We're back with a mass update! And I think this is the longest chapter yet 8D I enjoyed it. Anyways, enjoy!

The fact that he wasn't allowed to wear his own clothes was really starting to piss him the fuck off. Ignoring the fact that he was indoors, he kept feeling a breeze run up the hospital gown, sending an occasional chill through his body. He hated that. How did anyone ever wear skirts? But the worst were the hours he spent isolated in that goddamn place—not that he didn't spend a lot of time alone regardless, but at least outside he wasn't being fucking watched.

No, he had to stay calm. He'd ask for it; he couldn't go back.

The one saving grace to his stay was when Thatch and Marco would visit every few days, though he would never admit it aloud or let them realise just how much he relied on their company. He tried not to push them away, though, tried to keep them visiting. Keeping his temper under control was more than a small challenge but he kept at it, kept trying, kept fighting back his anger because he knew that without them he would be alone.

There was no one else.

When the door opened like clockwork he repressed the excitement that swelled in the pit of his stomach, forced himself to not whip his head in its direction as steps clattered in. Unlike usual, however, he wasn't met with the friendly smiles of his friends. Instead a tall, dark man walked towards him with an amused grin.

"Expecting someone else, Portgas-ya?"

He snorted, not bothering to mask the displeasure on his face as he took the man in, finding that the white lab coat he wore didn't much suit him, just as the tattoos on his hands and forearms didn't seem fit for a doctor to have. He didn't say anything, though, because he supposed that man wasn't an… orthodox doctor, and the whole situation was rather bizarre.

"I'll be needing that blood sample I mentioned. Turn towards me," the man commanded as he pulled out that damned needle and vial Ace was becoming so familiar with. He looked away as the doctor went about quickly disinfecting the area. He winced, just a little, as the tip of the needle jabbed into his skin and was then slowly removed. Glaring at the man was the only response he could think of, watching as his mouth curved playfully. "Oops. It seems I missed the vein."

"You trying to piss me off?"

"Now why would I want to do that?" the doctor questioned mockingly, pricking him once again. With how many shots he'd gotten in the past two weeks he was sure he'd have scars, if it weren't for… his special condition. When grey eyes met for just a second he found himself turning away. "Honestly this is the best I can do. Making a needle that actually worked with you wasn't easy."

"So I've heard."

Ace looked up, towards the third voice, his eyes catching on the relaxed gait of the two visitors he'd been expecting. They stepped in without asking permission from the doctor, followed shortly by a blue-haired nurse—one he was all too familiar with. She'd been taking care of him as of late.

"So," Thatch started as he plopped down in an empty chair, the same chair he'd sat in every visit since Ace was admitted, "how goes it? Any changes?"

Ace shrugged, pulling the covers over his exposed legs with his free hand and ignoring the annoyed commands from his doctor to stay still. He hated how little he had covering himself, feeling self-conscious whenever eyes were on him. It went against his upbringing, against the layers of formal clothing that normally adorned his person. "I don't feel any different."

"You don't look it, either," Marco casually added, eyes scrolling up and down his figure as the doctor switched vials.

He hated how the blond looked at him then—like some sort of subject, like some anomaly to be studied. It could have been his paranoia but ever since he stepped into the building on that very first day he'd felt everyone watching him, judging him. It put him more on edge than usual. "Why the fuck am I here?" he found himself blurting out, unable to stop it as the words left his mouth. "I shouldn't have agreed to this."

"Oi, brat," Thatch called, the usually amused look washed completely from his face. "You're the one who said you wanted help. That's what this is: help. You're getting what you want. Just because it isn't going the way you planned doesn't mean you can bitch, alright? You wanted change, you're getting it."

"The fuck do you know, Thatch?" No. Stop. Don't make them mad. Don't make them hate you. They're all you have left. "I'm the one dealing with this shit, not you."

As soon as the needle left his arm he found himself pulled up by the front of his gown, staring into angry brown eyes. He was held in place, feeling heat ripple beneath his skin as his heart raced and he found himself remembering just how strong the redhead was.

"Thatch," Marco called in warning.

After a long stretch Ace was dropped back to the mattress, Thatch glowering down at him with more fury than he ever remembered seeing on his face before. Vivi was trying to calm him, her words going unheard as Ace started at his acquaintance with wide eyes, wondering what brought on such a strong reaction.

Thatch turned away. "Did it have to be him, Marc? Did it really?" he asked. "I can't stand self-entitled brats like him." With that he left the room, a frenzied nurse following shortly after. Even the doctor, after gathering his things, fled.

Ace bit his lip. So Thatch couldn't stand him. So all of his efforts, all of his attempts to stay in control, none of them mattered?

He couldn't even keep two people from hating him.

"Don't let it get to you, yoi."

Those words pulled him from his thoughts to realise that he was facing his lap, fisting the bed sheets with all of his strength. Immediately he released his grip, his hands shaky and weak, and looked up at the blond staring with that ever-indifferent look on his face.

"He's on edge right now; he didn't mean it."

Ace snorted somewhat jadedly, breaking eye contact. "He should."

"Your self-esteem is remarkably low," Marco noted, causing him to flinch. After a sigh, the blond folded his arms and leaned back against the wall, glancing at the door. "Tomorrow… there's a funeral, yoi. Someone we both respected and admired."

Ace remained silent, his jaw slacking as he stared at Marco's face. His eyes were distant, far-off, like he was seeing something that wasn't there.

"For a while… it's going to be hard. Don't hold it against us."

The floor was hard. The fall hadn't hurt, really, but the impact had certainly woken him up. Even with his eyes open, though, he couldn't seem to bring himself to stand. Instead he stared at the bare ceiling, unmoving as images from a partially-forgotten dream repeated over and over again in his mind like broken film. The whole thing was already starting to get hazy and he could only suspect that looking at the photo album the night before was the cause of the imagery. He'd been put into… what was it, a hospital? But it didn't feel like one. Something about it felt… strange. Well, it was a dream; it didn't have to make sense. For all he knew, he could have been a human experiment or something ridiculous like that. There was some stranger there—he didn't know who, hadn't seen him before. Even through the fog of awakening, though, everything still felt real, like a memory. But it couldn't have been. Thatch was too out of character, wasn't he?

Most of their conversation was lost to him, leaving little more than feelings in the place of words. He felt lonely—horribly lonely, like nothing he'd ever experienced before. It was this crushing, dreadful emptiness that swallowed him whole. The only thing that seemed to stave it off was the arrival of his friends. Seeing them lifted all of those horrid feelings for just an instance, just long enough for him to breath, before it came back tenfold. The whole time there was a wave of anxiety rushing through him, fluctuating as time passed, getting worse then better then worse again and now that he was awake to analyze it he was left in a state of befuddlement.

Thatch… he'd never seen him so upset, so brash. The man he knew had never—and he said that loosely because he really couldn't know as he was—gotten angry with him, never raised his voice. He was a happy fellow, always smiling, always there to cheer Ace up. He was friendly. He was mellow. He wasn't violent. Why would he ever dream up something like that?

Pulling his mouth taut and shaking his head, Ace flung himself up. That room felt like home, more so than anywhere he'd been to before, but right now he needed to get away. But… at the same time, he didn't want to leave. That was the first night in a long time that he'd had no trouble sleeping. Ordinarily he'd wake up once or twice during the night, but he didn't. It felt… relaxing, and he was half tempted to ask Marco if he could move back in. But… then there was the other problem.

Marco scared him.

It wasn't that he didn't like Marco. Hell, he loved him like family, more than his actual family. It wasn't that he didn't want to be around him anymore. But seeing what he was, seeing that… thing he became, it terrified him. The healing, he might have handled. It was bizarre and creepy yet at the same time he could tolerate it just because it meant that he wouldn't have to worry about something happening to his favourite blond—and yes, that included his mother and Sabo, because he honestly didn't spend enough time with either to say differently. But he was a fucking bird. He just mentioned that at dinner as a joke! It was just meant to be funny because he was talking about being a fucking phoenix! He was making fun of him!

Then he saw it with his own eyes, felt feathers of fire that didn't burn, and could never go back. But Marco was Marco. He liked Marco. And while he found his other form strangely beautiful, he couldn't just suddenly be okay with it. It would take time. He just didn't want to make him worry. He would try to get used to it.

He didn't want to lose him. Hadn't he lost enough?

Opening the bedroom door, Ace peered out into the hall. The house was quiet, still, and he could only assume that his former roommate was still asleep in his bed. He went to knock on the door across from his but hesitated, wondering if he was really ready to face him after last night. Could he control his breathing, remembering what he saw? Could he act normal? But eventually he furrowed his brow and fought off thoughts like those, giving the wood of the door a short knock. There was no answer. Was Marco a heavy sleeper? He did look tired the night before… Ace tried again, met with silence. Jiggling the knob did nothing as it seemed to be locked so he shrugged and walked off into the living room.

His stomach growled. He needed to eat.

Making a beeline for the kitchen he went immediately for the fridge, looking for breakfast items. There didn't seem to be much in the way of that but, well, there were eggs. Eggs weren't bad. He took two… make that six. He should make some for Marco, too, right? But he didn't know when his host would be up—

There was a knock at the front door that almost made him jump. Should he answer it? That was technically his place too… right?

A second knock made the decision for him and he placed the eggs atop a plate on the counter before rushing to the door. He checked over his bedhead and clothes quickly—because appearance was important, Sabo told him that once—and opened it.

Thatch stood on the other side, a quizzical look on his face as he took Ace in. Ace, on the other hand, grinned. "Hey," he greeted with a wave, stepping aside. "Marco's still sleeping."

The redhead seemed to shake himself free from whatever stupor he found himself in and accepted the invitation inside. "Still? He's usually up at dawn."

"He was tired?" A confused look from the other had the youth raising placating hands. "I got here late, so I have no idea either."

Thatch seemed to accept that, offering a smile which he quickly returned. They chatted a bit as Ace led him into the kitchen, taking his place at the stove before being promptly shoved aside by an oh-so-eager cook.

He blinked. "Thatch?"

"I got this," came the smug reply. "I used to come over all the time to cook for you guys when I wasn't busy with work. And let's face it: you and Marco don't eat right when I'm not here."

The youth folded his hands over his chest in a huff, feigning insult. "I eat well."

"You eat a lot," his friend corrected. "That's not the same as eating right."

Ace rolled his eyes, watching as Thatch went into the fridge and removed a few more items. He seemed to know his way around Marco's kitchen because he had no trouble locating the utensils or frying pan or, well, anything for that matter. And he didn't seem to put any thought into it, either, like he'd done it a million times. The heir had to wonder how many times before he'd sat there, watching him cook. He wished he knew. He wished he remembered.

At the same time, he hoped to always remain unaware, too scared to face who he was. What if he changed? Who had he hurt before, as that… as the monster who scared Luffy so much that he couldn't stand Ace's touch?

"Do you hate me?" The words fell from his mouth without him noticing. He only realised when Thatch turned back to gawk with wide, shocked eyes. "I-I mean, I was…"

"Don't be an idiot," the redhead chastised as he returned to his cooking. "You know what I hate? What I really hate? Cold food."

Again he blinked. "Cold…"

"Cold food," the cook repeated. "Can't stand to waste a meal. Wanna go get Marco for me? It's almost done."

He was about to agree, was already getting up, when he remembered earlier. "His door's locked."

That time when Thatch turned around he looked skeptical. "What? Marco never locks his—what did you do?"

"W-well…" Unable to meet his stare, Ace rubbed at the back of his neck. "…Last night, he kinda… showed me what he was. A-and I think he realised I was scared. Maybe… maybe I upset him?"

Peals of laughter sounded throughout the room. "Cat's out of the bag, eh?" Well he was certainly taking it well—better than Ace expected, at least. "Nah, I don't think he's mad or anything. It's probably because—"

Quiet stretched, making Ace more than a little uncomfortable. "Because…?"

A sly grin made its way onto the redhead's face, almost worryingly so. "Why don't you go see for yourself?"

"It's still locked."

"I can handle that."

After putting the food to simmer, Thatch hurried to Marco's door. Seeing as he was a tall, bulky man, Ace wasn't able to see what he was doing as he fiddled with the knob. He tried, really he did, but it seemed the cook was purposely making it hard for him.

"I suppose he told you the story, then," he mentioned casually as he worked.

"A bit, yeah."

"Well after we… y'know… well, some of us gained some… odd habits. If he knows you're scared then he probably wanted to hide it from you. But…" His hand stop moving and he stared down at the handle, brows furrowed. "Does knowing what he is change how you see him?"

"No!" he shouted immediately, surprising himself with the volume. "I don't hate him or anything, it's just… a lot to take in. I mean he's a fucking bird—a giant flaming blue bird. But he's still Marco, so…" He really couldn't think of a way to word it better than that.

He was starting to get annoyed with Thatch laughing at his expense. He really was. The man turned around, the door opened a sliver behind him, and patted him on the back. "Well, tell me if he's 'scary' now. I gotta get back to the food. Be sure to bring him, even if you have to drag him by his feet." And with that, Thatch was gone. And Ace was alone.

Admittedly the youth was a bit… nervous about looking inside that room, his friend's words foreboding. But slowly he seemed to gather courage, pushing the door open with a creak and peering inside. At first he saw nothing but darkness; unlike his own bedroom, that one had no windows. But as the light from the hall reached the bed he gasped, spotting a bundle of blue feathers atop the mattress. They weren't surrounded by flames like the night before, didn't give off light of their own. Surrounding the bird were a series of blankets and pillows, all neatly organised almost like—

Marco nested. That thought had Ace trying to hold back a burst of laughter, suddenly understanding what Thatch meant when he said they had 'strange habits'. But as he looked at the sleeping creature he noticed slight alleviation in his anxiety. It felt familiar, seeing him like that. Nostalgic…

Stepping forward, Ace took a seat on the edge or the bed. Hesitantly he poked at the bundle of feathers, pulling back as the body shivered slightly. "Marco," he called. "Oi, wake up, it's time for breakfast."

No response led the youth to place a palm on his back, giving him a slight nudge. "Oooooooi, Marcooooo," he whined, for some reason hesitant about raising his voice and stretching his words instead. When, yet again, the bird did nothing, he huffed. "Get up, you stupid chicken. I don't want Thatch to make me drag you."

Suddenly flames burst to life along his friend's feathers and he flinched in surprise, watching as wings morphed into arms and claws into toes, disappearing to leave a sleepy blond. Marco's eyes were closed but he stirred, signalling that he was awake. So apparently calling him a chicken worked—Ace would note that for future reference.

"Thatch is here?" he questioned groggily as he sat up and blinked away the sleep. Then he suddenly seemed to remember who he was talking to and he immediately turned away. "…Sorry you had to see that yoi."

"Oh, shut up."

"What?"

"Just hurry, I'm hungry!" he stated, pulling on the blond's wrist and edging him towards the door.

In actuality, he thought maybe seeing that helped, if only a little. Defenseless like that, how could he ever look scary?

Ace was home. It'd been… well, days, but he was home. He was shocked when his mother hadn't immediately rushed him, deciding that it had to mean she wasn't home. After being dropped off he formally dismissed Marco. The man looked like he needed sleep and, though he protested, the heir won out in the end. He'd managed to convince the chicken—calling him that made it so much harder to be scared of him—that he was a big boy and could take care of himself, at least for the day. The best part was that the blond listened. If he were to say that to his mother, wouldn't she just worry more? She didn't trust him. Not many did.

Not that he could blame them.

Roger was sitting in the living room, a newspaper in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. Their eyes met and the man smiled at him, didn't ask where he was, didn't scold him for leaving without warning; he just silently acknowledged him. That man was an enigma. Ever since day one, he didn't know what to make of him. He knew that he didn't like him for one reason or another but… looking at him then, he couldn't think why.

"I'm home," he greeted awkwardly, hating how quiet the mansion always was.

Roger grinned. "That you are. Welcome back, my boy."

A rush of nostalgia went through his body. He'd never bothered to say more than a few words to his father; he was always gone and when he wasn't, Ace had guests. He seemed… nice. So why was there a voice at the back of his head telling him to be angry? Why was there a part of him that hated that smile?

Looking at him then, he couldn't figure it out.

"Luffy's here," the man supplied as he went back to the newspaper. "He should be waiting upstairs."

Ace's eyes widened. He mouthed a few short words of gratitude before making a mad dash for the second floor, heading immediately for his bedroom. As soon as he flung the door open he saw the one inside flinch, head snapping around to look at him.

Luffy.

Luffy.

He just saw him the day before, so why was his heart racing?

"Ace, come play with me!"

"Shh, not now, Lu. I'm studying."

The boy's face sagged into a pout as he dropped down into the elder's lap, looking down at the unfinished math homework on the desk. "But I'm bored. And hungry."

He laughed, wrapping his arm around the younger's waist to keep him from slipping off. "You're always hungry. Oh, I have a surprise for you."

"Really?" The boy turned to look at him, eyes sparkling with an excitement so pure it made his mouth twitch into a smile.

"This year Mom 'n Roger are gonna send you to school."

Luffy gasped. "Really?! Really really really?!"

"Really," he chuckled. "But you gotta study hard, alright? Me 'n Sabo'll help you."

"Shishishi okay!"

Ace stepped back, suddenly feeling a little dizzy. He lifted his hand to his forehead in a futile attempt to stop the sensation of spinning that overtook him.

"Ah, Ace!"

He could hear the worry in the servant's voice and shook his head, raising a hand to keep him where he was. "'M fine, Lu. Just… just feel kinda strange."

It seemed the boy didn't listen to him, though, and closed the distance between them while reaching up to his forehead, blinking. "You're not hot…"

"It's nothing," he assured, taking the teen's hand in his own and lowing it to his side. But then his eyes caught on the glint of something metallic in Luffy's other hand, his jaw going slack. He looked past the boy to his desk, spotting a certain drawer left wide open, and turned back to Luffy with worried eyes. He found the gun.

Immediately the teen jolted, his eyes swelling with fear as he looked at the gun then his employer, taking a shaky step back. "I, um… I thought I'd clean up while I was waiting… a-and…" He raised the gun, his slight shaking worrying the other that he might drop it.

Ace swallowed. "Lu, Lu look: I'm not mad, okay? Just hand it over." For just a moment those brown orbs flashed terror and Ace cursed, realising what it sounded like. The last thing the poor boy needed was to see his tormentor with a gun… again. "I'm not gonna hurt you, alright? You know that."

Luffy nodded, though reluctantly.

"The safety's on, but it's loaded." That didn't seem to help the servant's nerves. "I'm just going to put it back in the drawer, okay?"

"…Okay."

Even after agreeing, it took a bit of coaxing to get him to hand it over. Just as promised, as soon as Ace had it in his grasp he headed to the desk and returned it to its proper place, closing the drawer with a heavy sigh.

"…I thought you… used all the ammo, that day with your friend."

He groaned, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah, well… there was too much of it. We couldn't get through it all. And that one—well, I just… forgot about it? I mean it's—"

"Ace," Luffy interrupted, his voice surprisingly even.

"Hm?"

"Why was there a gun in your drawer?"

Stepping over to the bed, he dropped down on the mattress. "That's what I'd like to know."

Sorry for the lack of AceLu interaction again this chapter, I didn't wanna rush to it. But as you can see, they'll be the focus of next chapter. And probably the chapter after that. So hopefully that makes up for it!

To my lovelies~

kickassdani: Glad you like!

xXoAnonymousoXx: You're welcome! But... last chapter wasn't a cliffhanger o.o

shadowmarialove: I've made plenty of bad chapters XD

Frostheart D. Blaize: Lol Marco would not appreciate those comments. Yes, Thatch has an ability. No, no, I think I have enough crossovers in the works OTL Lol there isn't as much suspense as you're making there out to be XD

siqwithaQ: Yes, petting zoans is adorable XD But that was a scary image. Never again. The conclusion that Marco was a bird came from him mentioning phoenixes. When Marco mentioned it, Ace just jokingly added the bird thing. He didn't expect it to actually be true :,D Sorry if that wasn't clear OTL

oblivion9032: Here ya go~

Kitsune Foxfire: Lol same, I'd probably react like that too XD Ace needs proper answers, he really does.

Angelic Fluffle: Glad you like!

Guest: Lol yeah kinda weird isn't it? Well now you got to see a bit of how Ace feels about the whole thing.

CrazySarahify: You'll find out eventually :P No, Luffy didn't take the drug. That'd ruin the plot. Here's an update!

TheAnalei: Well, the people in the original experiment were. I'm glad you liked the explanation, it ties in a lot with the rest of the plot later XD

Spider-kun: That's... good? :,D

XxNEGATIVE0xX: Awe, you're sweet 3

Thank you all for your reviews and I hope to hear from you again!

Adieu~