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The central chamber of Amazon Lily’s bathhouse was magnificent. Ornate windows broke up smooth marble walls, all surrounding a pool of the clearest water Ace had ever seen. Of course, at this point, he would have settled for a wooden bucket and rain water, but he wouldn’t say no to this.
Ace tried to keep up his grin as he looked around the space. Clean water; the blue sky through the windows; Luffy, safe and alive, if not unharmed, at his side… Only a few days ago, Ace had given up hope of ever seeing any of those things again.
He closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, centering himself. It was disorienting to think of everything they’d gone through just to get here. Even without the entire ordeal before their escape, there were the days spent cramped on that submarine—the claustrophobic hours after surgery, fitfully dozing and waking on sterile cots. The time would have been unbearable without his brother, but somehow Luffy had managed to insist on being near Ace, even when his wounds were so severe he shouldn’t have been conscious. Ace couldn’t deny how grateful he was for that closeness. As they drifted through the dark, their bandaged hands stayed clasped dearly, tightly together.
Afterward, there had been the strange reception at Amazon Lily. Calling the Pirate Empress’s behavior “overly friendly” was an understatement; she’d been so unlike herself, Ace wondered if he’d been hallucinating.
Luffy’s glib response to it all only baffled Ace further. Yet somehow, it ended up with them here. Luffy had shockingly asked for a place to bathe before anything else when they landed, even food, and he’d also shot down Hancock’s offers of guards and attendants. All he wanted, it seemed, was Ace at his side.
They’d been sent off with a few fluffy towels and soaps, but were otherwise left to their own devices… which made this their first real moment of privacy since this mess had started. Ace looked over at Luffy, wanting to get a read on him as they neared the water. It hurt to see all the injuries he bore—scrapes and burns that he’d been instructed not to let soak too long, to towel dry and redress cleanly, since they were fresh enough to be tender. He was still streaked in dirt and ash, too, probably the same as Ace. The rushed cleaning done before their emergency medical treatments hadn’t even wiped the grime from his face.
Despite all that, Luffy met his eyes and smiled. He beckoned Ace after him as he hurried into the shallow pool, teasing his brother for being so slow.
“I mean, I don’t care if you stay smelly,” he said. “But I bet you’re gonna complain about it later!”
Surprised out of his thoughts, Ace snorted. “Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.”
In moments, he’d followed his brother into the water. They sat side-by-side at the edge of the large basin, backs resting against stone, muscles finally, hesitantly unwinding.
Never one for quiet, Luffy glanced around the pristine room and chuckled. “This is nothing like Dadan’s, huh? That bath was so gross!”
Ace laughed, fondly reminiscing. He could picture those days so clearly: making a ruckus with Luffy and Sabo, jumping into the tub when he shouldn’t, causing a mess. Dadan’s fist coming down in rebuke—
Except, suddenly, it wasn’t Dadan’s fist anymore. It was a prison guard’s, and Ace was in a cold, dark cell.
He blinked, trying to pull himself out of the memory. But it was too late: he couldn’t get the stench out of his mind, the terrible mix of his own blood and sweat going sour on his skin. How long had it been? Weeks? All Ace knew was that he had been chained in place far too long, ankles and wrists rubbed raw by seastone. And the only thing he could do was wait, held captive, as the world offered him a few final torments—
“—Ace. Ace!”
Ace blinked, finding Luffy staring at him hard.
Awareness of the bath came back to him slowly. His brother was on his knees across from him, hands gripping his shoulders tightly.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Luffy pressed.
Still regaining his bearings, Ace was at a loss. “What? Why?”
“Because you keep doing that,” Luffy said, sitting back with a frown. “On the sub, and when we got here—you get quiet and go somewhere else.” As if he were admitting a weakness, Luffy mumbled, “I don’t like it.”
Looking at Ace again, he said firmly, “Maybe telling me about it will help.”
Ace was stunned. He knew he’d been getting lost in his head now and then, but didn’t realize it was something Luffy had noticed to the point of concern.
“H-hey.” Ace squeezed Luffy’s shoulder in a way he hoped was reassuring, and took a deep breath. “It’s nothing. Really. Just, you know…” He gave a crooked smile. “Never get arrested, it ain't fun at all.”
Luffy considered him. “So it’s about when you were locked up?”
Ace should’ve known his brother wouldn’t drop the subject. “Yeah. I guess.” He shifted uncomfortably, still not willing to go into detail. “Look, it’ll get better now that I’m free. You and—and Pops…” Ace trailed off, voice abruptly growing thick. He swallowed to clear it, then went on, “You and Pops did so much to make sure I got out, I’m not gonna take that for granted.”
He looked back at Luffy, leaning forward with how much he meant the words. “I really am happy to be out, and alive.”
Luffy nodded, but still looked at Ace like he wasn’t satisfied. He finally said, “You don’t have to be happy right away, you know? If… I don’t know, if something happened while you were in prison, I get if it takes some time to get over. You don’t have to rush stuff just for me.”
Ace… stared.
Distantly, he wondered how this was the same kid he’d fished out of rivers and protected from beasts back in Goa. He’d changed so much. And, damn Ace if he didn’t cut straight to the truth. Ace’s gaze drifted once more to Luffy’s injuries. He was doing a shit job of respecting his brother’s sacrifices, if he couldn’t even treat him like a mature adult.
“Okay,” he sighed at last. Luffy, who’d been waiting patiently for a response, perked up.
Ace still took a long moment to speak, not sure where to start. How could he describe it?
Finally, he said, “I think the worst part was how… no one treated me like a person.” Ace swallowed, unable to meet Luffy’s eye. “I was just some thing to the Marines. A bug, or a mistake, or—just, something to be covered up.”
He stared at himself in the water. Quietly, he murmured, “Something that needs erasing.”
Ace remembered all the times he’d looked in a mirror when he was a kid, and only seen his father's face. Now, he wasn’t sure he even saw that. The mess in front of him was formless, hollow.
Ace deserved to live, he knew that… At least, he was re-learning it. But, how could something like him be worth his brother getting hurt? Or his chosen father dying?
Unbidden, Ace found himself saying, “You know what really stuck with me? Of all the things my guards did?”
He looked up at Luffy, who met his gaze evenly.
“When we were sailing to Marineford, the captain on the ship told me to look at the sky because it’d be the last time I’d see it.” Ace laughed, but it was a dark, oily noise. “Who fucking says that? How cruel do you have to be to—” He choked on his words for a moment, “—to tell someone that ‘cause they’re gonna die? I mean, I get that they only see me as the son of a criminal, but I—I’m still…”
Ace fell back into the moment on that ship, but he was also back in every bar on Goa, listening to all the lugs who hated the very blood in his veins. The thing was, he’d believed the captain's words. He knew he was going to die by the end of the day, and it was going to be as “Roger’s son” first and foremost. The sky—that wide open feeling of adventure, of freedom from his past—it was all he’d ever really wanted. So of course, that was what the Marines would deprive him of.
As Ace had looked at that blue arc stretching above, perfect and pure, all he could think was how foolish he’d been to seek it—to think he’d even gotten close. He was a contamination whose time was up, if he wasn't wholly inconsequential to start with. At least soon, the shame that was his life would end. That was what they’d gotten Ace to believe.
Out of words, he gazed listlessly at the water.
And then he flinched, as Luffy stood, and climbed out of the bath.
“Wh—” Ace craned around. “What are you doing?”
Luffy pressed his lips tightly together, gathering the soaps and towels they’d casually tossed aside earlier. Returning to the water, he sat by Ace, and pressed a hand on his brother’s cheek to make him face him.
“Trying not to get mad,” Luffy gritted out. He grabbed a washcloth from among the towels, but took a breath before he went any further.
“Not at you,” he added gently. “Just, all the guys who said stuff like that. I wanna beat 'em up for—for everything they did to you. But that isn't what'll help right now."
Luffy looked down at the washcloth in his hands.
"You matter more," he finally said, glancing up at Ace. Then, Luffy dipped the cloth in water, and dragged it softly, carefully along Ace’s temple.
Ace’s eyes widened. He held his breath as Luffy continued, guiding the towel attentively over the contours of Ace’s cheek, down his jaw, then dabbing it back in the bath. The cloth released particles it had gathered, dirt and grime floating away to the far reaches of the pool.
Luffy went on, and Ace closed his eyes, flustered at the look of concentration on his brother's face. He had the frantic urge to tell Luffy to stop, could even feel the words on his tongue—but simultaneously, he was frozen. Ace tried to calm himself by focusing just on what he could hear: birdsong outside, the occasional drip of water around the bath. The rasp of the towel was nearly unnoticeable, as quiet as Luffy’s slow, measured breaths.
Ace felt sunlight slanting in through the windows, warming his back, while the water and Luffy’s attention thawed the rest of him. As his heart rate slowed, Ace could feel the change happening. The ash, the dried lines of blood, all of it was steadily lifted away at last. His skin prickled with sheer relief at the sensation; and some walled-off thing inside him shivered at every soft, intimate touch.
Luffy ran the warm cloth over his brows, down his nose; beneath his eyes; above and below his lips. The hand not holding the washcloth rested delicately under his chin, pressing lightly when he needed Ace to tilt his head now and then. When he was nearly done, Luffy stilled for a moment. The fingers under Ace’s chin drifted up, coming to rest near his cheek.
Ace stopped a whimper from escaping. Deliberately, Luffy’s thumb had swept the curve below his eye, where Ace knew his freckles showed most noticeably. Brushing the spot again, Luffy let out a deep sigh, and it was full of gratitude and relief.
Ace clenched his teeth. The tears he’d been holding back finally welled up, and it was only moments before a sob tore out of his throat. Luffy's touch stilled briefly, surprised, but when he started to move—like he might wrap Ace in a hug or something, which, yeah, Ace knew he wouldn't be able to handle—Ace shook his head.
"L-like this," Ace rasped out, feeling so close to shattering. "Stay like this."
After a pause, he heard Luffy give an agreeing hum. His hands continued to cup Ace's face, palms warm, steady, and reassuring.
When Luffy’s thumbs started to draw small, careful circles at the corners of his eyes, likely to clear away some of the tears, Ace felt something snap loose inside him. He brought a hand around Luffy’s wrist, holding the limb in place as he pressed a slow, thankful kiss to his brother’s palm, and then another. Luffy made a soft sound—a faint intake of breath. It made Ace look up.
Through watery vision, he saw Luffy smile at him, more love for Ace in one teary eyelash than all the filth the world could come up with. Sighing, Ace let his cheek rest in his brother’s palm once more, cradling those precious fingers against him as he soaked in the sight.
When Ace’s tears finally calmed, Luffy nodded gently at him, smile turning small and curious. Ace could see the question in his eyes, something like, Are you okay? Do you understand?
A laugh escaped him. It was partially masked by a sniffle, but Ace nodded. Luffy had once again given him exactly what he needed. How could Ace forget?
He gave one more affectionate nuzzle to the fingers in his grip, lips brushing a kiss to the pad of a boyish thumb. Then, he grabbed a fresh washcloth and returned the favor, with hands allowed to be gentle at last.