14Today was the day, the day of his interview - or in reality, it was more akin to meeting his employers since Thatch considered him 'already hired.' While technically speaking Ace still needed to quit his current job, it was doubtful he'd be able to manage or even want to work both at the same time. Ace knew he'd quit, which he'd do the minute he decided on the most spectacular way to do so; Ace figured he might announce it during a lunch rush; 'politely' give his two weeks notice didn't feel awesome enough. No, his quitting had to be loud and fiery, he'd figure it out eventually.
That morning would officially be the first time entering the Moby Dick and as far as he could see the outside of the restaurant matched the commercials. It was designed to look like a massive ship with a white whale figurehead. On top of the building was a large working sail with a skeletal symbol done in the restaurant's logo, a purple skull with a long white mustache running across the face and the bones forming a cross behind it. Something about it gave him a distinct feeling of deja vu. Staring at the Jolly Roger, Ace found himself reaching his arm up and over his shoulder to brush a hand along the upper part of his back. Then he scowled brushing off the feeling; he had things to do.
Ace stepped forward pushing open the doors and entering the building. He didn't have a moment to look around as exactly half a second later a pompadour filled his vision. Thatch bounced his way sliding to a stop in front of him to say: "Right on time Ace!"
Thatch stepped up to his side, and he made a broad sweep of his arm showing off the inside of the Moby Dick. Being the first time Ace was able to see the inside of the place which would hopefully be his workplace, Ace took a moment to give a real look. The restaurant was nothing like he'd expected.
Considering the commercials, Ace had assumed the Moby Dick would be fancy and professional, a black tie joint; it was not. Instead, the Moby Dick was boisterous and chaotic, friendly and loud; Ace immediately felt welcomed as he realized no one would give him a second look, even if he were to walk around shirtless. All over customers had put their tables together with relative strangers; they leaned over excitedly chatting to people and the workers. A table nearby was having a full-on poker game where a laughing waitress, who had joined in, was winning. A waiter slipped past dancing around the groups and handing off drinks joining in several private jokes as he stopped at his table. From a distance, Ace heard one of the customers make a joke about a pineapple and a diamond that had a whole group including a waiter breaking down laughing. While the smells alone coming from the kitchens and nearby tables had Ace's mouth-watering, which only got worse as a table toasted to Thatch himself who was in fact 'working.'
The restaurant itself was designed similar to that of the inside of a ship, with portholes for windows, wood furniture and ocean theme objects all over the walls. Many of which had meaning that Ace was not privy too, from the poster of a bright blue bird to a spiked flail that someone had drawn a face onto. Ace spotted a bunch of fake wanted posters along the walls, one of which was depicted in the likeness of who he swore was the local reporter he'd seen on TV a few times. Another poster had the face of a dog with a banana mustache.
"We'll get yours up too," Thatch saw where he was looking "once we get your picture that is."
"Really?" Ace asked following Thatch "They're for the workers then?"
"Huh?" Thatch glanced at him confusedly "No of course not, it's for the crew."
"Yo Thatchy!" the two jerked and glanced over as a waiter walked toward them carrying an empty tray "is this him? Roge-"
Thatch rushed forward and slammed his hand against the man's as Ace blinked. Had he been about to say- no that wasn't possible, they couldn't possibly know about his father. It had to have been a fluke.
The man closed his mouth, and Thatch slowly removed it hissing something at him, the man nodded apologetically. Then they both recovered smiling warmly toward a profoundly confused Ace.
"Ace, this is Carter." 'Carter' was to Ace immediately forgettable, if Ace were to describe he'd merely say Carter was average. He was the type of man that would do fantastically as a background character in the middle of a play.
"Uh… hi?" he greeted awkwardly.
"He's the former head of the second division" Thatch explained as if Ace knew precisely what he was talking about; he didn't.
"Okay?" Ace gave the man a confused look, "and a division is… what?"
Both men stared at him like Ace was acting particularly obtuse. However when Ace didn't blurt out the words 'just kidding' and the silence continued to reign Carter made a distressed sound.
"The second division of the crew?" Carter offered as Thatch grimaced.
"That's… something to do with the job?" Ace was beginning to feel incredibly off; they didn't expect him to know details about the job before he worked there right? He'd never actually eaten at the joint; he didn't know how it worked yet.
"Oh shit," Thatch managed.
"Thatch!" Carter hissed "he doesn't know about-"
"Okay!" Thatch yelled suddenly cutting him off; he shot Carter an exaggerated 'shut-up-now' look that even Ace caught. "Ace how about you head to the back, through the doors right there, take the second right for my office okay? I'll be right there, and we can go over the job."
"Oh, yeah sure," Ace nodded slightly to the two men. He plastered a smile on his face and escaped the bizarre environment quickly moving toward the double doors for the back. With his back to the pair, he frowned while he slipped past a young waitress wearing a tricorn. That conversation had been surreal he thought; Carter must have been assuming Ace had been to eat at the Moby Dick before and knew how the system worked. Ace didn't, but it wouldn't take much to figure it out, maybe he'd get some food this afternoon to learn.
Hopefully, they wouldn't elect to pull their offer because of this.
Now, where was the second door?
Back in the front Carter dropped his plate and turned furiously toward Thatch as he said: "he doesn't have a clue where he is or what's happened to him!"
"Shit," Thatch ran an aggravated hand over his face "I was hoping I was wrong when I saw him in that marine place. I thought he missed me because he'd fallen unconscious, or that he was guilty, ya know? But then he acted so distantly the other day; I thought he was mad at me- not that he doesn't have a clue."
Carter groaned "Thatch we have to tell Pops and… and should he be here?"
"Of course he should," Thatch snapped "he's our brother, he deserves to be here! Besides he was miserable at that idiotic 'Maritime.'"
"Marines run it, of course he was" Carter scoffed rolling his eyes skyward, "but that's not what I'm talking about, and you know it. If he doesn't remember, then you know what that means."
"I know," Thatch interrupted not wanting to think about what it could mean for Ace in the long run. "No it's better we keep him around, he'll be safer with us and away from them. Besides, maybe his memory will be jogged while he works with us."
"Alright commander," Carter nodded in agreement "I'll keep doing the job, and I'll tell the others not to tell him."
"Thanks,"
"Yeah, yeah, let's hope it doesn't last too long. All my idiots miss that kid; they won't be happy with me for long."
"You know they don't mind you Carter; you were their first commander."
"I was," Carter corrected "Now, I'm just part of the crew, and I like it. Honestly, I enjoy my free time, that job is way too stressful. No offense or anything,"
"None taken, after all, I like it,"
"Yeah yeah, go before Portgas gets impatient or falls asleep, the kid looks exhausted," Carter sighed, "and for a good reason I guess."
Carter left while making a slight face as he said to himself "This is just bizarre, he outranks us all."
Thatch headed for his office plastering the best attempt at a smile on his face. Hopefully Ace wouldn't realize how bothered he was, in theory he wouldn't if he didn't remember anything. This Ace wouldn't be able to tell his false smiles from his real ones, not yet.
When Thatch stepped into his office, he couldn't resist making a noise of fondness. There asleep on one of the extra chairs was Ace with his arms on the deck pillowing his head.
Thatch chuckled at Ace's sleeping form. "You know, I use to think a person with narcolepsy wouldn't look so tired."
He stepped forward shaking Ace away. His palm touched Ace's, and he recoiled quickly away from it. Ace's skin was clammy and chilled as if he'd been dunked into ice water or chained down by the sea. Thatch shot a worried look at Ace; he had never felt his skin that cold, ever. That wasn't normal, but then none of this was normal.
The touch startled Ace enough that he snapped up yelling out: "I'm awake!" he missed slamming his head into Thatch's by a hairs breath and only because Thatch jerked back at the last second to save himself the bloody lip.
"You sure?" Thatch teased as he internally worried about the chill, what could be causing that? "I can hardly tell with those raccoon eyes of yours. Almost wish we had Iz- my friend, he'd be able to cover those up in a minute flat."
"Makeup? Yeah, no thanks,"
"I figured. I'd try to convince you it's fun to wear it and wander around completely in disguise, but I suspect you wouldn't believe me,"
"Never!"
"Never say never Ace, I'm sure my friend could convince you," Thatch grinned and dropped into his chair, "right so, contract then. Here we are." Thatch pushed some paperwork over and tapped it "just read it over and ask any questions you might have."
"Sure." Ace reached for and started to flip through it. As he read Ace discovered he would be getting a massive boost in monthly funds thanks to this new job. To the point where he could very quickly escape his apartment and finally get his version of full meals every day- which was, of course, his priority. Ace was quite eager to sign off for the new job for that reason alone beside he could admit he rather liked Thatch, and the others appeared to be friendly and hard-working, so Ace would not be carrying the whole job alone.
He was good with what he was reading, "Sounds good, you have a pen?"
"I do," Thatch leaned forward and dropped a pen designed to look like a blue and yellow pineapple into Ace's hands. Ace froze staring at it; something was familiar about- why did he keep doing this, the deja-vu was killing him lately.
"You guys have a thing for pineapples here?" he asked distance as he signed his name with his sharp scrawl. Then he handed the pen and contract back, watching them both vanish into the desk drawer.
"That's… an inside joke, I'll tell you the meaning later. Anyway, as for this-" he tapped the contract "-I'll get you a copy before you leave. Now, how about you stay for a meal. On the house, you're a bit skinny."
"Are you sure about that?" Ace gave Thatch a shark-like grin, on the house meant he could get pretty whatever he wanted, which meant he could eat his weight in food.
"I'm sure we can handle it!" Thatch challenged eyes softening.
"Don't be so sure!" Ace bragged fully intent on taking advantage and eating his fill.
Ace slammed his hand on top of his TV in an attempt to get the image to clear; the reception refused to respond to the abuse. Clicking his tongue, he moved back slightly watching the screen fuzz out, and the news reporter speak as if they were talking through water. He was disappointed, Ace had wanted to see the man something about him was soothing, from the verbal tick to the odd hairstyle.
Ace flopped onto his couch watching as the screen danced with color and the reporter spoke.
"-under attack by-…." The screen turned into full fuzz before the sentence got out.
"Damn" Ace sighed and ran a hand through his hair. At least with his new job he'd be able to afford a new TV sooner than later, and a proper set up to get more than just infomercials and the news.
"-allies are moving to assist-…. -island lost-"
"Sounds intense," Ace muttered to his TV "Wonder what happened?" Ace stood debating with himself; he could ask Thatch tomorrow he supposed. Surely the other man would know the details if it was that serious?
He turned away from the TV debating making dinner, though he was somewhat limited on ingredients. Next week he'd be better off, actually be able to splurge on real meat. For now, he'd have to settle for some instant ramen. Though he could certainly add some better ingredients, those eggs were… probably still good.
Behind his back, the fuzzed screen cleared and the reporter slowly followed Ace with his eyes. Until the moment Ace glanced back, and it fuzzed once more as if nothing had happened.
He ate alone while thinking about how he'd quit his old job. Maybe Ace could do it explosively? That could be fun; he could go stomping in, and yelling nonsense! Or for once he could do absolutely nothing like the other two. Ace snickered, he'd think of something good for sure. No regular quitting for him, nope!
Ace dreamed of the Moby Dick, the ship and not the restaurant. He was quietly relieved to find himself on the waves, to find the ocean and his home sailing strong despite the ships fate. The only difference from his scattered memories of his dream and what he remembered was the fact of any people. The ship was perfect down the scratches from Rankuyo's weapon and an unpleasant blood stain near the railing. Ace had left before it had been removed, the blemish had been present in his last memory of the ship.
Ace looked away from it trying to focus on the differences between his memories and the dreams. The most obvious was the lack of people that had always crowded the deck and the noises regularly going had been silenced. Now it was just Ace, the ship and the water of his dreams.
Grimacing Ace pressed a hand to his middle, like in his memories he was shirtless allowing him to see that he carried no marks. There was no sign of the disastrous attack that had pierced right through his middle. Left behind was only a ghostly pain that had thankfully faded to an ignorable whisper, nothing like the screaming pain plaguing him the last few nights after Marco gave him his name and unlocked Ace's memories.
Pinching the skin, just to test if it was whole, which it was, Ace dismissed the pain and looked out to sea. It didn't occur to him that the pain from his wound and the pinch shouldn't happen. After all the idea was a common one, you couldn't feel real pain in dreams.
Looking along the ship Ace scrunched his nose at the feeling of wrongness about it. But he couldn't ignore the facts as they were, Ace had seen the ship sink, he knew it didn't exist any longer. He couldn't possibly be present on the familiar wood. It was safe to safe this had to be a dream, if only due to the impossibility of the ship around him.
"Reincarnation?" Ace asked. Was he the only one that didn't remember his past life while he was awake? It put Thatch's comments while Ace was awake into context he supposed. It would be why the second division had been mentioned. Especially since Ace was sure Carter had been the name of the original commander who had died a year before Ace joined the crew. Scrubbing his hands across his face, he wondered over that. It made the most sense Ace supposed. It was why the others were around and why he didn't remember outside his dreams. It made sense, except for one thing.
"Marco," Ace said to himself "he's that reporter I saw on TV. But if he's reincarnated too why am I dreaming of him? Shared dreams?" Maybe Marco was trying to find Ace, and that was why Ace was dreaming about him. Which in theory meant seeing Marco in his dreams ought to temper off now that Ace was working at the Moby Dick, his picture was up which meant Ace might meet him in person soon. Hopefully working so close to the people he'd known before would prompt him to remember while he was awake. He was eager to do so if only to reclaim his family and join in that was now a distinct crack about Marco's pineapple-shaped hair.
Glancing around Ace looked over the empty ship and suddenly got a bit giddy. He was dreaming of the Moby; which meant his room had to be around, which would mean his posters were around. Ace hadn't seen them in a long time, hadn't seen his brother in a long time. Moving quickly Ace all but skipped toward the lower decks, he couldn't quite help but peer into every room touched with heavy nostalgia. He checked the weapons bunker, the place they stored their treasure, many of the bedrooms of his fellow commanders and crew.
He paused at Marco's room and smiled fondly, accurate with Ace's memory the man's room with covered in shelves and books. His bed was a virtual nest of pillows arranged meticulously for his comfort, and Ace could confirm it was ridiculously soft. Before he'd been captured and the ship destroyed Ace had often snuck the room to use the bed when Marco had gone on a mission. Marco hadn't complained the few times he'd returned to find Ace in his bed either.
"You keep the pillows warm." was all Marco had said about it.
Ace moved on heading to his own room. He felt a distinct sense of loss as he walked on, none of this existed anymore, and if he was right then, it hadn't for ages.
Stopping at his own door Ace discovered it was locked; furrowing his brow Ace stared at the door handle, why was it? He'd never locked it while on the Moby, ever. The crew would often wander into his room, and he'd walk into theirs, either to grab some paperwork, prank the area, or they'd be looking for Ace. He'd never felt any reason to lock the door; it wasn't like his siblings would mess with his things, beyond a prank or two.
"What is this," he grumbled unhappily "not a high enough level or something?"
He yanked hard on the door willing it to open for him. "Open. Open. Open." He ordered foot on the wall as he tugged at the handle.
A hand reached past him and landed on top of his own. Ace sucked in a breath and looked sharply up to meet Marco's half-lidded eyes; he felt his heart beat in unease. Marco looked exhausted, more than just the lidded eyes he'd already been carrying. It was as if he hadn't slept in years, as if he'd lost all the blood volume in his body and had witnessed the death of his entire family.
Ace released the pressure he had on the door handle preparing to abandon his attempts so that he could embrace his brother. Concern welled up as Ace started to move. He wasn't sure what he was planning, only that Ace intended to do anything he could to help Marco, his eldest brother should never look like that. However, before he could, Marco squeezed his hand twisting it and the door handle still under his palm. The lock that had been blocking Ace released, and it opened. Ace looked up uncertainly as Marco nodded into the room implying Ace should enter.
'Thanks' was on the tip of his tongue, a worried question was a step behind that. Ace nearly allowed the words to breach his lips before he remembered speaking would wake him up. With all the effort he'd gone through to get into the door, he should finish his mission. Ace found he couldn't look away and step inside, not when Marco looked like that.
"You want to see him don't you?" Marco asked, "go ahead; the picture should be there."
Marco pushed Ace's upper back with his free hand and nudged Ace a step into the room.
It was a mess as always; the bed was left unmade since Ace didn't believe in making it - why bother, he was going to sleep in it again. There was a shelf of books he'd found interesting over the years; it also held the ones that had been gifted to him - mostly storybooks and a few about chemical interactions to assist in his fire attacks. The shelves also contained a few items he hadn't been able to resist picking up, like an odd looking claw from a crocodile he'd hunted and a stone with blue and yellow swirls.
On the walls lay his wanted poster collection, all across the walls was every bounty picture he'd been able to get a hold of. The faces of his adoptive family were scattered before him. While front and center on the desk lay the one he was most proud to own.
Luffy's.
It held Luffy's ear to ear smile, his scar, and his treasured straw hat. Ace placed his hand over his heart as it jerked painfully. His last memory of Luffy was not that smiling face. No, it had been his brother crying and terrified as Ace bled out in his arms. It had been Luffy's pleading voice begging for a doctor to fix the impossible, it had been Luffy demanding Ace not die because he'd promised not to. It had been Luffy's scream of horror as Ace went limp and fell into darkness.
The next words out of his mouth were not the ones Ace had wanted to say. He'd honestly been intending to asking if Marco was okay, to tell him he worked at the Moby Dick, or to ask what was happening. He said none of that as he gazed at his kid brother, so very hopeful that Marco knew what Ace did not, because Ace had died.
"He survived right?" Ace asked unable to look away from the poster.
Marco behind him looked to Ace's back then he softly said: "…He survived, we made sure of it."
Ace turned and smiled breathlessly in relief; then he faded away vanishing before Marco's exhausted eyes.
Marco forced a breath through his teeth as Ace vanished. A single word and a ticking clock were what they were working; it was impossible to manage. If he told Ace everything, it would only result in his pain and death. But if he said nothing then-
Swearing Marco rubbed his hands over his face. As he did, he felt a cold metal brush against his skin, gritting his teeth Marco looked at the chilled stone wrapped around his wrist. A chain draining him and yet desperately needed.
Marco dug his nails into his palms as he looked past where Ace had been standing to the smiling face of Monkey D. Luffy. Regret shot through him, then burning determination.
"I can't keep this up" he breathed out and shook himself "But I can't give up either."
'Please realize soon Ace. Please'
The phone woke Ace, with a sleepy grumble Ace swung a hand out and snatched it up. Pressing the phone to his ear Ace mumbled out a distracted "yeah?"
"Ace?"
His eyes flew wide, and Ace swung violently to the side to hang up before another word was spoken. He was not talking to his father today or any day; it was not going to happen.
