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Ed lays on the pier and he knows that he is abandoned.
He knows it.
He does.
The alternative is impossible. It is only hope which makes Ed certain that he has been abandoned, and it tears at him like the sword that Stede once ran through his left side. Ed remembers that type of agony fondly. It was tangible. He could feel the warmth - the blood weeping from the wound - and he knew it must be painful, even though he only felt joy at the shock and outrage radiating from the man who’d stabbed him.
The pier is cold, but that is painful too. And it is real. And Stede has abandoned him.
Stede is not dead.
He hates Stede, this fool, this fucking toff. He knows the bastard has left him here, fucking beardless, no weapon, clothes wrinkled oddly from where Edward himself folded them.
There’s no other explanation, because Stede is not dead.
Betrayed, Ed rows away.
Stede is a fucking traitor.
***
He is not dead. Blackbeard won’t accept it.
His clothes are soft. And for a moment, Bonnet’s silk gown is soothing against his flesh and then it tears at him. And it doesn’t fit. And nothing fits. And Captain Edward burns it.
It might have been a dream.
***
He answers to Blackbeard now. And Izzy looks both joyous and pathetic.
Ed laughs. Whatever is wrong with the man is not his problem.
He laughs at Izzy and he hopes it hurts.
His shirt still scratches against the scar on his left. Ed wants to cry. He ignores it.
***
He is healed. Everything hurts equally.
***
Stede abandoned Ed, and is not dead.