving him a grin, and Sabo rested his head in his hands, narrowly avoiding a tree.

"Isn't this thing of yours powered by fire?" he asked dryly, and Ace gave a slow nod, "And you set yourself on fire to power this thing?"

He could see the moment realisation dawned on his brother's features, and had to stifle a laugh. "Oh." Ace said, shortly, and Sabo couldn't help the light snort of amusement that managed to escape him. "Well you can always grab the front, then! Stop being such a stick–in–the–mud you loser."

"Only loser here has freckles."

Ace narrowed his eyes for a moment, turning his head to scrutinise Sabo closely, but Sabo knew that there wasn't a freckle to be seen on his skin. He'd spent too long locked away in his office after Marineford, and lately all he'd had were stealth missions – missions where he operated under cover of darkness. Without sun, his skin was as pale as it'd been when he was a child, before he'd ever met Luffy and Ace.

"You're still a loser," Ace huffed, obviously having lost his search for any of Sabo's non–existent freckles, and Sabo laughed at the childish twist in his brother's tone. Ace had always tried to act so grown–up when they were children and yet here he was now, pouting and sulking!

If nothing else, Sabo would thank the Whitebeard pirates for that. For letting Ace act childish, for letting him stop worrying for a moment. Though he'd known his brother's dream was to be king, and surpass the legacy his father had left behind, he also knew that dreams changed. Though not king of the pirates, Ace was more relaxed than he ever remembered seeing him.

It was nice, being able to see who his brother had turned into without having to wade through the newspaper's lies, or trying to decipher grins in photographs designed to make him look fearsome. It was nice, being able see all that'd changed, and all that'd stayed the same.

(He ignored the back of his mind, the part that whispered, you live on borrowed time, time that was never meant to be yours, and you already left part of your heart behind with the flowers by Ace's–

He stopped himself there, for continuing meant he'd admitted to being unable to change a thing.)