Part One of Three. MAJOR AU AHEAD you have been warned.

Everyone always said that you shouldn't go into the forest at night. That those who did came back strange and different, if they ever returned at all. Mothers whispered to their children, children whispered it to each other and all but the huntsmen, who were strange and aloof already, skirted the edge of forest whenever the sun began to sink.

No one but the foolish or the desperate would willingly venture between the trees when the moon rose, high and full above the port.

Marco was both.

He ran, bare feet digging into sharp roots and snagging on stray roots until they broke his skin and left a trail of blood in his wake. Shouts echoed behind him, too far for him to hear, as though he didn't already know the words being hurled at his back.

Normally, Marco avoided this place as much as anyone else, but he couldn't afford to. Not tonight, not with blades chasing his back and death dogging his heels. He clutched his bag tight to his chest, the small jingling a meager comfort. Was it worth the trouble? The danger?

Was a sack of gold worth throwing himself into the dark space between the trees?

He prayed so.

Between the branches over his head only the smallest flashes of silver light filtered through, glancing off of shiny rocks and a tiny brook that snaked its way through. Marco hissed against the cold when his feet sunk in, stirring up mud and crawfish.

He stumbled only once, smacked his face on a branch, and stopped dead. The air in front of him shivered with heat he couldn't feel. A spider hung from its web an inch from his face, looking at him with its dozens of eyes.

Marco scrambled to remember what he'd been told, the snippets of warnings wind had carried to his ears. Advice he could use now.

The howl of a hound cut through the night and Marco bowed his head, gripping the treasure he coveted closer to his chest. He pulled out a piece, then two, then three, until he had eight in his hand. With blind fringers he groped for a nook in the trees that walled up on either side of him. The spider was clever, he had built his web a hanging net between a arch of two trees in a close cropping of a dozen. Marco shoved the coins, one for each leg and one for each eye, into a gap in the bark.

"Please," he begged, "give me safe passage."

The spider turned its eyes from him. The shimmering air vanished, a cloud passed over the moon and the forest was plummeted into darkness.

Marco ducked under the web and ran through the trees. The hounds voices cut off as soon as he was through. The air felt different, heavier. A light flashed across the horizon, but it was too early to be dawn. Stars fell through the inky blankness of the sky. The moon was gone.

Marco slammed face first into something hard and metal. He bounced back, landing on his butt. The earth had vanished, packed down into what Marco's fingers told him was a single slab of stone. A massive one.

The boy pushed himself up, his legs starting to shake as the reality of what he had done sunk in. He had broken all of the rules and obeyed them at once. Don't go in the forest at night, humans said. Pay for your safety, the fae demanded.

Marco touched the metal, his fingers brushing over the smoothest surface he had felt in his life. He ran his hand across it, tracing over a strange indentation and a handle stuck in. Carefully, Marco bent to retrieve his bag from where he'd dropped it. The coins rattled against eachother, a reminder of his crime. A reminder of his escape.

In the blackess he could see the hulking shape of a house. Slowly, so slowly, he walked towards it, calling out into the darkness.

"If I am unwelcome, please tell me," he asked the Fair Folk that lived here. The only response was the soft chirping of a lone cicada. Where in Gods name was he that there was one cicada and not several hundred?

Two bright eyes erupted out of the darkness, blinding him with a brilliance he had never experienced. Trapped suns flew towards him, stopping short. Marc o threw his hand over his eyes, stumbling back.

A voice shouted at him in a tongue he did not know. Angry, offended. Marco cursed himself for taking the cicada as the wrong sign and bowed low to the two suns that had flown to him in the night.

When the voice, still speaking words he could not understand, turned to one of concern he rose and fled, back into the trees. When dawn broke, he would pick his way back to the spiders tree and thank it for it's help, and perhaps it would send him back to whence he came.

If asked, Ace could tell you exactly what made him want to live in a cabin at the edge of the woods. That answer was, quite simply, he was broke as fuck.

To be fair, trying to feed Luffy took up almost his entire paycheck, and what little Sabo brought in went almost exclusively to their seemingly never ending medical bills. Between the fights the three got into and the fact that they were still paying off the debt from Sabo's 'accident' ten years ago there was never enough money, they were always stretched thin, and consequently they lived in a rickety old house that predated the automobile.

The water didn't always run, so they kept a supply in barrels around the back, and the electricity liked to go out, if it was on at all, so they took turns working on a dilapidated generator to keeps the lights on and the fridge working.

It was nothing special. It was nothing good, not the way Luffy and Sabo deserved their lives to be. Not the way Ace wanted their lives to be.

It had never impressed anyone before, unless it was sheer amazement that the house was still standing.

Which begged the question, why the man in his living room was looking around him in wonder.

For that matter, how had he managed to get in in the first place?

And what was he wearing?

Ace leaned on the banister, urging a creak out of the old wood that made his 'guest' jump about twenty feet in the air. The blond spun around, hair flying about wildly. Ace froze where he stood, caught by bright, golden eyes. They were wide, the man's shoulders were tense. He took a half a step away from Ace, shifting onto the balls of his feet. Ace would know a fighting stance anywhere.

"Um," Ace said. He cleared his throat and added, "Hello? I'm Ace. Who are you?"

The man just stared at him, a furrow forming between his brows. He opened his mouth and released a string of gibberish that Ace assumed were words to other people. He looked around, said something else, and looked to Ace expectantly.

Ace, not sure what else to do, pointed at his face.

"Ace," he said slowly. "Portgas D. Ace."

"D!" the man repeated, a light erupting in him. It flashed behind a hint of a smile. Now that Ace was looking closer, scrutinizing him openly, he could see that whoever this man was he was not dressed for the thirty degrees outside.

His grey shirt was only halfway buttoned up, his black pants stopped long before his sandals, and the closest thing he had to a coat was the sash that jingled around his hips, gold flashing along its heavy folds.

He looked familiar...

"Uh, yeah," Ace agreed. There was something about the clothes that looked wrong. Something not quite right, a sort of… nonconformity that department stores just did not sell. He pointed at himself again and repeated his first name. The man nodded, slowly. Some of the tension drained out of his shoulders.

"Ace," he repeated, pointing to the young man. "Marco," he added, pointing to himself.

It was surprisingly common of a name. There was something about Marco that was entirely uncommon. Something different, like the subtle variation between a King and a Coral Snake. What was that rhyme again?

Red on yellow, you're a dead fellow. Yellow on black you're okay Jack? Or was it black on yellow you're a dead fellow, Red on black you're okay-

Not the time.

"Why are you in my house?" Ace tried, hoping to be understood. His hopes were quickly dashed by the blank stare Marco levelled him with.

"Fuck," he said flatly. Manners did him no good when someone couldn't hear what he was saying.

"Fuck," Marco repeated, which was of course the second word he learn, after Ace's name. Ace and Fuck. What a vocabulary.

"Okay Marco," Ace ran a hand through his dark hair, watching Marco perk up at the mention of a familiar sound. "What am I going to do with you?"

The answer did not come. Marco just watched him, weariness ebbing away into curiosity. Had he never seen the inside of a house before or something?

Ace shook his head and reached over to snap the living room light on. Marco jumped, shouted more gibberish at him and pointed at the lamp. Ace frowned at him and snapped the switch off, then back on. Marco looked at his hand, then at Ace, and eased himself closer.

The younger boy stepped back, letting him come to inspect the light switch. This was… weird.

Ace couldn't figure out what was going on, but he let Marco tentatively run his fingers over the switch before he pushed. The lights when out. Again, the light's came back on. His fascination was endearing, if bewildering.

Not sure what else to do, Ace went to the kitchen and got a box of Cheez-Its. While he was at it he hunted down a couple of soda's to split between him and his visitor, but by the time he got back to the living room Marco had disappeared.

Ace was left staring at the space he had occupied, hands full and brain muddled. What the actual fuck was going on around here?

Marco sat on the ground, watching the Fair House from a distance. He had left his bag outside when he had gone up to see it, hoping to find someone who might take pity on a traveller. What he had found was perhaps the most beautiful man he had ever seen in his life, who did not speak his language at all.

He had taught Marco the magic of his home, and in return Marco had run before he could be offered anything from what was obviously the kitchen. He knew better than to accept Their food or refuse Their hospitality, so he did the only thing he could think of that would satisfy both of those rules.

He scurried out the door, where he had left his bag, and ran off.

At some point in the night he had stumbled across a pair of sandals that fit him miraculously, made out of strips of black leather and something soft that Marco had never encountered before. A gift, perhaps. He hoped at least. If he had stolen from Them…

His stomach growling broke him out of those thoughts. His body wished he had accepted the food but his mind knew it was for the best that he hadn't. Even if he hadn't eaten since yesterday it was better not to eat the food of Faerie than to risk never being able to eat his own food again. Assuming he managed to find his way back to the spider tree he had come through in the beginning.

He'd been trying to retrace his steps all night but it wasn't working. He had no bearings in this world. He had no one to help him, nowhere to go.

Then again, when did he ever have those things?

Marco sighed. He had been alone for God knew how long, and he would stay that way until he could book passage on a ship and get to the larger port than the tiny indentation on his home island. Somewhere where he could disappear from the miniscule world of his birth and find a true place in the sea.

Marco allowed a dreamy sigh to flit past his lips. He had been so close. So close to being there and now-

Now he was a world away.

The door to the house opened, slamming against the wall and a whirwind of a boy came sprinting outside, his smile the sun his eyes warm and brilliant. Marco tensed and slid back against the tree, into the brush he'd taken shelter in in the wee hours of the morning.

The Fair Child secured the hat on his head and spun to walk backwards towards a massive metal cart sitting in front of the building, hollering behind him. Minutes later a blond boy in blue emerged at a brisk jog, dragging his overcoat on he went. On his heels was the beautiful being Marco had met before.

He looked even better in day time, sunlight spilling across his tanned skin, tracing over the freckles on his cheeks and waving over his dark hair. He shook his head at the antics of what had to be the youngest of them and ushered him to the cart.

With a laugh the smallest of the trio showed Marco that it wasn't a cart at all, but a carriage.

Either way, did they expect to pull it themselves? Marco hadn't seen a barn, or a stable, or a single horse since he'd arrived. If horses existed here.

Abruptly the carriage released a roar that sent Marco skuttering back, his heart pounding in his chest. The beast growled and moved on black wheels that crunched the stoned under its wake, tearing asunder the earth. Two eyes, like the twin suns that had almost struck him down the night before, swivelled towards him.

Marco drew back in fear, sliding as far into the foliage as he could. The boy did not fancy himself a cowards, but the working of the Fair Folk were far beyond him.

He waited until it was long gone before he crept out of the greenery.

Marco realized his hands were shaking. Was he excited? Was he terrified?

He turned and wandered into the forest, looking for the spider.

Ace was exhausted by the time he got back to the treeline. His arms felt like noodles and if he heard one more request to speak to the manager he was going to cut his own ears off. He longed for the daw the pits of hell would open beneath his feet and swallow him whole.

Ace waved to the bus driver and dragged his sorry ass onto the path that would get him to the house. Sabo had the car today, so he could get home after the buses were finished running, and Luffy was staying over at Vivi's house with the rest of his friends for weekend party. Ace would be the only one home for quite some time.

That was probably for the best. He shivered when a cold wind blew, pulling his jacket tighter around him. A few snowflakes drifted in front of him.

Ace's mind drifted back to the boy he'd seen in his house a few nights ago, the one with the soft blond hair and the wide, wonderous gaze. He'd been thinking of him ever since he disappeared, trying to puzzle out who he was and what he'd wanted. And, where he'd gone.

Ace paused at a break in the path. From here he could continue down the well worn dirt until he was back at his house, start a fire and see what he could scrounge up for dinner. Or, he could go right and make his way into the forest, along the deer trails and into the shadows. He could disappear into the night and never have to go back to the call center again.

He could do it. He knew how to hunt, how to fish, how to build a fire. He could walk away and never look back again.

Then he thought of his brothers. Of Sabo and Luffy, who depended on him, who he depended on. He couldn't leave them. He couldn't.

But he could pretend, for just a minute, that he might be able to walk away from the pressure, the responsibility, the fear that no matter what he did he would never get out of this cycle of bills, being broke, and never going anywhere.

He walked into the trees.

There was no fear for the boy here, he knew these trees like he knew his own hands. He could find his way home blindfolded here. Here, where the lights of the city only brushed the clouds of the horizon. Here, where the air was fresh and crisp and the water ran clear.

Ace walked the familiar lines between the wood, trailing his fingers lightly across the gnarled bark as he passed. He always felt better out here, where no other people were around to bother him. It was a small escape, but one he found himself relying on more and more these days.

From inside the shuttering branches of the aspen he could see steam lifting off of the pond where snow tried to settle on water not ready to freeze just yet. Standing on the shore was the same blond man.

A frown drew his brows together. Ace could see him shaking from where he was. Had he been outside this whole time?

"Hey!" Ace hollered at him, emerging from the trees. It was the second time he'd gotten Marco to jump out of his skin. He was holding something to his chest, a rucksack, like his life depended on it.

"Hey," Ace repeated, walking out. The wind blew again, tousling his hair and lifting his hat. Ace shoved it back on his head quickly. He walked towards Marco, who stood very still, clutching the back close to him.

Marco watched him wearily. He said something, paused, and told Ace, "Hello." which Ace hoped was a greeting and not something he was supposed to respond to.

"Hey," he said for the third time. "Are you okay? You're going to freeze out here. Do you even have a jacket?"

Marco stared at him for a long time. He didn't loosen his grip on the bag at all. Ace sighed and shed his heavy coat, walked towards Marco and offered it to him. The blond stared at him wideeyed.

"What? What do you want for this? You can't have the bag!"

Ace frowned. He had no idea what was being said, but Marco was turning an unhealthy color. He pushed the coat at him again, insistently.

"Seriously man, just take it. I have more. You're gonna freeze," forget what he was saying had no effect on the boy. He pushed the jacket into his hands, jostling the bag.

Marco jerked back, his foot caught a stray stick and he fell. Right into the water.

"Fuck," Ace said, looking down at him. Marco looked back up at him, frowning deeply. He didn't accept when Ace offered him a hand up.

Marco clutched the fleece blanket tightly around his shoulders, shivering as he sat right on top of a small slat in the floor that blew in warm summer winds, so contrary to the flurries of white that floated outside.

Marco didn't let his sack out of his sight, even when he reluctantly allowed the beautiful boy to take his clothes and replace them with some of his own. They were softer than anything Marco had ever felt, in colors that only those with money could afford. A violet shirt and pants a dark color of blue, finery that Marco had barely ever dreamed of.

He watched Ace move around the cabin, cleaning up and setting things straight. The smell of cooking meat tried to entice Marco into the kitchen but he didn't dare go in. Didn't dare look at the kitchen. If he did, he might never go back.

The slithering thought that asked what he had to go back to was violently crushed.

No, no. He had the sea to go back to. He had the gold to spend and places to go. Somewhere. Somewhere.

Ace knelt next to him then, offering him a glass of water. Marco swallowed thickly. He hadn't drank anything in days.

Slowly, he shook his head. He couldn't accept the offering. He had already taken too much.

Ace frowned at him. "Are you sure?"

"I may not understand you, but I'm not foolish enough to accept anything to eat or drink," Marco tried not to sound too irritated. His kind were well known for tempting humans. For testing their will and their intellect.

Ace sighed at him, shook his head, and wandered off.

Marco was left alone to lean on the wall. The warmth and the comfort lulled him until he had to drag his eyes open to look up at the door when it swung open to let in the blond Marco had seen leave a few days previously. He dragged his had off and draped his long overcoat across the banister.

For just an instant Marco met his eyes before he looked away again, slumping on the wall. He couldn't remember ever being this comfortable. He felt like he was being dragged down into the warmth with no way out.

The two fair creatures were talking in the kitchen. Marco could hear there, even if he didn't know the language.

The blond one appeared in front of him with a plate of food that Marco was quick to shake his head at. He couldn't, no matter how much his stomach hurt.

The blond frowned at him.

"You really should eat something,"he said.

"Why are you so adamant about me staying trapped here?" Marco asked. The mans pale brows drew together.

"Ace? Do you know what he's saying?"

"Honestly, you could just chain me to the wall. You're probably stronger. Or do you need permission for that?" Marco was just talking for lack of anything better to do.

"Uh. No. If I did, we wouldn't have this problem."

The blond looked at him again, frowning deeper. "I'm worried about him."

Finally, Marco looked straight at him and said, "Fuck Ace." Whatever that meant.

The blond stared at him for a long moment before a grin broke out across his face and he started laughing, doubling over on himself until his butt hit the ground. A spatula covered in green sauce came flying out and smacked him clean in the temple, but that didn't stop the peels of laughter that shook his shoulder.

Some of the green splattered against Marco's face and arm. He swallowed thickly, looking down at the droplets. The plate of food still smelled so good. Surely, just a taste…

"I'm glad he finally started eating," Ace said once the sun had gone down and the moon come up. Their little house guest was curled up tightly on the folded out couch, covered in as many blankets as the pair could spare. His bag was still clutched tightly to his chest.

Sabo nodded along, watching the boys shoulders rise and fall. He sat on the stair two down from Ace's head leaned on the poles that held up the handrail. Ace had stretched himself across the landing halfway up and was methodically flicking a lighter open and closed. The firelight danced across his freckle dusted cheeks before going out again, leaving him in darkness until he struck the fire back into existence.

Normally, Luffy would be stretched out across their backs, taking up the rest of the stairs, snoring like a chainsaw or laughing at half told jokes.

"You like him, huh?" Sabo guessed.

Ace sort of shrugged. It more the sound of his shirt moving than anything else.

"He looks like he needs help. Did you see the bruises on his arms?"

"Someone's been hurting him for a while," Sabo confirmed. "Wanna bet whatever's in that bag is everything he's got?"

Ace grimaced before the fire went out. "I wish I thought you were wrong… We have to help him."

"Yeah."

They both knew they could barely feed the three of them, but neither was willing to turn the strange, wild eyed boy away. He needed them.

"Ace… What are we getting ourselves into?"

The oldest of the trio shook his head. He had absolutely no idea.

None of them did.

Marco woke up to more food being set down beside him.

He forgot his fears and inhibition and promptly inhaled the thick cut ham and the golden eggs, eating like the starving man he was. A glass of the finest fruit juice he had ever touched followed it and Ace, beautiful, smiling Ace added more to his plate.

Marco watched his face now, from closer that before. He counted the freckles on his cheeks, watched the light in his dark eyes and the soft waves of his hair. There wasn't a malicious shadow that fell across his smile, no teeth baring grin that spoke of dark intentions.

Just Ace, kind Ace who pushed the full plate back towards him and offered him more juice.

"Apple Juice," Marco pronounced carefully. Ace beamed at him with pride. Marco's chest warmed and, feeling less skittish and less fearful than he had in years, he pointed to what was on his plate. "Home, eggs, taste."

Ace snickered and shook his head. "Home," he gestured to the cottage around them, "taste," he pointed to his tongue. "Ham and toast," he pointed to the plate.

Frowning, Marco repeated the words slowly, pointing as he did so. Ace clapped his shoulder when he got it right and spoke what Marco hoped were words of praise. He couldn't understand any of them save his own name.

It was enough, he supposed, that he could understand that Ace was proud of such a meagre accomplishment. Sabo had already left in their car, to go… wherever they went in the day. To town, if such creatures had a town.

If ever Marco had doubted that he had fallen in with the fae, that was banished from his mind the second he ate their food, slept in their house, wore their clothes. There was no possible way such things were made by mortal means.

It was luxury, but there was something about Ace and Sabo that made Marco wonder if it was a luxury for them, or just for him. Were they fae of the royal courts, like Ace's beauty and Sabo's clothes made them out to be? Or were they common folk, living in the woods away from others?

Did the Fair Folk even have such a system as his own?

Marco shook himself free of the cobwebs of curiosities that clouded his brain.

He looked up and froze when he realized Ace was inches away from him. Oh. Up close he was even prettier. The dusting of freckles framed his wide, concerned black eyes. His lips, full and poised, were parted with a question Marco couldn't understand.

Fae were beautiful, and they were supposed to be tempting and Ace was certainly all of those hesitated. Perhaps…

He leaned forwards on impulse and kissed him.