[fic][One Piece, Marco, PG-13] For Family
Jul. 5th, 2012 11:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ajremixWhen I was first reading the Marineford arc in the manga, I didn't much like it. I recently marathoned the anime and I still don't like it (that pacing- my god, it was excruciating). It may very well be my least favorite arc in One Piece and yet... somehow... I wrote this honking thing about it.
Title: For Family
Fandom: One Piece
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2454
Characters: Marco, various Whitebeard Pirates, cameo by Shanks
Summary: After the battle at Marineford, Marco struggles with their losses and his new responsibilities.
It didn't really hit until then how many they had lost, their names called out one by one, each followed by the crack of a rifle fired into the air, then by the next name after the lonely discharge faded. Each person missing, each one killed, another piece of the family never to be seen again. It took almost an entire day to give each one their due. No break. No pause. No hesitation. No faltering.
Marco didn't know how he got through it but somehow he did.
~*~*~*~
They remained moored as their wounded healed and Marco would spend his nights flying around the ships, making sure each were accounted for and safe, that no one in their broken family was so overcome by their losses they'd tear their lives out of the survivors' hearts. As the dawn broke and Vista and Jozu and the others awoke, Marco flew to the beach and sat, a speck of blue and fire between two towering memorials. He wondered what a pitiful sight he must have been. Ace would have laughed at him. So would have Thatch and Oars. Pops would've scolded him for acting out of character. But none of them were there so Marco curled until his beak tucked under a wing and only when he stopped hating that form would he be able to face the crew again.
Why was he given this ability, he'd wonder. Why did he have something so rare and powerful but was ultimately so useless? Why did he have to mourn those he loved instead of saving them? What was the point of having the power of rebirth and regeneration when he couldn't save the ones most important to him?
He knew, of course, that his powers had saved his family more times than he could remember. He knew that Pops had already planned to die at Marineford. He knew there was little he could do with a seastone shackle on his wrist and two shots from Kizaru through his chest.
But knowing wasn't the same as believing.
~*~*~*~
"We've decided, unanimously, that we want you to lead the crew."
The other commanders waited patiently for Marco's response. He couldn't think of any, so he remained silent.
"You're the strongest of us. You were with Pops the longest. You're the commander of the 1st Division. You're the only one that can do it."
His eyes drifted to one side, staring through the bodies and walls and ocean the separated him from the island. Even from that distance he could count the number of flowers the decorated graves- one for each person missing, one for each one missing them.
"If you don't, we'll have to disband."
He could feel his breath rattling in his lungs and he closed his eyes because if he looked at the vast spot laying empty of man and medical equipment, he might've broken into tears again.
"Alright." Marco told them. "I'll do it."
He kept the title of Commander because there would only ever be one Captain of the Whitebeard Pirates.
~*~*~*~
Marco's first order to the crew was anyone that wanted to leave was allowed to. No questions, no judgment. They would be given an allowance and dropped off at the next major port to begin a new life as they saw fit. He also extended, to any of the allies that had fought and lost alongside the Whitebeard Pirates, an invitation to join as a full member of the family. Many took the first option. Not as many took the second. With the all the deaths and injuries and separations, they were down to almost half their original crew count. There was no hope in stopping the power vacuum and the chaos that ensued. After a lengthy, agonizing discussion with the other commanders, Marco had decided which islands they could afford to protect and which ones had to survive on their own. Afterward Marco flew off into the night and disappeared until morning.
~*~*~*~
Of the allies that had become family, the only ones that joined the 1st Division were the Whirl Spiders, personally picked by Marco. Squard accepted without a word other than a quiet, "Thank you. We will honor our Father's memory."
"More than our Father," Marco told him. "Honor our family."
~*~*~*~
These days their ships sailed in a tight formation they used at night, close enough that there was added sway from the wake of other bows. Close enough to see each other at all times. Whenever someone in the crows nest called out, every ship could hear them.
Pirates in every ocean had gotten bolder. With the death of Whitebeard, some had gotten proud enough to challenge the crew head on. Before any of them were within cannon range, Marco was there to remind them that Pops hadn't been the only one to fear and each challenger went down in smoke and destruction before they were more than a speck on the horizon.
"Run," he'd call out to the crews, panicking as they floundered in the ocean, "and let the survivors spread the word: no one will ever hurt my family again."
~*~*~*~
"Your wounds haven't healed yet."
"No."
"Why not?"
They stood at the stern of the ship, staring into the far horizon even as their minds dwelled on that little island far behind them. "They'll heal on their own," Marco said.
Vista's elbows rested heavy on the railing. "But why?"
He resisted the urge to touch that bandage on his chest where he would surely scar. "So I can remember."
~*~*~*~
More people left and Izo and Curiel asked Marco to adjust crew assignments, their respective divisions having been hit the hardest in the war. For days Marco was swamped with papers detailing each crewmember, their strengths and weaknesses and any comments their commanders thought were important enough to mention. It took many more days to even out the ranks, balancing the divisions to everyone's liking while giving enough leeway in case others decided to leave.
"Isn't easy, is it?" Curiel asked, trying not to depend on his crutches but it was a miracle that he was still mobile after Akainu's attack as it was.
"No. But we'll hold together," Marco said. I'll hold us together, he didn't say.
~*~*~*~
Just before the sunset, Marco would go to each ship to ensure all were fine, that no one was lacking any necessities. He would return to his own ship and check with Squard, ensuring he and his former crew were bedded down for the night.
"Commander," Squard asked him once, "why do you always look in on us?"
"Because I have to make sure." He turned away, stepped onto a rail and over the edge, letting the wind rustle around him until it was drowned out by cold fire and flapping wings. One day someone would ask him why, every night, he flew off until morning. Marco still didn't know what he'd tell them.
~*~*~*~
The weather was being fickle and, according to calculations, they may not make landfall before their food stores got dangerously low. Namur offered to take his division out to fish and Marco caught himself just before he said no. A sudden fear gripped him and he fought the urge to order the ships to sail closer together, to fly to each ship, making sure everyone was still there.
Before Namur could ask again, Marco told him, "Next week. If the weather hadn't picked up then, you can fish."
~*~*~*~
Jozu was waiting for him when Marco returned, flicking bits of ash off the length of his tail.
"You need to stop this," the large man said.
"Stop what?" Marco asked before he'd even fully changed back again.
"I don't know if you're afraid someone is going to get hurt if you're not watching them, or if you think you're suddenly expendable for some reason." Arms thicker than Marco's chest crossed, settling like a house on its foundations. Wherever the discussion would lead, Jozu was in it for the long haul. "Stop fighting every battle on your own."
"It's fine. None of them are worth worrying about."
"And what if one of them were? What if one of these captains end up being as strong as Ace was when we first found him? What if you were shackled with seastone again? You'd be too far away for any of us to help you." He grabbed Marco's arm, the breadth of his hand nearly covering him from elbow to shoulder. "We could lose you, Marco. After Pops and Ace and everything else, if we lose one more person, it could break us completely."
When he looked up at Jozu, there was nothing brave or strong behind Marco's eyes. "I'm not like Pops."
Jozu squeezed his arm before letting his hand drop to his side again. "No. But we're still your family and if you want us to trust you, you need to trust us."
~*~*~*~
Pops' hometown was under attack. It was a blatant insult and there was no doubt the invaders were set up to repel any retaliation, but nothing else could be done. It was Pops' hometown and it was the duty of his children to protect it.
"You're sure about this?" Atmos asked as Marco laid out the plan.
"I'm sure," he'd said then and he told himself the same even as he stood at the railing, watching the island from afar. Even with his Devil Fruit abilities, Marco couldn't see what was happening, but he knew how it would play out. Haruta and Speed Jiru's divisions would use hit-and-run tactics, herding the enemy right into Blamenco's mighty swings while their ships were torn apart between Rakuyo's flail and Whitey Bay's icebreaker. The rest of the Whitebeard pirates surrounded the island, picking off any stragglers and watching for any trap that might be sprung. Marco stayed on the flagship Hornblower, in full view of the island and residence and those that held it captive, wanting to ensure they burned into their eyes just what they had brought upon themselves.
"Commander Marco!" Someone called from the crow's nest. "Ships are approaching! Three- no, five ships! All pirates!"
"There it is," he said to himself. "There's the trap."
"They're coming up fast and against the wind! They look like heavily armored paddleships!"
Squard stepped up to Marco, hand on the hilt of his sword. "Commander, I'll hold them off while you alert the others."
"Hold them off? By yourself?"
"I will not let them hurt even one crewmate. Even if it costs me my life."
It was disconcerting how much Squard's words echoed in Marco's chest and he wondered if the other commanders had felt like Marco did now. He turned, facing Squard full on. "Do you know why I wanted you in my division? Directly under my command?"
The curve of Squard's lips pinched harsh and ugly. "I know you don't trust me. After what I've done to Pops, I shouldn't even be here. But I-"
"No," Marco said sharply, eyes as blue and intense as the flames that would engulfed him. "It's because I want to protect you and your crew. The others accepted you because they were ordered to, but not all of them can forgive so readily. Some would be willing to take out their grief upon you and your crew because they have no other way to deal with it. But you did not kill our Father. You know what it took to kill him- that one sword wound made no difference."
"But I didn't trust him! I accused him of betraying us!"
"And he forgave you. That's good enough for me. You have nothing to prove to me, Squard. I know how much you've regretted what you've done. I know you grieved just as much as the others." For the first time since that thrice-damned war, Marco believed his own words. "I've forgiven you. That's why you're here. So stop trying to throw your life away. I will protect you and your crew. Because you're my family."
Squard looked at him the same way Ace had looked at Pops- the way everyone looked at Pops when they realized he meant everything he said to them and for a moment Marco thought he felt someone standing at his shoulder. "I won't throw my life away anymore," Squard sobbed into his hands. "For you- for everyone- I'll live to protect them all."
Marco squeezed his shoulder, looking around the deck at those around them, each meeting his eyes with pride and conviction. He turned to the railing then, just as the first cracks of cannon fire whistled toward them. Hands clenched, Marco's voice rang out, answered by the cries of all his siblings: "For family!"
~*~*~*~
"Responsibility looks good on you."
"I've been responsible for a long time."
"Ah. But it's been a while since you've been captain."
"I'm still not a captain."
Shanks shrugged his shoulders and sighed. "If you're determined to be that way... Regardless, your crew is coming back together faster than I thought."
"Is that what you came here for? To see how we were doing?" Marco's lips quirked upward. "Or are you just abusing the fact Marine HQ is too disorganized to follow your every move right now?"
"You're words are as sharp as ever- struck me right to the core." Though Shanks' smile was in place, the lightness faded from the edges. "Everyone doing alright?"
Marco held his drink to his lips, dwelling on the sky reflecting on its surface. "They're surviving. We're learning how to live without Pops. It's difficult but... all of us, we're learning."
Shanks hummed, leaning back with the remains of his left arm against the mast. "It can be tough for everyone. But trust and faith: that is what makes a crew strong."
"They're the bonds that make a family strong," Marco corrected. He raised his cup, toasting the sky. "And they'll be the ones that keep us together, no matter what the New World might throw at us."
~*~*~*~
The air was finally starting to cool as half the sun sank into the sea and Marco lifted his head, letting the wind wash over him.
"Oi, Marco!" Someone called out to him. "You flying out?"
Somewhere in the holds of the ship, someone was playing music. There was voices raised in argument, interrupted by braying laughter and the smell of rum in an oaken barrel and meat cooking.
Marco stepped back from the railing. "No," he said. "Not tonight." He pushed his hands into his pockets and hopped the stairs below the deck where he was greeted with warmth and life and a rousing cheer.
Title: For Family
Fandom: One Piece
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 2454
Characters: Marco, various Whitebeard Pirates, cameo by Shanks
Summary: After the battle at Marineford, Marco struggles with their losses and his new responsibilities.
It didn't really hit until then how many they had lost, their names called out one by one, each followed by the crack of a rifle fired into the air, then by the next name after the lonely discharge faded. Each person missing, each one killed, another piece of the family never to be seen again. It took almost an entire day to give each one their due. No break. No pause. No hesitation. No faltering.
Marco didn't know how he got through it but somehow he did.
~*~*~*~
They remained moored as their wounded healed and Marco would spend his nights flying around the ships, making sure each were accounted for and safe, that no one in their broken family was so overcome by their losses they'd tear their lives out of the survivors' hearts. As the dawn broke and Vista and Jozu and the others awoke, Marco flew to the beach and sat, a speck of blue and fire between two towering memorials. He wondered what a pitiful sight he must have been. Ace would have laughed at him. So would have Thatch and Oars. Pops would've scolded him for acting out of character. But none of them were there so Marco curled until his beak tucked under a wing and only when he stopped hating that form would he be able to face the crew again.
Why was he given this ability, he'd wonder. Why did he have something so rare and powerful but was ultimately so useless? Why did he have to mourn those he loved instead of saving them? What was the point of having the power of rebirth and regeneration when he couldn't save the ones most important to him?
He knew, of course, that his powers had saved his family more times than he could remember. He knew that Pops had already planned to die at Marineford. He knew there was little he could do with a seastone shackle on his wrist and two shots from Kizaru through his chest.
But knowing wasn't the same as believing.
~*~*~*~
"We've decided, unanimously, that we want you to lead the crew."
The other commanders waited patiently for Marco's response. He couldn't think of any, so he remained silent.
"You're the strongest of us. You were with Pops the longest. You're the commander of the 1st Division. You're the only one that can do it."
His eyes drifted to one side, staring through the bodies and walls and ocean the separated him from the island. Even from that distance he could count the number of flowers the decorated graves- one for each person missing, one for each one missing them.
"If you don't, we'll have to disband."
He could feel his breath rattling in his lungs and he closed his eyes because if he looked at the vast spot laying empty of man and medical equipment, he might've broken into tears again.
"Alright." Marco told them. "I'll do it."
He kept the title of Commander because there would only ever be one Captain of the Whitebeard Pirates.
~*~*~*~
Marco's first order to the crew was anyone that wanted to leave was allowed to. No questions, no judgment. They would be given an allowance and dropped off at the next major port to begin a new life as they saw fit. He also extended, to any of the allies that had fought and lost alongside the Whitebeard Pirates, an invitation to join as a full member of the family. Many took the first option. Not as many took the second. With the all the deaths and injuries and separations, they were down to almost half their original crew count. There was no hope in stopping the power vacuum and the chaos that ensued. After a lengthy, agonizing discussion with the other commanders, Marco had decided which islands they could afford to protect and which ones had to survive on their own. Afterward Marco flew off into the night and disappeared until morning.
~*~*~*~
Of the allies that had become family, the only ones that joined the 1st Division were the Whirl Spiders, personally picked by Marco. Squard accepted without a word other than a quiet, "Thank you. We will honor our Father's memory."
"More than our Father," Marco told him. "Honor our family."
~*~*~*~
These days their ships sailed in a tight formation they used at night, close enough that there was added sway from the wake of other bows. Close enough to see each other at all times. Whenever someone in the crows nest called out, every ship could hear them.
Pirates in every ocean had gotten bolder. With the death of Whitebeard, some had gotten proud enough to challenge the crew head on. Before any of them were within cannon range, Marco was there to remind them that Pops hadn't been the only one to fear and each challenger went down in smoke and destruction before they were more than a speck on the horizon.
"Run," he'd call out to the crews, panicking as they floundered in the ocean, "and let the survivors spread the word: no one will ever hurt my family again."
~*~*~*~
"Your wounds haven't healed yet."
"No."
"Why not?"
They stood at the stern of the ship, staring into the far horizon even as their minds dwelled on that little island far behind them. "They'll heal on their own," Marco said.
Vista's elbows rested heavy on the railing. "But why?"
He resisted the urge to touch that bandage on his chest where he would surely scar. "So I can remember."
~*~*~*~
More people left and Izo and Curiel asked Marco to adjust crew assignments, their respective divisions having been hit the hardest in the war. For days Marco was swamped with papers detailing each crewmember, their strengths and weaknesses and any comments their commanders thought were important enough to mention. It took many more days to even out the ranks, balancing the divisions to everyone's liking while giving enough leeway in case others decided to leave.
"Isn't easy, is it?" Curiel asked, trying not to depend on his crutches but it was a miracle that he was still mobile after Akainu's attack as it was.
"No. But we'll hold together," Marco said. I'll hold us together, he didn't say.
~*~*~*~
Just before the sunset, Marco would go to each ship to ensure all were fine, that no one was lacking any necessities. He would return to his own ship and check with Squard, ensuring he and his former crew were bedded down for the night.
"Commander," Squard asked him once, "why do you always look in on us?"
"Because I have to make sure." He turned away, stepped onto a rail and over the edge, letting the wind rustle around him until it was drowned out by cold fire and flapping wings. One day someone would ask him why, every night, he flew off until morning. Marco still didn't know what he'd tell them.
~*~*~*~
The weather was being fickle and, according to calculations, they may not make landfall before their food stores got dangerously low. Namur offered to take his division out to fish and Marco caught himself just before he said no. A sudden fear gripped him and he fought the urge to order the ships to sail closer together, to fly to each ship, making sure everyone was still there.
Before Namur could ask again, Marco told him, "Next week. If the weather hadn't picked up then, you can fish."
~*~*~*~
Jozu was waiting for him when Marco returned, flicking bits of ash off the length of his tail.
"You need to stop this," the large man said.
"Stop what?" Marco asked before he'd even fully changed back again.
"I don't know if you're afraid someone is going to get hurt if you're not watching them, or if you think you're suddenly expendable for some reason." Arms thicker than Marco's chest crossed, settling like a house on its foundations. Wherever the discussion would lead, Jozu was in it for the long haul. "Stop fighting every battle on your own."
"It's fine. None of them are worth worrying about."
"And what if one of them were? What if one of these captains end up being as strong as Ace was when we first found him? What if you were shackled with seastone again? You'd be too far away for any of us to help you." He grabbed Marco's arm, the breadth of his hand nearly covering him from elbow to shoulder. "We could lose you, Marco. After Pops and Ace and everything else, if we lose one more person, it could break us completely."
When he looked up at Jozu, there was nothing brave or strong behind Marco's eyes. "I'm not like Pops."
Jozu squeezed his arm before letting his hand drop to his side again. "No. But we're still your family and if you want us to trust you, you need to trust us."
~*~*~*~
Pops' hometown was under attack. It was a blatant insult and there was no doubt the invaders were set up to repel any retaliation, but nothing else could be done. It was Pops' hometown and it was the duty of his children to protect it.
"You're sure about this?" Atmos asked as Marco laid out the plan.
"I'm sure," he'd said then and he told himself the same even as he stood at the railing, watching the island from afar. Even with his Devil Fruit abilities, Marco couldn't see what was happening, but he knew how it would play out. Haruta and Speed Jiru's divisions would use hit-and-run tactics, herding the enemy right into Blamenco's mighty swings while their ships were torn apart between Rakuyo's flail and Whitey Bay's icebreaker. The rest of the Whitebeard pirates surrounded the island, picking off any stragglers and watching for any trap that might be sprung. Marco stayed on the flagship Hornblower, in full view of the island and residence and those that held it captive, wanting to ensure they burned into their eyes just what they had brought upon themselves.
"Commander Marco!" Someone called from the crow's nest. "Ships are approaching! Three- no, five ships! All pirates!"
"There it is," he said to himself. "There's the trap."
"They're coming up fast and against the wind! They look like heavily armored paddleships!"
Squard stepped up to Marco, hand on the hilt of his sword. "Commander, I'll hold them off while you alert the others."
"Hold them off? By yourself?"
"I will not let them hurt even one crewmate. Even if it costs me my life."
It was disconcerting how much Squard's words echoed in Marco's chest and he wondered if the other commanders had felt like Marco did now. He turned, facing Squard full on. "Do you know why I wanted you in my division? Directly under my command?"
The curve of Squard's lips pinched harsh and ugly. "I know you don't trust me. After what I've done to Pops, I shouldn't even be here. But I-"
"No," Marco said sharply, eyes as blue and intense as the flames that would engulfed him. "It's because I want to protect you and your crew. The others accepted you because they were ordered to, but not all of them can forgive so readily. Some would be willing to take out their grief upon you and your crew because they have no other way to deal with it. But you did not kill our Father. You know what it took to kill him- that one sword wound made no difference."
"But I didn't trust him! I accused him of betraying us!"
"And he forgave you. That's good enough for me. You have nothing to prove to me, Squard. I know how much you've regretted what you've done. I know you grieved just as much as the others." For the first time since that thrice-damned war, Marco believed his own words. "I've forgiven you. That's why you're here. So stop trying to throw your life away. I will protect you and your crew. Because you're my family."
Squard looked at him the same way Ace had looked at Pops- the way everyone looked at Pops when they realized he meant everything he said to them and for a moment Marco thought he felt someone standing at his shoulder. "I won't throw my life away anymore," Squard sobbed into his hands. "For you- for everyone- I'll live to protect them all."
Marco squeezed his shoulder, looking around the deck at those around them, each meeting his eyes with pride and conviction. He turned to the railing then, just as the first cracks of cannon fire whistled toward them. Hands clenched, Marco's voice rang out, answered by the cries of all his siblings: "For family!"
~*~*~*~
"Responsibility looks good on you."
"I've been responsible for a long time."
"Ah. But it's been a while since you've been captain."
"I'm still not a captain."
Shanks shrugged his shoulders and sighed. "If you're determined to be that way... Regardless, your crew is coming back together faster than I thought."
"Is that what you came here for? To see how we were doing?" Marco's lips quirked upward. "Or are you just abusing the fact Marine HQ is too disorganized to follow your every move right now?"
"You're words are as sharp as ever- struck me right to the core." Though Shanks' smile was in place, the lightness faded from the edges. "Everyone doing alright?"
Marco held his drink to his lips, dwelling on the sky reflecting on its surface. "They're surviving. We're learning how to live without Pops. It's difficult but... all of us, we're learning."
Shanks hummed, leaning back with the remains of his left arm against the mast. "It can be tough for everyone. But trust and faith: that is what makes a crew strong."
"They're the bonds that make a family strong," Marco corrected. He raised his cup, toasting the sky. "And they'll be the ones that keep us together, no matter what the New World might throw at us."
~*~*~*~
The air was finally starting to cool as half the sun sank into the sea and Marco lifted his head, letting the wind wash over him.
"Oi, Marco!" Someone called out to him. "You flying out?"
Somewhere in the holds of the ship, someone was playing music. There was voices raised in argument, interrupted by braying laughter and the smell of rum in an oaken barrel and meat cooking.
Marco stepped back from the railing. "No," he said. "Not tonight." He pushed his hands into his pockets and hopped the stairs below the deck where he was greeted with warmth and life and a rousing cheer.
