One Piece Fan Fiction ❯ Initium aliquid novi (The start of something new) ❯ Nightmare ( Chapter 3 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Marco ran.

He ran faster than he had ever run in his life.

He hadn't been here in several years, but that didn't matter.

He remembered everything, the entire layout of the ship, who's room belonged to whom, who was on guard when, and more than anything, where Thatch had been when he died.

How many times had been through this in his nightmares? How many times had he rushed out of his room, only to see, time and time again, that he was too late?

He ran past a few crewmembers who asked him what was happening. They looked worried. Marco wondered what kind of face he was pulling to make them assume immediately that something was wrong.

He didn't stop to answer though, no time, no time, no time.

He was going to be too late. Again. Like in all those dreams. Like last time.

Marco could hear the voices of his dreams ringing in his ears. He countered them all with his thoughts.

It's no good. They said. 'Shut up.'

He's already dead, stop running. They pushed on. 'Don't tell me what to do.'

You're only going to find a corpse, and it'll be your fault. You should have seen Teach's betrayal coming. It's your fault, you are weak. You have always been weak. Marco shook his head. 'Leave me alone, I am awake now, and I will change fate. I know I will.'

He burst into the galley. Never even stopping to glance at the people around him. He made his way around the tables and went straight to the back of the room.

The pirates who were present stopped eating for a second and looked at each other. Marco looked very upset. Someone suggested that Thatch had probably pulled one of his pranks again but no one believed it.

Marco seemed so troubled...

Since the commanders weren't present at the time, one of the pirates designated himself to follow Marco from afar. He would come back if the situation required further assistance.

Marco didn't even realise that someone was behind him. He kept on advancing.

Thatch often slept and worked in a small room behind the kitchens. Of course, he had his room in the commanders' quarters, but he liked being 'close to the stove' as he put it.

He made his way toward the door but stopped dead in his tracks when he got there. It was closed.

Shit, Marco thought as the dread slowly clawing at his stomach since earlier started to overwhelm him, I'm too late.

Thatch always left the door open. He liked to eavesdrop on the kitchen to know what was happening onboard the moby dick. He never closed the door. Ever.

His hand brushed against the handle, pausing for a second, his arm felt heavy. He was so scared of what he'd find behind the door.

He tried to go faster, telling himself that Thatch was behind that door, that he couldn't afford to lose any more time. He was so scared though.

He was shaking thinking of what he'd find behind the closed door of Thatch's room. He felt like a little boy facing the monster in his head in a dark room.

Get yourself together, he told himself.

Marco took a deep breath as he pressed the down on the door handle.

He was immediately hit by the metallic stench of blood and flesh. He opened the door wider and spotted what he had been so afraid to see.

Thatch was laying face forwards on the floor, right next to his desk, the chair he had been sitting on was right next to him. Blood covered his lower back, so much blood that he couldn't even discern the wound that it was coming from.

He ran to his fallen brother's body and kneeled beside it.

The blood had coagulated in Thatch's back, forming some sort of disturbing pool overflowing down his ribs. It was a horrifying and gruesome sight to behold.

Please be alive. Please be alive. Please be alive. He chanted.

Marco put his hand on his brother's shoulder and nearly cried in relief. He could feel through the Phoenix that there still was a small light of life left in his brother.

He could barely hold it together, but he had to concentrate. He masked his fear and anger. He was a child of Whitebeard and a Phoenix. He had to use the tools he was given.

He sat next to Thatch, both of his legs laying in his brother's blood, his breeches started soaking up the liquid and he could feel the still warm fluid against his skin. He didn't care.

He grabbed Thatch under his arms and pulled him up onto his shoulders. The first commander held his brother in a tight embrace on the floor. He made sure there was the most contact possible between them so that the flames could have the best effect.

He called on his power, and let his flames do the rest.

***

Vista was standing on the ship's top deck, enjoying the calmness of the sea before everyone started waking up.

The party thrown in Rakuyo and Thatch's honour had been quite a big one. It had only finished an hour ago when Thatch had decided to call it quits for the night. Since the main reason for the party had retired to his room, the crowd in the dining hall slowly started thinning. Only a few cooks and the pirates on watch were awake at this hour.

Vista had drawn the short straw, along with Curiel and Izou, so he hadn't been allowed to drink during the party and had to be the 'responsible adult'. Just to make sure nothing got too out of hand.

Of course, that didn't mean that he hadn't had his fun. It just meant that he was responsible for the good proceedings of the evening.

He'd passed a few of his brothers in the corridor as they all went to bed for the night, Chad, Haruta, Lee, even Teach was up late.

He breathed in deeply, the sky was dark and still and a small breeze was softly blowing through the sails. The wind was cold, but it felt good, clearing some of the tiredness from his head.

He turned on his heel to go back in and call it a night when he heard footsteps.

The swordsman looked where the noise was coming from, it was a boy from his division, one of his newest recruits, Dean, if Vista remembered correctly. He was about to scold the pirate for making to much noise when everyone was sleeping but he stopped before the words left his mouth.

He frowned as he took in the young brunette's appearance -he looked as pale as a sheet- and approached him to ask what was wrong.

Dean hadn't seen him though, and he started shouting at the top of his lungs.

"Help! We need help! Someone, please, get a doctor!"

Vista reached him, very concerned and the boy's tense shoulders dropped slightly when he saw that his commander was there. He seemed to to be a little relieved, but the grim look on his face remained.

"What's wrong? Vista asked. What happened?"

"He-he's hurt, please, you've got to come. There's so much blood. Oh my god please, you've got to come, please." The boy' panic was rising as he spoke.

The fifth division commander wanted to question him more thoroughly but decided against it, the pirate seemed like he wouldn't be able to answer to anything at the moment. Instead, he asked the boy to lead him to the injured person.

The boy turned around and started leading the way. He couldn't talk, he felt as if he was suffocating. He was having a panic attack. Before he broke down completely though, he lead the commander and the few other pirates who had heard his cry for help through the galley.

Vista suppressed a shudder as they approached a room that he recognised as being Thatches.

If this is another one of his terrible ideas for a prank, I'm going to kill him, Vista thought.

When he entered the room though, he started wishing that had been a prank.

The first thing he saw wasn't Thatch, but Marco. The look on his face was nothing like he had ever seen. His eyes seemed empty, staring into nothingness. Dread and fear were etched on his face in a way Vista had never seen before.

The look on Marco's face shocked him, he had never seen his brother looking so grief-stricken before.

He let his eyes wander down and what he saw didn't quite reach him at first. Marco was holding a Thatch in his arms, and there was blood everywhere.

When the realisation that his brother was probably dead hit him though, he pulled the same face as Marco had.

A shocked gasp next to him snapped him out of it, he turned and saw that Namur and four other men were standing beside him. He turned towards one of them ordered him to go and get the nurses. He somberly looked at the others and told them with the most serious tone he could muster. "Don't let Izou come in here, if he sees Thatch like that, it'll break him".

Two of them nodded and planted themselves outside the door, guarding it.

He slowly drew nearer to Marco and put his hand on his shoulder.

"Marco? Marco, it's me, it's Vista. Please snap out of it, I need to know if Thatch is alive."

***

Last time, when they found Thatch, it had been too late. The cook was already long dead, and no one could do anything about it.

This time though, he had found him in time, and everything was going to be okay.

Marco was going to bring him back, no matter what it took.

Man, no matter how many times he'd seen this particular scene played out in his nightmares, his brother's lifeless body always affected him so much.

He was so lost in thought that he jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Someone was talking to him.

He turned around, ready to fight, and relaxed when he discerned Vista's worried face in the dim-lit room. He looked up and saw that Haruta, Namur and a few crewmembers were all there.

They were all staring in shock at Thatch's body in Marco's arms, covered in blood, and surrounded by blue flames.

"Marco, is he alive?" Vista asked, dreading the answer to his question.

"Yes, barely," Marco said. Haruta let a small whine escape his lips and he sunk to his knees. Tears were slowly streaming down his face and he stayed there, not moving an inch, letting the fact that Thatch was alive wash over him.

Marco started talking to Thatch.

“Hold on Thatch, alright-yoi? Hold on! We'll get through this, okay? Soon you'll be running around the ship as always. Flirting terribly with Izou, shouting your quixotic ideas about love to anyone who'll listen and pranking everyone-yoi.”

Marco was shaking as he held his brother close to him and increased his blue flame's intensity.

When the nurses arrived, the once quiet room was filled with movement. They kicked everyone but the commanders out.

Marco, who had been feeding his flames to Thatch at full power since he had found him, lessened their intensity to let the nurses work on Thatch.

They both stayed in silence for a while, Marco feeding him with his life force and the worried-looking women working to stabilize him.

"Come on Thatch, stay with me, he said, choking slightly on his words, You are surrounded by pretty women who are all looking after you, don't let their efforts go to waste." If anything could keep his brother going, it was his chivalrous and undying respect for woman. He would never make a girl cry!

The nurses had originally wanted to work on Thatch in the operation room, but Marco couldn't move since he was giving all of his energy to his brother and the nurses had decided that keeping the Phoenix's flames around would be the best solution for now.

Last time, when Thatch had died, Marco had closed himself in his room for six days straight. He had shut himself out when his family needed him the most.

While he sat there, he promised himself that this time around, he'd be there to hold his crying brothers and make sure everything and everyone stayed together in the up and coming hard times.

After several hours of silent work, the girls finished stitching him up and bandaging him. They finally decided to move him.

Thatch was taken to the medical ward the long way. The nurses had decided that it would be wiser to avoid crossing the main deck with Thatch injured in such a manner. They would cause panic amongst the crew.

The Phoenix followed them, keeping his hand positioned on the cook's shoulder. They were placed in the largest room of the infirmary, Marco slept beside him, slowly feeding him his flames.

Finally, he let himself fall asleep and stop the flowing of his flames when he heard his brother's laboured breaths even out.