Archive of Our Own

The new atmosphere among the crew was stifling. Izzy couldn’t take them seriously. Despite all Stede’s talk of having good will and keeping an open mind and whatever the fuck else he talked Izzy’s ear off about wasn’t gonna work on him. Not this time. 

He’d received a very clear message from the crew over the past two weeks. He’s not wanted. He’s surplus to requirements. He bores them. He’s mean. He’s a shit first mate. He’s not worth the space he occupies. He’s openly flirtatious with the Captain and it needs to stop. 

Oh yes, Izzy knows his place. He hasn’t been this low in the ship’s hierarchy since his first years of pirating. And certainly not since Ed came into his life. 

If you’d asked Izzy a month ago what he’d do to have all he ever dreamed of in a relationship; a relationship with the most brilliant pirate in history and a fucking idiot who nevertheless genuinely cared about him and tried to give him all the nice shit he’d denied himself all his life - Izzy would tell you anything. 

And he had gotten it. 

But it was surely a deal with the devil, because as soon as it was fully realised the bullying had started. 

He supposed he should have been grateful. What cared he for roughhousing and shit food and relentless work when he could come back to the warmth of not one but two partners who cared for him and soothed him when he cried and wrapped him up in warm sheets and listened to his woes. 

And bullying was to be expected. It had at least made sense for a while. The bullying got worse and worse and worse . But then it stopped. Abruptly and completely. 

Yes, Stede had told them that they had the wrong idea. Ed was certainly not cheating and certainly not cheating on Stede. The idea was completely baffling. As if Ed could look at Stede and then decide he’d fuck it up and risk it all on Izzy of all people. Honestly, you’d think that among the whole crew there’d be at least one fucker with half a brain. 

But Izzy didn’t believe for a second that the crew’s unspoken changes in opinion and complete turnaround on the ship’s unofficial bullying policy was innocent. 

He was being made fun of. Again. Or else the subject of an elaborate fuckery, like the time with the cane. Something for the whole crew to get involved in until Izzy got fed up and left the ship of his own volition. 

But Izzy was smarter than them. 

He’ll accept their apologies when they inevitably arrive. Izzy isn’t used to doing that but apparently Stede had been saying it to anyone who breathed in his general direction and he was the Captain so… apologies were coming. He’d hear them out and make sure they all knew that he understands completely and doesn’t hold it against them. That he’s forgiven them wholly and completely. 

And then he simply won’t . 

This can’t be the end of it. You don’t just change your opinions about someone because the Captain told you it was a misunderstanding. Those sort of fuckeries, denying him food, stealing his cane, locking him in the store room, that didn’t come from nowhere. And that sort of shit didn’t go away overnight. 

So forgive Izzy for being mistrustful of their fucking invitations of guilt and reconciliation. He’s good thanks. He’ll deal with this like he always has. Quiet resignation and continuing to do his fucking job. 

— 

Waking up in a tangle of limbs and heavy blankets was becoming wonderfully familiar. But with it came that same sense of dread of facing the crew. He’s had the excuse so far of staying with Ed - who understandably did not want to leave - and besides, Stede was all too happy to help out with fetching and carrying if it made them feel better. 

But Izzy was aching to see the state that the ship was in. It had been almost a week since he’d seen it the last time and he was amazed they hadn’t crashed yet. 

Stealing himself, he pulled away from Ed and Stede, resituating their limbs until they clung to each other as fiercely as they had been holding him and slipped into a more comfortable version of his work clothes. 

He shut the cabin door as quietly as he could and padded briskly up towards the deck. It was early enough that he shouldn’t meet too many of the crew, if they were even planning to work that day. 

But of course the first time he dared to leave the cabin on his own, Roach had greeted him enthusiastically in the galley with a steaming mug of what looked and smelled like coffee. 

Izzy gazed at the cup and then back to Roach’s face. His smile didn’t reach his eyes, Izzy didn’t need his years of closely reading lying sailors to see that it was false. 

He grabbed the mug and nodded his head in thanks. He even took a sip as he walked from the room, but spat it out as soon as he got to the ship’s railing. He poured the rest of the liquid out after it. Glaring as the murky brown seemed to dissolve into the blue waves. 

They’d have to wake up earlier in the day if they wanted to poison him.

He hasn’t eaten a single thing that Ed or Stede or one of the crew hasn’t taken a bite of first and given the all clear. He really doesn’t fancy eating anything bland, or horribly salty, or spicy, or disgusting, or off, if he can help it. He had enough of that the first time round. 

When the last of the coffee is gone he surveys the deck critically. It’s not terrible. It’s frighteningly competent compared to what he had been working with, even before the bullying. It’s nowhere near where it needs to be but clearly they had functioned just fine in his absence. 

Or, he mused, they were pretending to be shit at what they were doing to make him more angry, and to expend more of his energy so he’d be an easier target. Or just to have a laugh at his expense. He huffed bitterly. Yes, that was exactly the sort of thing this crew would do. 

— 

The apologies that he’d expected were quick to arrive. Volleys from every crew member at once, shouts of Sorry and Oh gods we really didn’t mean it and We feel really shit Izzy and It won’t happen again . He nods politely until they’re all finished. 

“Don’t worry about it. Captain explained the misunderstanding. No hard feelings on my end. Any on yours?” He pauses, but no one speaks. “Good.” 

He lets his gaze rest on each of them in turn as he speaks so that none of them feel left out and take it as a pretext to attack him. He has to make this convincing. His survival depends on it. 

They all nod solemnly like they’re actually listening. Izzy keeps his scoff to himself. 

“Back to work then.” 

To his surprise they go. Quickly and with minimal grumbling. Tripping over themselves to go do something useful. Even Lucius picks up a length of rope and makes a good show of tying it competently. Laying it on a bit thick Izzy thinks. But whatever. As long as the ship runs smoothly he couldn’t care less. 

It wouldn’t last long anyway. They’d get bored of the charade eventually and Izzy would be left to pick up the pieces. 

— 

But the listening to his orders continues. Even the menial ones, even the jobs they’d argued endlessly about before. Izzy does his best not to react. Either in a good way or a bad one. Whatever game they were playing Izzy was starting on the back foot. He didn’t know the rules and he certainly didn’t know how to win. But he was determined not to give them whatever reaction they were hoping for. 

The lack of nicknames and jibes and insults is quite jarring at first. Maybe they’re hoping he’ll treat them with more kindness if they abandon their campaigns of mockery. 

The false respect is working on him. Sort of. 

Izzy simply doesn’t have it in him to challenge them on shoddy workmanship or explain how to do harder jobs. So he does it himself. He’s been doing most of the jobs alone on Stede’s ship anyway. He really doesn’t mind so much, especially if he can work in the rigging and get away from the sombre attitude on deck. Even just for a minute. 

It’s while he’s up there one afternoon that he hears a whistle from below him and looks down. It’s Jimenez looking shifty, shuffling their weight from foot to foot. Izzy steals himself before calling down.

“What’d you want Jimenez?” 

“Gotta talk to you, First Mate.” They call back, without a hint of mockery.

Well that was fucking ominous. Izzy really didn’t want to have that conversation. Talking about anything not related to the running of the ship was dangerous territory.

“Can it wait?” He tossed out, waiting for them to demand to talk now, as they did regularly with other members of the crew. 

“Yeah sure.” They walked away without complaint. 

Izzy stared after them in barely concealed shock. He hadn’t expected that to work. Or that his time would be respected. He tried to return to his task but gave up after five minutes when he realised that he’d only succeeded in tying a complicated knot instead of straightening out the line he was working on. 

He untied it quickly and then climbed down to see Jim, stopping once he reached them, just outside of their arm span. He didn’t fancy being knocked out. They looked up at him when he stopped and nodded at Izzy to follow. He did. 

They finally stopped outside Izzy’s cabin and once again he braced himself for something to happen. 

“I’m gonna apologise for fucking with you before.” Izzy sighed internally but didn’t let anything show on his face. “Lucius said you’d accepted his apology and he’s annoying as, so I’m gonna do mine now.” 

Lucius had indeed apologised for being the ringleader, sounding ridiculously affected for something he’s clearly been itching to do since the minute Izzy appeared on board. Izzy wondered where this obligation of a personal apology had come from since he’d already apologised as part of the group, and also in a elaborate carefully calligraphed fucking letter that Stede had read out a while ago at breakfast. Izzy had given the same answer that he’d given before; of course he didn’t blame him, and Lucius had looked so hopeful after he said it that Izzy almost believed that he was sincere. 

Since then he’d been trying to act like he and Izzy were great mates. He kept trying to include him in conversations, ask his opinion, try to corner him to talk about emotional shit that Izzy was trying to avoid. That in itself was more insulting than being ignored. Lucius knew he hated talking about himself, or sharing anything personal. And trying to get him to reveal weaknesses in a public setting under the guise of understanding or gaining a deeper emotional bond was repulsive. 

Izzy realised that Jim was waiting for him to give a sign that he wanted to receive the apology. Izzy was confused as to why, when Jim had clearly stated that they were going to give an apology whether he wanted it or not but he nodded all the same. Best to get this over with. 

“Right so, I’m shit at this but I only took your cane cos I thought it’d be a challenge, yeah? And then I showed Oluwande and he was like maldito idiota and then yeah, I put it back. Because I didn’t think… that like, you needed it. You didn’t use it much but yeah. Sorry cabron. Specifically for the cane thing. But also for the whole misunderstanding.” 

Izzy’s mind was reeling. It made no sense to pretend that taking and replacing Izzy’s cane was anything but a targeted attempt to make him think he was losing his mind. Ed had said so as well. He didn’t know what Jimenez’s angle was and he was almost dizzy trying to figure it out. 

“Yeah uh. Thanks for that. Uh yeah.” He clapped them on the back and walked into his cabin quickly to avoid the fallout from not being able to control his facial expression. He only slowed his breathing when he heard Jim’s footsteps leaving. 

— 

The cane was another issue altogether. He hadn’t been using it around the crew for fear of more attacks on his person. The sad reality was that he did need it. His foot ached terribly when he didn’t use it, sending shooting pains up his leg with every step. It was also pissing down rain at the minute and that really wasn’t helping. 

Ever since it had been stolen he’s kept it on his person almost all of the time, unless he was working on deck where he went without it. It couldn’t come with him up to the rigging and he couldn’t just leave it lying unattended. Not with what had happened last time. 

For all Jim’s talk of it being a mistake and their apologies Izzy simply couldn’t risk it being lost again. So he kept it in the Captain’s cabin. It was much safer there. 

Initially he’d kept it on Stede’s desk where it could lie flat but was also easily accessible if he needed it in the morning. But then he’d seen Lucius eyeing it a few weeks on from his chat with the boy one morning when Stede requested his services as scribe and Izzy decided that it wasn’t safe there either. 

He’d waited until Ed and Stede were dead asleep that night before creeping to the main room and pressing a stockinged foot against a knot in one of the floorboards. It levered open with a soft pop that Izzy prayed his partners couldn’t hear. He slid the cane into the space under the floorboard along with his other treasured items, his black cravat, his emerald ring and the ring that Stede had given him, plucked off his own finger the night before they reunited with Edward. It was now just as dear to him as the ring Edward had given him all those years ago. He pressed the wood down again and climbed back into bed. Heart racing and breathing quick.

Only Stede knew the compartment was there, and he’d have no reason to open it, since he wasn’t storing something there already. Izzy suspected that it’s placement under the desk was designed either for important documents or alcohol that he might want to keep hidden from the crew. Izzy decided to take the risk. 

Stede and Ed didn’t question where his cane disappeared to every night, nor why he didn’t use it on deck. Although he assumed they had a shrewd idea and simply chose not to raise it with him. For this he was grateful. 

If he was a bit stumbly on deck then no one mentioned it. He did his best to hide his discomfort but there were a few occasions when he simply couldn’t avoid it. Like when he accidentally bumped his injured arm into the door frame after his foot sent an unexpected shock of pain up his leg. When he looked up Jim was staring at him.  

Figures they’d still be scanning him for weakness. Even now, after so much time had passed. 

When he finally got back to the Captain’s cabin he shook with repressed anxiety. By now the whole crew would know that he was in pain, and just like they had done before, would go back to deliberately targeting him. 

He shook his head before checking that the cabin was empty. He checked the bathroom and the auxiliary wardrobe as well. If Stede and Ed were hiding somewhere he didn’t want to be caught. 

Finding it blissfully abandoned, he retrieved the emergency medical supplies that Ed kept in the room and located the large swathe of bandages that they hadn’t needed since Stede had managed rather spectacularly to knock himself out after drinking. Izzy felt himself smile for the first time that morning at the memory. 

He checked left and right before taking off his boot and wrapping his toe in an amount of bandaging that he would have considered frivolous on anyone else, but on this ship there was always plenty more of everything. Glancing up quickly he slipped off his shirt and did the same to his injured arm. Let them even try to hurt him with this much padding. 

He delicately placed his foot back into his boot, wincing when the padding caught on the hard rubber and dug into the wound. The waves of pain were oddly comforting now that he knew he would be protected if someone aimed a kick there, or dropped something heavy on him as they had done last time. 

It took him a minute to figure out how to walk without it being too obvious that he was favouring one foot. If the crew got wind that he was protecting an injury they would have a much easier target. 

He stopped by Stede’s desk before he left, checking to see if the padding was too conspicuous. After much adjusting of his clothing he decided that it wasn’t. As long as he avoided getting it wet, he wouldn’t have to reapply it every morning. So it wouldn’t be too much of a hassle, nor disrupt his schedule. 

He replaced the mirror and walked out of the cabin, leaving his apprehension behind. Mostly. 

— 

The crew is looking at him oddly, that’s certainly true. And a couple of them let their gaze linger just a tad too long on his injured foot. But they aren’t saying anything about it. Or hurting him on purpose, or doing any action that could be remotely construed as harm. Izzy’s almost disappointed. 

He hunches his shoulders suddenly. Unless it was all a fuckery? Lure him in with a false sense of security and then really get him. He unfurls his body consciously. Even if they were fucking with him it didn’t matter. He straightened his back and walked resolutely forward. 

His thoughts are subsumed entirely by fuck it’s hot out as soon as he steps foot on deck. The near constant rain had clearly parted and left them with sweltering heat. Fucken typical.

A heat not helped by his never changing wardrobe of layered black clothes, gloves and boots. Complete with an extra fucking layer of padding which is his own fucking fault. He debates going back to get unchanged but decides that he can fucking deal with a bit of hot weather. He’s done it before and he’ll undoubtedly do it again. 

— 

After two hours of sweating his balls off his mind is really struggling to focus. The work he’s doing isn’t even that difficult, especially since his instructions about clearing the deck of obstacles had actually been listened to and he was able to get up to the sails relatively freely. 

Not for the first time that morning Izzy contemplates going in, just to get a drink or take off his vest for a minute. Stede and Ed’s voices ring clear in his mind telling him that he deserves rest and he can be out of commission without the ship falling apart. He tries to listen to the voices, he honestly does… but the other voice in his head - his own - is really fucken insistent that he needs to work otherwise what use is he? He needs to work so that the crew can’t corner him when he’s alone. He just needs to. He nods to himself and stays where he is. 

But it’s only minutes later when he catches most of the crew heading into lunch in his peripheral vision, so he hurries to follow them. If he doesn’t see them eat the food they’re dishing out, how will he know if it’s safe to eat? He contemplates just skipping food for today but Ed and Stede’s voices win out, reminding him that he’s already spent too long in the sun without water to even think about missing a meal. 

He jumps down from the rigging, realising too late that he was quite a bit higher than he should have jumped from. Fucking mirages making the deck look closer than it was. He lands on both feet but immediately stumbles, his bad foot still not quite padded enough to protect from a drop that high. He staggers into a crewmember on his way down and braces for the impact of the deck. 

It doesn’t come. 

Instead there’s a sting of pain as his injured arm is supported by the person he stumbled into. He hisses out loud before he can stop himself. There’s a gasp in response. 

Fucken stupid , now they’ll know he’s hurt. He’s been so careful the whole day and now it’s all for nothing. 

A dizziness he hadn’t felt before washes over him as he tries to open his eyes and get his bearings. The violent spinning of the ship immediately makes him close them again. 

“-zzy? Fucken hell, did you see ‘im fall?” 

Someone is talking to him but he can’t parse the words. More voices, and a hand on his arm as he attempts to cover his ears and lessen his headache. To his surprise the hand removes itself as he flinches. 

“-nna pass out I reckon, put him down.” 

“-is cane anywhere? Because-” 

“nah mate, did you try-”

His ears tune in and out as he tries once again to figure out how to get out of their hold. He flinches hard as his lower back touches the un-sanded wood of the deck. That job had been next on his list . Hadn’t he been standing up? The voices only make him remember the last time he was at the mercy of a group of angry pirates. 

It had been years before on shore leave when he stole a drink from the wrong fucking guy. They’d beaten him into a sticky pulp, with two swollen eyes and at least four bruised ribs. The memory makes him flinch hard and curl his body into the foetal position. Or as best as he can manage when they’re holding his arms like this. 

If they’re going to kick him and beat him until he’s bloody he needs to protect his head and his chest. 

But he’s so fucking tired…  

He’d promised Ed though, and Stede later on, that he’d always be there to protect them. And Israel Hands keeps his promises.

After enough struggling they let him move into the position he wants, someone even grabs his boot to help him move it when he gets caught on a piece of uneven decking. He’s too confused to try to work out why. 

“Izzy? We’re gonna move you now.” 

Move him? Gods fucking knew why. But maybe it was too open out here. Maybe the Captains would see. He braces himself to be dragged, arms already in position to protect his ribs from the floor. 

After a minute of counting his breaths, he tries to look up. No one’s touched him yet. Or even attempted to get him to walk on his own. He’s tired of them dragging this out. Thinking for a moment he shrugs his shoulders and then nods his head. 

Arms immediately begin to hoist him up. 

The journey to wherever they’re going is relatively painless. He isn’t being dragged, nor have they deliberately exacerbated his injuries. Izzy dwells on that miracle while he can. He knows what will happen once they get where they’re going. 

The crew won’t pull any punches. They haven’t before. And now Izzy’s given them the opportunity of a lifetime. On a fucking silver platter. 

He recognises the door to his cabin and shivers as he’s pulled inside. 

The lock is broken. Whether they did it just now and he’s too out of it to notice, or they did it ages ago and he never saw because he hasn’t been sleeping there, the result is the same. The cabin wasn’t safe. He hasn’t slept there alone since before the whole charade was revealed. At least he feels justified in keeping his belongings locked away. With the lock broken, who knows what sort of things they’d end up doing to him in the dead of night. 

His back hits the cot and he slumps into it, scrambling to get back into the foetal position before they can begin whatever they’re planning to do. 

With his head slightly clearer now that he’s out of the heat and glare of the Caribbean sun he finally gets a glimpse at the faces all staring at him. 

It’s most of the crew. At least seven of them anyway. Lucius is at the front with Roach whispering behind his hand and looking anxious. Izzy flinches when he catches his eye. 

He feels the overwhelming urge to cry. 

“Go get the Captains.” Lucius says into the silence at no one in particular. Frenchie breaks off from the group, presumably because he’s closest to the door. 

“No!” Izzy shouts hoarsely. “No. I’m fine. Don’t bother them.” He adds when he sees the looks on their faces. Truthfully he wouldn’t mind Ed and Stede’s company, or their protection but he deserves what the crew does to him. He’s already outrun them for long enough. 

“They’re in the bath, that’s why they haven’t come running already when they heard the commotion.” Oluwande says hesitantly. He looks sincere when Izzy summons the energy to look in his direction. His fear turns to incredulity. 

“Didn’t fall. Got down from the rigging ‘n tripped. ‘m fine.” He wishes he wasn’t slurring quite so much. It was really undermining his point about being fine. But the heat will do that. Izzy’s seen it before. 

Lucius is the one to scoff this time. “Yeah hon, forgive us if we don’t believe you.” 

Izzy sighs loudly. “Don’t get the Captains. Just do what you’re gonna do. ‘m not gonna fight you.” When they don’t move he realises that his arms are still clenched tightly around himself. He unwraps them against his better judgement, laying his arms purposefully by his sides and then lifting one eyebrow quizzically. 

“You won’t need to fight us.” Lucius offers, cryptically. “Roach?” 

Izzy simply stares, he had uncurled from his position but readopted it when Roach approached. His body seemed to be moving of its own accord. 

Roach seems offended. “Chill out Izzy, just gonna check your temp. You’re dizzy from the heatstroke.” Dizzy Izzy his mind helpfully supplies. 

Izzy waves him away. “Haven’t fucken got heatstroke, fuck off.” He doesn’t need their pity. Especially not when it’s performative. 

“Yep. Can you just let me get at your head for a sec.” When Izzy doesn’t move he adds, “I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

Izzy scoffed. Yeah right. But he moved all the same, inclining his head ever so slightly in the direction of Roach’s hand. 

There were ways to be hurt other than physically. Memories of the last time Roach patched him up come to mind. Where he had to be bullied into helping by Ed’s insistence. And even once he had begrudgingly agreed to help, under Ed’s watchful eye, the care itself was cursory and unemotional. At least when Izzy patched himself up he had the privilege of crying and getting pissed on rum, despite the loneliness. He almost would have preferred that to the cool gaze of someone who only wishes you ill but feels an obligation to help. 

It’s a feeling Izzy is frighteningly used to. 

Roach hummed as he pulled away, shaking Izzy from his thoughts. “Yeah you gotta cool down mate. It’s not too serious, but fuck have you had any water today?”

He hadn’t actually, too preoccupied with his foot. But he had intended to have some with lunch once he saw one of the others drink first and that was as good as far as Izzy was concerned. But that was too much to explain right now so he settled for humming noncommittally.

Roach laughed. “Thought so.”

The door opens and Jim returns with a ewer of water from Stede’s cabin. Izzy looks at it for a second before gazing at Jim’s face. But they’re not looking back at him, they’re busy searching for a cup. Izzy feels the urge to cry again. He was struggling with making a plan to push himself up to get water once everyone left. It would have been painful and slow and laughably tragic. He thinks he’ll drink this one without watching someone else first. Just to see if they mean to be nice. 

Jim finally locates a mug from somewhere and presses it into Izzy’s grasp, letting go only once he definitely has hold of it and pulling back to pour the water. It’s not too much, so that it doesn’t spill when he struggles to get his head at an angle to drink. 

But the struggle is gone after a moment when someone lifts his upper back and holds him there while a pillow is placed behind him. Izzy stares at them in wonder. 

He lifts the mug to his lips bracing himself for the crew to laugh at him, or snatch it away, or knock it out of his hands, but no one does. The water is cool and crisp and clean. He swallows hesitantly.

It’s not salty, or full of sand, or spicy, or bitter like it’s been dosed with laudanum. Izzy sighs happily and drinks another sip. His gaze meets the anxious one of the crew, all looking at him to see if he’s okay. He draws the cup away from his lips and places it in his lap. 

Frenchie coughs before raising his voice from his place at the back of the group. “Is it okay? Did you need something else?” 

Izzy bursts into tears. 

The crew are clearly panicking but Izzy isn’t concerned with them at all for the moment when he’s sitting here sobbing like an idiot. 

“Izzy are you alright?” Fang asks hesitantly, as if he’s legitimately concerned that they upset him. 

Izzy means to tell them that he’s fine and to fuck off please . That he’s completely out of it and needs to rest. To leave him alone so he can cry in peace. But the anger isn’t there. 

When he speaks his voice is hoarse from crying and his brain is so tired from the events of the day that all that comes out is, “Why are you being so nice to me?” 

The anxious faces around him turn sad. 

Someone says “Izzy… mate.” In such a dejected voice that he flinches again. 

Not the reaction he expected. Okay… maybe he can fix this one. “I mean… you’re all missing lunch for this. And I’m okay, clearly. So… yeah. The water was nice. I’ll be here.” He gestures towards the door but no one moves. 

Lucius was staring intently at him. He has been for a while. Izzy can’t deny that he’s definitely unnerved. 

“I’ll get the Captains. They can help you undress and drink water and whatever else. We can leave you alone while they look after you.” He adds thoughtfully, although also not moving to do so.  

Izzy flushed red under the burn he already had from the sun. Of course, another dig at his relationship when he was vulnerable. It was always too good to be true. Needing the captains to look after him when he couldn’t look after himself. What was it Spriggs had said the first time? They’ve been all over each other. Not ashamed, not hiding it. Yes. It had been a long time since he hadn’t felt the liberty to show his affection towards Ed. In the past if a crew was disgusted they were simply too scared to voice their opinions. And rightly so. Blackbeard couldn’t be mocked. But Izzy had clearly gotten too safe, relied too heavily on Ed’s image. This crew was more equal, and Blackbeard was gone. Gone too, it seemed, was Izzy’s protection. 

“Can look after myself.” He says petulantly, staring somewhere above Lucius’ shoulder. 

Lucius turns theatrically behind him to look where Izzy’s gaze is and then returns to his original position. “Not sure you can actually.”

“Watch me.”

Lucius crosses his arms. “Don’t think I will. We’re all going to stay here to look after you, if you really don’t want us to get the Captains. Because that’s what a good crew does.”

Izzy scoffs again. “Yeah sure you are. I’m not sure I like your particular brand of care, Spriggs. If you’re going to fuck with me again, I’d rather you just say it outright. All this pretending to care shit is really grating on my nerves.” 

Lucius looks affronted, so do most of the crew. “What do you mean pretending to care ?” 

“I meant what I said. You all don’t give a shit. Haven’t for ages. And now you’re all being so nice and it’s fucking confusing. Whatever angle you’re going for isn’t working okay? I’m no less wary of you and your little friends and your plots to piss me off.” 

Lucius looks around at the crew as he stutters out a reply, clearly thrown. “Izzy… we apologised for all that. We did the wrong thing and we apologised. You accepted our apology.” Izzy only feels smug for a second. 

Then he shifts uncomfortably. “I did.” 

He did accept their apology, but of course he didn’t mean it. He had put great effort into maintaining that ruse so that he didn’t end up portside tied to an anchor again. 

“Then believe us now when we say that we’re sorry and that we’re trying to fix it. And looking after you when you’re sick is helping, right?” he adds when Izzy stays silent. 

Izzy nods reluctantly. 

“You don’t have to say what’s going on in your head cos it’s none of our business. But if you’re hurting yourself on purpose you made it our business and it’s our job to help.” He says earnestly. 

Izzy stares at his shining eyes for a long moment. “‘m honestly not. Just spent too long in the sun, that’s all.” Maybe one day he’ll tell them the truth of it. But not today. Lucius nods in response like he understands. 

“What’d you need from us to help, boss?” Ivan says, speaking for the first time.

Izzy looks at him before shaking his head. The words ‘for you to fuck off’ die on his tongue. “Dunno. Never had anyone to look after me before.”

He flushes again when a generic sad noise rises from the crew. 

Jim starts tapping their foot and whispers something to Oluwande. 

“I can’t ask him that!” 

“No en voz alta, idiota!” 

“Ask me what?” Izzy grumbles, he still doesn’t like people talking behind his back. 

Oluwande looks at Jim as if they might save him. They only shake their head and nod in Izzy’s direction. 

“Jim thinks- ow!” He gasps when Jim elbows him hard in the ribs. “We think you might like…” he trails off, eyes closed.

“Just fucking tell me!”

“A cuddle pile.” He finishes lamely. Jim looks smug and impressed in equal measure.

Lucius squeals in delight and claps his hands like a child. “Yes!” But when he catches sight of Izzy’s face he sobers slightly. “If you’re okay with touch at the moment?” 

Izzy considers the effort he needs to put up a token refusal. A refusal which will end with him being upset that he didn’t get a hug as all of the crew file out and another night of restless sleep. He can ask Ed and Stede to cuddle with him but they’re likely to fuss and Izzy doesn’t think he has the energy to explain this whole situation after the day he’s had. 

They’ve already seen him cry. They’ve already seen his weaknesses and decided to help rather than hurt. The worst they could do is laugh at him and somehow - against his better judgement - he doesn’t think they will. 

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Lucius questions, barely hiding a grin.

“Yes. Please.” He adds when Lucius cocks his head to check if he’s being serious. 

After that things are much smoother and he no longer feels like crying out of anything other than relief. All seven of them pile onto his tiny cot and somehow it remains intact under their combined weight. Izzy has a feeling that Stede had something to do with its newfound stability and smiles to himself. The feeling of weight does more to calm him than a thousand baths could achieve. They’ve even organised themselves so that they avoid pressing on his bad arm or his foot. He thinks that they’ll all tire of it soon enough and piss off after a minute or two but to his surprise they stay for much longer than he’s expecting. 

After ten minutes of silent cuddling, Izzy starts to feel like he’s being selfish. 

“You don’t have to do this.” He says to Lucius, who had volunteered to lay directly against him, and the only one with whom Izzy could maintain eye contact.

“Don’t be silly Izzy. We want to.” He replies softly, eyes closing again once he sees that Izzy isn’t going to reply. 

He feels himself getting sleepy and relaxes further into the fabric of his cot. 

— 

Izzy hasn’t forgiven them. He doesn’t think he could at the moment. Ed and Stede have helped him to realise that what the crew did to him was cruel and unnecessary and disproportionate and entirely not his fault. 

But he reckons he can try to keep an open mind about them now. They had shown him that they cared. Enough to make sure he wasn’t scared of them. Enough to go at his pace and take the time to explain. 

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he appreciated it. 

You’d never get that confession out loud to another living soul or in writing. But here, sitting with Izzy in his cabin, watching his slowly rising and falling chest and hearing his tiny huffs of breath. Face more relaxed than they had ever seen it…

It’s more than enough for the crew.