Family

Marco didn't think his legs would move, wouldn't let him move from in front of Ace's knife, resting on the marble like its owner was going to pick it up again, any time now. He just sat there, silently staring.

To be absolutely frank, Marco did not understand the World Government's obsession with blood, whether it be the World Nobles attempts to declare themselves greater due to theirs, or how the main reason given for Ace's execution was his father. Ace had killed people, many people, many of them high up marines. He had set entire ships on fire and let the crew die. Any of these would be reason enough to execute him, but they choose the one thing he couldn't choose in his life instead.

Now, family, as opposed to bloodlines, that was something Marco could understand. Pops had taught him well, after all. Everyone on board the ship was a member of his family, from Jozu, still recovering from his defeat at the hands of Aokiji down to people like Sally Long the cabin girl or Jan Deoff, the weakest crew member who still somehow survived the battle, and was now sitting with the rest of them on one of the few remaining ships, staring at the previsions the Red Haired Pirates had lent them before they had left the crew to grieve their father.

They all came up. Marco watched them. He hadn't left the graves all day, didn't think his legs would allow him to, even as more bodies of their comrades where carried off of the ship and laid to rest, the island covered with grave markers like grey waves rising out of a stormy green sea. He stayed, staring at the spear his father once used. Some of the crew came the moment they were allowed to by the doctors, standing in front of the two graves. Some came slowly, wounds from the war both on their bodies and their spirits. Some cried loudly, some silently stood there before slowly trudging away. Most went back to the crew, drifting back into reality where food and sleep were needed, now more than ever. Others kept walking, past the rows of the dead, disappearing into secret places around the island, cocooning themselves in solitude to drown out the grief. Much like how he was doing now.

A hand appeared on his shoulder, large and rough. He looked up, and saw Jozu's face, grim, sad, but set. More footsteps came behind them, and the other division commanders appeared. They didn't need to say anything. Whether or not his legs would, he needed to get up. He had had his time to grieve. Now was the time for him to stand strong, like their father had always done. He had died still standing, and if he could do that, what excuse did Marco have for not standing?

The group turned, and walked back to their family, the most important thing they had chosen in their life. Their brothers and sisters needed them.

Author's Note: Well, it's been a while, hasn't it? And I think, with this, Musings on the War of Marineford is complete. The story has moved on, and this final look at the end of the war seems a good place to end, rather than dragging it on. My life is becoming busier and busier, so I'd rather lay it to rest now. At some point I may do a big, full finale chapter, but that is unlikely to happen anytime soon I'm afraid. So, for now...

~FIN~