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Ed had heard others on his various crews describe the feeling, the thoughts, when they realized that they could give someone their heart. It had always interested him, hearing the differences. "I knew they were someone I could trust" versus "my heart wasn't mine anymore" or "I knew I'd do anything for them; kill, die, whatever". Or, one that had always stuck with him, "and that's when I realized that I was fucked."
For him, it'd taken a few times. Unsurprising, really. He'd always been a man that had to be hit over the head with something good before he'd realize it was there. But he remembered each of them - in hindsight, they felt like separate blows to the hull, survivable until suddenly you were drowning.
The first had actually been just after Stede had first woken up, really woken up, from his fever. Ed had told him that everything was fine, pointing to the heartbox he'd found slung over the man's shoulder, now resting on the table across from them.
Who the hell brings their heart on a trade? he'd thought when he'd found it, but Bonnet did seem to be a very strange man.
He hadn't opened it - despite the fact that it was a simple lock, and he could've easily picked it - but had found himself tracing along the lines of gold inlaid to the dark wood. It was so different to the one he carried, just dark iron bolted together so that the heart inside was practically invulnerable, with a strong lock with a trick keyhole. And he didn't take it on anything that could go tits up, leaving it on his ship under yet more locks for any raids or trades.
He'd caught himself still tracing the gold, and forced himself to put it down, leave it be.
Only a few minutes later, Stede offered him one just as fine, so that they could complete the transformation from Blackbeard to "Stede Bonnet". He'd refused - he didn’t know the strange pirate well enough to bare his heart in front of him.
"Ah. Well, all right. Tell me if you change your mind - I've too many of them, really, so you can have one if you like!" Stede had said with a smile, before moving on to showing him the various shirts he could wear for his outfit.
Ed wasn't listening. Just for a moment, he recalled tracing over the gold as he waited for the strange pirate to wake up and wondered at a man who would be willing to just give something like that away to someone he'd just met.
Another had been after that awful party with all of those upper crust bastards. It had been such an odd, conflicted feeling - embarrassment and anger from how they'd treated him, a strange bit of awe at what Stede had arranged and done to them as revenge. As revenge for him , for Ed, because they'd hurt his feelings.
And, of course, his mother's voice, repeating that he would never be of that class, making him feel all the more foolish.
Stede had startled him, then. Him. Blackbeard. And he'd been so focused on a bit of old cloth that he'd been snuck up on.
He recalled almost tucking it away, not letting anyone see it. It was a silly thing to keep, an old piece of silk from a life he'd abandoned (killed, really), gone all frayed at the edges and wearing thin in a few areas.
But Stede had seen it. Had called it lovely, had gently asked to see it, had folded it and carefully returned it to his breast pocket.
"You wear fine things well," Stede had said, and even though it was locked up back on his ship, Ed knew his heart had skipped a beat.
Later, looking back on the memory, he knew that was when he'd really begun to trust the strange Gentleman Pirate. Trust him with everything, from running him through to maybe, maybe, his heart.
Ed laid there, feeling the warmth of Stede against his back, the comfortable weight of Stede's arm over his arm… and the ache in his bad knee. A final twinge nearly made him kick the leg in question, and he sighed. "Stede, mate? You awake?"
"Mmn?" Stede mumbled. Evidently only partially awake, then.
"I'm sorry, but my knee-"
"Oh. Oh! You should've said something!" Stede's arm disappeared from his arm, as did the warmth at his back, accompanied by shifting of the cushion and blankets. "There. Come here."
He flipped over as well, pausing a moment to look at Stede's face. It was just barely illuminated by the lantern off the aft, a small smile that was still mostly in darkness. He settled, putting an arm around Stede's middle. "That alright?"
"Yes, that's fine." They lapsed into silence again for a few moments, before Stede spoke once more. "Would your knee benefit from being elevated?"
"Oh, yea, I guess. I usually just use a bag of rags or something-"
Stede was working his ankle in between Ed's calves. He helped him along, lifting the leg, though he still didn't quite know what was going on. Stede moved the calf up onto his own, then gently grabbed Ed's knee, bringing it to rest on his thigh. "There we are. Now we're both comfortable," Stede said, sounding very comfortable indeed.
He was already asleep by the time Ed leaned up again, looking at his face.
No one really cared about shit like that, back on his own ship. Sure, they didn't want each other dead, but - if an injury wasn't slowing you down or killing you, who cared, right? Besides, they all had them. Part of the business. Scars stitched across their bodies, right alongside the tattoos. Old wounds and things that just didn't quite come back together right that ached when a bad storm was coming. It wasn't worth complaining about, or trying to ease for each other.
But… Stede had always been different. As had the Revenge and her crew.
The lantern on the aft swung a bit closer in a gust, casting its light over Stede's face, content in sleep.
Stede rather evidently trusted him . Ed had told him everything, all about how he'd meant to kill him, and yet… here he was, only two weeks later. Asleep, with Ed still awake at his back.
His mind strayed to where his heart was, locked up in the iron heartbox right across from him. It had been doing so a lot, of late.
Did he trust Stede with his heart? Was he even still capable of that? Blackbeard had no need of a heart, no need for such vulnerability. He wasn't sure he was even able to be so vulnerable, anymore. Of course, he'd been half certain that Ed was gone, too engulfed by the legend of Blackbeard to ever be seen by anyone as just Ed again.
… His heart had been locked away for so long that he was half-certain it had a layer of dust. And it was half scars. He'd have guessed it was only barely beating, too. At least until a few weeks ago, when he'd boarded that Spanish vessel to rescue a very strange pirate. Would Stede even want such an ugly little thing? He liked beauty, and finery, and-
Stede made a small humming groan, and scooted closer to him. He laid back down, putting his arm further around Stede, winning him a contented sigh.
Perhaps he'd fetch his heart from its confinement tomorrow. Maybe.
It was only after that that he'd accepted Stede's offer of a nicer heartbox. Stede had explained that his were nearly as strong as the iron beastie that Ed carried, just "well, nicer to look at." He doubted that, somewhat - the locks needed a good seeing to, to his mind - but he'd found himself toying with the idea of an ornate heartbox ever since it'd been offered. Stede had looked overjoyed, and given him his pick of the lot. He'd chosen a cherry wood and silver box, similar to the one Stede carried.
Stede had complimented his choice, then nodded at him. "Right! I'll leave you to it, then," he'd said, before leaving the closet to let him make the transfer in private. He'd been surprised, really - he'd been about to open his old heartbox, without even thinking about the fact that Stede was there and would see his heart. And then, of course, he'd been surprised at that - he never let anyone see his heart, always guarded it jealously.
Unlocking the old iron box, though, Ed thought about Stede's heartbox. For as much of a clotheshorse as he was, Stede never seemed to change heartboxes. He supposed that meant that the dark wood and gold one was his favorite.
Ah well, he thought, gently placing his gnarled heart into the cushioned interior of the new box. All the more for me to pick from, I suppose .
The last had been on that thrice-damned beach by the privateer academy. He hadn't told Stede, when he'd found him, that he'd been worried. Just that he'd been looking for him. It didn't matter, he hadn't run off. Not… not yet, anyways.
Sitting on the beach, talking about how the past few weeks had been the best he'd had, maybe ever - he'd never forget that. And when Stede had told him that he "makes Stede happy", too? If he'd had it with him, he would've handed over his heart right there. Closed Stede's fingers around it, told him that he'd brook no argument from his co-captain, that it was his and had been practically since they'd met-
But he hadn't had it with him. He hadn't trusted that the English wouldn't confiscate it, use it as further leverage.
Stede, ever trusting, had had his, though. Brought it along in his breast pocket, the fool, no protection at all. Hadn't been confiscated, so Ed supposed that made him the fool.
But that meant that.. even as Stede had kissed him back, had told him that he felt the same, that he'd run away with him, he never gave him his heart. He could've, and he didn't.
Usually he wouldn't blame a man for that; plenty of relationships went fine without exchanging hearts - that was practically reserved for marriage. And waiting was fine, too. But laying on that dock, watching clouds roll in from the east, it gave him pause.
Maybe he hadn't meant a word of it. Had there been some hesitation in his face, then? What about later, when he had told him about the escape plan?
Laying on the dock, and later on the ship, waiting for a man that would never return… that had made him feel the most foolish of all. He'd just been another toy, another thing that the nobleman was trying out, another little folly of his 'adventure' that he was chasing \ because he was bored .
His heart ached. He'd been carrying it around, taking it out to look at it, clinging to it as he stalked the ship in Stede's banyan like a gaudy phantom.
He looked at it in the candlelight in the dark of the pillow fort he'd built. Stede isn't coming back. He's not. He was just toying with me.
The tears welled again, and he felt his heart crack. A tear dropped from his face to the heart, mixing with the blood beginning to slowly trickle from the fresh wound.
He stayed like that, curled over his heart and sobbing, for… he didn't know how long. Finally, he took a deep breath, scrubbing the tears off his face with a rough hand.
Izzy's right. I'm a fucking moron. I'm fucking Blackbeard, goddammit.
He looked down at his heart once more. He could still feel the pain, but now it was overtaken by disgust. He didn't need this damn thing. Not if it was going to be like this.
Who needed a heart, if it was only to be broken?
~~~~~
Stede sat next to Mary on the bed, feeling more comfortable in their home than he ever had, even as he planned to leave it.
"Ah!" he said, realizing something. He stood, grabbing the heartbox from where he'd left it on the nightstand. He sat back down with it, retrieving the key from around his neck and unlocking the box. "Here," he said, handing the heart, box, and key to Mary. "It was never mine to keep anyways. And it sounds like you might just have someone you want to give it to."
Mary smiled, accepting her heart back. She gazed at it for a moment, then closed the lid and locked the box once more, setting it aside on the bed. "I owe you yours back, as well," she said, standing. She moved around to the other side of the bed, then crouched to retrieve something.
She popped back up with a black mourning heartbox, carrying it back to where they'd been.
The key was tied to it, and she quickly unlocked it and turned the box towards him. The smell of frankincense, like that used for embalming such things, attacked his senses, and he blinked for a moment.
"Sorry about the box. And the smell. You know, being the Widow Bonnet-"
"Had to complete the look!" he said, chuckling. Really, he was more offended that she'd seemingly been keeping it under the bed. He hadn't been as finicky about her heart as he probably should have, but he'd never kept it under his bed .
But that was fine, it didn't matter any more. He reached to take it, and Mary interrupted him.
"I'll still be needing the box. After all, I'll be freshly widowed again."
"Ah, right," he said, and scooped his heart out of the cushioned box.
He sat for a few moments, just holding his own heart and looking it over. It'd been years since he'd really held it like this. He'd only even seen it in brief glimpses, as Mary dutifully transferred it from one box to another, matching it to outfits like he liked. Really, he was just glad to see it beating, even here, in the life he'd found so stifling. But of course it was beating - he'd be dead, otherwise. Not that he hadn't felt it, in the days before he'd abandoned this life for the sea, and piracy, and freedom.
"Well," he said, tearing his gaze from it, "I'll be needing a box, then. All the rest of mine are back on the ship."
She laughed. "I still can't believe you took your entire bloody wardrobe with you to sea."
"I have an image to maintain! I'm the Gentleman Pirate!"
She laughed again, standing up and going to her closet. "I've still got all my matched ones; you can take one of them."
He joined her, looking over her shoulder at the neat line of heartboxes. "You're sure?"
She gave him a flat look. "Yes, Stede, I'm sure. You picked all of them, anyway."
"Ah, um. Yes." He awkwardly shuffled past her, looking over the lineup. There was the gold inlaid one; it might be nice to have it, I've gotten used to that color scheme, he thought, even as he looked over the others. His eyes landed on another, cherry wood with a swirling silver inlay. Ed flashed in his mind, smiling at him and wearing its mate on his hip as he described some crazy scheme he'd pulled off once to escape the Spaniards.
Well, that was that. He knelt, opening up the cherry and silver one and placing his heart inside.
Stede slung it over his shoulder and stood, turning back to Mary. "Right! So, how are we going to kill me?"
~~~~~
Blackbeard put the old scrap of silk around his heart, tying it tightly. He didn't need it, didn't want it any more. Blackbeard didn't need a heart anyways - he was a fearsome blackguard of a pirate, who never gave any quarter.
He looked over the railing at the choppy seas, and the clouds gathering above. A storm. That served his mood just fine.
The heart was still beating in his hand. He took a final glance at it, feeling tears well in his eyes again, then let it drop from his fingers into the waves.
Good riddance, he thought. It could stay at the bottom of the ocean, with the shipwrecks and fearsome beasts.
Though… there are sharks. Maybe this wasn't the best idea.
He turned away from the railing, back towards the cabin. It could sink and bury itself in the sand below, or a shark could eat it and he would drop dead. Whichever. It was preferable to having to look at the fucking thing.
~~~~~
Stede had been pacing the small beach of the small island for an hour or so, contemplating what to do. Well, there was only one thing to do, to his mind. But.. what would he say? He had abandoned Ed. Run back to his family. Ran away, like he always did. He was back now, of course - and he was never going to leave again, whatever happened - but that seemed like it would be a cold comfort to Ed. Ed, who deserved all the warmth he could give him after everything he'd experienced.
I want to be with you? No more running away? he thought to himself, trying to parse out the phrasing. This needed to be good, after all. No, that's rubbish. And it sounds like bullshit, after all that.
He kicked a shell with the side of his shoe, frustrated. He had to figure something out. He wanted to tell Ed what he'd realized while staying with Mary, what he should've realized ages ago. And Ed had Jim! And Lucius! And Frenchie, too, poor lad.
Something tumbled ashore in the waves, distracting him from his thoughts.
Things were always washing ashore. It was a beach. He'd watched three separate pieces of seaweed wash up on the beach so far.
This… this was different. Something dark red caught the setting sun, shining from the damp and some innate quality of the thing. Stepping closer, he realized it was a scrap of red fabric, tied tightly around something.
Closer, and he realized the something was moving.
Closer still, and he realized he knew that scrap of fabric.
He rushed over and scooped up the lump, feeling it beating against his hands. The red silk handkerchief tied over it had a gash in it now, revealing a bit of the heart beneath.
"Oh, Ed, what have you done?" he whispered, sitting gracelessly in the sand, all his attention on the organ in his hands. He stroked a thumb over the gash in the fabric, feeling the difference between the ragged silk edges and the muscle beneath. "You'd better be all right…"
~~~~~
Stede sighed, looking at the small fire they'd managed to build for the night. He pulled Mr. Buttons' jacket closer around his shoulders, a shiver equally from cold and guilt going through him. Dammit. According to his crew, this was all his fault - he'd run away, and then changed his mind again , and now they were all stuck like this .
But , he thought, feeling the dirty fabric beneath his fingers, they don't seem to mind that much. He looked around at the crew, his crew, asleep around the fire.
At least they were warm. And fed, a bit, from the rations he'd brought in the dinghy for snacks. And the damned seaweed. Look who's eating seaweed now, huh?
He'd told them he'd take watch, giving the excuse that he'd slept on the way in. Of course, he hadn't. But his mind was too occupied to let sleep slip by. And watching over them while they slept was the least he could do for them now.
Well, that and keep watch for a ship. This was a trade route, he remembered Ed telling him that. A ship would come by, and hopefully he could convince them to pick him and his crew up.
He rubbed over the grubby hem of the jacket, looking over the sleeping crew. Buttons had insisted on giving him his jacket, actually - "a cap'n has tae have a coat", he had said. He didn't know that that was true, but he appreciated the gesture anyways. He was cold. And the jacket had pockets, giving him somewhere safe to put Ed's heart. It was at least somewhat protected, in the breast pocket of his shirt with the jacket over top.
He retrieved Ed's heart from his pocket. He could look over it now, by the firelight, without the crew knowing what he had. He didn't know that it was something he could show them, really. He didn't think his crew were capable of killing, really (at least, with Jim in absence they weren't), but abandonment did strange things to people.
Besides, hearts were meant to be kept between people. Between lovers. Like secrets.
Should he even look? It wasn't as though Ed had actually given him his heart. He'd just… found it, discarded and washed up on the beach. The crew said that Ed had just abandoned them on this spit of land, but he worried all the same - a heart wasn't something easily lost. Maybe that damned Izzy had something to do with it. That could be the reason for the sudden change. The crew said he'd been mopey, and then suddenly he was throwing everything overboard and leaving them here?
He felt over the silk again. He'd be lying if he said his curiosity wasn't killing him.
He flipped it over, gently pulling the knot in the handkerchief apart. It took ages, wrenched down as it was. But, finally, the handkerchief fell open, revealing the heart within.
Even in the crackling firelight, he could see it was webbed with scars - bunches of small cracks, taken then healed, over a lifetime. They ranged in age, depth, healing - a catalog of the hurts in Ed's life. A catalog much too long. A larger old scar caught his eye, gnarled and surrounded with stretch marks, like the scar had tried to hold the heart back from growing. The birth of the Kraken, if he had to make a guess.
Of course, the still-bleeding wound across it was the most attention-catching. But, from what the crew had told him, he knew what that was from, too.
The gash was almost a match to the one in the handkerchief itself on the opposite side. He could only mend one by hand, however. Hearts had to heal on their own, or you'd just do more damage.
He gently wiped away the most recent drop of blood, but was taken aback. The blood was warm, but the heart itself was still chilled, despite warming it by his chest. It was still beating oddly, too - shallow but fast, like an odd daze. He held it to his chest again, wanting it to slow down - this speed couldn't be good for Ed.
He could feel it, cold as he held it to his chest, juxtaposed with a fresh drop of blood that warmed the fabric of his shirt as it sunk in. He sighed, looking up at the stars - the ones that only a few days ago they'd watched together, him looking for shooting stars and Ed telling him how to find his way using the constellations.
"I promise," he whispered, "I'll return this to you, Ed," he said, opening his heartbox and gingerly placing Ed's alongside his.