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Sabo had been passed out for three days, out on the sea without a lick of rest for four weeks, and staring up at the battered Moby Dick for about two hours.
He could hear the bustling on the deck, muted after the war. People’s feet dragged instead of stepping, voices whispered and called instead of yelling across like one would expect. The exhaustion was practically palpable in the air.
Sabo wondered if he was a bad person for being a bit glad that the pirates were likely too tired to even sense him. He had a feeling that at full strength, even with his quite good haki suppression, several of the commanders would have noticed him a while ago. As it was though, he was alone, staring up at the gigantic ship on his barren boat after four weeks of barely any sleep or food. All because he had a hunch. A hunch, and a hope.
Sabo did not believe in gods. If they existed, they’d never done anything for him anyways. But the day that he’d woken up from his coma, memories intact, and looked back over the newspaper that had broken him, he’d prayed to anyone that would listen. He prayed that his brother was okay.
He knew that the papers lied. This one was vague, the image blurry, cut off weirdly. It screamed of deceit. Dragon-san had agreed with him. But even if he didn’t, Sabo had already been packing his things to go track down the Moby Dick.
He hadn’t thought much about what he’d do once he actually found it though. Weeks of sleepless nights and barely any food leaving him just staring up at the wood, tempted to pray again. Because… what if he was wrong? What if the papers had reported correctly? What if Ace was… his brother… without ever knowing…? The simple thought made him want to puke.
No, he had to get it together. If Ace was alive, he needed to know, he needed to see him. Fuck he really hoped he was alive.
Sabo took what felt like the hundredth deep breath of the day, and finally jumped off of his already tied up boat onto the railing of one of the most infamous pirate ships around.
Someone screeched, and he saw a man —Vista? He was pretty sure that was his name— trip over his own two feet and faceplant in, apparently, pure surprise. It was kind of valid, despite having thought about his entrance for over two hours, Sabo hadn’t really chosen the best option. But in his defense, he wasn’t sure there was a best option, or even a good one for that matter.
“Ah… hello,” very smooth, “I’m not here to pick a fight,” a great continuation, truly. Koala would have hit him so damn hard if she had heard.
Dozens of eyes were turned on him now, almost all narrowed in some sort of suspicion. Which was, again, valid, but very much not good for his chances of figuring out if his brother was alive or not. He hopped off of the railing, standing with his head high and his hands clearly visible.
“What’s a revolutionary doing here-yoi?” Marco the Phoenix broke through the crowd. He looked about as exhausted as Sabo felt, and he couldn’t help but feel for the poor man. As far as he knew, the man was the head medic of the crew, and the war had had more than a few injuries, he was sure that the poor guy had been working non-stop.
“I’m here on personal business, nothing to do with the revs,” Sabo clarified, hands raised above his head, making sure that they could still see he was unarmed. Well, not that it really mattered, he could likely take down at least half of these men without any weapon, but it was the principle of the matter really.
“As you can see, we’re a bit busy at the moment, perhaps we can reschedule?” Shit, he sounded pissed, not what Sabo was going for. He bit his lip, fidgeting ever so slightly in place. He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know what to do.
“I know, I just…” he could feel the exhaustion pulling him down, he was hungry, he was tired, he was frustrated, he just wanted to know if his brother was alive or not. “Please, I just need to know if he’s okay…” his voice trailed off, and to his embarrassment he realized his eyes were watering. Fuck, not the best first impression. Maybe he should have taken a nap before doing this. Realistically he knew he would’ve never been able to get any proper rest though.
Marco’s eyebrows had shot up, his annoyance turning vaguely towards confusion. He seemed to be sizing him up, blue eyes scanning him up and down. It made him a bit self conscious. He probably looked like shit. Then again none of the Whitebeard pirates were much better so who were they to judge him?
“Who are you looking for?” The phoenix finally spoke, and Sabo could’ve collapsed from pure fucking relief. They were getting somewhere. Thank fuck.
“Ace, Portgas D. Ace,” he realized, distantly, that he sounded rather desperate, but he couldn’t really find it in himself to care. He was desperate. He was more than desperate if that was even possible.
He really should have guessed that coming onto the Moby Dick and asking for the supposedly dead commander every single one of these men had risked their life for could lead to quite a bit of suspicion. Any progress he had made with the pirates was entirely erased the moment he spoke his brother's name. Eyes narrowed, weapons were raised, he could see the flames of the phoenix dancing across his skin, a dangerous glint to them. Fuck.
“Why are you looking for Ace-yoi?” The flames flickered, the threat of claws appearing and disappearing on the deck. Double fuck.
“Listen I promise I–” before he could even finish his promise, a door opened.
“Someone askin’ for me?”
Sabo couldn’t breathe.
“You fucking dumbass get back in!”
“You shouldn’t even be up-yoi!”
“Ace I swear if you take another step I will finish the job!”
A multitude of voices rose up, spanning from threats to gentle scolding to a careful hand on a shoulder gently trying to push him out of sight. It was too late though, Sabo had seen him. He looked… he looked alive. Alive and grown up and oh fuck Sabo was crying. Tears slipped down his cheeks without him ever hoping to stop them. His brother… his brother. Oh he was going to be so mad. But Sabo didn’t care. He was alive. There with the same freckled face and tanned skin and confused little expression as he was shoved behind several people.
“Ace…” he whispered, taking a step forward and almost stumbling. Weapons were immediately raised against him, but he didn’t care. His hand pushed aside a sword, ignoring the way the sharp blade sliced into his palm and the wielder gasped in surprise.
“Ace,” he called again, quietly, another step.
“Ace,” louder.
“Ace!” Sabo called, screaming the name he hadn’t spoken in a decade and yet still fit in his mouth like a worn glove.
Messy black hair came back into view as Ace managed to push himself past the people blocking him. Their eyes locked, Sabo’s blurry vision taking in the brother he was sure he’d lost. Ace seemed to take him in right back, and silence enveloped the deck. They stared at each other, Sabo crying quietly, his tears falling with the drops of blood from his hand, staining the Moby’s deck.
Ace stared and stared and stared and Sabo stared right back. He watched as his brother’s eyes widened in recognition and then narrowed in suspicion and widened again. Ace took a step towards him, and then another, and Sabo stumbled forward until they stood before each other.
“Ace,” his voice was a whisper again. This close he could hear the way that Ace’s breath hitched, the way his lip trembled. He looked so different, and yet exactly the way he remembered him, and Sabo was so, so glad he was alive.
“Sabo…?” The deck was full of people, but it felt as if only they existed. Just them. Sabo and Ace. Ace and Sabo. Just like it had always been.
Ace’s hand shakily reached up, landing on his cheek, right on the burn mark that had taken so much from it. The scar tissue was a bit rough, odd to feel if you weren’t used to it, but Ace just brushed his thumb over it, once and then twice, and then his hand dropped.
Sabo had to resist the urge to sob when the man took a step back. No, no, no. Why was he leaving? He’d just found him, why was he walking away? He stepped forward, and Ace stepped back, shaking his head.
“No… no you’re not— you’re dead… you…” Ace shook his head, again and again, the hand that had just cradled Sabo’s face brought up to his hair, tugging harshly at the strands in a gesture so familiar it made Sabo want to scream.
“I-I know, it’s… it’s a long story I just—” Sabo stepped forward again, and Ace stepped back.
“No, no, no, no! You— he is dead!” Ace’s voice came out in a hiss, the anger that Sabo was so used to coming right back. He sounded just like he had the last time he’d seen him, harsh and defensive and so, so caring.
“I know, I know, I’m so sorry Ace fuck I—” Sabo wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to apologize enough.
Ace’s breath was picking up, he’d stopped stepping backwards, but his gaze was distant, his eyes glazed, and the tugging at his hair was becoming more and more aggressive. Sabo bit his lip, hard, tasting the copper of blood. He stepped closer, slowly, reaching a hand up to Ace’s. The man flinched away. Sabo bit his lip so hard he was sure it would scar.
“Ace… breathe,” he whispered, keeping his voice as steady as he could, just like he had when they were kids. Ace’s breath was too heavy, he was gasping in air more than he was breathing it, and Sabo had just gotten him back, he wasn’t about to let him pass out from a panic attack.
“Come on, gimme your hand,” he continued, carefully reaching up to grab the hand that Ace didn’t have tangled in his hair. He let out a shaky sigh of relief when the man didn’t flinch away again, allowing him to bring the hand closer, pressing it right against his heart. He took a deep breath in, and then out, letting Ace feel the way his chest expanded and contracted.
They had done this when they were little, far before they knew what a panic attack was. Sabo remembered it was scary. His best friend would just start freaking out and wouldn’t take a breath no matter what he did. Ace had passed out several times, and Sabo had cried every time. They were kids, not even double digits. One day though, as Ace panicked and Sabo tried not to sob, he’d brought his soon to be brother close and tried to breathe, hoping that somehow he could give him his air. And, somehow, it had worked. Ace had pressed his hand against Sabo’s chest and followed the rise and fall.
It wasn’t until a few years later when Sabo was combing through a medical textbook that he learned what happened. He never told Ace, but from then on he stayed calm, brought Ace’s hand to his chest, and breathed in and out, sharing his air with his brother just like they shared everything else.
It worked just as well now as it did then. Only a few minutes in, and Ace’s breath evened out, his eyes staring up at him, wide and watery.
“There… there, you’re okay,” his smile was a shaky, broken thing, his tears mingling with the blood of his bitten lip. Ace took in a deep breath. And then another. And then he burst into sobs, and Sabo found himself with an armful of stupid big brother for the first time in ten years.
Sabo sobbed.
It didn’t take long for their legs to give out, neither of them able to hold themselves up, much less each other. They collapsed to the deck in a mess of limbs, knees clacking against the wood. Ace was practically draped on top of him, leaving Sabo to bend backwards awkwardly to try and keep them both upright. His legs were gonna hurt like a bitch once he finally actually cared about anything else but his brother.
They clung to each other like they had when they were children, almost on top of one another, hands grappling desperately at clothes and hair, faces hidden against shoulders and in the safe crooks of necks.
Distantly Sabo was grateful for the Whitebeard Pirates and their apparent decision to leave the two of them alone. He wasn’t quite sure what he would have done if someone had tried to separate them, but he was sure it wouldn’t have been pretty. Ace cared about these people, these people cared about Ace, he couldn’t just go and kill them, intentionally or otherwise.
It could have been hours or seconds, time didn’t seem to matter much right now, but eventually they ran out of tears. Actually Sabo had a feeling that on his end it was less running out of tears and more that he was too exhausted to wail like a child anymore. The lack of sleep and food was hitting him full force now that he had his brother in his arms again, and his eyes were fighting to stay open. He struggled to keep the previously tight grip, his hands slipping down, the soft fabric of bandages falling from his hold.
“‘Bo?” Ace whispered, voice rough and scratchy. Sabo grunted in response, nuzzling his face groggily into the man's shoulder. “Are you seriously falling asleep right now?” A soft, disbelieving sort of laugh left his brother, and he felt his head shake above him.
“Tired… four weeks…” he muttered, he felt like he was really about to pass out, if his eyes could open, he was sure his vision would have been covered in black dots. Fortunately he couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes, so everything was black, and therefore it didn’t count and he was fine.
“You been awake for four fucking weeks!?” Ace hissed, suddenly pushing Sabo out of his very comfortable spot against his collarbone to supposedly get a good look at him.
Sabo opened his eyes, and his theory was immediately confirmed when Ace’s frowning, worried face was blocked out by the black dots that decidedly did count now that he could see them. Dammit.
“Fuck, you have been awake for four weeks, you look like shit,” his brother huffed, and Sabo pouted by instinct. Just because he was probably right didn’t mean it wasn’t rude. And he hadn’t been awake for four weeks straight! Just… the majority of it.
“Bet you’ve barely had food too, you moron.” Ace shook his head, glaring down at him. “Fucking idiot I just get you back and you’re already trying to kill yourself off again?” He grumbled, and Sabo felt his face gently get pressed back into a warm shoulder, allowing him to close his eyes again with a quiet little huff of acknowledgment.
“Okay, this has been interesting-yoi. But I do need Ace back in bed before his insides fall out again,” a voice drifted into the little bubble they had formed, and Sabo abruptly remembered that they very much had an audience. An audience that included a very tired sounding Marco the Phoenix. Wait… his insides!? Suddenly he was significantly more awake.
Sabo snapped back from Ace, grimacing at the way it made his vision swim and blur. But he couldn’t help himself, what the fuck did the phoenix mean by his insides falling out!? That did not sound good! At all! Why the fuck was Ace even up then!?
“What the fuck do you mean fall ou— holy shit,” Sabo practically screeched when his vision finally adjusted and he properly took in Ace’s body. He was covered in bandages, some already stained red. Now that he looked at him without tears or relief or panic clouding his vision, he could definitely see what Marco was talking about. Ace should absolutely not be up.
“Fucking hell, go lay down oh my gods! What do you get off saying I’m trying to kill myself!? Have you seen a mirror recently!?” Sabo fussed immediately, his hands letting go to hover awkwardly around him, eyes somehow watering yet again, despite the fact that he was pretty sure he was dehydrated enough that a normal person would have keeled over already.
“I’m fine, I’m fine! It looks worse than it is,” Ace gave him a smile and Sabo did not believe him for a single second.
He hated letting go, but he had a feeling Ace wouldn’t move until he did. He forced the exhaustion down once more, using the burst of panicked adrenaline he’d gotten from seeing his brother's battered state to get to his feet. He swayed for a moment before catching himself and taking a breath, and then offered his hand out.
Ace took the hand without hesitation, letting Sabo pull him up. They both immediately stumbled back, Ace practically beginning to fall on top of him and Sabo barely able to keep himself up, much less another grown man. Thankfully it seemed like someone had expected this, because before they could eat shit an unknown hand was pressed against Sabo’s back and the blurry sight of Marco the phoenix appeared before him to carefully catch Ace.
“Right, let’s get you both to bed, and then I believe we would all like an explanation,” the owner of the mystery hand behind him spoke. He was just glad they hadn’t fully fallen over, in hindsight trying to pull a very much injured Ace up while barely able to hold himself upright was probably not the greatest idea. None of his ideas lately had been all that great if he was being honest, but well, he wasn’t dead and neither was his brother and that’s all that really mattered.
“Yeah… thanks, I can… yeah,” he nodded, forcing himself back into some semblance of balanced and reaching out to grab Ace’s hand, holding it tight. Marco grabbed Ace’s other hand, using it to drape the man's arm over his shoulders and begin half carrying him back into the ship. The person he still didn’t know behind him kept a hand on his elbow, and like that they awkwardly made it through the unknown halls of the Moby Dick and into a room Sabo could only assume was the med bay.
Ace was deposited safely on a surprisingly comfortable looking medical cot. The mystery man who hadn’t let go of him, gently tugged him back, encouraging him to let go, likely to get a chair for him to sit in. He almost went, his vision back to being blurry, the shot of adrenaline he’d gotten already fading. It wasn’t until his fingers began to come untangled from Ace’s that he reacted, immediately tightening his grip, planting his feet firmly on the floor. Ace hadn’t done much different, noticing the moment that Sabo had begun to be pulled away and gripping his hand.
“He will lay down with me,” Ace’s voice was firm, daring them to argue, Sabo was grateful, because he would have torn these people to shreds if they’d tried to force him away from his brother right now.
“Ace… we still don’t know who this is-yoi,” the phoenix sighed, Sabo felt for him, he really did, but he also wasn’t about to leave Ace.
“This is Sabo, he’s my brother, he’s been dead for ten years” Ace really was terrible at explanations.
“Your…? Ace this guy is very much alive,” the mystery man spoke up again, but didn’t try to separate them again, simply holding Sabo’s elbow to keep him upright.
“Yeah, I know, which is why I kinda wanna punch him,” Ace grumbled, Sabo didn’t need to see him to know he was glaring.
“Okay, before we punch anyone, I’m changing those bandages and checking that nothing is ripped,” Marco spoke up, making no room for discussion. “Jozu, please bring a second bed here and press them together. For now Sabo, please stand next to the bed, you can hold his hand but I need access to the rest of him, once I’m done you can be clingy as long as you leave his stomach and back alone,” Marco continued, already beginning to bring out medical supplies. Sabo couldn’t help but admire the man for his handling of the situation, he could see why he was the first mate of the Whitebeard Pirates.
Soon things were in action, a bed was being moved, Ace was laying down on his side and Marco was cutting off bandages.
The moment the wounds were revealed, Sabo felt sick. Even through the blur and dots in his vision, he could see it was bad, really bad. How exactly his brother had been standing at all before this was an absolute mystery to him. Blue flames ghosted across his skin, and Sabo was sure that without the healing abilities of the phoenix his brother would have been long dead.
He stared, holding onto Ace’s hand, wincing every time Ace let out a noise of pain or squeezed his hand particularly hard. He was sure he was grimacing, and he was glad that as far as he could tell his brother’s eyes were closed and unable to see it. He wanted to cry all over again.
Thankfully, Marco was fast, and soon enough clean bandages were hiding the terrifying wound from sight and Sabo was being gently moved out of the way so that the second bed could be pressed against the first.
“There,” the phoenix sighed, staring down at Ace with a pinched expression before his gaze turned up to Sabo. “Get some rest, you need it,” and with that he was grabbing the mystery man —Jozu? He was pretty sure that’s what he’d said his name was— and dragging him out of the sick bay.
Sabo didn’t let go of Ace’s hand, even when he had to stretch out weirdly to sit on the edge of the other bed. He didn’t let go as he unlaced his boots and tugged him off, or as he took off his hat and set it aside. He ignored anything he couldn’t do one handed, simply tugging his cravat and belt off and then finally laying down.
Then it was just them again, hands intertwined, tired eyes locked into each other. Sabo took in a shaky breath, and let it out, and Ace copied him almost by instinct.
“I’m sorry…” he whispered, scooting himself a bit closer, just wanting to feel his brother's warmth, the undeniable proof that he was alive.
“Why didn’t you come back…?” Ace’s voice was a whisper to match his, but it did nothing to hide the pain in it. Sabo clutched his hand just a bit tighter.
“I… I got blown up, it was… it was bad, my head was hit real bad and I…” his lower lip wobbled, and yet no tears came, it really felt like he was all out of them. “I forgot… Ace I couldn’t remember anything,” he stuttered, his breathing picking up ever so slightly. “I only knew my name because you had written it on my goggles. I barely even knew how old I was. I knew nothing,” his body spasmed, as if it wanted to sob and wasn’t quite able to.
Ace’s free hand came up to his face, gently tracing over the burn mark before he carefully brought him in again. His head was tucked under a painfully familiar chin, body curled ever so slightly away from Ace, making sure he didn’t touch his stomach. Their legs tangled, both of Sabo’s hands curled around one of Ace’s, held close to his heart. The hand not in his grip curled into his blond hair, gently stroking the strands.
“I’m so sorry,” he whimpered. “I saw you in the papers and everything came back and… and you were… I thought you…” his body spasmed again, violently, and Ace held him just a bit tighter.
“Don’t apologize… not for that,” he whispered, Sabo could feel his breaths against the top of his head, it was the most wonderful sound he’d heard in weeks. He sniffled, nuzzling his face into the bit of shoulder it had ended up against.
“Sleep ‘Bo, I’ll be here when you wake up,” Ace murmured. Their conversation would have to continue, Sabo would have to explain where he went, what had happened. They would have to eat and drink. They’d have to contact their silly little brother and make sure that they could hold him close as soon as possible. But right now, Sabo was exhausted, and Ace was warm and breathing and alive.
Sabo couldn’t have stayed awake even if he wanted to. He fell asleep to the soft breaths ruffling his hair and the warm hands pressed against him.
It had been three days of unconsciousness, four weeks of desperate sailing and about two hours of hesitation. And now, finally, they were together again.
Ace and Sabo. Sabo and Ace.
Just them. Alive.