Water dripped down the cold stone walls behind his back, sending a shiver throughout his body. He hunched his shoulders a bit more and brought his knees to his chest, the sound of metal on metal echoing in the quiet stone room.

It was lonely down there, but he was no less lonely than he had been before he was captured. It was just him now. If he had known he would eventually end up like this, he wouldn't have eaten that devil fruit all those years ago; even now it was stubbornly keeping him alive. He wasn't sure how long he had been down there in the lowest level of Impel Down, weeks, months, or merely a few days. There was no outside source of light in the depths of the prison to keep track with, only a few lanterns hanging outside each cell; but what he did know was that it had been long enough.

The seastone shackles that cuffed his ankles and wrists had already rubbed his skin raw and since his power had been taken away they hadn't healed. He hadn't had to deal with prolonged pain like this since he ate the devil fruit and he had lost count of how many years had passed since then. He had seen the turn of many centuries and the rise and fall of kingdoms before he even met Edward Newgate, and it had been nearly 20 years since his father's death.

He scratched at his wrist, watching as grey dust drifted to the floor. That was interesting. He turned his hand up toward him to get a better look, carefully sliding the cuff out of the way. Through the dim lighting of the room he noticed that his skin looked a little different than it had before. Granted, the band of blood, blisters and raw skin that encircled his wrist wasn't considered normal outside of the prison, but the redness had started to give way to a lighter color. He rubbed at the spot some more and his brows knit together in confusion as he watched the gray spread further down his arm, scattering more dust into his lap.

The sound of slamming cell doors brought his thoughts away from the anomaly on his wrist. Usually, the final level of Impel Down was quiet with only the rattling of chains in nearby cells, or the jeering of the warden and other guards when they made rounds. That loud sound was different and deafening to his sensitive ears, much like cannonfire disrupting a peaceful night. The unwelcome noise reminded him of how he had gotten to be in this accursed place.

He could still hear the boom from the cannonball being shot from the marine ship that fateful day; it had whizzed past his head and sent wood flying everywhere as it crashed into the side of his ship.

Standing at the stern of the Pequod, Marco watched the marines draw closer to his ship sending cannonball after cannonball their way in an attempt to slow down what remained of the Whitebeard pirates. One had already crashed into the side of the ship, destroying a huge chunk of railing; it was lucky that the hull hadn't been breached or they would be in bigger trouble than they already were. The men knew better than to try to repair such insignificant damage while danger was still encroaching, and so the deck was quickly flooded with Whitebeard pirates bearing swords and guns, itching for battle.

This particular crew of marines had been chasing them since the last island, and Marco had been certain they had lost them sometime in the night, but as the sun rose, they were greeted with the enemy ship over the port stern. And with cannons placed on the bow of their ship to aid in their pursuit, the marines had continued to sail closer to their target, firing in an attempt to incapacitate the fleeing pirates.

From where Marco was, this did not look like it was going to be a clean escape. They would certainly need to spend a day or two at a friendly island to make repairs and patch-up any wounds; maybe a month depending on how much damage the ship sustained.

"Incoming!" Jozu shouted from the watch position on the mizzenmast as another shot was fired, and Marco threw himself to the deck as the projectile flew directly through the spot where his head had been. He gave a shaky sigh of relief at having narrowly missed decapitation; something that his devil fruit power definitely would not have been able to fix. As the sound of crashing and explosions boomed across the water there was then a loud creaking of wood as the mizzenmast began toppling over, sending splinters everywhere. As it fell, the top got caught on the sail of the main mast tearing a hole in the once pristine white sail, before finally coming to rest on yard.

Jozu hung one-handed from the watch post, feet dangling high above the ground as he attempted to pull himself to safety. Just as both hands managed to grasp the edge another cannonball hit its mark, shattering the watch post and sending Jozu tumbling to the ground.

Marco watched as the diamond man hit the deck. However, while Jozu made it out alive and unharmed, the deck was not so fortunate and now there was now an enormous hole right where he had landed. Several of the men who had fallen in after him were now slowly climbing their way back on deck, carefully maneuvering their way around the pointy shards of wood.

The battle hadn't even begun and already his men were handicapped. A few were bleeding from the crash and now, if the marines boarded their ship, they would have to fight their way around the broken deck. But their biggest problem at the moment was the channel that lay before them

They had reached a large archipelago with enormous islands sometime in the early morning and had hoped to evade the marines amongst them, only now they were stuck. Without knowing the layout of the islands the Whitebeards had found themselves stuck between two islands with massive cliffs along the coasts, and between the islands was a narrow channel that was barely big enough for them to squeeze through.

Running his hand through his hair, Marco let out an audible sigh before turning to address his slightly disheveled crew. "All right gentlemen! It seems that conflict is inevitable. We're not going to be able to escape from these marines with our ship in one piece, the only option is to face them head on." A chorus of enthusiastic yells were his response, as another cannonball splashed into the sea off the port side. God their aim was terrible.

"We are Whitebeard Pirates and we never go down without a fight." he continued. So everyone to their battle stations." A loud cacophony of noise erupted from the deck as the men scrambled to their places weapons in hand.

Marco watched them spread out over the small ship, some manning cannons while the sharpshooters climbed what remained of the mast and riggings to get a good vantage point of the approaching enemy. The others who were better at close combat crowded to the side of the ship with swords and pistols, watching the marines as they sailed closer; each preparing for the moment when the two ships would collide and they would be swarmed by enemy combatants.

While they were Whitebeard pirates, it had been decades since their name had made men quake in their boots around the world. Strawhat Luffy now filled that position, and Marco couldn't have been prouder of Ace's rambunctious little brother, who had set out to do what seemed the impossible and succeeded. Now the Whitebeards were few in number and getting on in years, many having decided to retire and settle down, some left to form their own crews, others having died of old age or injuries in the past 20 something years since Edward Newgate's death. To say the least, their numbers had significantly decreased and their large fleet now consisted of one ship, significantly smaller than the Moby Dick.

There was a twang, and Marco cocked his head, listening carefully as a faint zipping noise grew louder and louder before he heard a loud thunk and the panicked cries of his men. Another thunk followed the first as grappling hooks flew through the air and attached themselves to the side of the ship. There was definitely no escaping now that the two ships were tethered together.

It wasn't long until the two ships bumped together, the men on either side staring into the eyes of the ones across the narrow gap, the only thing separating the two were the wooden railings and a small gap opening up to the deep, dark sea. The tension was felt on both sides as marines and pirates waited for orders.

"Attack!" came a battle cry and soon the two sides clashed together, soldiers and outlaws jumping from one ship to the other in an attempt to get at their opponents and wreak havoc, leaving trails of blood in their wake.

Marco jumped down to the lower deck to join the chaos, jacket flapping in the wind exposing his bare chest and the Whitebeard tattoo that he was so proud of. A naive young marine ran up to him swinging his sword cutting his arm, but it was quickly healed by bright flickering blue flames. However, before his body had even began to knit itself together Marco swiftly kicked the marine in the chest sending him flying backwards, incapacitating three others in the process as they all landed in a heap on the deck.

With the use of his haki, he calmly walked through the chaos, ever mindful of debris left by the cannon fire, dancing past every blow that came his way and delivering a few kicks when necessary. Finally, he made it to his destination at the bow of the ship and watched as the Pequod sailed nearer to the strait, the jagged rock walls on the starboard side threatening latch on and rip a hole into the already damaged ship. It wasn't big enough for both ships to fit through and Marco knew that the only way to ensure that either of them made it was for one of them to retreat. They were at the mercy of the marines, and they did not seem to backing down anytime soon.

Battle cries echoed in his ears as his comrades fought their hardest to secure the ship and force the marines to retreat.

"You've been hiding, Marco the Phoenix." said a deep voice behind him, and Marco turned around to face the intruder. "I never imagined that the great phoenix would stand on the sidelines, scarcely involved in the battle while his men fought around him. You can't be scared, you're the phoenix, that devil fruit power you had would just heal your wounds right up."

The marine vice admiral, twirled his gun in his hand as he spoke, as if he had not a care in the world.

The Whitebeard captain looked calmly at the marines, while internally his mind was working quickly. Something isn't right, this man's men are getting slaughtered and yet he keeps his cool. There must be something I'm missing. Marco watched the vice-admiral closely, attempting to determine the next move through haki, his blood ran cold in his body.

"Someone has to keep an eye of the encroaching cliffs. Make sure that the ships make it through." He smiled smugly, keeping his expression passive. "It would be a shame to cut this battle short on account of both of our ships sinking wouldn't you say?"

The vice-admiral smiled back, cocking his gun and pointing it at Marco's bare chest. "You're just wasting your time, Phoenix. You should have focused your attention on eliminating my men and getting away."

Marco's eyes grew wide, and everything appeared to be moving in slow motion as he watched the marine's finger on the trigger of the gun, smirk still contorting his features. The bullet arced through the air, hitting just above his heart. The impact jerked him backwards and he was suddenly caught off guard by the pain, right hand reaching up on reflex. He had been expecting it, having seen into the man's mind and understood his motives; a seastone bullet, one shot to the heart and he would be dead. Only the shot hadn't hit its mark and Marco still breathed, enveloped in a world of pain that he had not experienced in what seemed like forever.

It was like someone had thrown a bucket of frozen water over his head, the warmth of the phoenix's eternal flames flickering out as the effects of the seastone wormed their way into every fiber of his being. And then there was the pain, like a red hot poker being shoved into his shoulder and twisted making it hard to breath or even move. Marco could feel his energy being sapped away with each passing second, but he stubbornly held on, refusing to succumb to the clutches of darkness.

Marco chuckled at the look on the vice-admiral's face, "Looks like you missed."

The marine glowered and turned around walking back toward his ship "Doesn't matter, it was enough to ensure your end." he called over his shoulder. "Men, fall back."

Puzzled and having difficulty breathing, Marco could only watch as the marines abruptly stopped their fighting and made a beeline for their vessel, cutting the ropes that tethered the two ships as they went. The Pequod drifted freely away just in time for it to pass safely between the two cliffs on either side of the strait.

The Whitebeards stood on the deck, confusion written over their faces as they watched the marine ship drop anchor to avoid following them through.

Haruta was the first to break the silence, "Marco, what is going on. Do you see anything?" The rest of the crew was quick to follow, some of them making their way to Marco's position on the bow, while others began tending the wounds of their fallen comrades. With a groan of pain and fatigue from the seastone sapping all of his energy, Marco turned to face the bow as well, his most trusted men at his back; and what they saw sent shivers down their spines.

There before them was an entire fleet of marine ships, each equipped with cannons and turned to the side ready to attack when given the order. The Pequod continued on its path toward the awaiting fleet,enemies to the back and to the front.

All they could do was watch as the inevitable happened. Each of the ships fired simultaneously, the cannonballs soaring through the air like a curtain aiming to envelop the Whitebeards in fire, debris and darkness.

When Marco came to on a piece of driftwood that he had miraculously found himself on, all that lay before him were the scattered remains on his ship and the once clear blue sea tainted red. It took what remained of his strength to keep his little raft from upending and throw him under into the dark depths of the sea. His men were gone, either burned alive from the white-hot fire or drowned.

Bodies floated in the water amidst the torn up sails and debris. Among them lying face down was a familiar kimono clad figure, hair floating freeing in the current having been torn loose from its usual immaculate styling. Marco looked away, unable to bear the sight of his lost brother and confidant.

Was he the only one left? By all means he was the least likely to survive. He had lost his ability to swim when he consumed the phoenix fruit, and now with the seastone bullet stuck in his shoulder he shouldn't even have had enough energy to flee from the rain of iron. Yet here he was, life clinging to him like a curse even without the phoenix there to patch up his wounds and fly him away. He floated there, surrounded by the flotsam and jetsam, contemplating whether to roll off the piece of wood keeping him afloat or wait for rescue.

With his eyes closed he didn't notice the shadow that was cast over him until it covered him completely, blocking the bright sun's warm rays. Slowly, he opened one eye to peek at the source of darkness to come face to portside of yet another marine ship.

"Well look who we have here gentlemen. It looks like we have a survivor and it's none other than Marco the Phoenix." A voice taunted from above him. "Someone go down there and bring him up. We may yet be able to claim his bounty."

After that there was nothing. He wasn't sure if he had blacked out, or had just blocked it from his memory.

Days had passed, or so Marco assumed, and the grey patch on his wrist had spread. It now covered his entire arm, part of his shoulder on the other side, and based on the itching and dust falling, his nose.

While he had initially been curious about it before, he now viewed it with a mixed sense of relief and dread.

Without the power of the phoenix his age was beginning to catch up to him. The myths he had read when he was younger said that when a phoenix was close to death it would burst into flames and turn to ash, before rising up anew. That had never happened to him before, and quite honestly, he had never been sure if that applied to him. But in any case, he had come to realize that his constant regenerations were the cause of his lack of aging. While he did grow older, it was at a much slower rate than everybody else because with each major wound that was healed, every cell in his body was recreated.

Now without access to his power to heal the many wounds inflicted on him by the prison guards, his biological clock had started ticking and the phoenix had decided now was the time to be reborn. The only problem was the seastone, which left him smoldering and the bird permanently trapped inside him, unable to break free from the chains that bound them both deep in the heart of Impel Down.

Marco let his arms hang from the chains above his head, and leaned back against the cold damp wall gingerly. He clenched his teeth as raw skin made contact with the stone. Lately, he had the constant feeling of being watched from the shadows and he refused to give the guards the pleasure of hearing him cry out. They had been more brutal recently with their torture, not content enough to leave him alone in the dark cell with his thoughts.

But despite his best efforts, he hissed at the stinging and the pain that shot through his wrecked body.

"My poor Marco. That looks like it hurts."

Marco's head shot up, surprised at the voice; it was so near and so painfully familiar.

When his blue eyes, now faded with despair and resignation, met the pair of warm brown ones before him, a broken sob burst from his mouth. It had been 20 years since he had last seen that friendly freckled face that had always worn that magnificent mischievous grin that had gifted loving smiles to Marco alone.

It was Ace.

He read through his to-do list again, the Whitebeards were docking to resupply and as the first division commander it would be on his head if something was forgotten or left behind.

"Relax, Marco. Everything will be fine." Izo placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a light squeeze. "It's not like you haven't done this a thousand times before."

"Yes, but this is the first time going with Ace." he frowned, unconvinced by his brother's optimism.

Their newest recruit and brother came with a lot of pros and cons. On one hand, Ace was a powerful logia user and strong capable fighter, rivaling even Jinbe in combat, not to mention he was hot.

On the other hand, he ate so much that the cooks could barely keep up, he was easily distracted and narcoleptic; he was also unbelievably hot.

Marco was no stranger to men's bodies, after all he was a pirate with hundreds of brothers, but Ace was something else, and it caused the poor phoenix endless distraction whenever the fire man was around. Thankfully, Izo and Thatch, who were aware of Marco's infatuation and tormented him incessantly, were the only ones who knew.

Izo's grin widened and Marco saw a glimmer of mischief in his eyes, causing him to sulk internally. This isn't going to end well for me.

"Well my dear brother, there is only one way to see how badly this excursion could end up, so let's go!" Izo said as he led Marco down a creaking gangplank to where Thatch and a ginned Ace waited.

They had been working their way around the market for about three hours now and Marco could see that Ace was starting to get bored. Unfortunately, he wasn't the only one to notice it, as Izo had been keeping his eye on the young man the entire time, sometimes pulling him aside to check out another vender. But at least the shopping is almost complete, Marco thought to himself as he looked at the list again, all that is left is to visit the butcher and... He paused when he felt a pair of eyes observing him, and looked up to see Izo watching him closely.

"What?" he asked nervously.

Izo just smirked. "Hey Ace, did you know that Marco is a big fan of exotic birds?"

Marco quickly turned to look at Ace, who was with Thatch trying to negotiate fruit prices with a vender. The young man's head popped up, his eyes wide and grin wider as if he was suddenly hit with the most amazing idea he had ever had.

"Marco!" He yelled, latching on to the first division commander's arm. "Let's go bird watching. I just saw the most incredible parrot not to long ago. I'm sure there are plenty of other colorful birds to see on this island." Ace was practically jumping with excitement over the idea of going bird watching with him, and all Marco could do was stand there speechless.

"Ummm…" He started looking at Izo and Thatch, who had finished with the fruit seller. "I-I don't know. There are still a few things on the-"

He stopped as a hand was shoved into his face, "I don't want to hear it birdbrain. Thatch and I will take care of the rest, so hand over the list." Izo commanded while Thatch shrugged as a way of apologizing for ganging up on him and for agreement with Izo's words. "Here, you can even take this basket of food with you."

And suddenly a large wicker basket was forcefully shoved into his hands, Ace practically drooling next to him at the thought of food. "But isn't this supplies for the ship?"

Izo winked. "You wish darling. But I packed this especially for you and Ace." he whispered that last part.

"Now, off you two lovebirds go! Don't worry about the list." Thatch called after them with a wave, Ace dragging a stunned Marco after him towards the beach.

By the time that they reached the beach, Marco had accepted his fate and was walking calmly next to Ace swinging the basket in his hand while the younger man excitedly pointed out the different flora and fauna. The beach was all but deserted and with a short distance from the sea to the tree line, they could easily rest in the shade and still hear the soothing sound of waves crashing against the shore. Marco placed the basket in the shade before stretching and looking around to see where Ace had gotten off too, only to find him already going through the food.

"What do you want to eat first?" he mumbled as he bit into a turkey leg and reached for the bottle of sake. "Oooo, this is some fancy stuff, don't you think, Marco?"

The phoenix briefly facepalmed at the antics of his brother, before smiling, "Why don't we unload everything first before we start eating, there has to be a- oh here it is." He pulled out a bright blue blanket, Izo really is prepared for everything, and spread it out next to them before neatly placing the food and plates on it. There were several different types of meat, some oranges and much to his chagrin, a pineapple, as well as a few rolls and sweet pastries for dessert. And to wash everything down was the bottle of sake that Ace had found earlier.

They ate slowly, which was interesting to watch, as Marco was sure Ace wanted to cram everything into his mouth all at once. It was always surprising to see how the loud and brash young man who had been trying to kill Whitebeard when he first joined could also be so polite and a good listener. The two talked for hours over cups of sake, Ace telling Marco about his rambunctious little brother who would one day become King of the Pirates; his face lighting up with each word as if he truly believed what he was saying and Marco silently hoped that one day he might be able to make Ace smile like that..

As their picnic came to an end as the sun set, all that was left was the sake. Marco poured the last of it into each of their small cups, and then to his astonishment Ace lifted his in a toast.

'Thank you, Marco. I really enjoyed getting the time to spend with you. and I never got to tell you how much I appreciate everything you did for me when I first found myself on the Moby Dick." He smiled sincerely and in a way that made Marco imagine Ace as something more than just a brother and crewmate. Ace edged closer so that their knees were brushing and Marco could feel the other's breath on cheek. But before Marco could even process what was happening, Ace tipped back his cup of sake and was leaned into his space, his warm lips pressing against Marco's own, before quickly pulling back.

Marco sat there stunned, blinking owlishly at the man before him, unable to put his thoughts into words, all while Ace's face turned bright red and flames started swirling around his body in agitation.

"Oh my god. I'm so sorry! I thought you wanted me to kiss you. It was all Izo and Thatch's idea and I really thought that-" He was silenced by Marco's arm on his wrist, pulling him close once again and bringing their lips together in another blissfully warm kiss.

"They weren't wrong." Marco whispered when they pulled away from each other, and it was Ace's turn to be stunned.

"You mean-? That you and me-? We could- Cuz I-." He stuttered out, not finishing a single sentence before he jumped up and started running down the beach shouting drunkenly along the way.

"Ace! Where are you going?" Marco called after him, completely understanding what Ace had been trying to say, but wishing that the man had actually put it into words before running away from him. He slowly stood up, stretching out his cramped muscles when he heard a cry of alarm followed by a splash. Turning quickly toward what he believed was Ace's direction, he saw the young man, sprawled out on the wet sand, where it appeared as if the small tide washing up on shore had caught him off guard and he had lost his balance. There was a low moan of agony as another wave crashed over the poor man; well it looks like he's still alive, Marco thought as he made his way to Ace while simultaneously trying to keep from bursting out in laughter at the situation.

"Maaarrcooooo! I fell over. Help me." Ace moaned as he slowly lifted a hand up. Marco took it and carefully hoisted Ace to his feet and away from the water. The poor man was soaked with seawater and covered in sand, which was now being wiped all over Marco.

"Alright, we need to get you dried off. Do you think you could still make a fire?"

Ace lifted his head and nodded, "Yeah, but I'll need to take off my clothes first, they are drenched in seawater after all." He added with a broad cheeky grin, and Marco spluttered, his face growing hot with embarrassment.

"Yeah, sure. You do that. I'll ummm… be over there getting some wood." He called over his shoulder as he dropped Ace and ran for the treeline. He could hear Ace cackling as he went.

By the time he returned, Ace had already disrobed but was mercifully wrapped up in the blanket.

"Did you get the wood?"

Marco nodded, choosing to remain silent and stubbornly trying not to think of that last question as anything but what it was.

"Great, set it down and I'll light it up."

When the fire was blazing brightly, thanks to Ace's ability and skill with building fire pits, the two of them were left in an awkward silence.

"So.." They both started, before turning away in wasn't working out the way that Marco had hoped. He had pictured this going much smoother and not with both of them sitting on a beach, one practically naked, and neither actually willing to start to the conversation

"What is your favorite constellation?"

Marco looked up at the soft voice in his ear, he hadn't realized that Ace had moved closer to him. He looked up at the sky, "Promise not to laugh?"

"Cross my heart."

"Well for lack of originality, it's the Phoenix." Ace's breath hitched and Marco continued. "I just like the idea that maybe I'm not alone, and that there may actually be phoenixes somewhere in the world, a bird that lives far longer than any other bird around it. But until I find the answer, at least I know that the constellation isn't going anywhere anytime soon." He smiled sadly at the man beside him and was greeted with a beaming grin in return.

"Well then I promise to stay with you so at least you aren't alone for as long as I live and if I have any say in the matter, even when I'm gone."

The Phoenix studied the man beside him, with his charming good looks, endearing freckles and sincere smile, and decided that he would take Ace up on that offer. He wrapped his arms around the blanketed shoulders and pressed a passionate kiss to the fire user's lips.

"Mmm, you're wear too many clothes, Marco." Ace groaned into the kiss as his hands made his way to the signature sash that Marco always wore, untying it and tossing it in the direction of the picnic basket before placing his hands on the older man's shoulders to push off his purple jacket; all without breaking the kiss. His hands roamed Marco's toned chest, forcing a moan to escape his lips from the contact.

It felt so right being there with Ace, the two of them together, Fire and Phoenix, it was a match that one could only find in fairy tales and it would wreck them completely.

But before Ace could finally release Marco from his pants, there was a soft pitter patter of rain on the sand. The fire hissed with each drop that landed in it, and soon the skies opened up rendering the once bright blaze nothing but cooling embers. Marco groaned at the turn of events, curse the summer and it's sudden storms; they had just looking at the stars mere moments ago.

He turned to Ace to say something about having to continue this later but found the young man asleep, the blanket draped across his legs. Ace was adorable like this, his youth and innocence not yet lost, seen in his soft skin and and drenched hair that lay matted to his forehead. Reaching over, Marco pushed the hair away from his eyes before wrapping him up in the sopping blanket. He then proceeded to quickly packing up the remains of the picnic in the basket, and hoist the sleeping Ace onto his back, before slowly making his way back to the Moby Dick through the rain; humming happily as he went.

He would definitely need to thank his brothers when they got back to the ship.

"How long have you been watching me?" Marco asked, not happy with the thought that Ace might have seen him in his broken state.

Ace grimaced as he looked away and Marco's heart fell, "A few days."

"A few days! Why didn't you come forward sooner?' Marco croaked, his voice gravely and weak from disuse; and after a quick attempt to clear his throat he continued. "Didn't you know how much I missed you?"

Marco tried to control the feeling of loss and hopelessness that he had become so familiar throughout his life. He had crossed the paths of a great number of people who only ended up leaving him due to one thing or another.

With a gasp, Ace's head popped up, a growing look of concern marring his handsome features. "I did, but…" he paused. "I didn't think you would actually want to see me. You've lost so much and didn't need a fresh reminder."

"So what makes this time different?" came the quiet response.

The room was silent as Ace clearly didn't know how to answer and with so much raw emotion pulsing between them after so many years apart, it was probably best to leave it where it was.

The two of them sat there awkwardly, avoiding eye contact before Ace eventually spoke, "You know, I think it's rather unusual, not to mention amusing, to see such a mighty bird caged." He gestured to Marco's prone figure, his hands held high above him, locked into seastone shackles, leaving his abused back to rest on the rough stone wall. He grinned in the charming way he always used to whenever he was teasing Marco.

"Fuck Off." Marco mumbled, trying his hardest to hold onto his anger, this wasn't the time nor the place to be making jokes, but the more he looked into Ace's sparkling eyes he couldn't manage it.

This was his Ace. The Ace that had fought beside him, who was his brother and his lover. The Ace that did nothing but make Marco smile and never pitied him when he struggled with his immortality and here he was trying to make Marco smile yet again.

And so Marco smiled. It wasn't a broad, carefree smile like he used to when everything was alright in the world; it was a simple, content smile that appeared when he wanted to preserve the moment so it could be cherished forever.

"I really missed you." he breathed.

The smile on his lover's face softened, "I know"

Arching his back, Marco stretched out as best he could and yawned. He closed his eyes, "Will you be here when I wake up?"

A soft, 'I promise to stay with you', was the last thing he heard before drifting off.

"You promised you would stay with me." Marco softly cried into his elbow as he sank to the floor of his new cabin. After having seen the death of his father and lover, his body and soul were completely shattered, leaving him nothing more than an empty shell of who he once was, endlessly whispering those words.

He had ensured that his brothers and the remaining ships had made their escape and were in safe waters before he let himself succumb to his grief. Just because it felt like his heart had been ripped out did not mean he could leave his family in danger.

Ignoring the knocks on the door telling him it was time for dinner he curled himself into a tight ball.

This could have all been avoided if he had done something differently. I should have known he would go back to help Luffy. I should have jumped in front of Akainu, I wouldn't have died. I should have convinced Whitebeard to attack Impel Down. I should have stopped him from going after Teach. I should have gone with him…

But nothing could be done to change the past, and nothing that he could have said would have changed Ace's mind. Ace always lived without regrets and Marco thought highly of him for that. But Marco couldn't do that, he would always have one regret that would follow him forever; their last conversation had been an argument and he didn't get to tell Ace he loved him one last time.

He had been strong for far too long and all the sorrow of past loved ones, recent and ancient, had caught up with him. This had been a grim reminder that anyone he ever held dear would eventually leave him and he cried himself to sleep.

It was past midnight by the time he was finally coaxed out of the little world he had created for himself by a fervent knock on the door. Blearily, he opened his bloodshot eyes and uncurled himself.

The knock came again. "Who is it?" he croaked, his voice hoarse from disuse and excessive crying. But there was no response.

He groaned as he slid off the bed and opened the door only to be faced with an empty hallway. Confused, he looked both ways wondering if his visitor had decided to leave him alone when he noticed a faint orange glow coming from the direction of the galley. He carefully shut the door behind him, so as not to disturb his brothers sleeping nearby, and made his way toward the light.

It was a warm and friendly color, and Marco found himself smiling happily at the prospect of Ace waiting for him in the galley before suddenly remembering the gruesome events of the previous week.

Ace wouldn't be waiting for him to get a late night snack like he used to. He wouldn't be waiting for him ever again.

And just as that thought crossed his mind, the orange glow vanished, leaving Marco standing alone at the end of the dark and empty hall.

With a heavy heart he slowly made his way back to his room. With no more tears left to cry all that he could do was crawl back into bed and wait for sleep to claim him.

In the morning, he was woken by the sound of his brothers going about their chores and starting breakfast. He took a deep breath and stepped out of the room, mentally preparing himself to finally take on the roll of captain. As he walked down the hall to the galley again, he felt a gentle gaze on the back of his neck and quickly turned around to see who it was, catching a brief glimpse of a familiar orange hat. It disappeared around the corner and Marco shook his head, sure his grief was causing him to see things that shouldn't exist. That hat was left at Ace's grave, and couldn't possibly be present on the back of the now dead second commander, as said dead commander walked the ship.

"You okay, Marco?" Izo asked, a bit of worry in the tone of his voice. "You look a little pale. Maybe you should go back to your cabin and lie down for a bit. This week has been hard on everyone, but it certainly has been harder on you." He gently lay a hand on Marco's shoulder and began guiding him back to his room.

"No, I'm fine, Izo." Marco said slowly, trying to focus on what was going on, but still out of sorts after what he had just seen. "I should be with the crew, I'm the captain now."

Izo smiled and opened the door to the cabin, ushering his brother inside. "Don't worry about it pineapple head, we understand. Take all the time you need. I'll bring breakfast to you." He winked and shut the door, leaving a stunned captain alone again in the empty room.

Or so he thought, because when Marco turned around, there sitting calmly on the bed with a smile on his face and twinkling eyes was Ace. Marco stood stunned, taking in the sight of his lover's wavy brown hair and endearing freckles, only to stop at his chest. Where Ace once had flawless skin and abs, there was now a hideous scar that marred his body, and Marco was sure that if he could see Ace's back, his Whitebeard tattoo would be completely destroyed.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, but the figure didn't say anything, he just sat there with a peaceful smile on his face. Both were lost in each other's eyes, one filled with happiness and the other with sadness.

The knock on the door broke the trance and Ace vanished, leaving the bed empty, with not even an imprint in the sheets to show that he had been there.

"Marco, I brought food." Izo trailed off as he saw tears welling up in the eyes of his older brother and captain. He swiftly shuffled over the the desk and set the food down before ushering Marco over to the bed. "You okay?"

The captain nodded, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Yes, I just think it's going to take a little longer to adjust than I previously thought."

At that, Izo moved to kneel in front of Marco. "That's perfectly alright, captain. Like I said before, we understand. You and Ace were closer than close, and you've known Pops far longer than some of us have been alive. We all trust you, and honestly I don't think many of us are up to set sail anytime soon." He frowned and Marco saw the brief shine of tears in his brother's eyes. Wordlessly, he got up and wrapped his arms around the kimono clad man in front of him.

Izo hugged him back and the two of them stood in a silent embrace, allowing the closeness of the other to comfort the torrent of emotions that were raging within them.

"Thank you for the food, Izo." Marco whispered as he pulled away.

"Not a problem, Captain."

Marco was thrown forcefully to the floor outside his cell while the guard picked through his key ring to find the right one.

"I don't see why they keep making me take a freak like you back and forth. They should just leave you to rot." He muttered under his breath as he found the one he was looking for and opened the door. Reaching down he grabbed Marco's arm and began roughly dragging him toward the chains on the wall. Marco hung limply in his grip allowing the guard to move his as he pleased, too drained to fight back.

"Honesty, this is the most disturbing thing I have ever seen. What kind of person's body deteriorates like this? I've told them you must be some kind of demon and they should just kill you but they don't take me seriously." He's talking more to himself than he is to Marco, while he chains the beaten man to the wall then wipes his hands on his pants with a shiver of disgust before walking out without a second glance.

After having been in the depths of Impel Down for what must have been months at this point, constantly at the mercy of the seastone, the ash that had started to eat away at his flesh now covered the majority of his body. The guards were terrified and disturbed by him, but those who found pleasure in his pain found it fascinating. At first he was just occasionally taken by the guards when the high-ups wanted to question him, but soon he became their test subject for new torture techniques and devices. At present he was sure that he had at least three broken ribs, with several others bruised, what fingers the ash hadn't eaten away were also broken, as was his nose. He was covered head to toe in his own blood, much of which came from the lashings he received to his back on a regular basis, never enough to cause him to pass out, no they were too cruel for that, they beat him the the brink and they brought him back. There was no reprieve and his mind couldn't take it anymore.

The time deprivation didn't help either. He spent the time he had in his cell counting the drops of water that fell from overhead or watching the particles of dust dancing in what little light the lanterns provided.

He was nothing more than skin and bones, no longer able to tell the difference between hunger pangs and the pain in his muscles from the beatings or what might be a ruptured spleen. His meals were few and far between and held no nutrition, just something to keep him from starving so they could continue their fun with him.

He was grateful for the few times that the guards forgot to re-chain him - usually when they really didn't want to touch the ash that was steadily taking over more and more of his body- thereby granting him a reprieve from the twisted position. But this was not one of those times.

Marco leaned his head back against the cold wall, closed his eyes and let out a moan of relief as the stone cooled his fevered skin. He was tired and ready to be done with all of this, desperately wishing for sleep to take him and whisk him off to a better place, if even for a few short hours. But sleep had also abandoned him, he got nothing but fitful naps that left him feeling more tired and ragged upon waking up than he did before he fell asleep.

"You're not looking so great." Ace said sadly from across the cell and Marco hummed in acknowledgement, not having the energy to give an appropriate reply or open his eyes.

This had become a regular occurrence. Ace would silently watch over him and keep him company, the only light in his dark world. He would tell stories from his past or remind Marco of things from their time together to make the blond smile, and it worked, except not today.

Marco heard the faint shuffling of Ace moving closer to him before he saw him. When he opened his eyes, Ace was sitting in front of him with their knees almost touching, staring deeply into his eyes. "You don't have much longer, do you?" he said matter of factly.

Marco closed his eyes again and chuckled weakly, "That's a riot. Concern coming from the dead guy."

"I'm serious, Marco. I may be dead, but that doesn't mean I want you to die. I always thought you would be immortal. Being reborn again and again." He paused before continuing delicately, "I hoped that you would find a real phoenix one day, so you would never have to end up alone."

Marco took a shuddering breath and let it out again. This was Ace telling him to live on, to fight death on his own in the hopes of a brighter future, but Marco was done with bright futures. But here in front of him was the man he would like to spend the afterlife with - if there was an afterlife- as promised.

"Ace, I'm sorry I didn't tell you this before you left, and I've regretted it all of these years..." he said weakly, opening faded blue eyes to look into concerned brown ones, "I love you."

He smiled his small smile, preserving the moment; his last moment.

Ace's face lit up and he moved into Marco's space, whispering a quick, "I love you too." He raised his hand as if to cup his beloved's cheek and bring him into a chaste kiss.

Marco closed his eyes and leaned forward with the motion, while the faint breeze that was blowing through the cell suddenly picked up. There was a whirlwind of ash and dust, and when it dissipated all that could be heard was the clanking of metal and dripping of water echoing in the darkness.