Law stepped closer, just like Ace knew he would. Although a man of little to no patience to listen to other people’s troubles and worries and give them a friendly shoulder, unless the topics in question were either part of his area of expertise or of his still scientific interest in humanity - maybe they were two sides of the same coin, the biological approach and its social counterpart - Law, if forever unable to perform the popular miracle of the multiplication of bread, which he’d never do even if it fell within the sphere of his powers, would always manage to deliver his very personal miracle of giving a shit about a fellow man, free of charge. Ace reckoned not many other honours would be higher than being in Trafalgar Law’s good graces.
First he appeared tired, a facet only enhanced by those eyes forever in need of rest and perhaps not even the powerful sleep of death would be refreshing enough for them. Then, he sat next to Ace and held his hands.
Again, the contrast between the two men couldn’t possibly seem bigger. Law’s hands were thinner, his fingers longer, somewhat more delicate for defying gestures and flourishes, for either healing or killing with finesse, and cold. As cold as the death tattooed on them was. Ace’s hands were wider, goofier, more of a farmer’s hands. And they were warm.
That, too, was an honour exclusive to a select few - to have Trafalgar Law touching you in a way that felt intimate, even if it was externally casual.
Ace’s lips parted and he heaved as he readied himself to answer Law when his friend walked some more steps in the undesired direction, putting distance between his shoes and the sofa. What now? If by chance he’d never meant to listen to Ace’s gloomy thoughts, why then had he asked? A dark cloud formed over Ace’s head due to his ill temper not mixing well with actions such as these, of throwing bait only to walk away at the first nibble.
When it came to the art of intimate conversations and dealing with human emotions, Law was a floundering fish out of water. His initial diversion to grab a blanket could be attributed to a subconscious anxiety to procrastinate engagement in an aspect he remained incompetent about; as if by simply disappearing elsewhere for a moment, Ace would fine and dandy when he returned, as if whatever ailed Ace could resolve itself in the blink of an eye. For despite Law’s astuteness in battle and surgery, his cluelessness in comforting another unnerved him and stirred up turmoil in his heart, his worry exacerbated by how uncharacteristic brooding was of Ace.
Admittedly, co-existing with the inclination to offer his support, deep down, flitted a selfish notion to walk away. The moment would pass. Ace would return to his usual self. (Perhaps Ace wanted to be alone?) Except Law couldn’t just walk away. If he was going to walk away from this, he might as well leave forever. Even if he could do nothing to alleviate Ace’s distress, he should at least be present instead of feigning oblivion.
In an effort to coax Ace into sharing, Law had draped the blanket over their shoulders and held Ace’s hand, a gesture he hoped would convey his willingness to listen. Law frowned when Ace mentioned that he was not born in time. Nevertheless, Law allowed his silence to prompt Ace to continue with his explanation. Meanwhile, Law cradled Ace’s warmer hand in his own. He traced his fingers over the lines on Ace’s palm and studied it intently like a fine abstract work of art.
At Ace’s mention of his mother delaying his birth by eleven whole months, Law’s fingers squeezed Ace’s and Law’s lips parted with an unspoken skeptical remark. Although Law didn’t yet say it, inwardly, he thought Ace must be mistaken. Perhaps Ace had sensed his disbelief, for Ace insisted on the truth of his statement, and a twinge of guilt caused Law’s grip to falter. A flurry of thoughts buzzed in his mind.
Feeling more beast than man, there was nothing Ace wanted more than to free himself from Law’s hands and the blanket that heavied on him, adding heat he did not need to his ever-burning self. He wanted to get up and walk in circles around the room, hands firm on the sides of his head and stubby nails doing their best attempt to pierce the flesh, like a caged up wild animal would after trying to escape and find all its efforts powerless against the trap.
Law’s fingers and weak, awkward, unnatural warmth felt just like it, a trap Ace had allowed to fall upon him and of which he wanted and needed to flee from. Still, though his body did not suppress a mild shake, he found he couldn’t. Get away from Law, that is. There was something commanding about his hands that ordered Ace’s body to stay. Without much thought he figured, there was one thing he wanted more than walk away and play the animal - and that was to stay close to Law and bask in his little miracle.
And then to bask in his embrace when Law enfolded him one small movement at the time, uncertain and shy until his arms were around Ace’s waist and Ace’s arms around Law’s back, grabbing the muscle, face against his neck.
Ace fought the tears with all his might but still some disobedient ones travelled down his cheek and onto Law’s exposed skin and shirt. He didn’t seem to mind and had little reason to. Surgeons ought to be exposed to nastier fluids and excretions anyway.
Similarly, and for once, Ace felt no shame or anger for his tears, the same ones that attested to the weakness in him no one should know about. If the old saying ‘men do not cry’ was bullshit, for a man’s worth is not in neglecting his humanity, it was true Ace did not want the frailty within to be of public knowledge - as far as everyone was concerned, Portgas D. Ace was that guy who brought life to any party with his antics, endless digestive system and that funny quirk of his about falling asleep unexpectedly and in just about any place…
And he wished his reputation to remain so. No one should know…
But Law knew and Law should and it was by all accounts better that he did.
Anyone with a rushed judgement would quickly classify Law as an individual very full of himself. ‘Look at my smug smile, of course I’m better than you. Look at my healing powers - do you really think Jesus was any greater?’ There were times when even Ace believed him, only to curse himself for his foolishness and the doctor for allowing such folly to happen under his very nose.
Just like Law knew, so did Ace. Both knew, in their hearts, there was no point in pretending for the other’s sake and neither were the kind to fake it anyway.
They might seem antithetical at first, at best, halves of each other - there was Ace, so joyous and full of life, there to support Law and make him skyrocket to the moon; there was Law, so gloomy and with death all over his hands, there to ground Ace and stop him from flying too close to the sun, even if fire was not a concern. Upon a more careful and microscopic observation, however, one would find that, underneath this game of antonyms, Ace and Law shared the same core: under dark hair and restless eyes, there resided two tormented souls wandering, not quite capable of not glancing over the shoulder at the past but still moving forth, just trying to enjoy the life others had been kind enough to let them keep.
Not only did they complement each other, they were, in a way, twin souls. Possibly the same soul leading two separate lives at he same time, if that was even possible. Then again, both options had to be automatically considered or voided null, depending on whether one believed such a thing as souls to be real. Ace didn’t care much and discussions didn’t matter when Law’s heart beat against his.
‘Don’t blame yourself’ was what Law was about to say, whether he wanted to or not - maybe he was saying whatever popped to mind. Ace knew there was not much for him to say when the story was still so unknown and when he was not used to being people’s psychologist or priest, patiently listening to them and advise them from the mighty wisdom of professional experience and, as such, did not blame Law’s mouth for faltering. Surgeries probably made words easier, as practical instructions, the blurting of statistics and a distant ‘you’ll survive’ probably sufficed, whereas counsel did not come so immediately and was hardly an umbrella solution.
When Law said he was sorry, Ace believed him. Not many people had expressed sympathy for the loss of his mum and the words everyone said out of courtesy upon finding of someone’s recent death felt even truer for an old one no one cared about.
‘Why would you think she blames you?’ Now that was something Ace could not explain when he did not think Rouge to be watching from above, pointing a finger down below. He imagined her running ever so gracefully through fields of wildflowers and fashioning herself a crown. He knew she watched over him… But he did not see her cursing him from her heavenly life.
“I’ve seen it” he said, louder than needed in Law’s ear. “When I was a kid, I used to dream of it. Being with my mum, doing all sorts of stuff, just the two of us. I dreamed of the things I’d never get to enjoy… I watched her smile at me, wave at me… And I watched her die in front of me too, Roo…” Ace hugged Law a bit tighter and did not give a single fuck about his pathetic tone of a broken man nor about the snot coming out of his little brat’s nose. “And my hands were red with her blood and she’d tell me I’d killed her!”
One day - and maybe that day was the same one after all - Ace would tell Law of why and let poison slip from his lips as he spouted the one name he hated the most. He would know everything and be the sole guardian to that knowledge; to Ace’s soul.
Ace’s face was already red with the tears, the effort and the pain and it did not cease being red at finding itself against Law’s chest, heart pounding and hammering in his ears, the one heart many people said was naught but a myth, it did not exist, including Law himself.
Guided by instinct, Ace nuzzled against the fabric of Law’s shirt, finding it softer than it probably was.
For now, for the moment, Ace’s ears picked on Law bring up the possibility of sending the nightmares away… Was that kind of surgery even possible? It seemed too fictional a possibility to Ace but what’d he know? He was a simple guy, was he not? Maybe Law had drugs on his mind, just like Ace knew he did have in his pocket. Or bag, or drawer, or wherever in his belongings.
Well, did he? Did Ace want to destroy his nightmares once and for all, whatever the price? A part of himself said ‘yes’. It was time to rest… To sleep of good things alone and find in REM the goodness life did not always have…. But another part of him said ‘no’. These dreams were a big part of him now he’d not be Ace - the true, unknown Ace - without them.
“I don’t know, Roo… I really don’t fucking know” Ace’s voice trailed off as he felt tired and, beyond all reason, warm and comfortable against Law’s heart. He smelled Law’s scent - impossible to describe save for the smell of their cheap laundry detergent which didn’t smell all that strongly in the first place, still in concetrated form inside the bottle - and it made his own heart feel more peaceful.