You didn’t want to know how far he’d go.

The Whitebeard Pirates made the wrong choice docking at a small marine base, thinking that there would be a minimal confrontation at best.

"We'll be in and out," Ace said smoothly, wrapping an arm around your neck.

But if you knew anything about the Whitebeard Pirates, you knew they weren’t going down without a fight if there was one.

Flurries of fire and ash invaded your nose as the bar burned down because of the scuffle, Whitebeard’s men refusing to show mercy. Despite the island being small, the base there could have sent you off to somewhere bigger.

You didn’t even have a big bounty over your head for someone who’s a member of one of the most notorious pirate crews to ever sail the Grand Line.

Even though you weren’t even sought after, they took you as leverage and tossed you into a holding cell like you were just another criminal.

They told Whitebeard that they’d let you go, as you weren’t that much of a threat — yet — in exchange for the surrender of everyone else.

Whitebeard’s crew didn’t cower — they knew you were strong. You wouldn’t allow yourself to be swayed by marines. After giving them 3 days to turn themselves in, Ace and the others watched as you were hauled onto a marine ship in shackles, shipped to the next island for your holding.

They didn’t need to be impulsive.

They needed to be careful.

Your life was at stake.

Ace barked commands nonstop at the other division commanders to hoist the sail and turn the ship around in the fleet's direction, his face carrying an aura of anger no one had ever seen in him before.

He didn’t feel this amount of rage in a long, long time. Not even when Thatch died — and that was a huge meltdown.

Ace felt like time seemed to come to a standstill every moment he was out on sea and not with you. He was just plotting his revenge — smirking wickedly at the thought of seeing the island you were being carried to go up in flames — setting fire to the marines who dared to breathe the same air as you.

Ace already lost one friend.

He couldn’t lose another.

Especially if it was you.

Expecting their return, you were tossed in a holding cell, forced to wait with nothing but a damp room and an underlying uncertainty enveloping your mind.

Days felt like eons when he was away from you — especially because they had to play the long game, sneaking around the island to infiltrate the larger base quietly.

He couldn’t eat without you there to steal his food. He couldn’t sleep without you next to him. He had no fight in him after you were taken — what was there to fight for if not you?

5 days in that holding cell did a number on you — your hair thinned out, and you lost weight because you refused to eat whatever slop the marines gave you.

Staying in the damp cell, catching yourself rethinking the life of piracy, the awful stench of melting mildew and black mold filled your senses as you coughed and unwillingly inhaled the poisonous air.

Your shackles wore down during the past week or so that you’ve pulled and struggled on them, so you were able to slip from them quite easily.

However, you had to move quickly.

Or you’d be burned alive along with the base.

As you made your way outside the base, you were met with a bright, hypnotic sight. It would have been horrific if you didn’t know who was behind it.

Ace.

It was all Ace.

You saw a clearing ahead of you like a providence of divine intervention, paved specifically for only your eyes to witness.

From there, you had a clear view of the Moby Dick, with Ace standing a distance away as he watched the marine base curl in the presence of his flames.

"I told you I'd come back, didn’t I?" He asked, but there was something amiss about the way he said it.

Reserved and wrong.

Without warning, he approached you in the middle of the fire and wrapped his huge arms around you in a tight hug.

"You don’t know what I’d do for you," he muttered.

"I'd turn the biggest marine base into ash if it meant keeping you safe."

He hissed gently, just holding you close to him for that moment.