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Ace was on the edge of the deck, staring out at the night sky, the glittering stars gazing back at him. Behind him, Marco, Thatch, and you looked at him pensively, wondering whether or not he would accept the position of Second Division Commander. “He deserves it,” you whispered. “More than anyone here, he deserves it.”
Thatch and Marco nodded, their eyes not leaving the Whitebeard emblem on Ace’s back. But you, however, saw Ace’s fist clench and his shoulders tense. “Normally he’s filled with certainty, but I wonder what’s got him hesitating…” you trailed off, thinking out loud. You stared at his unclothed back. His broad shoulders, usually strong and poised as if only an earthquake could shake him, had fallen in defeat, his back hunched over in uncertainty.
“Who knows?” Thatched mused.
“Whether or not he takes it, he’s our only option. A damn good one at that. Who can say no to such an offer?” Marco added.
You fired back a reply mentally- Only someone who’s scared of the duties of the position. Someone who doesn’t think they’re worthy. Someone who doesn’t believe they deserve it. Under his loyal, reckless, and confident persona, what did he keep concealed?
Marco yawned, “Think I’m going to bed.” He raised his voice, “Ace! You got the night watch?”
Ace turned around, suddenly pulled out of his private conversation with the stars and back onto the wooden floorboards of the Moby Dick. “Yessir,” he said, flashing a relaxed smile.
“Think about it a little more,” Thatch said to Ace while turning to follow Marco into the crew’s quarters.
“Good night,” you said to the two of them. You slowly walked next to Ace, joining him on the railing of the deck. “You always seem sad when you think no one’s looking at you,” you said, an observation that you’ve taken notice of ever since Ace joined the Whitebeard crew. Despite that, every time since then, whenever his gaze would meet yours, his lips would curl into a smile. This time was no exception.
“Can’t take your eyes off me, can you?”
You ignored him, unfazed by his flirtatious remark. “Tell me- what are you thinking about, Fire Fist?” you asked sincerely.
“Just-” he scrunched his face. “I’m not sure about this whole second division commander thing.”
You hummed. “Well, if there are any concerns…you know you could talk to Pops about it.” Ace was never afraid to speak his mind to Whitebeard, both before and after he joined the crew. You wondered what was so heavy on his heart that he’d be afraid to speak to the man he called father.
“Yeah, I’ve been trying to work up the courage for that all night,” he said, smiling sheepishly.
“You could talk to me too, y’know. What’s on your mind, Ace?” you asked earnestly.
“You,” he said without missing a beat.
You rolled your eyes at his deflection. “You have way more important things to be thinking about.”
Ace grinned, shrugging. But he wasn’t lying. He always thought about you- what you’d think if he told you about the shame he carries with him, what you’d say, what you’d feel. In his heart he knew that you’d never look at him any differently, but did he even deserve your grace? Did he deserve to live a life where you were okay, even happy, with his existence? Being offered the position of Second Division Commander dug up fears he thought he forgot, fears he never knew he would have. Did he deserve to lead, to have lives in the palm of his hand? What would Whitebeard think once he found out he was working so closely with his rival’s son? The questions ran on and on in his mind. He would look to anything for an answer: the sun, the moon, the ocean, the stars, anything but his own crew.
Below you, you watched the black abyss of the nighttime ocean, searching for your own answers, for anything to say to Ace.
“What happened to living with no regrets?” you said quietly.
Ace’s eyes widened. “(Y/N)...”
You turned to look at him, your eyes boring holes into his own. “Whatever is holding you back, will it be stronger than your regret?”
He swallowed. No, nothing would be stronger than his regret- he wouldn’t let it. Placing his hand over yours, he held it and squeezed, seemingly transferring his warmth to you. “I think…you just gave me the courage to talk to Pops.”
A mutual exchange, it seemed.
You sighed a breath of relief. “That’s grea-”
“Do you mind taking the night watch for a couple of minutes while I talk to him?”
“Wait, like, right now?”
Ace nodded excitedly. How could you deny him?
“Okay,” you told him as your eyes softened.
“Thank you. Thank you so much, (Y/N). For everything.” He let go of his hand from yours, taking his warmth with it- a sobering observation of what life without Ace would be like.
“No problem, Fire Fist.” Ace was already walking away.
He headed towards the Captain’s Cabin on the deck, opening and entering the doorway to where Pops resided. You stared above you at the night sky, waiting patiently for the sound of the door to open, remembering that just moments ago that Ace was in your spot, having a silent discussion with the constellations above. You could make out a constellation in the North: Hercules, the shape of a man kneeling. Was he attacking an enemy? Was he kneeling from exhaustion? From shame? Still, as the minutes pass, the thoughts drift to Ace.
What made Ace doubt himself? There were so many possibilities. He is the Fire Fist Ace, a seemingly divine hero to many- what unknown burdens could a man like him hold?
Tearing your eyes away from the constellation, you came to realize that the stars only raise more questions, rather than answering them. It’s no wonder Ace had stared at them so aimlessly, in the same way you did. You would only find your answers- and so much more- in him, not anywhere else.
“(Y/N)! Thanks for standing in,” Ace said from behind you, causing you to flinch a little. You turned around, leaning back on the port side of the ship.
“Had a good father-son talk?”
“A great one.” Ace put both of his hands on your shoulders. “(Y/N)...don’t tell anyone else yet- I want it to be a surprise. I’m officially gonna be the Second Division Commander!”
You mirrored Ace, smiling brightly, relieved and proud. “Ace, this is huge!” Pulling him into a hug, he reciprocated instantly, wrapping his arms around you, carrying you and spinning you around. In the silence of the night, it felt like you two were the only ones on the ship, the stars looking down fondly and waves applauding you. A burden seemed to be lifted from his shoulders and into the night sky.
Ace set you down, his smile never breaking. “Congrats, Fire Fist. You deserve it. More than anyone, you deserve it,” you told him, repeating what you had said to Marco and Thatch.
His jaw dropped slightly, but he quickly recovered. “Thanks Firefly. You should probably head to bed now,” Ace said kindly, knowing that you’re never assigned to lookout. “I have the night watch.”
“I should,” you bit your lip, “but I think we should celebrate your new position. A little pre-party before the actual party with the whole crew. Plus, I can’t leave you alone- it’s not often I’m on the deck at night.” You scanned around the usually bustling ship. “It’s peaceful.”
Doubt flashed through Ace’s eyes. It didn’t go unnoticed by you. “I told you already. You deserve it. Now, let me grab some rum!” You quickly turned to head down to the galley, quietly walking through the lower deck. You grabbed two bottles and headed back up, not wanting to leave Ace alone with his thoughts for too long.
“Here you go,” you handed Ace the larger bottle as he thanked you. “Here’s to Fire Fist Ace, the Whitebeard Crew’s Second Division Commander!”
You clinked your bottles together, a sound both of you knew too well. Drinking together, with just the two of you, felt more intimate, more sacred. The moon softly lit the side of Ace’s face, his smile looking even brighter in the dark.
“Why do you keep getting put on night watch? Doesn’t everyone know you’ll fall asleep in the middle of it?” you laughed.
“Good thing you’re here to keep me awake this time around.”
“You’re welcome, but don’t get used to it.”
“C’mon, you should join me on lookout from here on out,” Ace said as he pushed his shoulder against yours.
“Look at you, already spouting out orders as a division commander,” you replied as you pushed back.
“That means you can’t say no.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
Sitting on the wooden floor of the deck, shoulder to shoulder, between laughter and eye rolls, the two of you talked endlessly.
“Now, what did Whitebeard say to make you take the job?” you asked, liquid courage fueling your curiosity.
“Something like ‘we’re all children of the sea,’” Ace gave his best Whitebeard impression.
“Please, never do that again,” you took a sip of rum. “What made him say that?”
With every sip of rum, Ace’s lips were getting looser. “I told him something I never tell anyone.”
“And that is?”
Ace paused. Would you hate him if he told you the truth? Would you never speak to him again? But his thoughts stopped there, feeling guilty for thinking that you’d do something terrible to him. You disarmed him, but the alcohol made him feel even more exposed with nothing left to hide. He felt vulnerable, yet safe.
And so he decided to surrender himself to you.
He took a deep breath. “I told Pops that-”
“You don’t have to tell me,” you said, truly meaning it.
Your words struck a chord within him, confirming that you could truly do no wrong, only further enticing him to share all his woes with you. He admitted absolute defeat, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could stop it. “I want to. (Y/N), I am Gol D. Roger’s son.”
You noticed that, despite shedding his inhibitions, he still had the sense to choose those words carefully; it was I’m Gol D. Roger’s son rather than my father is Gol D. Roger .
You tried your best to hide your surprise, but it showed as soon as you let your jaw drop. “Portgas D. Ace?” you said questioningly, his name slowly forming on your tongue.
“My mom’s name. It was Portgas D. Rouge.”
You looked at him, silently urging him to continue. And so he did. Memories of being treated like the devil’s offspring, of being raised by a navy admiral were spoken into words, received by your nods, beckoning him to go on and on. “I don’t wanna regret anything. I just wanna live life the way I want and to feel like I deserve to live that way.”
Whitebeard’s cabin was only a couple feet away from the two of you. You silently thanked your captain. “It’s like Pops said, we’re all children of the sea. The ocean is… this great equalizer. You are you and…I like that, Roger’s son or not. M’glad Pops knocked some sense into you. Not only do you deserve the position, but you deserve to be here .”
“Heh, figured you’d say that,” Ace said.
You shook your head. “But you don’t believe me.”
“Can’t get anything past you.”
“Yeah, so there’s no use trying to.”
Ace took the final sip of his drink, only drops of amber coming from the rim of the bottle. “Thank you,” he looked at you, his gaze forcing you to hold your own on him, “for understanding me.”
Ace, the shame of the sea and burden of the brine, wanted to believe the silver-laced affirmations of yours; he wished the bullets of your words would penetrate his thickheaded skull and make him think he was truly worthy.
But they didn’t. And to him, that didn’t matter. He was just glad that you could be the one to justify his existence when he couldn’t bring himself to. He couldn’t complain.
“If only you saw yourself through my eyes,” you yawned.
Ace fell silent, reluctant to even look at you.
You let your head rest on the uncomfortable wooden deck and stared at the stars that seemed to shine brighter than they did before. Taking one last look at the constellation of Hercules, it was clear to you now that he was kneeling in exhaustion. Maybe tomorrow he would kneel fearlessly over his enemies, triumphant and sure. But for now, he only looked down upon the seas with shame.
“What did the stars tell you earlier?” you asked.
“I guess,” he tilted his neck up to see the Herculean pattern of stars, “they told me that I’m the one who decides what I’m gonna be.”
With no words to fill the void, you closed your eyes, the waves of alcohol and the ocean rocking you to sleep.