How It Was Meant To Be

Back in time

Garp was a lot of things. He was a vice admiral, a hero of the marines, he was a man who had lived through countless hurdles and a man who had fought for what he believed in.

The one thing Garp was not, was a good grandfather.

He had considered himself a decent father to his son and had considered himself a decent grandfather until his grandson's execution.

Garp had had a full life, filled with anything a man could desire and everything a man didn't want.

But he had chosen his actions and had never had any regrets. Not when his son ended up a revolutionary, not when he knew he could not climb any higher in the marines to avoid working for assholes (he was already working for them wasn't he?) and especially not when he decided to adopt his rival, Gol D Roger's, son Ace.

The one thing Garp had regretted in his life was standing by as said grandson was murdered by the people he worked for. By the people he had helped.

He had let them, helped them, killed his grandson, his Ace, and hadn't even tried to do anything.

Garp had never been able to forgive himself.

Now, Garp was old and dying, laying in a hospital bed, watching the clock on the wall tick the seconds or the wind outside blowing leaves to his window. Watching the waves crash on the shore and simply waiting. Waiting for death to finally come and take him.

His final thoughts going to his family.

Dragon, his one and only son. He was so proud of him. Had he ever told him that? How deeply and fully proud he was of him? For standing up for himself, standing up to the government, standing up to the celestial dragons, standing up for his ideals and his family, even from afar.

He thought of his grandsons. All three of them. Luffy, his youngest and most reckless. He knew the boy would become pirate king. Garp didn't have a doubt about it.

Sabo, the middle child, was taken too early from him. He wished he knew him more. Wished he had had the time. He knew the boy would've been proud of his brothers.

And Ace, his oldest. The bright flame that had been taken ruthlessly from this world. The boy who died the same day his father did simply because of the blood flowing through his veins.

How quaint. Garp thought he had much more of a claim on the boy then Rogers did. Well, he didn't anymore, did he? He had lost that right the day he stood by and did nothing.

With a final tear of regret falling from his eye, Garp let himself lose consciousness and drift away. Garp woke up with a start as a fist came down on his head, Sengoku staring him down as the old man woke up.

“How can you sleep in this situation?!” The man asked incredulously.

Garp looked at Sengoku, trying to make sense of his surroundings. His senses slowly woke up and they left Garp only more confused than before.

Garp knew this place. Knew this exact moment in time, as it was the one time he’d wished so hard he could come back to and change.

This was Marineford on the day of Portgas D Ace’s execution.

Not just the day, the WAS Portgas D Ace’s execution.

The old man looked around, confused at his new environment.

He had been dying not even a second ago, wasting away in a hospital bed. How had he even gotten here? He felt none of the usual pain that went with his illness and looked down at his hands, they were still full. Not yet the frail skeletons they would become.

Garp didn’t know how or why he was there, but he didn’t care.

He was granted his wish. To go back and be able to save Ace.

Well, he was granted the wish to go back. He had to save Ace himself now.

It seemed so simple, so easy, in hindsight. How could he ever even look at his grandson, chained up and suffering next to him, and not decide to act? He would never understand.

Garp stood up and stretched, watching as Whitebeard’s ships burst out of the water.

Sengoku gave up trying to scold him and faced forward. Ace did the same, although he watched his family only with denial and disbelief in his eyes.

As if no one would have come for him.

Garp let the old men banter and, satisfied that Sengoku was distracted enough, Garp broke the shackles holding his grandson with his bare fist.

Seastone might stop a devilfruit, but Garp the Fist had never needed one anyways.

The loud clang resonated through Marineford.

Everything seemed to stop.

The pirates stopped making any sounds, so did the marines.

Sengoku stopped mid sentence to turn around and look towards the sound.

Whitebeard stopped in what seemed to be mid attack to simply stare forward.

And Ace, his dear Ace, looked at him as if he had grown fifty more heads. As if in every scenario of his execution he’d thought of, he never even dared to imagine that Garp would at least try to help him.

Garp felt his heart twist knowing that he had had to go through the execution twice to get it right.

He took his now too small grandson, held him close to his chest and jumped from the platform before anyone could say anything.

Only when he touched the ground and started running towards Whitebeard’s ship did the spell seem to lift and chaos broke out.

Sengoku was screaming at him, yelling at him, and all Garp could do as he finally jumped on the ship that had already died once trying to save his grandson was smile and wave at the man.

Ace still carefully cradled in his chest as Whitebeard shook out of his stupor and screamed instructions at his crew for a quick getaway.

Yes, Garp thought, looking down at his grandson, this is how it was meant to be