Chapter Text
His gravesite was quiet. Jasmine permeated the air, flaring your nostrils. The scent was clean. Peaceful. It didn't suit him at all.
Waves thrashed against the cliffside, flinging their foamy outrage at the walls. The sunset burned them a familiar orange. You tasted salt on your tongue, but knew it wasn't from the seaspray.
You crouched before one of the headstones. The dark fabric of your “borrowed” Impel Down officer uniform brushed against the grass. Three saucers and a bottle of sake were set before the grave.
“We could use your help,” said Marco.
You tore your gaze away from the headstone. The breeze blew across your face, leaving cool trails from tears along your cheeks.
Marco’s steps were heavy as he approached you. He nearly staggered under his own weight. You glanced away. He was still recovering from his injuries at Marineford.
“We’re going after Teech,” said Marco. “He started all of this. He’s still walking free after Thatch —”
You snorted. You seated yourself next to the headstone on the grass. The orange hat on the stone’s peak was tilting; you righted it with your finger. “How much of a difference will the Whitebeard Pirates’ bookkeeper make, Marco?”
Marco’s eyes narrowed. The sunset stained his skin a bloody red. “You’re more than that, and you know it. You helped him hunt down Teech. I thought you would’ve wanted to finish him.”
“I do.”
“Then why aren't you getting up?”
You glanced at the headstone. It feels so wrong. To stand, to go on adventures, to smile — all without you.
“I’m tired,” you said. You propped up your chin with your hand. “And I’m done. With everything. People, mainly.”
“You think he would’ve wanted you to fight?” said Marco.
You glanced back at the headstone. Instead of concrete, you pictured blushing freckles and a lopsided smile.
“Maybe,” you admitted. “But what can I do? I’ve seen how powerful logia users are. I can sneak past Teech, but what then? I’ll only get in your way out there.”
You recalled how flames burst across his body, burning bullets, knives slicing through fire and nothing else. He seemed unstoppable then.
“Y’know, when you showed up wearing that over a year ago,” Marco gestured at your dark uniform, “I thought you’d kill us all in our sleep.”
You tickled the strands of grass before the headstone. “What did he think?”
Marco rolled his eyes. “He thought you were pretty. And strong. And sad.”
Your fingers froze. An icy sickness settled in your heart. There was too much pretty and sad to go around.
You stood and brushed flecks of dirt from your uniform. You brushed off the headstone, too. The texture raked against the tips of your nails.
“You are Whitebeard’s only daughter. Were.” Marco frowned. “But you’re still our sister. Fight with us. Let’s earn some dignity back from that mess.”
You stopped before Marco. The wind whispered in the flaps of your coat, tossing Marco’s clothes around him like vibrant blue flames.
Of course you wanted to annihilate Teech. Your fingers twitched towards your ice picks when he crossed your mind. You had a carnal desire for his suffering, his demise. But you had already lost one dream. To hope for another one, and to have it crushed before your eyes again…
You buried your face in Marco’s chest before he could spot the fresh round of tears. “I’m sorry. I can't. Not yet.”
Marco pulled you into a soft embrace. His chin rested atop your head as he patted your back.
“Where will you go, then?” he murmured.
You shook your head. A fruity, tropical cologne clung to Marco’s clothes; you had bought it for him last winter. It was a wonder you could still smell it after the bandages and the blood and the flames…
“I don't know,” you said. Somewhere far away from potential, soul-sucking dreams that will wreck me. “An empty island with no people would be ideal. Far away from anything.”
Marco stiffened. “Maybe…try a small town first?”
Your nose wrinkled. “No offense, but I think I need to be away from all male lifeforms for the foreseeable future.”
“Maybe an island of only women is a way to go?” Marco offered.
“Absolutely not! That’s even worse!”
You couldn't see Marco, but you could hear in his voice that he was making his done-with-the-sea’s-bullshit face. “Humor me.”
You pulled back. Marco ruffled your hair. “Stay in touch-yoi.”
“Mmm. Don't die, extreme water sport.”
Marco rolled his eyes. A smile tugged at his lips. “I’m not gonna miss that.”
Marco glanced over your head at the graves. He waved. “I’ll be back again with daisies and sunflowers. Pops liked them, and that flaming smartass always smells.”
“Be nice!” you gave Marco a light shove. The familiar banter made you want to laugh and cry at the same time.
Marco’s gaze softened. “I’ll be back soon-yoi.”
You nodded as if you could answer for the headstone. Marco ruffled your hair and turned away. He made his way further down the cliff, dropping out of sight.
You returned to the headstone. You sighed in the silence. It didn't hold the same firecracker-spitting electricity like it used to when you two were alone together.
“I’m afraid to leave you alone.” your voice quivered. “Whenever I do, you always light something on fire. It’s kind of cute.”
That wouldn't be much of an issue anymore. That dream was lost forever.
Your fingers drifted along the edge of the rough stone, but you pictured silky strands of dark hair instead.
You leaned towards the grave. Your voice was so low you nearly mouthed the words. “Do you still think about that kiss, wherever you are…? Ace?”
No one answered. Silence stung, save the moaning waves below.
Your head drooped as the last scarlet remnants of the sunset faded. Violet gloves of twilight clutched at the sky.
Nothing gave away his approach. There was no snapping twig or bent blade of grass. But you felt his presence before he spoke.
“Y/N-ya, have you decided where you want to go?”