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Chapter Text

He was screaming, or was he?

Marco, had seen Ace's growth, from that first moment when he swung an axe at their captain's head, to all the times he just fell asleep mid-bite, food still in his mouth.

He has also seen how he would curl in on himself when some of their siblings whisper about Gold Roger, how his eyes would darken just a bit, before turning to a sweltering bonfire. True to his namesake, Ace has always been fire...

Fire Fist Ace... infamous, no-good, law-breaking pirate. An enemy of the World Government by being pirate alone, or worse, by the blood that he hated so much... And yet, Marco can't help but feel proud. Everyone in Paradise and the Grandline knows their 2nd Commander, a son of Whitebeard, a pirate whose smile lights up like crackling fireworks, like that flashbang before an explosion. A brother-in-arms, a love one who shared their hardships and tears and of laughter.

He was their brother... yet, Marco had underestimated what that truly meant to Ace.

Outside him, Thatch, their Pops, and certain commanders, no one knows much of Ace's personal life. To think that scrawny, loud-mouthed ass would blab the moment he got close with them... but he didn't. He held everything that makes him who he is close to his chest, at first Marco felt offended.

'Are they not closed enough?'

'Was the tattoo on his back just for show?'

'Are they not worth a morsel of love they have given him...'

He knows those thoughts are unreasonable, and more than once he's kicked himself for thinking them. You'd think that after sailing longer than Ace had been alive he would have more confidence in Ace when it comes to secrets about his life. But Marco is a pirate, and they were a selfish breed, you have to be, just to survive and to keep your treasures safe. And maybe that's why he's so curious and maybe a bit hurt as to why Ace won't show the same sentiment.

But for the sake of their family he bit down his remarks. He was the eldest, the supposed de facto 'responsible one,' the second-in-command to their Captain.

So imagine his surprise, after another merry 'party' he saw him. Ace, smiling so wide, so bright, like a fire that has just been stoked with wood and coals, and set alight with gasoline. He was so happy, that the giddiness almost crackled off him, because the normally sulky 2nd Commander of the Whitebeard pirates ran towards Pops, waving a bounty of an upcoming pirate from the Weakest Blue.

It was almost surreal from his vantage point from Pop's shoulders.

~~~

"Pops!! What do you think, not bad for some pirate starting at the weakest blue." He was grinning still.

"Yes, though rookies these days rarely have the brass balls to take on those stronger than them...'

Pops picked up the bounty from Ace's hand and stared at the grinning face of a scrawny brat... Go figure.

Monkey D. Luffy...

'-though I'm impressed, for someone so young out at sea, with already a respectable bounty-"

"I know right!" Ace cut him off. "That fucking idiot, he's not even out in Paradise but he managed to already piss off a lot of people."

"And this rookie is making you smile because-yoi?" Marco knows, it was stupid to ask, but he did anyway. Maybe they could finally fish out that sliver of Ace's life before he joined them.

His face turned a bit sour then, but there's defiance there too, it almost feels like Marco had wronged him somehow... and looking back, he did, he almost wanted to punch himself.

"Because the idiot right there, have trouble in his veins." Ace began. "He would somehow end up getting beat up by monkeys just for trying to steal their bananas. He'd try to wrestle a crocodile as big as Pops if you left him alone just for a moment. He'd hunt down tigers just because I told him that their meat tasted good. He'd run up and down a mountain just to prove that I was wrong even though I was making fun of him-'

Ace sighed, heavy and tired, like he was reliving those ridiculous memories.

'-his an idiot..." Ace said softly. "But that idiot has sunshine in every bit of his body. You can't help but to love him. He got so much love in him that he'll sit through a beating than to rat out the stupid kids who tried to kill him multiple times-' His voice broke into a soft smile, eyes misting over.

'-And I fucking miss him. I miss my little brother!" Ace cried.

Yep, there it was. the Moby's worst-kept secret: Ace was an emotional drunk, though it was rare to see.

'Wait... Little brother?!' Pops' and I exchanged glances. The deck had gone quiet, half asleep, the other half staring at Ace wide-eyed.

I jumped down from Pops' shoulders to comfort a now bawling Ace, silently signaling the other commanders to steer the crew away from the scene.

'A little brother.' Who would have thought that the youngest member of the Whitebeards has been the oldest one to his little family back home. Marco was surprised, he'd always thought that Ace acted more like a younger sibling. Always with a shit-eating grin and a penchant for mischief and rebellion. It's almost funny to imagine, Ace being the responsible one, though it may be his privileged to be the 'oldest' in the Whitebeards, he knows Ace is capable, he wouldn't be a commander if he wasn't.

Pops rose from his chair and settled in front of us, placing a steady hand on Ace's shoulders. He pressed the bounty back into Ace's hands. Ace was still crying, not as badly as before, but enough

"My son." Pops started, voice slow. "There are days when the distance between you and your love ones are far too great to bear. But it does not change it, the seas may separate you both now but it connects you all the same. You are a great pirate in your own right, and one day, your brother will also reach that point-'

Pops' paused and gently wiped off the remaining tears on Ace's eyes.

'-One day, your brother would stand tall beside you. And on that day you would find that distance is a tiny wave in the vast blue of the horizons. Though... I am quite surprised to hear that you have a little brother?" Pops is inquiring now, I almost cracked and would have given my father a thumbs up if not for Ace till slightly shifting in our hold.

I can almost see him smiling softly.

"We grew up together, was basically thrown at me by my stupid gramps. He was a crybaby, always following me around... he made me think- that maybe, just maybe I'm worth something. That I'm just Ace, and not Gold Roger's spawn."

Ace's hands tighten around the bounty. 

"I was this close to waiting for him... We promised each other that we'd set sail at 17-" he laughed. "I was so scared that when I'm gone, he might end up dead in a ditch somewhere back home." 

He smiled now, proud... feral. Marco Shuddered.

"He's scrawny, he looks like a twig half the time. And that idiot almost died because of me, I was so stupid back then, I could've lost him-'

"But you didn't-yoi." I interrupted

"But it was close! And his grins...' Ace paused, staring at the bounty, 'It's like the sun."

Pops and I can't refute that.

"Reminds me of someone too-" Pop's started, smiling wistfully.

I can guess who that 'someone' was. The world government might have poisoned the narrative of the whole world about the former pirate king, but growing up under Pops and living at seas his whole life. Marco can easily separate the monster of the seas the world government painted over his pseudo uncle that always stumble over air when he sees his lovers- it has always been Gol D. Roger to him.

"He seems to be a joyful brat as well." Pops said, not bothering to hide his smile.

"With how you describe your brother son... he might be a good addition to us. And that, can be easily arranged." Pops said with a smile, I facepalmed right there. I do not wish to stage an impromptu kidnapping.

Ace laughed. "Good luck with that Pops! Luffy wanted to be the Pirate King, he won't settle down for any crew, no offense to you... And the only other pirate that might have a chance is Akagami, but even that is a stretch."

He folded the bounty and tucked it on his pocket.

"Gurarararara~ what an interesting brat." 

~~~

Marco remembered thinking that day, how bright Ace looked, the way he's almost glowing with anticipation, like the future was already written in gold. Ace loved fiercely, he hid it poorly however, behind his rashness and fire, but Marco had seen it often enough to know, Ace would hunt down anyone down who harmed the people he loved and he will gladly burn himself just to keep everyone who loves him warm. 

Its feral, its frightening, its Ace.

Ace loved Luffy. And Marco knew, had always known, that loving someone that brightly was dangerous. Fire like that was never meant to burn untouched.

Marco knew... 

He heard it first. A scream tore through the battlefield, raw and ragged- like a dying animal, ripping itself of a throat Marco had heard laugh a thousand times. His body reacted first, wings snapping open as he flew upward, trying to pinpoint were the scream comes from, the battlefield blurred- smoke, blood, canon fires- until it didn't. 

He saw him, the Whitebeard tattoo more recognizable than ever amidst the chaos- flames licking around him, smoke curling through his hair, and a scream that refused to end. Marco's chest tightened, he saw it then, a body in front of Ace, the Admiral with magma still coating his fist.

Marco knew...

He dove towards Ace- heart pounding. Marco spotted Pops staring at Ace as well, a deep frown etched on him; he saw his siblings fighting harder, more desperate. The war is loud but Ace's screams were louder, his vision funneled entirely toward him. 

The smell hit him first before anything else. Blood and burnt rubber mixing into something vile. Ace's scream grew louder, and the heat radiating off of him was unbearable. Marco didn't know what to do- he doesn't know whether to call out to Ace or to fly him away. As he got closer he saw him, Luffy... Ace's sunshine. 

Something was wrong. The boy was too still, a stark contrast to everything Ace had told them about the kid who couldn't sit still for even a moment. 

Marco trailed his eyes further, wishing -praying- that he can do something... He was the phoenix, and a doctor to boot. He will not fail here. He wouldn't fail here, if he did- it would mean betrayal to his cause and specially to Ace, the littlest of the Whitebeards, his sibling in all but blood, who'd burn himself up because the world hated his blood rather than to know who he truly was.

The boy's body was all sort of banged up. Bruises, cuts and scratches littered around the body. Some noticeable burnt pieces of clothing due to the magma bastard, but it will be fine. Belatedly, Marco thinks that Luffy's too thin for his age, but that would not matter. His chest was not moving, but body's tend to do that when in extreme trauma, slowing down function after function, but still it will fight on...

'Yeah, we can treat those, were going to make him priority once this war is over. Even if I have to chain Ace beside him to get a full recovery.'

Marco was rationalizing, it's the way he copes in this kinds of situations, it was also a way for him to comfort himself. His mind reach for solutions out of habit- ice, pressure, regeneration, a whole lot of surgery, anything and everything. His eyes trail further, to the boy's-

...

His face was gone.

Charred, majority of the skull missing, magma dripping with the blood and viscera from whatever's left of the boy's head, trailing down the ice floor making it sizzle. It eats away at the remaining mass of flesh. It was sickening, the smell of blood is everywhere, but it seems to sharpen when he saw the two brothers. There was nothing left. No eyes to close, No jaw to set.

Not even a few parting words were said. It was cruel.

Before he knew it, he was running towards Ace. Marco doesn't know what he'd do but the only thing he can provide for Ace right now is a familiar presence. He couldn't let Ace be alone.

"The son of Dragon is dead!" Akainu proclaimed, voice steady- satisfied.

Marco almost skidded to a halt, he saw it start, Ace's surroundings became hazy. He took his little brother's hand and planted a kiss on it.

"I'll be back Lu. Wait for me." Marco's heart dropped further, he knows that kind of tone- quiet promises murmured over sickbeds, over bodies that hadn't cooled yet... over families not believing the reality of it all.

It was the voice people used when they didn't want to scare the dead.

Marco turned again, battle-ready.

It was too late. Ace was already moving. 

Being burned is an innate fear, but people forget that the heat comes first before the burn. Overwhelming pressure- the air is screaming with it, the heat warping everything in a haze, the surrounding marines and pirates alike dropping down like flies. The ice cracking and melting with the pressure as the temperature increases more.

Marco felt it, like a hand wrapping around his throat, that familiar terror whenever Ace stopped thinking and started burning.

"Ace-!" The name didn't reach him.

Flames tore free, violent, feral, unyielding- no shape to them yet, just fury given heat. It licked up in Ace's arms, scorched pale in places, burned from when he fought side by side with his brother, plowing through marine battalions. His face flecked with blood- Luffy's blood- and freckles, a dark contrast to his paleness- it clung to him.

Marco realized distantly, that Ace hadn't looked back at the body again.

That was worse.

Ace lunged at the admiral. Akainu braced, magma surged forward, and for a brief, terrible moment the battlefield narrowed to the two of them- fire and magma, brother and executioner. The clash was deafening, the flames sung a symphony, calling for destruction- for justice served, the ice melted instantly.

Ace roared.

Not words. No exclamation of threat, not even a name.

Just a sound ripped out of a chest that had forgotten how to breathe.

Ace's flames flickered, from orange, to yellow, to almost white. It mirrored his anguish, his denial. The flames grow hotter and hotter, the air around them getting harder to breathe. The two fought, like man versus nature.

Marco lunged forward despite himself, wings half-formed, heart in his throat. He knew he couldn't stop Ace. Worse- he wasn't sure he wanted to. Every instinct in him, every selfish, ugly part, wanted to let Ace burn the world down and call it justice.

Just as he thought that, the wind stopped. A hiss and crackle came from where Ace and Akainu were fighting. The two on a stand-still, both logia looking out of breath, burning fists at a ready.

The two clashed again, Ace becoming more reckless, everything else doesn't matter anymore. Marines and pirates slipped out of their stupor and started running away, faces set in terror as flames and globs of magma teased towards them.

Ace snarled, his teeth flashed, blood dripping from his lips. The fire on his fists flashing more and more until it happened... white turned to blue and with it, it brought forth pure, unfiltered fury. The kind that made the world tremble- an awakening. Flames fed by grief and denial, lashing out in every direction, it doesn't pick between friend or foe. 

Akainu met him blow for blow, magma sizzling against fire, steam hissing in the air mixing with the screams in the battlefield. Marines fell back, screaming, some melted or turned to ash as fire and magma devastated through them. Even the Whitebeard pirates hesitated, unsure if they could intervene without being incinerated.

Newgate from where his mid-plight with Sengoku seemed to pause for a moment. Observing his youngest rage against a foe that he may not handle. Searching the crowd, he locked eyes with Marco, a silent order to his eldest- Protect him-

Marco nodded, he doesn't need to be ordered but it was reassuring nonetheless that their father was aware.

Ace's fist met Akainu's magma, sparks flying, the smell of sulfur and iron choked out what was left of the air. Every strike Ace made became reckless, a primal need to undo what had been done. Marco can feel it all too well, guilt and remorse twisting his guts: Ace is beginning to lose himself; he was becoming the monster the world government painted him to be. 

An inferno that will consume all that it touches.

He didn't just want fight to kill- he wanted the world to burn with him, to scorch it to its very bones. What good is everything when the one person who mattered to him the longest is gone.

And yet... even through the raging inferno, Marco notices that Ace was not defending himself anymore. He wasn't fighting to win- he was fighting to end Akainu, to end the war- to end himself if that was the cost. Marco knew it, he had seen it on countless of battles, desperation mixing with hatred and will...

A blast of magma arced too wide- to fast.

Marco didn't think.

He was there in an instant, wings flaring wide, intercepting the blow- molten rock sliding off his feathers, in sizzling, painful streaks. The heat was foreign, wrong against his own flames, it hurts- still, he held. The force of the magma blast hurled him backward, slamming him into Ace.

Finally- finally, Ace looked at him.

His fire still blazing, but Marco can see his fatigue as well, his body trembling, his energy is only a few dregs now, depleted from his time at Impel Down. He will not last much longer. Akainu is battered and wary but he can easily take out Ace, with just the right misstep or slight hesitation.

Ace's blaze still roared around him, but now it was sputtering at the edges, less a hurricane of fury and more a storm running out of fuel. His body trembled beneath Marco's steadying grip.

"Marco-" he rasped, breath coming out ragged. Marco tried to offer him a reassuring smile, but it came out more as a grimace.

"Ace.. listen to me -yoi," Marco's voice cut through the fray, firm and calm. "I won't stop you- but you're not alone in this."

Ace lips parted, trembling, words stuck somewhere between rage and exhaustion.

"Let me help you, please." Just as he uttered those words. Akainu was upon them again, his face set in a deep scowl. Magma pooling around him.

Marco maneuvered himself and Ace away from the admiral. He looked at him again, now with determination- He will not fail in this, not again.

Shaking himself out of stupor, Ace swallowed, his gaze fixed at Akainu, then at Marco. His eyes searching for something, and for a brief moment, he saw Ace eyes wandered where Luffy was.

He swallowed hard, his eyes swelling with tears that evaporated just as fast. But there's determination now.

"Please." That, made Marco grin. 

Both of them surged forward. Blue flames slammed at Akainu, hard, they didn't stop there, they kept the barrage of flames. The admiral stumbles, but still, he doesn't fall- not yet. 

He hurled globs of magma at them. Marco took to the air, dodging it, Akainu's focus turned to him. That was a mistake. Ace was already beneath him, arm poised into a punch. Blue fames made contact with Akainu's chin, the admiral was knocked back. Taking advantage of the situation, Marco swooped at him, talon's ready, ripping Akainu's side. Slowly but surely, the damage that they give Akainu is stacking.

His devil fruit working in overdrive, healing his injuries along with bringing hell upon the admiral. They moved without talking. Marco blocked, Ace struck. Marco recovered, Ace advanced. The admiral was panting, his uniform a mess of burns and cuts. Akainu looked vexed, their combined force weighing down on him.

Marco can feel himself getting winded. 'Just a bit more.' 

Akainu straightened slowly, magma dripping from his arm in heavy, incandescent strands.  His breathing was ragged now, his eyes flashing in anger, a glower on his lips. His eyes flicked once to Marco in the air... then locked into Ace.

Marco felt it immediately.

"Ace-!" Too late.

Akainu surged forward, renewed speed powered by vengeance, not toward Marco this time. He went to Ace like a man possessed, Ace planted his feet down. He won't run away, not from this- specially not to this vile man. 

Ace drew the flames inward instead of letting them lash out, blue fire condensing once more, around his shoulders, his arms- he steadied himself, throwing a stream of flames towards Akainu.

He took the hit Ace threw- blue fire tearing through the logia, magma coming off from the hit- he didn't stop. Magma roared up his arms, densely clumped, it made his fist bigger than it was, the heat radiating from it hissed.

Marco twisted midair, wings tucked, preparing himself to dive forward to Akainu-

-but he miscalculated, Akainu was right there- in front of Ace, his fists just moments away in hitting Ace.

'No-! Please!' -Too far...

"Ace!" 

Ace braced instinctively, flames flaring brighter, it burst around him once more- a vain attempt in slowing the admiral down, but his knees buckled just a fraction. Exhaustion finally caught him in that heartbeat- His fire sputtered, blue dimming at the edges.

Akainu smiled.

A cruel thing.
It wasn't triumphant.

It was certain.

The magma fist drove forward.

And then-

The world stopped.

Not slowed.
Not staggered.

Stopped.

Steel rang once, sharp and clean, cutting through the chaos like a blade through silk.

Akainu froze, his arm halted inches from Ace's chest.

A sword stood between them. Blackened, steady, unmoving.

The pressure hit a breath later- heavy, suffocating, absolute. It was not heat. It was sheer, annihilating will. The wind seemed to hold its breath.

Marco felt the dread as he felt relief.

A flash of red- "Red-Hair," Akainu snarled.

The ice beneath them groaned, spiderweb cracks racing outward as if the ground itself were bowing. Marines and weaker-willed pirates dropped to their knees. Even the fires receded.

The blade shifted, a simple flick of the wrist, then Akainu was sent flying backwards. The strike was swift, no flourish, no wasted motion. The action was deliberate, not rushed.

It signalled an arrival.

Ace's knees finally gave out. He dropped hard onto the ice, breath tearing out of him as flames guttered and collapsed inward- blue bleeding down into dull embers. His head bowed, shoulders shaking- not in defeat, not yet- but in the hollow aftermath of having burned everything he had.

Marco was there in a flash, wings turning to steady arms, he caught Ace before he could pitch forward. He felt the heat fading, the tension gone slack, the dangerous edge finally dulled. Ace was still breathing. Still alive.

But empty... spent.

Marco tightened his grip instinctively, grounding Ace against him as another wave of pressure rolled outward. This one wasn't violent- just vast. A silent declaration for a halt.

He looked up.

Red hair stirred faintly in the disturbed air. A coat hung loose over broad shoulders, unmoved by the chaos it had silenced. The man stood where Akainu had been sent flying from, sword lowered.

No shouting followed. The rest of the marine higher-ups were silent, but their faces are screwed tight, waiting- observing. The pirates, on the other hand, have relieved expressions, finally, the tide is no longer against them.

Akainu had skidded to a halt several meters away, boots carving molten scars into the ice. He rose slowly, magma churning under his skin- but he did not advance again. His jaw tightened, teeth bared, eyes locked toward the red-head, hatred and calculation dancing in his irises.

Around them, the battlefield hesitated.

Cannons went quiet. Orders died in throats. Even the sea seemed to pull back, waves stalling mid-crash against the icy banks. Everyone felt it- the invisible line drawn across the ice.

Marco exhaled shakily, not realizing he'd been holding his breath. Ace stirred weakly in his arms, fingers curling once into Marco's forearm, heat flickering but no longer raging. Not gone- just banked. Waiting.

Marco shifted, eyes never leaving the figure in front of them.

Shanks straightened his stance. His gaze slowly shift around the battlefield. His sword came to rest at his side, tip angled downward, as if the battle has finally concluded.

"Enough." The word rolled across the battlefield.

Marines stiffened where they stood. Pirates froze mid-breath.

"This war,' Shanks continued, gaze steady, sweeping once across the battlefield- over the fallen, the wounded, the dead, 'ends here."

Murmurs rippled through the ranks. Neither side lowered their weapons nor drop their guard. Adrenaline is still high, every shift and tiny movement pinpointed by wary gazes.

Sengoku's jaw tightened. His eyes flicked- to Whitebeard, to the remaining marines, to the scattered pirates.

Newgate had not moved.

He stood braced against his bisento, massive frame still casting a shadow despite the ruin carved into him. Blood flowed freely from his wounds, it stains his hands and the ice beneath him- but his eyes were sharp, fixed not on Shanks...

...but on Marco.

On Ace, slack and breathing in his arms.

For a long moment, nothing passed between them. Then Whitebeard inclined his head- Just a fraction.

Marco felt something in his chest eased just enough to soothe the high-strung pressure in his veins.

Sengoku exhaled slowly. "Red-Hair," he said voice heavy, measured. "You would involve yourself now?"

Shanks' snapped his gaze at the fleet admiral, some of his commanders also snapped in attention- guns and swords at the ready. "I already have."

Silence.

Akainu laughed, a low, harsh sound- ugly and scraping its way out of his chest. Magma bubbling along his forearm, heat warping the air around him once more.

"This war will not end until Gold Roger's spawn has been ended." He snarled.

"That boy's blood is not innocent. His blood carries the crimes of his father. His very existence is sin." He hissed at Ace.

He stepped forward, the ice hissed beneath his foot, liquefying where magma bled through the cracks. His gaze challenges Shanks, then it glared towards Ace once more.

"Gold Roger's legacy poisoned this world. Every war, every corpse, traces back to his name... Justice demands his blood spilt and his line erased." Akainu declared, a hiss of finality.

Newgate looks livid, white-knuckled gripped on his weapon. Sengoku looks on, his face not betraying his emotions within. And then Garp- he looks lost in self-hatred, blood spilling from his split lips, he stared at Ace.

And Shanks- Shanks just smiled.

It wasn't warm. It wasn't amused. It was thin, tired and utterly devoid of kindness. He stepped forward one pace.

"Funny," he said, his voice carrying through the sustained silence like a whip. "Spare me the self-righteous bullshit, mutt." A blink, that's all it took.

Shanks was in front of Akainu, not even the glint of his sword was seen at his speed. A flash and a short gush of wind from a slash of a sword.

If you asked Marco, it was too fast, too merciful of an end for a man who spewed his vitriol to a child who hated his life more than anyone... to fast of a death to an existence that ended a much loved one. To swift of an end for someone who killed the sun.

But it did. One slash, that's all it took. The mad dog of the Marines' was no more, bisected, his devil fruit never recovering from the blow. It was almost clinical in execution- it never did quenched Marco's rage, but it was done.

A soft thud, then a shower of blood and magma erupted. Akainu's face was forever etched in shock. The last thing that he saw was the eyes of a man who never thought of him as a threat.

"The war is over." Shanks said in finality, daring the fleet admiral to even oppose him.

Sengoku sighed, a bone-deep weary thing, he snatched a den den mushi from an awaiting marine, "The war is over-" he parroted Shanks, "From this point forward the Marines will issue a ceasefire..." he paused, eyes scanning the destruction. "I repeat, the war is over, lower your weapons, tend to your dead and wounded." The announcement ended.

It was almost laughable how simple the end was. Marines and pirates alike stumbled, going towards their injured comrades or to those who have fallen. The Whitebeard commanders hurried to their captain's side, most of them wounded but still alive nonetheless.

Marco felt Ace shift, he looked down at his brother, he was staring at the blood and magma stain that was Akainu. Then at Shanks figure and his commanders, then- at patch of ice where his baby brother lays.

He shrugged Marco off, and he didn't stopped him. Ace stumbles off, slowly but surely hobbling over to his baby brother, to his sunshine.

Marco can feel his eyes sting, he can't watch but gathering what's left of his strength, he goes towards Ace, lifting up his arm and supporting him. Both of them hobbled together to their destination. Marco can feel Ace's breath hitch. They closed in on Luffy, each step slower than the last, like the world itself is trying to stop them.

Newgate and his children looked at them with quiet sadness and regret. He signaled at his children to follow their brothers. It is only right to pay respects to the person who saved their family from grief...

Marco shifted his grip around Ace, he can feel their legs tremor with each effort but both of them didn't stop. Around them, the battlefield stretched in quiet devastation: shattered ice, pools of blood, and the silent murmurs of men who try to reach a semblance of comfort and finding none. The Red-Hair and the Whitebeard pirates gave them space, sensing something unspoken.

Ace didn't speak, so Marco didn't. He doesn't know what to say in the first place, he caught sight of his father along with his remaining siblings, he felt a bit of relief- good, his family is still here...

Marco bit his lip, he looked at Ace again. The boy's head hung low, shoulders are trembling now. The last few steps were awful, they were closed enough that they can see him now- 

Marco's heart lurched, and for a moment, he couldn't look away. The figure lying on the ice was still. The air hung heavy around them, everything was quiet again, a silent start to mourning- even the distant roar of the sea seemed muted, as if the world itself was holding its breath.

Ace shrugged him off again, and this time Marco let him go. Ace steps faltered as he slowly approach the figure, steps quiet, as if afraid of waking up someone who's asleep. It was heartbreaking, Marco has seen wars, yet it never really numbed him to grief... He wished it did.

Ace finally reached him, knees crashing down, his baby brother...

His fingers hovered over the body, trembling, over the space where a shoulder should be, a mime of trying to wake up someone who's sleeping, Marco saw his throat work, a painful swallow that looked like it tore something on the way down. 

"Hi Lu...' Ace's voice was a ghost of a sound, a breath stolen by the cold. A pause that stretched into eternity. Marco saw his chest hitch on a tiny, trapped inhale '...I'm back."

The words fell into silence. They didn't echo. They just... lay there. Like gravestones among the dead.

Ace waited.

Marco watched, his own breath freezing in his lungs, as Ace's head tilted. Just to a degree. An unconscious gesture, the way when animals were listening for something, a response. For a rustle, a sound- a giggle- 'Shishishishishi~'

Nothing came.

The silence that followed was different. It wasn't jarring nor a concluding one. It was a silence filled with a final, terrible answer.

Ace's hovering hand didn't retreat. It drifted down, slow as a falling leaf, until the tips of his fingers made contact. Not with skin, but with charred, frozen ruin of Luffy's cheekbone.

The touch lasted less than a second.

Ace recoiled as if struck by lightning, snatching his hand- cradling it to his chest. He stared at his own fingertips- at the black grit and frozen crimson now dusting them. He looked from his hand to Luffy's face. Back to his hand.

A sound punched out of him. A soft, wet, "Ah."

It wasn't a cry. It was the sound of comprehension. The moment of last, fragile dam of denial shattered, and the full, hideous truth flooded in.

Marco realized then, that Ace's mind denied him the truth, when he saw his brother laying there- he didn't saw the carnage and gore- he saw a peaceful face set adrift into sleep. He wished it was the case, it would've been better to remember your love one in that way, it would've been easier to grieve.

He clapped his other hand over his mouth, palm crushing his lips, stifling whatever was trying to follow. His eyes, wide and unblinking, stared at Luffy... finally truly looking at his brother and seeing only the aftermath of a hate that had no face. The trembling in his shoulders escalated into a violent, full-body shudder, as if he were being shaken apart from the inside by a force he could no longer contain.

He didn't weep. He didn't scream.

He folded.

He curled forward, his spine bowing, until his forehead came to rest with infinite tenderness on the burnt fabric of Luffy's vest. His body convulsed in silent, breathless heaves. 

For a long moment, he stayed like that- a broken arch over his brother's chest.

Marco took an aborted step forward, his healer's instinct screaming to intervene. He stopped. There was no fixing this.

He wasn't the only one who wanted to pick up the pieces of Ace. The Whitebeard commanders- Jozu with his arm hanging useless, Vista with his swords slack on his sides, Izou and Haruta under their father's arm soot and scratches decorated their bodies- had formed a silent, ragged semicircle a few paces back. They were not approaching. They were standing vigil. Their faces, hardened by decades of piracy, were slack with a shared, helpless anguish. Newgate stood at the center of them, a mountain brought low, his mind flashing to his youngest son then, memories flashing to a young man who wore his mark with hard-won pride... and then to the same young man, face alight, beaming as he shared pieces of the very person who had convinced him he could be loved at all.

It hurt, Marco saw the thought etched itself into the deep lines of his father's face, because he was no longer mourning one loss, but two. A ruin, a shattered promise that was felt just like yesterdays.

And then, movement from the other side.

Shanks had sheathed Gryphon. The tension on his shoulders are gone, his eyes alight with alertness is replaced by weariness. He and his commanders were surveying the field, now spectators to the war that they had finished, but still with greater loss.

It was Benn Beckman who noticed it first,

The First Mate was not looking at the mourners. His sharp gaze scanned the war-torn banks, scanning the debris around the epicenter of Ace's rage. They landed on a scrap of color a few yards from the Whitebeards' vigil, half buried in slush and ash.

He moved without a word, knelt, and picked it up. He shook it once, revealing more of its color. Frozen flecks of blood and snow fell away.

It was a hat. A straw hat. Crushed, its brim broken, the red ribbon stained, wet with water and blood.

Beckman froze. It was a wave of cold, paternal recognition, a flash of soft giggles and sunny smile wafted in his mind's eye- the smell of sea salt, booze, and meat drift him off from the battlefield to a little town tucked away at the weakest blue. His eyes widened, breath hitching.

He knows this hat.

Marco saw it all, the infallible second-hand man of the Red-hair pirates was shaken. He saw how the older pirate had come to a dawning conclusion, hands clenching against the ragged thing.

Beckman's gaze snapped up, searching for his captain.

Shank's was watching Ace's hunched form with scrunched eyebrows and an almost pitying frown. He hadn't seen it yet, hadn't known.

Beckman stood. He didn't run. He walked, each step heavy and deliberate, back to his crewmates. He stopped in front of Yasopp and Lucky Roux, who were watching the Whitebeards with curiosity. Without a word, Beckman held the hat out.

Yasopp's easy-going squint sharpened into confusion, then into dawning, sick horror. His face paled. "No..." he breathed, the word more denial than a statement. "That's... the kid's hat. It can't be..."

Lucky Roux's perpetual smile vanished, replaced by blank, awful stare. "Boss..." he mumbled, his voice uncharacteristically small.

It was the change in them that caught Shank's attention. He turned from the Whitebeards, his brow furrowing. "What is it?"

Beckman didn't answer, he extended his arms to him, almost a reverent display.

Shanks looked at the broken hat, it was instant recognition, he knows this hat, it was from his father, then it became his... then it was his son's.

Shanks took the hat from Beckman's outstretched hand. His fingers closed around the sodden straw, but he didn't look at it. His gaze was already fixed, with a terrifying intensity over Beckman's shoulder- past the ring of Whitebeards, past Marco, even past Ace... to the small, still center of all that silent agony.

He walked towards them, eyes misted with pain and disbelief. Every step onto the cracked, blood-slicked ice echoed through the quiet battlefield. The Whitebeard commanders hadn't dared to block him, they could see it in his eyes- the quiet torment, an unspoken grief towards family- it confuses them, but they are not cruel enough to ask aloud.

Marco watched in bated breath, as Shanks stopped at the edge of their circle. His eyes wasn't on Ace's hunched back. It was on Luffy. On the ruin of him.

Marco knows this man in his youth, when they were still cabin boys on the decks of the Oro Jackson and Moby Dick, he knows the kid who mimics his captain's antics in order to impress him, he knows the kid who annoys his brother but would fight tooth and nail for him, he knows the kid with the bright grin and the eyes that dare to challenge the world.

Marco does not recognize the man now...

Shanks grows closer to Ace and Luffy now, just behind Ace, the man didn't comfort him. He walked past him, towards the other side of Luffy.

Because it was Luffy still...

Marco would never really truly know their pain.

He would not know how the two grieve for the person who smiled at them without fear nor malice. He would not know the voice who's laugh spread like sunbeams.

He would not know him. No one will know... from this day forward.

Only a handful would truly know how to feel to love the sun... 

And to lose it forever.