Chapter Text
The evening Ed Teach reunites with Stede Bonnet is, to say the least, unplanned.
Starting off a relatively normal day, the crew makes port in Nassau, divvying up the errands to be run and the supplies to be collected. As is tradition in each port nowadays, Ed dismisses some of the crew to find other ships to work on, going in whatever direction they need to head. He finds himself caring less about forming connections with his crew, instead maintaining a high turnover rate and replaceable bodies, just in case . He knows the Revenge is missing her former crew.
Ed joins Izzy, Ivan, and Fang on their own personal agendas of visiting the different shops and stands, collecting goods for the voyage. He learns that Fang has a family somewhere in the Caribbean, who he sends packages to every so often with trinkets for his children and jewelry for his wife. Ivan has an affinity for carved wooden animals, and picks one up in every port. Izzy pours over guns in every shop that sells them, turning a critical eye toward design and resiliency, questioning sellers about how waterproof each weapon is and whether or not it can be used once damp.
Ed himself eyes the fabrics and soap stands, feeling a tug of want in his chest that he’s gotten accustomed to not acknowledging. The person-sized hole in his gut aches to move closer and run his fingers over the soft silks and cashmeres, and smell the scented bars. That same person-sized hole spends the majority of each day vying for control over Ed, each day coming closer to overpowering the Kraken.
Ed is exhausted from the fight.
Once their errands are run, the four men stop in their favorite portside tavern, La Rosemarie . They sit near the back, nursing mugs of beer and picking at plates of something fishy. After a while, a scrawny, beady looking man approaches Izzy, growling something in his ear before disappearing.
Izzy turns toward his captain, brow slightly furrowed. “Captain, Captain Low is requesting your presence. Says he’s got something for you.” Ed sighs, pinching the top of his nose and grimacing when the fingers come away smudged black with kohl. Ed is, quite frankly, exhausted in general. Being Blackbeard–being the Kraken–brings no joy to him. It does nothing to prevent every day from being a repeat of the same thing, leaving Ed feeling empty at all times.
He shrugs and drains his mug of beer, jerking his head for Izzy to lead the way.
Following Izzy to the back room of the tavern is sketchy enough in and of itself, if you were to ask Ed, but when his eyes alight on the cage barely covered by the heavy cloth on top of it, something sinks heavy in his gut.
The other captain in the room is an abomination, a disgrace to pirates and a frankly disgusting excuse for a human. Captain Low’s reputation fit his name– he was something fit for the bottom of one’s boots or to be bait for fish, and not much else. The only contact Ed had had with Captain Low in the past was through run-ins at the occasional port. Even compared to the dread pirate Blackbeard, Captain Low had no morals and no code of honor. Ed knows immediately upon entering the room that he will regret this meeting, Izzy’s insistence be damned.
“Try to be patient, Captain,” Izzy mutters from behind his left shoulder. “Don’t rough ‘em up too bad.” Ed holds in his scoff, but feels his face twist in distaste despite his effort. He steps into the dimly lit room, Izzy, Ivan, and Fang behind him. Captain Low has only brought four members of his crew with him and they stand back against the back wall, eyeing the cage and then Ed. Their expressions make him uneasy, something like a twisted glee sitting behind their eyes.
“Captain Blackbeard, sir!” Low’s face splits in a grin as he straightens up from leaning against the cage. His hair is slicked back, greasy-looking, and he bears the neatly trimmed facial hair of a rich businessman: small, close cropped mustache and goatee. “Such an honor to meet you, really, you’re such an inspiration.”
Ed stares at the man, stone faced.
“Right,” Low’s grin falters before coming back full-force. “A little birdie told me that you might be interested in this…gift. Believe it or not, we stumbled right upon him. He hounded some of my men, asking absolutely obsessive questions about you! Claimed to be your friend , sir!” Low gripped the cloth in one hand and pulled with a flourish, exposing his captive cargo. “Obviously, we had to rough him up a bit…”
Captain Low’s voice faded away from Ed’s hearing. The heavy feeling in his gut swells, clawing up the sides of his stomach and into the cavity of his chest. Suddenly, he can’t breathe. His vision narrows to the cage and its contents. Nothing else matters.
Curled up against the back of the cage, wearing torn and blood-soaked clothing, lies Stede. His hair is darkened, matted by blood and sweat, and there is more dried blood smeared around his nose and mouth. There are rivulets in the rusty color where tears had cut through, exposing his pale cheeks under the dirt and grime. Stede’s wrist lies at an awkward angle, and there are bruises visible through the tears in his shirt circling his neck–as if he’d been choked.
Frozen by taking in Stede’s appearance, it takes a nudge from Izzy to jumpstart Ed’s brain again. He swallows, dry throat clicking, before turning his gaze back to Captain Low.
“You did this?” Ed can feel Izzy tense behind him, recognizing the flat tone of his voice. “This was you?”
Captain Low snickers. “Oh, yes sir. Surprisingly feisty fellow, the Gentleman Pirate is.” He turns his gaze to his broken and beaten cargo, then turns his eyes back to Ed expectantly. “But I got him for you, sir. Sir? Blackbe–”
Ed lunges forward before he processes the decision to do so. Gripping Low by the shoulder, Ed pulls him forward onto his blade before ripping the blade upward through Low’s stomach. He retracts his arm, only to thrust back forward four more times. Letting go of Low’s body, he allows the pirate to fall flat on his back, the back of his skull cracking against the stone floor. Ed stomps directly onto his elbow, snapping it with a sickening sound that seems to echo the room.
Distantly, he hears Izzy’s desperate cry behind him. “Boss! Edward!” Whether the desperation is a plea for Ed’s sanity or a warning of Low’s men lunging in retaliation, Ed doesn’t care.
Whipping his head around, Ed plants himself in preparation for the onslaught of the other four men. They leap forward to avenge their captain and something in Ed snaps. He tears the men apart, coating his hands in their blood, and he feels like he’s watching it all in slow motion, a scene he has no control over. His own blood rushes in his ears and he breathes heavily as he meets each man head-on.
Some of the men go down easily, one swipe of Ed’s blade. Others, he engages further with, using his knees and elbows, resorting to shooting one in the knee with one hand so he has the opportunity to drive the blade through his throat with his other.
One man almost wins. Ed never sees him coming, not until Izzy’s shot rings out and the man’s head explodes only a foot from Ed’s face.
“Boss.” Izzy’s voice is low, teeth gritted. “You have got to get a grip.”
Ed takes the last man down by thrusting his knife through his eye socket. When he hits the ground, Ed stands on the man’s neck and grinds his heel into his throat, every muscle in his body tense. He takes a deep breath, breathing out through his nose.
“Go outside. Make sure no one heard. If anyone did, kindly suggest they go elsewhere.” Ed’s voice is hardly more than a growl, low and dragged out of his throat as if by force. He has yet to face the cage again, gaze fixed on the lifeless body beneath him.
“Boss…” Izzy’s voice grates on his ears.
“If they disobey, kill them. I don’t care how. I don’t care what they say or do. Kill them.” He turns his gaze to Izzy, a flat stare. “Get out.”
Izzy hesitates only a moment more before leading Fang and Ivan out into the street, the slam of the heavy tavern door echoing behind them. Ed stares at the empty space where they stood, frozen. He tries to take deep breaths, but they only carry the scent of blood, filling his nostrils and making him dizzy. He knows he must turn around and face the corpse-like presence of Stede behind him, but the weight of doing so feels too heavy to bear.
After a few more moments, Ed turns to the cage. Stede’s chest rises and falls so shallowly that for a brief second, Ed wonders if he’s breathing at all. Stede looks small, battered and bruised as he is. Even in unconsciousness, his shoulders are curled in as if to try and protect himself. This man, lying so motionless, is the same man that abandoned Ed on a dock, where he waited the entire night for him to appear. Where he realized how worthless he must really be. Ed rubs a hand over his face and takes one last deep breath before starting toward the cage.
He crouches in front of it, lifting the butt of his gun and bringing it sharply down on the lock. The echo of the heavy metal smashing and the consequent lock hitting the floor vibrates through Ed’s chest. He swings the door open. Climbing inside, he gathers Stede’s broken body into his arms and maneuvers him delicately out of the cage, leaning against it and settling Stede in his lap. Pressed against one another like this, Ed can feel the faint heartbeat and Stede’s shallow breathing, reassuring him that he was alive. Up close, Ed can see the bruises don’t end on Stede’s throat, but continue upwards, mottling the smooth skin of his face. His left eye is purple and the skin around his right cheekbone is so dark it’s almost black. Ed presses a soft kiss to his forehead, clutching him as tightly against his chest as he can.
Stede stirs, and Ed freezes. Slowly, he watches as Stede blinks. His eyes are bloodshot, and the left one appears to have a multitude of burst blood vessels. He is still the most beautiful man Ed has ever seen.
“Ed..?” Stede’s voice is wrecked, scratchy and weak. He looks confused. “I found you.” He reaches a hand to cup Ed’s face, swiping a trembling thumb over Ed’s tear-stained cheek. Ed trembles, an ugly sob tearing itself from his throat. “Oh, Ed,” Stede murmurs. “I’m so sorry.”
“You fuckin’--” Ed sobs. “ Fuck , Stede, you could’ve died!” He shakes, trembling like a leaf in the wind. “You could still die!” He knows he’s openly sobbing into Stede’s hair, but he can’t seem to catch his breath.
Stede remains quiet against him, still slowly moving his thumb over Ed’s cheek.
“They could’ve fuckin’ killed you, Stede,” Ed gulps. “You could’ve fuckin’ died and nobody would’ve fuckin’ known.”
Stede hums softly. “Technically, I have died. Or at least, Stede Bonnet has.” At Ed’s incredulous stare, Stede chuckles deep in his throat and then winces. “S’a fuckery of terrific proportions. I’ll have to tell you about it sometime, preferably when I can’t feel blood trickling down various parts of my body, hmm?”
Ed stares at Stede in disbelief. How could this man be broken, bruised, and bloody in his lap, and still be cracking jokes? Even as he has the thought, he watches Stede’s eyes slip closed and his mouth loll open, falling unconscious.
Ed clears his throat. “Izzy! Get back in here.” Izzy appears, Ivan and Fang flanking him. “We need to get him to the ship.” At Izzy’s brief show of hesitation, Ed lets Blackbeard roar. “Do you fuckin’ understand me? Get over here and help, we gotta get him to the goddamn ship!”
The three pirates cross toward Ed, dodging corpses as they come. Ivan and Fang each take hold of Stede, lifting him as gently as true pirates can, as Izzy reaches a hand to Ed, offering him assistance in getting to his feet. He pulls his knife from the skull of the nearby corpse, resheathing it into his belt. He places his gun back in its holster.
Holding out his arms, Ivan and Fang gently transfer Stede to him so that he can keep him cradled to his chest, his head resting on Ed’s shoulder. Once settled and secure, Ed nods to his men.
“Lead the way.”
*******
After a decidedly ungraceful ascent to the deck of the Revenge, Ed places Stede’s body gently in the bed, suddenly feeling a vicious regret for not having washed any of the blankets. He heads into the washroom, dampening a couple cloths and returning to the bedside, where he begins dabbing away at the fresh and dried blood coating Stede’s skin.
The mission soils four cloths, and Stede is still bleeding after Ed has cleared away most of the grime coating his skin. Thankfully, Ed had ordered a stash of bandages in the captain’s quarters, not wanting his crew to be aware of the amount of injuries Ed had been sustaining while picking fights while drunk.
In order to properly bandage Stede and suss out the extent of his injuries, Ed uses his knife to cut away Stede’s ruined shirt and pants, leaving him in his skivvies. Once Stede is laid bare in front of him, Ed chokes back a gasp and has to turn away for a moment. The man on display before him is a very different man than the one who’d abandoned him on the dock. Directly on his sternum, although difficult to see through the bruising, is the tattoo of a kraken with its arms spreading in all directions. The tattoo would be beautiful if it weren’t for the mottled bruising covering Stede’s entire torso. And the bruising doesn’t stop there. Ed gauges that bruising covers roughly 80% of Stede’s body, some green and yellow like they’re healing, and others dark blues and purples, looking fresh on his skin.
Stede’s wrist is clearly broken, as is one of his ankles. Worse than even the bruises and the breaks, however, are the gashes cutting through his skin. The worst gash appears to go directly through the kraken tattoo, as if someone had decided to slice the creature in half. This gash oozes blood even as Ed presses a bandage against it. He can see other gashes wrapping around from Stede’s back, and a few that disappear beneath his skivvies. Ed squeezes his eyes shut against the tears that threaten to spill and swallows against the bile rising in his throat. He doesn’t want to imagine what horrors had been inflicted upon Stede at the hands of Captain Low and his crew. He hopes the torture ended at merely inflicting wounds.
Ed steels himself and goes about bandaging the worst of the gashes that he can see, dousing each with rum before applying the bandage. When he finishes with the worst one on his front, he turns Stede gently onto his stomach and does the same process to his back.
Stede’s back is covered in gashes that appear to have been inflicted by whip. Ed winces with each pour of rum.
Once he finishes disinfecting and applying bandages, Ed enters the auxiliary wardrobe for the first time in months, locating quickly a soft dressing robe that he deems suitable to wrap Stede in for some semblance of modesty.
As he maneuvers Stede into his dressing robe, Stede whimpers softly but does not come to. Ed smooths his hand over Stede’s face, noting his clammy skin.
“Alright, darling, it’s okay,” Ed coos, slipping Stede’s arms into each sleeve. “I’ve got you, hmm? You’re going to be fine, Stede, y’aren’t allowed to fuckin’ die on me. You’ve got some apologizing to do.” Ed pulls Stede into a sitting position so he can slip the robe around his back. “I suppose I have some to do too, huh? So there’s lots of apologies that have to happen and lots of forgiving to be done, so you have to hang on so we can do all that. Can’t back out on me now.”
Ed reclined Stede back against the pillows, taking his last unsoiled cloth and wiping the man’s face again. He ensured that the fluffiest pillow on the bed was situated under his head before tucking the blankets around Stede’s body. As he stood, he pressed a soft kiss to the man’s forehead.
Ed made his way to the washroom again, dunking the blood-soaked cloths into a fresh bucket of water, one of the four he had brought down after he and Stede had made it back to the ship. The tub in the room was also filled, as Ed had this intent to bathe himself, but after taking care of Stede’s wounds he just felt exhausted.
He watched the water turn murky with blood as he swirled the cloths before wringing them out. Resting them each on the rim, he turned and caught a glimpse of himself in the washroom mirror for the first time in a few weeks. The last time he look at himself in the mirror, there had been the Kraken looking back. Blackbeard, in all his gruesome glory. That same evening, Ed had decided he didn’t want to be Blackbeard anymore, and he had starting planning how to lose Blackbeard for good. The initial plan had been to simply tell Izzy that Blackbeard would not be making his return from the next port, and then disappearing off so that the crew would never find him. The latest plan had been to go out in a fight; simple, easy, effective. No need for new names or life stories. He knows Izzy had noticed the Kraken slipping away over the last few raids. That might have been the incentive for the meeting with Captain Low. Maybe Izzy had thought Blackbeard would finish what Low started. Or worse, he thought Low had already finished the job.
Facing his appearance now, Ed only sees Edward looking back at him from the glass. His tears have wiped away some of the kohl, cutting tracks down his cheeks. The bags under his eyes are heavier than he thought they were and he reaches a finger up to trace them.
“Where the fuck’ve you been, then?” His reflection offers no response, only a sad, blank stare. Ed sighs, rubbing a hand over his cheeks and smearing the kohl further. “You look like a sad sonofabitch, y’know that? Look like you’re fuckin’ dead.” The flat stare from the reflection seems to reply you fuckin’ wish I was .
Ed reaches behind himself and gets one of the damp cloths off the bucket and brings it to his own face, wiping away the residue of Blackbeard and leaving behind a bare-faced Ed. He scratches at the short salt-and-pepper beard, and rubs his hand over his eyes again. From the bed, he hears a rasping croak.
“Ed?”
Steeling himself and grabbing a cloth to take with him, Ed leans against the doorway from the washroom, meeting Stede’s gaze from the bed. “M’right here, Stede.”
Stede’s breath comes out wobbly as if he’s going to start crying any minute. Ed limps across the room to perch at his bedside, wincing at the telltale sign of his knee scolding him for overdoing it. In hindsight, he guesses it might have been smarter to allow Ivan or Fang to carry Stede back aboard the ship– he just couldn’t stomach it.
At the bed, Stede reaches toward him, his entire body trembling under the blankets and his hand shaking so hard that Ed almost misses it when he reaches to meet it. He sits, letting Stede take in his newly-cleansed face.
“I thought I’d imagined it.” Ed doesn’t ask what Stede thought he imagined, he just waits in silence, giving Stede the space to speak. “I’d been looking for you. I thought–I thought I dreamt that I found you.”
Frowning, Ed brushes his fingers across the back of Stede’s hand. “You looking for me is how they captured you, ya nut. What were you thinking?”
Stede’s brow furrows as he blinks up at Ed. “That I had to find you. Died for you, y’know,” Stede slurs, eyes beginning to shut again.
Ed squeezes his hand. “Hey now, let’s stay awake for a bit. How are you feeling?”
Struggling to keep eyes fixed on Ed, Stede wets his lips, groaning. “Like I’ve been attacked by a rabid dog wearing steel boots.” Blinking heavily, he screws up his face. “Fuck, m’sure I don’t make a pretty picture for you now, hm? No knight in shining armor here.”
The quip takes Ed so blatantly by surprise that he snorts a laugh. “Nah, mate, you’re beautiful. Just a bit more colorful right now, s’all.”
Shutting his eyes again, Stede twists his lips in a pained smirk. “Yeah, wouldja kiss me still?”
Before he can second-guess himself, Ed leans forward and presses a chaste, soft kiss to Stede’s mouth, shocking a gasp from the injured man. “Yeah, I think I would.” Ed pulls just far enough away to be able to clearly see Stede’s eyes, and offers him a small smile.
Stede blinks at him once, twice, and then shakes his head before freezing with a grimace. “Thought I must still be dreaming, but fuck , does everything hurt.”
Ed chews on his lip, caressing Stede’s face. He pulls the blanket back to peek at the bandages, which draws Stede’s attention to them, as well as the dressing robe, for the first time.
“Ah,” He sighs. “That explains that. Where did you find this robe?”
“In the auxiliary wardrobe,” Ed admits. “Found it in one of the cabinets. S’a bit big on you, but I thought it’d feel better against the bandages than real clothes.”
Stede is quiet for a moment, running his fingers over the silken fabrics. “S’for you,” He says quietly.
“What’s that?” Ed’s sure he misheard.
Stede sighs. “The robe, it was for you. I saw how much you loved the red silk so when I saw the red dressing robe in port… I bought it for you and put it away to give to you for your birthday or maybe if you were sad one day, y’know?” Stede falls silent, Ed gaping at him. “And then we ran into Jack. And then the British. And then… everything else.” Stede’s breaths begin to come more quickly, his body trembling again.
As much as Ed wants to hear the story, he leans forward and squeezes Stede’s hands, shushing him. “Alright, mate, deep breaths for me.” Stede obliges. “We’ve got all the time in the world for that later, after you’ve gotten all healed up, yeah? I can’t wait to hear about all your incredibly dense, solo adventures, but for now I want you to focus on getting better. You’ve been through it.”
Stede makes a sad noise deep in his throat, looking at Ed with huge eyes. “You’ll let me stay?”
“S’your ship, innit?” Ed rolls his eyes, attempting to cover the way his heart clenches with the implication that Stede expected him to throw him out. “‘Sides, turns out I much prefer co-captaining.”
“The crew will be looking for me,” Stede mumbles. “Dunno how long Captain Low had me. Felt like ages. We gotta find them”
Ed swallows hard. “Stede, mate, I gotta tell you somethin’...s’about Lucius.”
Stede shakes his head. “No, no, I know. We’ve got him. He’s fine.” Stede’s eyes slip closed and stay that way. “Well, absolutely raging pissed, but physically unharmed. I do believe Black Pete said he plans to make you pay, however.”
Squeezing Stede’s hand, Ed presses a kiss to his knuckles. “I’ll pay however he asks me to.”
Offering a soft hum, Stede’s grip on Ed’s hand loosens before going slack, and Ed lays it atop the blankets on his chest. He leans forward again, pressing a kiss to Stede’s forehead and then to his lips. Eyeing the sweat on his brow from the exertion of the conversation, Ed picks up the cloth he’d carried with him from the washroom and dabs the sweat away, before straightening and resolving himself to facing whatever shitshow lie in wait for him amongst his own crew.
*******
Setting foot on the upper deck, Ed is met with Ivan calling, “Captain!”
“What is it, Ivan?” He crosses to the railing, where Ivan is situated with a spyglass.
“Uh, there’s a ship comin’ up on us, sir. And uh,” Ivan hesitates, rocking from foot to foot. “Well, sir, I believe it’s Bonnet’s crew.”
“Ah,” Ed inhales sharply. “May I?” He gestures toward the spyglass, which Ivan hands over with ease. Peering through the scope, Ed does indeed see Oluwande and Lucius aboard the approaching ship, both alive and well. With a good distance still between them, Ed has yet to quite be able to make out their expressions, but he can only imagine they aren’t quite pleasant. With a sigh, he hands the glass back to Ivan. “Alright, mate, raise the white flag, hm?”
“Sir?” Ivan looks at Ed with raised eyebrows.
From across the deck, Ed makes eye contact with Izzy, whose brows are furrowed in discontent. Ed lifts his chin, placing a hand over the hilt of his blade.
Ed grins. “Aye, Ivan. S’time to go home.”