[Fic] SmoAce, Finally.
Title: "Eripui Ereptum"
Rating: Safe
Warning: Implications of rape.
Word Count: 900+
Pairing: SmoAce
Teaser: You found him on the dark alley a few hundred twist and turns from the dulled city streets, breathing , naked and ten different kinds of undead.
Disclaimer: If I do own One Piece, then ZoSan would be canon, Ace would be alive, and SmoAce would be official.
Prompt: ( Here) Ace was severely raped, he is injured and Smoker finds him and helps him! Ah! anything about Ace hurt and Smoker helping him and falling in love with him!! PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!
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You found him on the dark alley a few hundred twist and turns from the dulled city streets, breathing , naked and ten different kinds of undead. Arms cuffed in seastone shackles and blood reeking of sea stone poisoning, but never once losing his smug smirk-- ridiculing you and desecrating your ownership. He gazed at you with something akin to fear, apprehension and horrified realization, and it annoyed and disgusts you to know that whoever did that to him could be a part of your own self proclaimed civilized and diligent organization.
It made you want to run, to turn and to hide, for you knew that he never did deserved that fate, that no one deserved to be subjected to that humiliation, not even him. Never him.
You thought of the possibilities, of the pros and cons and the million what if’s and how’s’<,;, but in the end you decided not to turn him in and to take him to your own ship.
He reeked of cum and death, of forceful intrusions, of distrust and broken spirits. And again it made your gut twist at the realization that the boy in your arms is still human, and a broken one at that, but you ignored him flinch and diligently you brought him to your maiden ship. With only one thought in mind.
They stared at you in confusion, in realization and polite and distinct inquiry, but you ignored them as you all but stomped towards the direction of your cabin. Your second and the ship's posing medic followed, all tensed and despondent as they all but avoided having to look at the broken boy in your arms.
After that there were snaps of insults, grows of unease requests, of shouts and howls that very much suggested forced manhandling, of curses and no's but the doctor silently did what he was told and your second, a woman, emotional knowing but strong,, watched and you knew it broke her heart too, to see someone so close to what she secondly posed as an idol, an image of truth, justice and all that is kind, subjected to such inhumane implications.
Then there were facts, of how long, how many and the likes, and again that familiar tug came back with a vengeance. To know the truth must have hurt you, to know the source probably insulted the wounds you gained.
Then when the boy is all calm and serene, but not sane, no-- with what happened you doubted he's ever be sane again, be trustful enough to keep on with his life-- you asked for your second's aid. To remove the limitations you said. But you surely knew it may have crossed your mind that as a marine, normally partaking decision for the sake of a pirate have been taken out of your mind, right? But you never really cared, did you? After all, you did help the boy's younger brother, a nuisance but is kind, once.
So you removed the symbol of your kin's sin, of the filth, but not all them, both of us knew you never could, never would be able to do so. All while wishing to remove even those wretched men's stains. You dressed him, feed him and helped him regain what little life left inside his broken shell. All while hiding the fact and the knowledge that you knew. That you had those bastards that desecrated him.
The pretend went on for weeks, for a month, for many days. You saw him heal, watched his soul breathe the familiar fire again, and when you deemed him ready you made him face his fears, and you saw him stand, watched fight and ignored those men's insults, their beckons. It must made you happy and proud, elated, to know that you were partly the reason.
Now that his perpetrators are dead, at the bottom of the sea locked under Davy’s Locker, never to return, courtesy of your second and your subordinates, with the guidance and the acceptance of that man's captain, you watched him grow more. It must have been a beautiful sight, to see the fire dance in his elegant eyes, to see him laugh and smile and survive the torments of yesterday. Six months and counting, he looked fine, don't you think so?
But then suddenly something changed, you don't know what it was, what made that difference. But you saw it in his movements, in the way he acted; he was avoiding you, and it hurt you to know that maybe he no longer wanted to be around you. It hurts and you are hurt, but you allowed him to continue, to go on with the pretend, but after months of torment you went to talk to him again.
He told you the truth, and in turn you told him what's in your mind and in your soul. There was a few weeks of silence, of tension and doubt, but then your subordinates finally reached the conclusion and ended the dubious cloud.
A year after the pain and the torment of that hell. You watched him prepare his boat that could bring him to his captain. And you were thinking, whether to do it or not, questioning if he is worth it all. But then your remembered the fact that it could be your last so you dived and all.
You told him you loved him.
There was silence.
And he loved you back.
There was laughter, and giggles and congratulations around the room.
And it the end both of you.
Kissed under the moon.
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How very poetic.
Off to jam.