A/N: In which the road to recovery is a long one...

Chapter 4: Reignite

The distant horizon lightened with the steady approach of dawn, a pale splash of color in the receding darkness. Stars flickered in the heavenly canvas above, the smallest lights winking out one by one with the ever-brightening sky.

Ace yawned, a plaintive whine of protest against the ungodly hour, his jaw creaking like it meant to unhinge from his skull. He scrubbed at an eye socket with a knuckle, picking away at any gunk that might have accumulated while he slept, grumbling under his breath all the while.

It was too damn early. He hated this shift the most—but fair was fair, and it was his turn to "enjoy" the early bird rotation, so that was exactly what he was gonna do.

Didn't mean he couldn't complain about it though…

With a grunt he climbed the net, heedless of the soft wind that tousled his hair and the ever growing height, clambering his way up to the top of the mast so he could take his position opposite Mao. He gave the other man a thumbs up as they assumed their posts, making sure they were properly braced and tied to safety lines just in case the Wild Card decided to lurch forward upon catching the wind.

Then the whistle blew, which was the signal they were waiting for, and like he'd been doing for months now, Ace untied the rope and braced his boots against the beam, feeding the line through his hands to allow the mast to drop slowly. The sheet fluttered in the breeze, the men below monitoring the trimming of the sail as the gears worked to pull it taut, the ship groaning with the effort as the cables took on added weight.

As expected, the line jolted and Ace was quick to let go before the rope scored through the meat of his palms, observing in quiet satisfaction as the mast billowed out like a full belly, catching more and more of the breeze as Rummy expertly steered with the wind.

Ace shifted as the ship turned, keeping balanced while the yardarm bowed as it was meant to under the wind pressure, a quick inspection over the yard lines proving that everything was as it should be. A glance at Mao showed that everything was good on his end as well, the little man giving a thumbs up in approval before meandering his way down.

Not wanting to waste time with the ladder again, Ace untied his safety line and leapt to the main deck below, landing with a catlike grace that only came with many bruises and practice. Tex, in passing, gave him a lazy salute, one arm looped through a coil of mooring lines with Eights dogging his heels.

"How good of you to drop in, Cap'n," Rummy remarked from the helm, catching his attention and prompting an eyeroll out of Ace as he turned to glare up at the older man, it was too early for puns, "Beautiful morning, don'tcha think?"

"Sure," he agreed, cracking out into another yawn that ended in an exaggerated shout and shake of his head, eyes blinking away tears, "Provided you like waking up at the ass crack of dawn."

"It's not so bad," Rummy argued, the wheel rattling under his raised palm as he allowed it to spin, the ship following the movement with ease, "Fresh air. Beautiful sunrise. Wind in your hair. What more could you ask for?"

"Chops, you don't have any hair," Ace pointed out dryly, rubbing at his face and smoothing back his own wild locks, while sending a meaningful look to man's shaved scalp. His brows furrowed. "And your beard doesn't count."

"That's why I said 'your hair,' Cap'n," he replied, completely unconcerned, a genial smile on his round mug.

Ace scowled and hopped up to join him on the quarterdeck, forgoing the stairs entirely by vaulting up the wall and over the railing. He wouldn't admit it aloud, because that would mean Rummy was right, but it was promising to be a lovely day. The sea didn't have the pervasive chill or charged atmosphere of a storm and there wasn't a cloud to be seen, not even on the horizon.

Perfectly idyllic in every sense.

"How's our progress?" Ace questioned, resting his arms on the banister and gazing out at the blushing horizon. He didn't really want to know the answer, but it was still important to ask anyway, they'd need to resupply and… well…

His frown deepened, thoughts turning to a very particular problem of his. A certain woman coming to mind. A week isn't really much time…

Rummy side-eyed Ace with a neutral expression, likely sensing the mood. "Steady as she goes, Cap'n," he said, large hands resting on the wheel as he turned to raise a speculative brow, "Though I'm guessing you're not asking for the hell of it. I won't pry if you don't want me to."

Sighing, Ace adjusted his hat so it covered his eyes, a little embarrassed. He really didn't want to talk about it more than he already had. Spoons was about as stubborn as a mule, and taking into account the very insistent advice of his crew, he'd resolved not to nag her about it.

"You'll just scare her off if you keep it up, Captain," Tex had advised, looking more serious than usual with his arms crossed, as the rest of the men nodded in agreement at his side. "She's been forced to do the bidding of cruel men for who knows how long. Let her form her own opinion and learn to trust again. Let her be free…"

He was right of course, and Ace felt the fool for it.

"You hear anything from the rescue ship?" he asked instead, pushing that particular bag of issues aside in favor for something he could actually do something about.

Probably.

Rummy gave him a look that clearly said, "I know what you're doing," but apparently decided not to pursue that line of thought, just like he promised. "Deuce sent us a wire early this morning. Apparently, they're making good progress. No signs of pursuit, as far as they can tell… and everyone—including the rescued—are in high spirits." He shrugged at Ace's surprised look, large shoulders rolling as a satisfied smirk curled his lip. "Euchre apparently has their hands full with everyone's treatments though, as a few were in pretty bad shape. So, as soon as they can, they're going to swing by an island to stock up on supplies and maybe receive some extra medical aid."

"Good to know they have a plan at least," Ace admitted, planting his jaw into his palm as he leaned on the banister, a light smile crooking his lips, "Deuce say anything about where he'll be taking them?"

"Nope," Rummy immediately answered with a pop of his lips, locking the wheel in place once he made the final adjustments and crossing his arms. "Deuce was paranoid that the call could be traced—you know how he is. Besides, the fewer people who know about where they're going, the safer they'll be."

Ace could agree with that logic. Sure, it was irritating how Deuce could be a little over the top with his paranoia, but never once had the man been wrong in precaution and Ace gave him the benefit of the doubt. Still… "How is he planning to catch up to us? At this rate, we're closer to Loguetown than he is and if we don't reunite before we reach the Grand Line…" He frowned, trailing off. They'd definitely end up separated.

Before Rummy could even muster a reply, a door slamming open caught both of their attention enough to make them leap in place. Ace jerked around just as a familiar white shape staggered onto the deck from the infirmary, the door creaking behind her to showcase a minor dent in the wall behind it. That… was going to need to be fixed. Though they probably needed a door-stopper on it anyway...

"Oh, Spoons! Good morning!" Ace cheered, waving at the woman who was still looking a bit unsteady and pale, "How are you?"

She lurched, slapping a hand over her mouth.

Ace's smile froze.

Her mad dash across the deck was impressively stable, considering she'd been blundering about like a newborn deer barely a day ago. Her path was obvious, and Ace had only a moment to look away in sympathy before she leaned over the railing to hurl overboard.

Even at this distance, Ace could hear her plaintive noises, and from what he could gather she wasn't a particularly graceful barfer… Not that any anyone really was , but there was sick and then there was sick.

She fit best into the latter category.

"That good, huh?" Rummy observed, wryly answering Ace's ill thought out question in Spoons' stead, the sounds of her puking still carrying over as he mused, "Hey, at least she made it over the railing this time! She wouldn't even go near the damn thing yesterday, so that's progress at least."

Ace gave a forced laugh, his smile more of a grimace than anything. He felt a little bad for her, figuring that being sick on and off couldn't be easy—especially while trying to recover and getting used to people again. There was a certain skittish and rather feral quality about her still that wasn't likely to go away any time soon, but was a mentality that he sure as hell wasn't going to fault her for.

He didn't have the right to judge anyway. Not with his childhood.

Shaking away those thoughts, Ace nervously shifted from foot to foot, not entirely certain how he should approach this. Delicacy really wasn't his strong suit, but he was the Captain, and it was his job to at least try to be diplomatic… sometimes. "I'm uh… I'm gonna go see if she's okay," he stated, already beginning to trot over.

"Good luck," Rummy called at his back.

On approach the first words out of Ace's mouth were, "Are you okay?" A sentiment he wished he could have taken back immediately if the flat stare he received was any indication of her temperament. He gave another weak chuckle as those hazel eyes of hers drilled into his skull, her arm lifting to wipe at her mouth with a look that could curdle milk.

"Sorry, that was uh… an obvious question wasn't it?" he amended, scratching at the back of his head.

"What was your first clue?" she croaked, working her jaw for a moment, only to spit with a disgusted look on her face. She grumbled something he didn't quite catch, but was certain it had to be rather unpleasant since a dark look flashed across her face. Then, with an apathy that he found pretty uncharacteristic, she hunched against the rail and growled, "What do you want?"

He frowned, noting the slump of her shoulders. Ace couldn't pretend to know what was on her mind, but he could kind of take a guess. "To check on you? You've been in the infirmary for a while now, so… You're looking better."

Spoons barked a rasping laugh, the sound sardonic even to his ears. "You're joking, right?" she sneered, turning just enough to curl a lip at him, eyes sharp, "I look like a walking corpse."

Ace didn't comment on that, his lips thinning. While it was true her body was still painfully thin and sporting marks that were taking a long time to heal, she didn't look nearly as much of a dead woman walking as she did before. Her skin was brighter and less sallow, the shadows under her eyes less pronounced, and her hair, while still white, was now a lot more tame in comparison to the frizzy mass it had been the first time she washed it.

Improvement was improvement, no matter how little of it was made.

"Dunno, you look pretty lively to me," he commented instead, leaning on the banister with a cheeky grin curling his lips, which prompted an eye-roll from his reluctant audience for his terrible pun, "Aw, come on! It wasn'tthat bad. You should hear Chops when he really gets going!" He chuckled.

"Please spare me," she said blandly, casually spitting again.

"Nah," he denied immediately, swinging himself up onto the low wall so he could sit and dangle his legs over the side of the ship, liking the feel of the water spray on his skin. He leaned back, hands braced against the smooth surface and getting a good look at the disconcerted expression on Spoons' face, her eyes trained on his thigh. "If I've got a suffer through his bad puns, then so does everyone else. And stop worrying; I won't fall."

Those verdant eyes of hers darted to his face, looking all too wide and flabbergasted before narrowing, her nose wrinkling with a disdainful sniff, pinching around her scar. "You say that now , but Pitch informed me of your little narcoleptic problem—"

"That jerk!" Ace howled, making Spoons flinch a bit from his outburst. He clenched his fists, teeth gritting together as he scowled at the horizon. "It's not a 'problem.' I just get a little tired sometimes!"

Spoons snorted, and Ace glanced over to see her lips quirking in amusement, fingers drumming a rhythm on the polished wood. "I'm pretty sure face-planting into the ocean would be a little counterproductive to your continued health," she murmured, voice dripping with sarcasm, "Though if you still want to tempt fate, be my guest—just know I'm not jumping in after your dumb ass when it happens."

"You're breaking my heart," he remarked with a cheesy grin, glad to have finally earned a smile from her, even if it was at his expense. Ace kicked his feet against the side of the ship, making a dull thunk with every strike and adding a bit to Spoons' beat. "But seriously, don't do that even if it does happen. Pitch will have both of our ears, and trust me, his lectures are long ."

"Noted," she replied, a knowing grimace already twisting her features. Oh, so she'd already experienced it then… truly his heart went out to her.

The silence that fell between them was companionable. A far cry from the prickly attitude she came out with.

Expression sobering, she gave him a measured look, brows furrowed. "Thanks…" At his quirked eyebrow she explained, "For trying to make me feel better that is."

Ace blinked, incredulous and a little touched—though he promptly demolished any vestige of sentimentality by being an ass about it. Turnabout's fair play, after all. "I'm sorry, I think I momentarily went deaf. What was that?"

Spoons whacked his arm and he guffawed, raising his arms defensively when it looked like she'd try for another. "I'm not saying it again, you twit!" she snapped without any bite, her crooked grin ruining whatever heat might have been in her words, her hand lowering back to the rail. "What are you doing out here so early anyway? I didn't think you were even capable of being conscious at this time."

"Oh. That. " He grumbled, scratching the back of his head and grimacing, recalling the much missed comfort of his bed and the temptation to crawl back into it, "Normally, you'd be right, but since we're such a small crew at the moment, we all have to have experience running the lines. It's really in case someone is out of commission or if we're in an emergency situation anyone can jump in to help. More efficient that way."

She stared at him, and Ace for a moment swore there must have been something on his face for how long it lasted, before she blurted in obvious surprise, "Did you just… come up with that yourself?"

Ace felt a little offended by that, but tried not to let it bother him too much. "The hell is that supposed to mean?" He huffed, attempting to mock hurt and probably being only moderately successful. His acting skills were crap. "Anyway, yeah. I figured it wouldn't hurt, and it seems to make the crew happier. Besides, if I can't follow my own rules, then what kind of example would I be setting?"

Spoons looked a little lost, shaking her head with an incredulous murmur, "That has to be the single most intelligent thing I've ever heard you say. And it was in paragraphs no less!"

"Oi," he grunted, annoyed. Just what the hell does she think of me?!

Spoons promptly let him know exactly what she was thinking, only not in the way he expected… or understood. "It's like exposing that the school jock has a PhD in Astrophysics and a minor in Underwater Basket Weaving!" she exclaimed, eyes still wide and a faint smile crooking her lips. She was enjoying this a little too much.

He squinted at her. "You know, I understood just about one word in three, and I think you did that on purpose."

"Okay. Okay. Work with me here," she said, calming herself and pressing her fingers together as she regarded him intently, "Do you have any… hobbies? "

This felt like a trap. Ace wasn't certain how or why, but Spoons seemed to have a very particular way with emphasis and body language that made him a tad uncomfortable. It was probably the intense staring. "Uh… Weirdly personal question coming out of nowhere, but okay," he mumbled, working his jaw as he mulled over which one of his hobbies would be interesting enough. Then he had it. "Oh right! I'm building a boat that's powered by my devil fruit!"

"And he's an engineer! " Spoons crowed, whirling around and flinging her arms away from her head in an exaggerated flourish, "Consider my mind officially fuckin' blown! "

"I'm sitting right here ," Ace grumbled, feeling just a bit put out by her surprise, thudding his boots against the hull a bit dejectedly. Did she really think he was that stupid?

Then he blinked a moment, absorbing her words and coming up with a blank on one of them. "What the hell's an in-jen-ear ?" He asked, a little baffled. She was doing that thing again, the one where she spouted off seemingly random words that had no context or meaning. He suspected, and had a right reason to, that Lynian wasn't her primary language despite speaking it fairly fluently. Too many odd phrases and an off-kilter accent were like blaring signals that she wasn't a native speaker—It really made him want to know where she came from.

Nowhere from East Blue, that was for sure. She hadn't even breathed a word of Estrani since he met her, and was beginning to doubt she spoke it at all.

She ignored his question, or simply was unable to hear, he was unclear on that detail. At the moment, she seemed both ecstatic and delirious, her babbling continuing into difficult to decipher breathless murmurs.

Ace was fairly certain he wasn't the only person staring at Spoons like she'd just off and grown a second head, but he was the closest one so he figured he should probably be the one to do something about it. "Look, do you need to sit down or something? You seem a bit…" Ace trailed off, unsure about what sort of word he should be using. "Excited" was definitely a candidate, but it also had some inappropriate connotations.

And he sure as hell wasn't going to say "hysterical" because that was a sure-fire way of getting punched. Usually in the face.

He finally settled on, "...enthused," making Spoons blink at him owlishly. Ace grimaced.

She surprised him by doing exactly as he suggested without argument, plopping her butt down right where she stood with a bit of a vacant expression on her face.

Then she flopped over.

Ace never realized he could move so damn fast until he met this woman, only this time, unlike on Paramour, he wasn't able to react quick enough before her head thudded to the deck. His shout of her name was certain to catch the attention of everyone around them, so he was confident by the time he slid to her side that someone was bound to go rouse Pitch. "Leith!" he called, kneeling next to her prone form, his hands flapping ineffectually as she groaned with her eyes pinched shut, wondering what the hell he was supposed to do with them. He decided to play it safe and rested a hand on her shoulder, giving her a gentle nudge. "Leith, come on. Talk to me!"

"M'fiiiine," she drawled, sounding almost annoyed that he was even asking, her words slurring like she was drunk, "Just need to—to have a lie down… Yeah."

"Ohh yeah, you're definitely gonna be doing that right now," Ace agreed, feeling her pulse and noting that it was abnormally fast. "When was the last time you ate or drank anything?" He asked, remembering at least some of Pitch's health instructions when it came to certain conditions.

"Uhh," she groaned, her eyes cracking open to give him a bleary blink before squinching her eyes shut again, like the light hurt them, "Well, it's in the ocean now…"

He cursed.

A shadow fell over them, and Ace glanced up to see Pitch hovering, a pensive expression on his face as he tugged on his goatee. "Hm… Have we had a little bit of an accident, Miss Spoons?" Pitch asked, a wry twist of his brow easing some of Ace's anxiety a bit.

"Fuck you," was her deadpan reply.

"Ah, she'll be alright," Pitch assured Ace, crouching down so he could bundle up the tiny woman in his arms, ignoring the stray hand that reached up to give his cheek a light slap—the brat, "She just needs to have a nice meal of broth, an IV, and some rest. She'll be up and about to harass us all in no time."

"Hate broth," Spoons interjected, sounding irritated and somehow having mentally devolved into a petulant five-year-old, as she weakly attempted to struggle out of Pitch's arms.

Pitch took it in stride though, lifting her bodily like she weighed nothing and tromping his way back to the infirmary, his tone cajoling as he attempted to out-logic Spoons' illogical attempts at escape. "Now, now, Miss Spoons there's no need for that. Overexertion is what got you to this state in the first place, so you need to relax. Besides, the broth is good for you and you'll feel better."

"You'll feel better…" she echoed in a bratty sneer, finally falling limp and simply allowing it to happen, her white hair swaying with every step.

Ace dogged Pitch's heels, worry pinching his brow as he watched her limp limbs flop about and chiding himself for forgetting about her condition. It wasn't like it was easy to forget—she still looked like a stiff breeze could bowl her over—but he'd been so caught up in the conversation and her animated gesturing that he hadn't even considered that she should be laying down.

"Should" being the key word here. It was obvious to Ace that she was starting to get antsy, pacing like a tiger in a cage. He didn't doubt for a moment that she was used to constantly moving and being alert, and that being so sedentary now probably rankled her nerves something fierce.

She lay with a constipated twist to her face, eyes angrily drilling holes in the ceiling once Pitch lowered her to the bed. She kept absolutely still even as he buzzed about his domain, disinfecting her arm and prepping the IV equipment, her demeanor hinting that she was far too used to this sort of thing.

Ace hovered near the door, feeling rather ridiculous as he leaned against the wall. He was a bit unsure on what to do with his hands, so he shoved them in his pockets, fists clenched. He really wasn't sure why he decided to stay, the entire atmosphere a little awkward as Ace watched Pitch shove a giant fucking needle in her arm, but he wasn't going to question it too much.

It was probably the look on her face: Distant and vaguely annoyed.

Something was eating at her.

"Alright, done," Pitch announced, making Ace blink as he was snapped out of his own thoughts. Marking off one last thing on the IV bag with a flourish of incomprehensible writing, Pitch added, "I'll be back in a few minutes with some food, don't do anything too crazy while I'm gone."

"Yes, Mother ," Leith snarked, still scowling thunderously.

Ace jolted when Pitch clapped a hand on his shoulder as he passed, leaning in. "Keep an eye on her, Captain…" he whispered, dark eyes serious as they flickered meaningfully in Leith's direction before gazing back into his own, "She needs a strong shoulder right now."

Giving him another pat, probably as encouragement, Pitch ambled out the door, closing it with a much more careful hand than Leith had done. Ace stood for a moment more, not exactly sure on what he should do, or even say …

Luffy had always been better at this stuff.

Sabo, too.

Still, Ace made his way over and sat with his back to the bed, making himself as comfortable as he could on the floor, draping his arms over his knees and threading his fingers together.

A heavy hush fell between them. Stifling.

Outside, he could hear the footsteps of his crew as they continued about their business. The steady creak of the Wild Card's hull felt louder than he was used to, in fact, Ace could almost feel the vibration through the floorboards as the ship cut its way effortlessly through the water, his senses so much more acute now that his attention was being drawn to it.

Finally, Leith broke the silence, "I hate this…"

"I know," he answered softly, clasped hands tightening minutely.

"I hate being weak," she said louder.

"Yeah… Me too," he murmured, feeling a little sense of solidarity at that. If I'd been better—stronger—Sabo wouldn't have… His thoughts trailed off, naturally wanting to shy away from the bad memory, the silence once again a growing monster between them.

When it finally grew to an unbearable crescendo, he hesitantly broke it. "So," he began, letting the word hang in the air like a flashing banner, "Your turn. Got any hobbies?"

She didn't answer right away, a tense quiet following his question. Ace chanced a peek over his shoulder when it drew out, thinking that she had fallen asleep. Instead, he was met with her confused gaze, the look so earnest and lost that Ace too fell at a loss for words. She swallowed thickly, her throat noticeably contracting before she looked away, blinking heavily.

Oh.

"Do I have any hobbies…? huh," she mouthed, her tone almost too quiet, the words thick with emotion as her voice rose to be heard, "You know, it's strange. I think there were things I liked to do… You know, before. "

Ace nodded, a sinking feeling starting in his chest that began to work its way down. He hadn't meant for this, figuring that since she'd brought it up with him that it'd be a relatively uplifting topic, he hadn't for a moment considered that it wouldn't be so for her.

Her expression turned wistful, and she rested back onto the pillow, eyes tracing the support beams in the ceiling. "It's… difficult thinking of anything else. I don't want to… When I think of things I like, all I can think of is—" she trailed off, her mouth open to reach for a word, jaw bobbing up and down like a fish choking on air. It was clear she was searching for something, a word or phrase to finish her sentence, but instead she clicked her mouth closed and gave a frustrated sigh.

"What is it?" Ace wondered, noting the way her eyes lost some of their luster, a tiny spark of flame dying in despair. He wanted to help, to pull her out of this, but he had no information to speak of.

Leith turned her head, a dead-eyed gaze that withered before his own, eyes closing like it physically pained her. "All I think of… is how good it feels to fight. The way the knife feels splitting through flesh and the smell of blood." Her breath came in short, and Ace could literally feel the air change as she spoke, the very atmosphere of the room charged with her rousing excitement. She opened her eyes, a dangerous glint flickering within them, and Ace was very glad that Pitch had forbidden her from sparring during her recovery, because he didn't think she'd be able to help herself.

"I can feel it sometimes," Leith murmured, voice no longer rough, and taking on a sultry dangerousness that sent the hair on his arms standing on end. He didn't dare to look away. "The way my blood burns," she chuckled darkly, raising her hands before her, fingers flexing like claws, "The taste of anticipation. I itch with the need to fight, to feel alive, to feel the rush—! " She choked a bit, slapping her hands over her eyes and taking a hissing breath.

The discomfiting atmosphere vanished, its oppressive weight lifted.

Leith breathed heavily for a moment, eyes still covered and trying to master herself, her entire body quaking as she forcefully repressed her bloodlust. "It's not normal," she gritted out, inflection back to its gravelly state, teeth clenched, "I know—I know that… But I can't think of anything else. I don't know how."

I'm afraid.

Ace was quiet as she rubbed at her bandaged shoulder, her face pinched and distant. "Often," she started again, a little more rough than before, "I don't want to just… Fall asleep. Because sometimes, all of this just feels like an elaborate dream… and when I wake up, I'll just be back in my cell. Waiting for my next match."

He didn't have anything to say, and didn't know what platitudes would be sufficient in this situation. Certainly, Ace knew a thing or two about personal demons, but he sure as hell hadn't figured his own out yet, so he didn't feel like it was his place to say.

Still, he had an idea, and it was better than staying in here.

"Come on," he said, standing up quickly and offering his hand out for her, "I wanna show you something."

She blinked at him owlishly, eyes dragging from his face to his hand and back again, the confusion clear even as she gripped his palm. "Didn't Pitch say I needed to stay here and rest?" She asked, clearly bemused as he tugged her to a sitting position.

He scoffed at that, eyebrows rising. "Do you want to stay here?"

"Well, no, but—"

"But nothing," Ace grinned, unhooking her IV bag from the stand and shoving it into her arms with a lot less gentleness than he probably should have used. But he was getting antsy, having riled himself up for what he was going to show her. "Hold that, I'll carry the stand. We aren't gonna be going too far."

"What's gonna happen is Pitch kicking our asses," she grumbled, but slid off the bed anyway with the bag in hand and looking more than a little eager despite the threat.

"Please. My ass is the only one on the line here," Ace said with an eye-roll, ushering her to the other side of the room, before returning to the bed and effortlessly lifting it to its side. "You're the invalid after all."

She made a disconcerted sound behind him, somewhere between an incredulous laugh and a growl. Which he didn't know how she pulled off exactly, but that was a question for later. "I'll show you 'invalid,' " Spoons hissed, stomping toward him.

"That's the spirit!" He chuckled, throwing aside the rug and revealing a hatch.

Spoons rose a brow at that, cautiously stepping over to give it a curious look as he took out his knife and wiggled it along a seam. "What's a trap door doing here?"

"Funny story," Ace murmured a little distractedly, tongue poking out as he felt around with the blade, trying to find the latch with the hooked end, "The Wild Card used to belong to a cabal of smugglers before we, uh…acquired her."

"You thieved a ship from thieves…" Spoons muttered wryly, sounding a tad bit impressed, "Irony abounds."

"Trust me, they deserved it—ah-hah! " Ace exclaimed, a faint click sounding from the other side, the door popping up a little from the activating springs, "There we go." He grabbed at the slight indent that had made itself known for this purpose, flipping the door open with nary a sound. Getting to his knees, he ducked down to poke his head into the opening to see that, indeed, the corridor was empty.

Spoons squeezed her head in beside his, her white hair dangling like tree moss around her face. Heh. It kinda reminds me of an old man's beard.

… He was going to keep that observation to himself.

She made a strangled noise, eyes already adjusted to the dimness of the passage, inspecting the layout. "Are you kidding me? There are tunnels like this all over the ship?" She asked, looking none-too-pleased at the notion.

"You got it," he chirped.

A faint look of disgust curled her lip. "What about rats?"

"Soooo~ turns out one of the perks of this ship is, well, fireproof wood," he said, letting the implications of that statement speak for itself.

It was probably one of his favorite jobs if he was being completely honest.

"Was that the real reason you stole this ship?" she deadpanned, giving him an accusing glare, her white hair waving about as she shifted.

"Hey, it's only kinda my fault the last one burned down!" he defended, trying not to think about his original dingy he'd sailed away from Dawn Island.

Her stare continued to be less than impressed, but it lost some of its effect since she looked rather silly with her hair standing straight up... or down. "I've learned of so many Noodle Incidents in the past couple days that I'm inclined to believe you have enough to open your own Noodle Buffet," she muttered dryly.

He wasn't going to even try to unpack whatever the hell that meant. Instead, he just gave her a flat look. "Do you ever hear yourself?" Ace asked.

"I know damn well what I said," Spoons snarked with a curled lip, showcasing a single sharp canine. She turned her head about, as if she needed to further survey the crawl space, eyeing the branching corridors. "So, is this it? You just wanted to show me your… hole ."

It was his turn to make a gurgling noise, cheeks flushing. "Don't call it that. If you don't wanna go then just say so."

"For all I know, this tunnel leads to your super secret sex dungeon," she replied, blatantly ignoring his affronted sputtering, her shoulders giving a shrug, "But sure. What the hell. I don't have anything better to do, so I'm game."

"And to think I was trying to be nice," Ace grumbled, wriggling his way past her so he was now fully inside the crawlspace, reaching his hand back in a grabbing motion, "Here, collapse the IV stand and hand it to me."

"It collapses?" He heard her exclaim, the sound of the stand doing just that filtering back to him as she made a noise of awe.

"Pitch is really persistent about wanting easy storage for his medical equipment, so we spared no expense," he explained quickly, itching to get moving.

A strangled noise sounded from her. "Alright, John Hammond. So when can I expect the bioengineered ambush predators, or have you gotten to that stage of the park yet?"

"You know," Ace began, his brow twitching in annoyance as his brain performed somersaults over the sheer bafflement of that statement, "One of these days I'm gonna figure out what the hell you're blabbering about, and then I'll be unstoppable."

She snorted sardonically. "You can try.."

"Just hand me the damn stand." Ace growled, noting her smarmy grin when he got impatient and poked his head back out. She did it just to infuriate him, he knew it. Once the compacted stand was slapped into his palm, he ducked back down. "Alright, we don't have to go very far, it's just a few ribs away."

He heard a faint shuffling and assumed she'd dropped down behind him. "I think I can deal with that," she whispered, an amused chuff following as she said, "Besides, the view ain't too bad, if you know what I mean."

He didn't. And Ace puzzled over that for a couple of long moments before it dawned on him. He coughed, whipping around to give her a glare, his cheeks warm. "Stop staring at my ass!"

"What? It's right there! " Spoons retorted, motioning with a finger that was still holding the IV bag above her head and looking affronted that he'd even suggest such a heinous concept. "I can't not look at it, not when it's the only thing in my line of sight. I'm one fart away from localized chemical warfare, you know."

"I do know, so don't tempt me," he grumbled, fiddling with the next latch.

"You pull that shit and you've got a one-way train ticket to My Fist Up Your Ass. Don't even think about it," she growled.

"Too late." He opened the trapdoor, giving a cursory glance below to see if the coast was clear. Then with a feat of acrobatics he'd routinely performed in the forests back home, slid forward head first and flipped, his hands bracing on the hatch frame to keep him upright.

He dropped down, sticking the landing.

"Show off."

Ace hooked the IV stand to his belt and outstretched his arms, hoping his intent was clear. The offended glower she shot him indicated that it was, and that she sure as hell didn't appreciate it. He shrugged. "No harm in some help. You don't want Pitch to rip your ear off, do you?"

Spoons complied with a grumble, the words he didn't quite catch, sliding her way out of the crawlspace with little fanfare and the pack gripped tightly in hand. She still felt too light when he caught her, and Ace remembered how easy it was to piggyback her around on Paramour, how thin she felt…

She seemed so… breakable.

Then he recalled how the little hellion nearly kicked his face in and redacted that train of thought viciously.

Sure, she was fragile now, but she'd survived and would only grow stronger, and Ace could only imagine how she felt with everyone treating her like spun glass. He knew he'd certainly hate it if he was in her shoes.

…Or feet, rather, since she wasn't wearing any.

So with that thought in mind, and half wondering where the hell her shoes had gone, Ace promptly dropped her the rest of the way.

Spoons landed with catlike grace, the balls of her bare feet thudding with only a faint sound on the hardwood. Her first response, upon straightening up, was to flip her head around, checking her blind spots and inspecting the layout of the hallway. Once that was out of the way and she seemed satisfied, she tilted her head at him. "So, where are we exactly?" She asked, eyes bright in curiosity.

"Well," Ace started, jabbing a finger to the hall behind her, "That way leads to baths, which is where you were before," At her understanding nod, he continued, jabbing his thumb behind him, "And that way leads to storage and ballast, the rest of these doors are all basically crew quarters."

She hummed thoughtfully, stepping after him as he motioned her to follow, leading her toward the bow. "There sure are a lot. Does that mean everyone gets their own room?"

"Eh, they could," he admitted, scratching at his nose as it suddenly decided that now would be a good time to itch, "But some like to share, either because they'd rather have company or… you know."

"Ah right, the ol' Pants-off Dance-off . Got it," she supplied dryly, making him choke.

Ace couldn't help himself, he laughed. Hard. A full belly chortle that shook his entire frame and sent him leaning against the wall, pounding his fist against it. "T-the—The what?! " He finally cried out after a full round of absolutely losing his mind, almost tearing up as he turned to look at her.

Spoons giggled with him, less hard, but still seeming to enjoy herself, if only because his amusement was entertaining her. "What? You never heard that one before? What about Slammin' the Ham ? Or The Horizontal Hustle? Humpus Rumpus ?"

He snorted, slapping a hand over his mouth. Ace could feel his face and ears getting warm, more because of the topic than anything else, but still it felt better to laugh than to be embarrassed. He shoved her a bit when it looked like she was going to open her mouth again, his cheeks pinching with how big he was grinning. "Knock it off, you're gonna kill me," he laughed, barely budging when she shoved him back, her smile about as wide as his own, "You're terrible, you know that?"

"Aw, come on! I was on a roll!" Spoons protested, ducking around his hand when he tried to mess up her hair as he passed, "Besides, we're all grown ups here."

"Sure," he agreed, picking up the pace a bit as he prepared his next line, "Though I dunno, you seem a little short on some requirements. Might wanna get that checked."

"Oh, ho-ho~ You better run, you giant turd," she called, and he took the hint, though he was sure to emphasize that Pitch would have her hide if she got too riled up.

She flipped him off.

By the time they made it to the storage hold it was like the previous moments in the infirmary hadn't happened. Sure, she still had an IV jammed into her arm and would probably need to sit down soon, but the melancholy about it had all evaporated. Spoons was bright and curious as she stepped into the room, blinking as she took in the arrangement of clutter, her eyes flicking over the chests and drapery and wall of swords.

"What the hell?" she asked, scrutinizing a trumpet.

Ace tugged on a chest, dragging it more in the center of the room so she could sit on it, the bottom screeching against the floorboards. "I said it was storage, but what what I didn't mention was this is basically our treasure room. It was the largest one besides the hold below us, and the bow is armored in case we ram something so its technically the most protected room on the ship," he explained, taking out the IV stand and extending it with a schwip and click . He looked up, noticing she still looked baffled, and grinned.

"But why bring me here?" Leith murmured, eyes dragging over the assortment of gold items piled on a desk, the spoils from Paramour, her hand picking out a palm-sized pearl from the stack.

"Well, we have all kinds of things here," he said, running a hand through his hair before crossing his arms, "And I mean… I figured… If you can't remember the things you like to do before, maybe we can find something here."

She dropped the pearl, the bauble clattering to the floor.

He couldn't see her face from this angle, but it was easy enough to notice her shoulders hunching and head bow, hair falling about like a shroud. "You… You don't have to do that," she said, his smile faltering as she reached up to grip her shoulders, hugging herself, "You… You really don't…"

Dammit. Ace sighed, crestfallen that he'd brought down the good mood he'd helped build up, but that was going to change, he'd make sure of it. "Of course, I don't have to. I don't have to do anything," he snarked, walking over to a display rack and picking at the strings of a random instrument, "But if I spent my whole life not doing the things I don't have to, then I sure as hell wouldn't be where I'm at, and would probably be all the more miserable for it." He strummed the strings, a harmonious tone fluttering through the room. "Besides, you need something to distract you and I'm very good at finding distractions."

Leith gave a humorless chortle at that, her hands relaxing as they slipped off her shoulders to swing at her sides. "You really have a way with words," she murmured, turning to give him a forced grin, her messy bangs covering her eyes a bit, forcing her to sweep them out of her face, "Alright, you've got my attention. Is that an acoustic guitar?"

Ace blinked at the non-sequitur, noting her acute interest, her hazel eyes pinned where his hand rested on the strings. Fixed. He grabbed it by the neck, lifting it from its resting place and brushed off the dust that had accumulated on the body, the lacquered wood smooth beneath his hand. He glanced at Leith, watching as her face underwent a metamorphosis, complete awe and humble wonder in her eyes.

He held it out.

There was a powerful reverence to her demeanor as she took the instrument in hand, almost trance-like, running her fingers over the finish and feeling the rough coils of the strings. Ace had to grab her IV bag before it slipped out of her arms, looping it around so it didn't impede her movement.

"Do you play?" Ace asked gently, ushering her to sit on the chest, hanging the bag on the stand.

"I…" Leith began, hesitant, her hands stroking the cords like they held a memory of their own. It thrummed, deep and booming, its large hollow body enabling the sound to resonate with a richness that buzzed the air. Her eyes closed, soaking in the sound. Breathing. Feeling it. "It's been a long time," she spoke, distant, tuning the strings with an ease that could only have come from years of practice.

She was completely calm, a low hum starting in her throat, the sound threading between the steady strum of the guitar, synchronizing in a haunting lilt. Ace watched her play, amazed as the hoarseness of her voice quickly vanished, becoming vibrant and trilling, and only growing stronger as she serenaded in harmony with the instrument.

Until finally…

"Far over the misty mountains cold," she crooned slowly, the melody somber and ghostly.
To dungeons deep and caverns old.
We must away~ Ere break of day…
To find our long forgotten gold.

The next part sent the hairs on Ace's neck standing on end, and he could only sit on the floor, enthralled as Leith's voice rippled through the air like the entreaties of a siren.

"The pines were roaring ~on the heights,
The winds were moaning ~in the night,
The fire was red~ It flaming spread…
The trees like torches blazed with light."

She fell back to humming, her head steadily bobbing in rhythm with the eerie song, her eyes closed and fingers dutifully flowing with the chords. A creak behind Ace had him whipping his head around to see Pitch, and what looked like a few others, lurking in the doorway and the hall beyond, all listening in.

Ace grinned, wide and happy, giving them a little finger wave in greeting.

Pitch looked like he was still considering skinning him alive, but seemed to be content at the moment to listen to Leith play, finger rising to his lips to indicate that they all should be quiet. Everyone else gave Ace cheery thumbs up behind the surly medic when he wasn't looking, showing their approval.

A warm feeling swelled in Ace's chest and he lay back, contenting himself to listen. Proud of a job well done, and enchanted by the tale of a mountain, a dragon, and a lost dwarven kingdom.

xXx

Several hours later...

xXx

Pitch stood, once again, outside the treasury door, the interior finally having grown silent.

It'd been half the day now, his patient barely even stopping to eat or drink anything ever since she'd got a hold of that damn guitar. He wanted to rail at Ace, angry that his own Captain had gone against his request and moved Spoons from the infirmary, but he supposed he couldn't be too sore about it.

It was obvious that the music was therapeutic for her.

He just wished she would take a break at least, in case she split her fingertips and nails with her persistent playing.

"You going in or what?" Tex rumbled in his equivalent of a whisper at his side, breaking him from his trance.

Pitch gave the other man an impassive look, trying to convey with his eyes alone that this entire situation required some delicacy. He didn't think he had to point out there was basically a sleeping tiger in there.

To which the bastard just shrugged.

Fine, let's see him wake up Spoons from a dead sleep and see how he likes it, Pitch mentally grumbled to himself, placing his palm on the door and giving it a gentle shove. The lights were off, indicating that someone had the frame of mind to flip the switch at some point, casting the room in the dim lights of the curtained portholes.

Captain was splayed out like a starfish, snoring away as per usual at this time of day and drooling like he was trying to make up for lost time. Spoons on the other hand had slunk her way to the floor at some point, head resting against the box she'd been sitting on, her arms and legs wrapped around the guitar like she was afraid someone would steal it.

Which was ironic considering the instruments origin.

It was kind of funny in a somber kind of way… Two different people, both sleeping; with one open like he was willing to embrace the world and the other closed like she was trying to hide from it.

It certainly spoke of their personalities…

"Are you sure we need to move her?" Tex whispered, carefully stepping around Ace so he didn't disturb him, his boots softly thumping on the floor, "I mean, I know that can't be comfortable, but I feel a bit bad… She looks peaceful for once."

"Aye…" Pitch admitted, crouching a little ways away from the sleeping woman, preparing himself in case she lashed out. She had a mean right hook if one woke her at the wrong point in her sleep cycle, he had a near miss already in his experience and didn't look forward to her fist ever connecting. "She needs to eat something though, and I need to take the IV out, it's been in long enough."

"Are you going to carry her?" Tex asked, mimicking him, but sitting a little further back... Which was probably a smart choice.

"If she's not totally lucid, yes," he said, reaching out to gently tap at Spoons toes, the safest place to touch a trauma patient, noting the twitch of her ears as she instantly reached some level of awareness. He couldn't see if her eyes opened—not with that mop of hair in the way—but he knew that they were, they always were when she was disturbed.

Now consciousness; that was another story.

"Spoons, it's time to wake up," he whispered kindly, tapping at her feet with gentle pats. She visibly tensed, curling inward a bit and making the guitar creak as her limbs squeezed it like a vice, retracting herself from him like an octopus in a bottle. "Do you remember where you are?"

She stilled, body freezing as her half-conscious brain tried to make sense of the question. "I'm— ah, mmm—T-the… Where... The Card ."

"That's right, you're on the Wild Card ," Pitch said, relaxing a bit. That was much faster than last time, and without any attempt at his life to boot. Progress at last. "You fell asleep in the storage room, playing your guitar. It's noon now."

"Noon…" Spoons slurred, head lifting from the cradle of her arms to blink at him blearily, opening and closing her mouth with a scrunched expression like she tasted something bad. Her hair still looked like a rat's nest, no one having the balls to get near her with scissors yet—not that they would unless she asked—so it was still as frizzy and chaotic as ever. She leaning heavily on the guitar neck, still woozy and probably aching from her poor positioning, her bruised eyes indicating that sleep would still be much appreciated.

A faint gurgling sounded from somewhere in the vicinity of her stomach, and she looked down in utter listless perplexity.

"Oh, it's making sounds now, that's good," Pitch commented, pleased that she was audibly showing signs of hunger again. It meant her body was healing.

A glare darkened her expression. "Not if I kill it first…"

Tex sputtered, "What?!"

"What?!" Spoons blurted, back shooting ramrod straight as she reached full lucidity, her eyes bright and conscious and so alert that Pitch sighed.

If seasickness wasn't going to kill her first, then adrenaline sure as hell would.

He turned to Tex, annoyance pinching his face—they'd damned well talked about this. "I told you not to react to anything she might say, no matter how ridiculous it is."

"Look, I wasn't expecting her to threaten to murder her own stomach. I was prepared for some weird shit, but not that," Tex argued, adjusting his hat as he turned back to the wide-eyed woman, "Sorry, Miss Spoons, you surprised me."

"Won't be the first time," she muttered, inspecting the room out of habit, her pupils blown wide to see better in the gloom, "Why are the lights off?"

"Dunno, maybe the Captain did it before passing out?" Tex wondered, considering the aforementioned man in question, tipping his head to the side so he wouldn't choke. "Guess he didn't want to wake you."

"Oh, is that who's making the drowning lawn mower noises? I was wondering," Spoons drawled, groaning as she made to stretch her stiff limbs, pushing aside her guitar to make room, a few vertebrae popping loudly as she twisted.

Pitch brought out his medical kit from the confines of his sash, propping it open and using it as a mini workstation as he disinfected his hands and prepped a cotton swab with alcohol. He noted Spoons wrinkling her nose, and motioned her to hand over her arm, the IV catheter still buried in her vein. She seemed all too happy to oblige, practically throwing the limb at him.

Tex made a gagging noise as Pitch carefully removed the needle, turning away.

"Come on, dude, it's just a needle," Spoons taunted, curling her arm as Pitch instructed to hold the cotton ball in place while he prepared the bandages.

"And the ocean's just a bit of water," Tex simpered, voice high and nasally in a poor imitation of Spoons' voice, it returned to normal when he growled, "Wanna go for a dip?"

It was her turn to look a little green around the gills, a nervous grin twitching her cheek. "N-no thanks…"

Pitch couldn't help but crack a smile at that, gently taking the cotton ball out of Spoons' hand and replacing it with treated gauze.

"Thought so."

"What are you doing here anyway?" she asked, an obvious bid for a change of subject, watching as he quickly bandaged her arm, "I mean I know why Doctor Chuckles is here—"

Pitch flicked her ear.

"Ow—But that doesn't explain why your lurking in the dark with a bunch of weirdos," Spoons said, rubbing at her ear and wrinkling her nose at Pitch, "Full offense."

"None taken." Pitch replied, returning his supplies to their proper containers.

"What? I can't drop in for a visit?" Tex wondered, and at her scoff, rolled his eyes. "Seriously, do you think I'm heartless or something? And to think I did all that work for you…"

At her bemused look, Pitch chimed in to fill in the blanks, "He and the other men figured you'd want your own space at some point. I've been noticing you don't sleep well in the infirmary and surmised that the smell of disinfectant wasn't doing you any favors." And boy did he notice. Pitch knew he was a lot more perceptive than most people, could read a person or a room better than anyone he knew, which provided quite a few advantages when it came to diplomacy or combat. However, ever since Spoons had come on board, her night terrors erupted like like a beacon in his brain, waking him from a dead sleep no matter how tired he'd been prior.

It'd taken him some time to figure out the cause, and suffice to say he wasn't too thrilled at the prospect.

If I ever get my hands on the asshole who did this to her— he thought darkly, closing his kit with a snap.

Funny how he had already adopted her. She really did remind him of his sister sometimes.

Spoons gnawed on her lip, looking unsure about the offer. "That's…" She began, trailing off for a moment before stiffening her lip and forging on, her hand reaching up to rub at her shoulder, "That's really nice of you and all, but I'm getting off at the next island, remember? It's not necessary."

"And as your doctor, I call bullshit," Pitch interjected, jabbing at her ribs and eliciting a yelp, "It doesn't matter if you're leaving or not, we're trying to accommodate a guest and you're refusing. That's rude."

"Ugh! Fine! " Spoons blustered, whacking at his hand and flinging herself away from him so she could slump onto the floor, hugging the guitar like it was the most uncomfortable body pillow known to mankind. "You'd think pirates wouldn't give a shit about 'hospitality' or 'ethics,' yet here you are putting your mom-pants on and lecturing me for being a jackass. I'll take your damn room, dammit…"

So dramatic.

"You know, I was a little unsure at first when I saw Ace carrying her about on that island," Tex muttered in Estrani , keeping his voice pitched low, "But I gotta admit, she's growing on me."

Pitch snorted. "Like a fungus."

"Oi, what are you two whispering about over there?" Spoons whined, lifting her head just enough to glower at them.

"Does she not speak Estrani?"

"Not a word." Pitch said, switching back to Lynian because it was rude exclude their audience from the conversation, "He was just saying how much he was going to miss you and your melodrama."

"I did not, " Tex argued, slapping Pitch with his hat.

"Aw, Texie, I didn't know you cared~" Spoons cooed, playing a whimsical tune on the guitar by plucking and warbling the strings. She cackled when he gave her disgusted look and promptly rolled away out of his reach.

"Muhnngha—Wha… Wha's goin' on?" Ace slurred, rising up from the floor like something long dead and drowned, his hair a mass of tangles and curls, drool still lingering at the corner of his mouth. He looked around, lost for a moment and likely wondering why he was there, bleary eyes staring at the wall for far too long before Tex coughed.

"Sorry if we woke you, Captain," he said, trying to keep a straight face when Ace just flopped his head around like a ragdoll, giving him a blank look.

"I'm not," Spoons snarked, still plucking at the chords and throwing her voice louder so the Captain could hear, "Fuckin' getch'ur ass up, it's Lunch Time! "

Ace snorted to full consciousness, springing to his feet and stumbling out the door so fast he was practically a blur. Tex shouted a protesting, "Spoons! Deeps take you, Woman! He's gonna eat it all!" as he chased after him, boot skidding on the hardwood as he rounded the corner.

Pitch just laughed along with her, throwing his head back as the rising of complaints and chaos sounded from above.

And that was when Pitch knew, no matter if she was only with them to the end of this day or for a day many years to come—that she always had a place among them.

She was family.