Chapter Text
The first time Garp held Ace, he'd been born for only a few minutes. His face was pudgy and squished the way only newborns were, and Garp knew it would probably be days before he could fully open his eyes.
Garp was always of the opinion that fresh babies looked like a whole much of nothing. It had been the case with Dragon when he was born, and Ace's cute little face was supporting evidence. Of course, Portgas D. Rouge had still not drawn her final breath yet, at the time, and Garp didn't want her wasting it on defending her baby's unfortunate truth of playdough face.
And Rouge truly didn't have much time left, in that island of dead mothers, all her willpower channeled single-mindedly into breaking the laws of biology. But Garp wasn't surprised, Rouge was an infamous master of Haki after all, a thorn in the government's side.
Now, she was a dying mother, and Garp was her unlucky son's savior. Garp remembered how Rouge's presence faded, trickling out of her like sand spilling from her fingers.
She was still beautiful then, the terrifying storm that wreaked havoc on the Grandline and, somehow, captured the Pirate King's heart.
"It looks like Ace is taking after his father," Rouge murmured, pressing her lips against the baby's dark hair, marveling at his bleary silver eyes. "Look, even his eyes! What a cute baby I have,"
It would be a blessing if he didn't, Garp didn't say then, but it was a close thing. Rouge had paid him no mind, still cooing over her son even though she had probably sensed his unease.
Garp had no intention of killing a newborn, and he would honor his promise to Roger. He would take in Ace and raise him away from the eyes of the government, but the truth will always come out eventually.
When he said as much to Rouge, she had simply laughed.
"He's not just Roger's son," she had tutted, picking out the hibiscus flower in her hair and gently tucking it behind Ace's ear, "this is my baby too, Garp, and don't let anyone forget that, especially not Ace,"
Garp had blinked, then laughed uproariously. Of course! Portgas D. Rouge would never allow herself to be sidelined, not in life nor death.
She was a thief, a burglar. An escape artist who stole government secrets and pirate treasure with equal relish. Her Armament was unbreakable in combat, and her Observation made her practically untouchable.
"For my last trick," she had grinned while passing Ace into his arms, free hands dramatically swept open, bending at the waist into a bastardized bow, "I shall steal the government's peace of mind,"
Garp the Hero had no business laughing along with a criminal, but Garp the new grandfather had no such reservations.
Portgas D. Rouge died in a beautiful little home, atop of a hill in a quaint little village. She left her newborn son a flower in his hair and a name, more than most people could say for their own children.
She left no pictures, all she had were shared among her friends before she went into hiding when the government started hunting pregnant women. She left no belongings, since she stole as quickly as she gave away.
Later, Garp would curse his thoughtlessness and go hunting for pictures that weren't bounty posters. Later, Garp would go back years into records to locate any objects Rouge might've pawned off in the many islands marking her legacy.
But then, all he did was bury an old friend in the backyard of the little home atop of the hill, gently holding her son in his calloused hands, and wonder about the meaning of Justice.