The boat ride back was a blur. Marco managed to gather a few members of the crew and shepherd them onto the boat. A bawdy song broke out as they made their way across the water, and Ace tried to lose himself in the song. His heart wasn't in it, and by the time they reached the third verse, his hand had slipped over the side of the boat and was trailing the dark water, head light and woozy.

Not once did Ace look at Marco, even when they docked at their mini-Moby and Marco asked for help getting the boat back on the ship. Ace was quiet the entire time, smiling tightly when the crew they'd come back with wandered off to bed. He tried to busy himself as best he could, but it was difficult in the dark. Especially with Marco's eyes on him.

"I'm going to bed," Marco said softly. He sounded tired, older, and Ace looked at him, worry clawing at his stomach.

He looked heavier, burdened perhaps, and older in the moonlight. Ace watched as Marco ran a hand through his hair and then started towards the cabins, pausing to press a hand to the wooden wall. No one had lit torches, it was dark, and yet Ace's eyes picked out every detail. He could see the unasked questions on Marco's shoulders, the task of being a proper captain around his neck, and he could see his own burden like a chain around Marco's hands. He was going to fail if Ace stayed, he was going to ruin himself if Ace stayed, he was going to-

"If you'd prefer to stay on your own tonight I can make a room up for you," Marco said, and there was something in his voice that Ace had never heard before. "I'd very much like it if you stayed with me though, if you wanted to."

It took Ace a moment to register what was so significant, and his eyes widened, stomach dropping as realisation dawned. Marco was scared. A man who sat on top of the world, could wreak havoc and come through unscathed, a man who was the pillar of support for so many… such a man was scared? All because of Ace?

Swallowing the bitterness down, Ace stepped forward. His shoulder bumped the wall in his haste, but his fingers latched onto the back of Marco's sleeve, just as he was about to walk off. He'd made it in time, at least, before fucking something else up.

"I don't want another room," he said in a rush, and Ace felt Marco stiffen, just for a second, before he relaxed. His shoulders slumped, and Marco's easy, soft smile was back on his lips as he turned to Ace.

"Are you sure?" he asked, and Ace nodded. He smiled, a genuine smile at that, and let his hand slip down Marco's arm, taking his hand. Slowly, he laced their fingers together, curling his fingertips against the back of Marco's hand, and he took a deep breath.

"Whatever's going on, I need you. I need us. Whatever… whatever happens, I want us." Ace said the words in a rush, and he refused to look at Marco properly. He heard a soft noise though, and looked up quickly.

In an instant, Ace was taken back to the moment Marco had offered him an olive branch, back to when he'd been a rude fucker with a death wish. Back to when he'd been so determined to make a name as a killer than he hadn't seen what good he could have… back to when Marco had set down food for him (again) and smiled so openly and honestly, showing his love for his family for the world to see, right there in that smile.

And here it was again, only this time just for Ace. He bit the inside of his cheek as Marco leant forward slightly, smile beginning to slip and his eyes opening, and he brought his other hand up to press against Marco's jaw, to steady himself. He had just a tiny moment to see Marco's eyes open fully, uncertainty flashing through him, before Ace was kissing him, pressing his body against Marco's, enjoying the flush feeling.

It took Marco all of half a second to register what was happening, and the hand that wasn't holding Ace's shifted to his hip, pulling Ace closer, and then Ace was completely lost. His hand moved to grip the back of Marco's head as he kissed him, tongue smoothing past lips and curling, delighting, an almost frenzy upon him. He could taste the alcohol Marco had been drinking, smell the scent of sea salt and sweat on his skin, and Ace inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he let Marco lead the kiss, stealing his breath away.

"Marco," Ace said gently when they parted for a moment, chest heaving, and then Marco was back again, like a wave surging the shore. It brought a smile to Ace's lips, and their kiss peppered into smaller ones as Ace spun them around slowly, curling his leg around Marco's.

They broke apart slowly, and every time Ace thought that might be it for the moment, one of them would lean back in. It was intoxicating, something that made Ace feel truly alive again, something that was as worth living for as his family. Marco was something else entirely, and Ace felt grief bubble in his chest for the years they'd lost.

"I don't think I could ever be as strong as you," he said instead, gritting his jaw. Ace let his head fall against Marco's cheekbone, the two of them swaying as the mini-Moby listed to the side gently. It was almost a dance, something beautiful and slow, and Ace closed his eyes, inhaling deeply and kissing Marco's cheek gently.

"I'm not strong," Marco replied softly, resting the side of his head against Ace's. "There's nothing strong about getting through losing you. I never got over it, I never would have."

There were regrets there, Ace could tell, but he didn't press. He knew of them on a base level, but he couldn't bear to hear them right now. His heart ached for Marco so much already.

"Even when you weren't there, it never felt as if the world was without you," Marco said softly, voice low. It pooled through Ace's veins, dripping against his skin, and he stroked his fingers across the back of Marco's hand.

He didn't know what it was like, the world without him. It had been easy, really, for Ace. One moment he'd been alive and the next he'd been dead. That was it. Years had passed without him knowing, and sure he had shit to deal with, but he didn't know a world where the man he loved had died. Despite what he thought, Marco was stronger than he'd ever know.

"I never meant to leave you," Ace admitted, and he smiled against Marco's skin as a hand smoothed through his hair. It was still too short for his liking, but it had grown enough that the sea breeze could lift it slightly, and that fingers could run through it. Finger pads dipped against Ace's scalp, and he sighed fondly, tightening his grip on Marco's hand.

"I know you didn't," Marco said, quietly. A breeze swirled around them, shivers blossoming over Ace's skin, and the sound of laughter and sloshing oars caught their attention.

"Someone else is coming back," Ace muttered, pulling back from Marco's cheek. Marco just nodded, and Ace led them inside, before anyone else could find them. He wanted this to be their time, just the two of them alone. Marco followed, taking two hop-steps to catch up properly, and soon they were outside their door, leaning against each other like young idiots in love.

They could hear the sound of crewmates on-board shouting and singing, someone obviously still trying to carry on the party despite others in the group shushing them, and Ace felt like doing something bold.

He let go of Marco's hand, reattaching it as he looped both hands around Marco's neck, pulling him close once more. He took a step back, breathed in, and then another, breathed out. His back was almost touching the door now, and Ace pressed his lips together as he made the final step. His back hit the wood the same time he kissed Marco, and while his initial thought was to panic and flee, get the wood away from him, turn around and save himself, Marco was there too, grounding Ace.

They broke after a short kiss, Marco's lips wet. He wiped them with a slight frown, wrinkling his nose.

"You're gross," he muttered, and Ace smirked, poking his tongue out slightly, searching Marco's eyes. "And I'm going to kiss you again," Marco added, leaning back in and catching the tip of Ace's tongue with his own. Ace shifted, deepening the kiss, and this time his back hitting the wood only jittered his nerves rather than spiking through them.

He could do this. Ace would do this. He wanted to do this, wanted to get better and have a life with Marco and the rest of his family. He didn't want his past clouding his future, and Ace was going to work at it now.

He was going to be free.

.

There was something wrong with Ace. Well, aside from the whole back from the dead thing of course. Marco had never expected that particular issue to be easy to get over (even if it was something that Ace could get over), but this was something more. It was something integral to him, and Marco had noticed.

Ace refused to use his power. Marco knew he still had the power, remembered seeing the backs of his arms curl with flame on the beach that night they reunited with Izō's division. He also remembered Ace's face, and the relief he'd shown when someone had pushed him into the sea.

Marco cleared his throat, staring out at sea. He was perched up as high as he could on the ship, fully shifted to his bird form. There was a ship far out, further than any human would be able to see, but it didn't look like it was headed their way. He had one eye on it though, as he mulled over his thoughts.

Ace didn't like his power, was the conclusion that Marco came to. Something about his power scared Ace, made him feel like he was losing control, and Marco shifted uncomfortably. He ruffled his feathers, resisting the urge to preen one of the primaries that was slightly out of place, and kept his gaze trained on the ship. It was a marine ship, though what it was doing out here was anyone's guess.

So Ace was having trouble with his fire, so what? The last time he'd properly used it had probably been against Akainu. Marco couldn't fault Ace from not wanting to use his fire after that, though there was something else there. It wasn't just trouble or fear holding Ace back, but Marco couldn't put his finger on what it really was.

With a sigh, Marco shifted to preen his wing feather back into place, stretching his wings while he was at it. He clacked his beak and made a low noise in his throat, blinking as his gaze settled back on the ship. He stretched his neck as he saw that it had changed its course, and was up in the air in an instant, wanting to make sure before he alerted the crew. Nope, yep, the marine ship had definitely spotted them and was headed this way.

Marco landed half-transformed beside Jozu, nodding in the direction of the oncoming ship. His voice carried as he spoke, and instantly the crew perked up, everyone hastening to finish the important jobs and grab their weapons. It had been a while since they'd fought a marine ship, and even Marco felt excitement curl in his belly.

Running through their plan -cannons, grappling hooks, Marco plus a small team getting over there to lead the attack – was simple. Marco revelled in it, realising this was his first real test of returning to being a captain. The captain, truthfully, and he was strangely looking forward to it.

Their plan was simple, and Marco was up in the air before the cannons went off. He circled the ship looking for Ace, and he found him stretching beside Jozu, keeping up a one-sided conversation as he did so. He paused for Marco, though, waving with a huge grin, as if this was the best present anyone could have gotten him.

It had been a long while since they'd fought, and while Marco knew the last fight for Ace (last few fights to be fair) hadn't exactly been something he'd want to experience, they were pirates. They were born fighters, and nothing could hold them back from taking what was theirs.

Particularly if they were marines in their waters.

It wasn't a hard fight. The marines, despite being stationed in the New World, were green and balked from the moment they realised exactly who was on board the ship. No doubt they were new recruits on a practice run, or even a supply run, and Marco felt a slight stir of pity roll through him.

Of course, that lasted as long as it took for one of them to announce his name, which was all of one second. Seeing no point in hiding, Marco took to the skies as the rest of the crew threw grappling hooks at the marine ship and began rolling out the planks.

For the start, Marco just watched his men as they picked off the marines. Most were just hauled over the side of the ship or knocked unconscious, though Marco noted a few fatalities. There was always the slight pang he felt when he saw the loss of human life, but they were the enemy, and Marco was a pirate. He wasn't the sort to be sentimental about the death of a marine, and they'd all drink to their worthy opponents at a later date.

He saw Jozu back on the Moby, arms crossed as he ordered the returning crew around, helping to organise their loot. Supplies were coming thick and fast, and Marco grinned. There would be some decent stuff in there, he knew, and he decided to join the fray.

He landed heavily beside Ace, who was in the centre of the brawl, a marine under each arm as he spun them around, grinning. He turned to Marco and dropped his cargo, laughing freely, and the sound warmed Marco to the core. Here, in this carnage and chaos, Ace didn't have to think about who he was or what had happened – he could just be.

The marines had never stood a chance, and it wasn't long before Marco was running off of the ship, wings unfurling as he took to the skies. He could see Ace watching him from below, delight on his face, and Marco made sure to fly overhead as he crossed back to the Moby, tail feathers brushing the top of his head.

They celebrated their victory as they pulled away from the marine ship, all those capable of sailing tied up. They'd get free eventually, probably, but the New World was unpredictable. There was no chance of knowing if they'd make it, and Marco honestly did not care. One less marine was one less problem, as far as he was concerned.

They still honoured the dead, however, even if the only casualties had been on the enemy's side. It was respect, and Marco led them all in a drink, an old ditty rising from the group as Marco poured a drink for the sea. The song hummed over the ship, and Marco could feel it in his bones, a song to send them to their sleep at the bottom of the sea, and his eyes caught Ace's as he looked across the deck.

Did Ace know how they'd struggled through this song for him and Whitebeard? Did he know how Marco's hands had shaken so much he'd dropped the entire glass into the sea rather than pour the drink? Did he know that Marco, and so many others, had broken down (again) right there on the deck and been unable to get up for hours?

Of course not, and Marco never wanted him to know. Ace didn't deserve that. He'd suffered enough and was still suffering.

Because Marco had seen, and Marco had noticed. Not once had Ace used his fire, not even a flicker of a flame. He certainly still had his power, as evidenced by the party with Izō's division, but he hadn't used it. There was no reason that Ace wouldn't use his fire – he'd revelled in it before, even crafting his own boat so it would run exclusively on his devil fruit. Ace had loved his power, had confessed that it had freed him, so for him to not use it…

It was curious. Marco set the glass on the side of the railing, holding it as he poured himself another drink. He lifted the glass when the song finished, toasting to their life now, and it wasn't long before the sound of jolly music swept the deck free of short-lived mourning.

Ace, naturally, came to Marco's side, or maybe it was Marco who had wandered over to Ace. It was hard to say, but Marco hardly minded. He smiled as Ace poured himself a drink, lounging back on the deck beside Marco, watching as a group tried to beat Jozu at cards.

"With a poker face like that," Ace said, bumping Marco's shoulder. Marco hummed in agreement, and maybe it was due to the alcohol, or maybe he was just feeling particularly bold, but he had to know.

"Ace, why…" he trailed off when Ace looked at him, eyes wide. He looked refreshed, as if the weight that had been holding him down since they'd been reunited had been shed, and Marco knew he couldn't ask. He needed to give Ace time, his own curiosity be damned.

"Why what?" Ace asked, sipping his drink and smiling as a groan erupted from the circle of card players.

Marco sighed, smiling softly as one of Ace's arms wound their way around his torso, hand curling at his hip. Ace shifted closer and closer, and Marco's hand joined Ace's, curling over his fingertips.

"Why are you sitting here when we all know you'd wipe the floor at cards," Marco said, instead of picking a fight, instead of pushing Ace. Instead of Ace becoming defensive and uncomfortable, he squeezed Marco and laughed lightly.

"We all know I'm shit at cards," he said, and Marco frowned, protesting that completely. He leant his head to the side, temple resting against Ace's, and he closed his eyes when Ace spoke, the words rolling through him.

"You only lose because you're always distracted watching me and not focusing on the game," Ace said sagely, and Marco felt the world narrow to the two of them.

"You got me there," he admitted.

There would be other times to confront Ace about the fire. For now, Marco was going to enjoy the moment they had.

.

Almost everyone had headed back inside, but Ace lingered with Marco, nodding to the crew who would be manning the ship through the night as they made their way to their posts. It was late, but there was enough light still for it to be peaceful, everyone minding their own business as they got on with whatever they wanted.

Somehow, Ace found himself and Marco towards the back of the ship, all alone and slowly cleaning the deck. It wasn't a great job, but it was one that had to be done, and Ace was enjoying finding odd things people had dropped. There wasn't much in the bag Marco had slung over his shoulder, but what they had found had been interesting enough to hold their attention for a few moments.

Ace watched as Marco crouched down, picking something up from the corner of the deck, where it had been wedged between planks of wood. He wrinkled his nose, passing the scrap of paper to Ace. He looked down, rolling his eyes at what was evidently part of someone's porn collection. A busty, pouting woman winked up from the piece of paper, and Ace was glad it had been torn off at her midsection.

"What idiot brings their porn out on the main deck," Ace muttered, ripping the paper into shreds. He walked to the edge of the ship, Marco following a few steps behind. He let the paper free on the breeze and leant over the rail, watching the sea churn as their Moby ploughed through the waves.

"I do remember you ran a tight ship in your division," Marco said, and Ace shrugged, letting his hand drop over the rail. The breeze caught against his fingers, and Ace closed his eyes.

"That I did," he murmured, thinking of all the good his supposed tight command had done him. One backstabbing deserter and a road to disaster, that's what.

"I want you to have the position again," Marco said, and Ace opened his eyes slowly, a heavy weight dropping on his shoulders as he mulled the words over.

"That's a joke," Ace said, half-turning. "Right?"

Marco didn't look like he was joking one bit. He shook his head, and Ace turned fully, his back to the sea. What was Marco playing at?

"You want me to be the captain of the second division?" Ace said, wanting clarification. His gut churned in the second pause Marco took to answer, because there was no way Marco could want Ace, of all people, to return to a position of power, not after everything he'd done, not after he'd ruined everything, not after he'd died, not after-

"Yes," Marco said, and Ace felt the world splinter, shatter and fall.

"No," Ace returned, clenching his fists as he felt his control slipping. The sea breeze was nothing to him now, skin heating and crackling, fire burning inside of him and calling to be let loose, to do what it was supposed to do and burn, burn, burn.

"You're a great leader," Marco said, and Ace felt sick. "Your men respect you, a lot of them came to me already to ask when you'd be taking up your position again." Ace shuddered, one of his hands curling against his stomach, just in case he really was going to throw up.

"I told them I didn't know your intentions, and they left it at that," Marco said calmly, as if he wasn't set upon destroying everything Ace had carefully worked for the past few weeks. Ace glanced over his shoulder, down at the sea. There was no way he'd be able to get out if he jumped. The sea was too rough, the boat going too fast. He needed to control himself, fight his fire down.

"No," Ace repeated, and for a moment he calmed, thinking Marco would leave him to it, that this conversation was over. His fire soothed, skin prickling as the power receded, and then it was back, spiking with Marco's next words.

"I'd respect your decision if I didn't know better," Marco said, and Ace felt as if he'd been slapped in the face. He took a step forward, then another, before he realised what he was doing, shoving past Marco. He could get to the shower room, that was safe, there was water there. His fire would be put out by fresh water too, right?

"Ace!" Marco called, and Ace stilled, heart pounding in his ears. "Why won't you talk about this?"

Marco had always been the one to listen. Ace had always gone to Marco, even for the most trivial things. Switching up his brand of toothpaste? He'd gone to Marco. Talking about conquering a fleet belonging to their enemy? He'd gone to Marco. Wanting a second opinion on a gut feeling? Marco. The fact that Ace was running (because he was running, he'd admit that much) meant this was something big, and Marco knew that, of course he did.

"Ace," Marco said again, softer this time. His voice was full of worry, and when Ace turned back around – because he had to, this was Marco and he loved Marco and would do anything for Marco and a hundred other reasons – he could see the fear plain as day once more. He was scared of many things, Ace thought, and it was killing Ace that he was the cause of all of them.

Maybe he should just have stayed dead.

"Ace," Marco repeated, and Ace gritted his teeth. He could feel his heart pounding, and his breath suddenly wasn't enough. His chest heaved as he tried to gulp air in, but it wasn't working. It was too late, and there was nothing Ace could do to stop the fire licking at his insides, coiling against his skin and breaking past.

He was losing control, and there was nothing that could stop it unless he jumped in the sea. Ace's wide eyes locked with Marco's, and he struggled to speak, wordlessly shaking his head. Nothing was working, his feet wouldn't move as his fire threatened to burst free, his mouth wouldn't speak, nothing was working and Ace felt his panic deepen.

Marco's eyes darted across Ace's body, trying to figure out what was wrong, and he took a step closer. Ace's hand shot out on instinct, trying to stop Marco getting closer, and surprise shook him when he realised that he could move. He looked down at his hand, and then Ace's fear doubled as he saw sparks crackling between hairs on his arm, flames beginning to lick pathways between freckles. His eyes shot to Marco, and Ace forced every bit of power he had left in him to speak.

"The sea," he croaked, jerking as his fire curled in on itself, threatening to burst free.

"The sea," he said again, quietly this time, like the calm before a storm. Ace could feel the fire against his back now, right before it was about to tear free of him. He could feel its heat and its power, power that he couldn't control, couldn't solve anything with. "The sea!" he said urgently, trying to reach for Marco. He couldn't move, though, not with the fire right there against him.

"The sea?" Marco asked, eyes clouded with confusion as he just watched . He was watching Ace burn, just standing there doing nothing. Anger blew through Ace, and he knew that was it. There was nothing he could do.

He was a timebomb, and his time was up.

"Please," Ace let out, and his fire calmed. It hadn't been smothered, though, and Ace could feel it bubbling in his veins, readying itself to release. It was too late now, far too late.

Ace looked down as he felt his fire shift. It started in his fingertips, burning bright and blazing. He could hear its crackle and power as it spread across his arms, too fast and too wild for Ace to even try and control. His breath heaved as he felt it cross his chest, dip down and then swirl across his scars, and then Ace was reaching for Marco, pleading with him, words he had no idea of spilling from his throat as he gripped Marco's arm.

"I'm not going to do that," Marco's voice said, firm and ripping through the mindless panic. Ace looked at him in a daze, and he let go of Marco slowly. He felt the fire fade from his fingers, and this was what Ace had been trying to avoid the entire time.

He'd been aware of it when he'd woken up, of course he had. Fire always left a mark, and while Ace had been disoriented and confused when waking up, he'd recognised the burn of his fire. It had gotten him out of his grave, true, but it had done more.

Perhaps it had something to do with his mental state, but his fire lapped at the scars Marineford had left. Ace could feel his skin churning under the fire, in a strange state between human and flame, and he knew his fire was trying to fix the damage, make Ace good again. He couldn't be good though, not with demon blood in his veins and his sins on his back. This was his punishment, his deliverance, and Ace felt his knees give way as he burned .

It didn't hurt, not in the way Marineford had hurt him. He couldn't even feel the heat or the burning of flesh, because he wasn't burning. Ace was trying to heal, and he felt his control slipping as he set his palms on the deck, fire covering the entirety of his torso.

"Ace," Marco said, but Ace didn't have the strength to look up anymore, not to a man who had refused to help him when he'd needed it. He was going to char and crumble, and that was that.

Except, something strange happened. Ace felt the press of a hand on his chest, in the centre of his scar, and then another press on his back. He wanted to shake the hands off, tell Marco to leave him if he wasn't going to throw him to the sea, but he couldn't. Ace was exhausted, barely able to breathe or think, and he scrunched his eyes up. He felt his head rest against Marco's shoulder, and he could feel something else.

It started like a whisper, something small skittering across Ace's ribs. It danced in the dips of his bones for a moment before sinking in deeper, soaking across Ace's skin. It was nothing like the sea, and yet his fire calmed because of it. Ace felt himself come back to his body, his fire dwindling and dying out, as if he was in control of it. It was such a natural feeling, coming back to himself, that Ace even mourned the control of his fire, as he'd always used to. He'd loved his fire before, and something was easing in his head, as if the calmness flooding him was sorting him out, putting Ace back together how he should be, not what he was.

Taking in a deep breath and trying to steady himself, Ace opened his eyes slowly. He was still shaking, still unnerved, but his fire had receded, done as he'd wished. Marco was there, holding Ace, and he stared at the fabric of Marco's shirt for a long while, trying to breathe normally. If he could even remember how.

It came back to him eventually, a small trickle of relief. Ace felt his muscles relax as he began to breathe properly, and he managed to push back from Marco slightly, just enough to sit back on the floor, looking up.

"I couldn't throw you in the sea," Marco said, and Ace looked at him sharply. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear this, but he hardly had a choice, did he? Marco looked regretful, and Ace noticed how he refused to look in his direction, eyes skirting the floor. Was he that disgusted with Ace?

"I couldn't help you," Marco said, words bitter. "I don't know what I'd have done if I could have thrown you in the sea, but I couldn't."

He looked up, and Ace frowned. What was Marco talking about?

"If I'd thrown you in the sea, or even tried to dip you in or whatever…" Marco took a deep breath, resettling himself so that he was sitting with his legs stretched towards Ace's. "If I'd done that, you would have died. I can't fight the sea."

The realisation hit Ace and his lips parted. He hadn't been thinking of that, not even a little bit. But of course – of course Marco couldn't have done that. There was no way he could have given Ace to the sea, and Ace felt horror crawl under his skin, settling with the sins.

"Don't," Marco said softly, his gaze softening as he met Ace's eyes. "Don't blame yourself."

No matter what, Marco always understood him, and Ace felt tears well. He was too tired for this, too exhausted, and yet here Marco was, always before him, always at his side, always at his back.

"Why do you do this," Ace asked, letting his head fall into his hands. He didn't deserve this. He wasn't worth it. Not for someone like Marco.

"I didn't spend our time apart sitting doing fuck all," Marco said instead, and Ace felt his eyelashes curling against his palms as he dug his eyes into his hands. "The whole time I wondered what would have happened if I could just share my power."

Ace let colours dance behind his eyelids as he waited for Marco to continue.

"It's not a permanent solution, what I learnt, but it's something. For a moment, I can use my power on someone. I can heal someone, hold it long enough that they can get to a doctor without fucking dying." Marco let out an odd sound, something close to a sob, and Ace let his hands fall, looking up slowly.

"I kept thinking… if I'd just been able to get there, been able to give you even the tiniest part of myself, then you would have been okay. Somehow, if we'd had more time, we could have saved you." Marco's shoulders slumped, and Ace tried to comprehend the entirety of the situation.

He hadn't really thought about Marco properly in the grand scheme of things. He'd known Marco had mourned, had suffered, and was glad to have Ace back, but he hadn't thought about it. He hadn't thought about how a man with the power of regeneration had lost someone he loved before his eyes, and how he'd been utterly powerless.

"You couldn't have done anything," Ace said blankly, conviction filling his chest. "No one could."

Marco gave him a bitter smile, and Ace could see he hated himself, how he'd suffered these years, all because he hadn't been able to stop fate.

"I didn't even try," Marco said, the words spilling from him as if they were a terrible confession. "I watched you fall from your brother's arms, and I didn't even try ."

There was nothing Ace could say to that. There was no comfort to be found between them here, but things were becoming clearer.

"So what if you can't fight the sea," Ace said. His voice was flat, and he only just about had energy to move his foot so that it knocked against Marco's. He looked up at that, looking about as exhausted and haggard as Ace felt. And probably looked, for that matter.

"So what if you can't fight the past," Marco shot back, and Ace jolted as if he'd been electrocuted.

It wasn't the same though. Marco not being able to save him was nothing like Ace dragging them to Marineford. There was nothing Marco could have done to stop it, but if Ace hadn't done so many things then they wouldn't have had to suffer. Why couldn't Marco see that? It wasn't the same at all.

"Stop it," Marco said tiredly, and Ace's thoughts ground to a halt. "You haven't changed one bit."

Ace opened his mouth to speak, to deny that. He had changed so much since death. He was… he was… he had to have changed.

"You're sitting there hating yourself, aren't you," Marco said, and his voice was soft, loving even. "After all this time, you're still doubting whether you deserve to be alive."

Ace felt his skin crawl, but this had nothing to do with his out of control powers or memories of Marineford. This was something that was deeper, something that had been with him since the moment he was born. This was something that sat at the heart of Ace and webbed its way through everything he did.

Yet there Marco was, commenting on it as if it was the very essence of Ace, as if it was the core of why he loved him so much and so beautifully. Ace had no idea how he could love something so disgusting and fucked up, and yet there he was, leaning forwards to simply look at Ace.

"I can't throw you in the sea when your fire gets too much. I can't heal you properly for it to count; what I did back there just calmed you enough for you to regain control. I can't take back the past and change the fact that I lost you," Marco said firmly, and Ace felt his heart thud in his chest.

"What I can do," Marco said, his voice breaking, but he never took his eyes off of Ace, his gaze conveying everything Ace had missed in the past few years. "What I will do is always love you."

And while things were far from alright, and they still had so much shit to talk about and process, Marco's words soaked into Ace's skin, vibrating in his ears and into the very marrow of his bones. He'd known it, all of what Marco had said, but it meant something being said in the space between them, something beautiful and wonderful and hopeful.

Perhaps he wasn't meant to be alive, and maybe Ace did truly carry the blood of a demon, but what did that matter? He had someone who loved him, through thick and thin and his darkest moments. He had Marco, brilliant, beautiful Marco, who proved time and time again that he'd never let Ace down.

Ace wanted to be someone worthy of that love. He wanted to be someone who could stand level with Marco and lead their crew. He wanted to be someone who could keep step with his brothers too, for someone had to keep Luffy in check, even with Sabo returned to them. He wanted to be someone he could be proud of.

Most of all, though, he wanted to live.

.