Chapter Text
They were barely adults. Kids, really, by most standards. Sailing still was, in a way, a fun adventure, which meant freedom from the cruelty of the world. Whatever that meant. And whatever that feeling was, it disappeared when their first friend ended up sleeping with the fish. Brutally. Bloody. Remembering it made Izzy still cringe. But Edward couldn't handle it at all.
Izzy was left helpless, staring at the younger boy completely shut down. Trembling. Crying. He knew he should, he wanted to do something to ease his pain, but had no idea what to do. Izzy could hear others laughing about Edward's reaction. Betting on how long such a baby would last. Izzy, still lost, sat carefully next to his, now only, friend. Edward's breathing was ragged and eyes red, cheeks wet. When he finally got his sobs under control, Edward's voice was startlingly steady.
"Iz?"
"Yeah. It's me Ed."
"I need you to promise me something."
"Anything for you."
"Never do this. Don't you dare go around getting yourself hurt. Don't go where I can't follow. Promise me that."
"Ed..."
"Israel Hands. Promise me."
...
"I promise. No matter what, I'll always be there by your side. I won't let anything stop me."
So Izzy doesn't get hurt.
That's it. He. Doesn't. Get. Hurt.
~^~
The pain makes Izzy's head spin, makes him want to scream or punch someone or strangle whoever dared to speak right next to him. His vision was blurry around the edges and that constant noise, that rumble made it worse by the second. If only Izzy had the strength to raise his hands and wrap his fingers around the throat of the speaker next to-
"Iz, you alive, mate? They manage to knock your head or?"
Right. It was Blackbeard, his captain speaking next to him. No strangling then. Or maybe Edward could just strangle him? At this point, his captain would do it so willingly-
"You are dreadfully pale, Izzy! Should you perhaps sit down?"
"Fuck off, Bonnet", it hurt to growl. Izzy wanted to add something along the lines of 'unlike the pansies like you, I don't get hurt, I know what I'm doing', but he couldn't gather enough energy to speak anymore.
"Aw, man, Iz, let Stede be!" Edward chided him. Izzy couldn't find the strength to care. That itself should have been a large, blaring red flag of his condition. He really should get away. But there were duties. Who else would keep the ship afloat? Especially now. The Spanish ship they had just raided had put up a good fight. Too good. The Revenge would need some maintenance before setting sail again. Izzy should take care of that. Should be doing that right now. He should go. Move. Do something.
"Iz?" had he hit his head or did Edward sound worried? No. Izzy was imagining things.
"'m fine."
He wasn't. He couldn't find that out, though.
"We'll be movin' soon", Izzy promised his captain, frowning, and braced himself to finally move his legs forward. Right, fix the ship, then get some peace to lick his wounds.
"That's Iz for you, Stede. I doubt there's anything in this world that could stop that man. He just cannot get hurt!", he heard Edward chuckle. He hid his pained grimace with an even meaner frown and set to work.
~^~
It was much worse than he assumed.
Izzy hadn't let himself stop before he was able to sneak into his cupboard of a room with a rag and a bottle of rum. His hands shook uncontrollably. He could only hope no one noticed. This was no place to show weakness. No place was. But behind a locked door, he could finally stop and try to peer underneath his shirt. He used exclusively black for many reasons, one being that it made it very easy to hide one's blood.
The wound, because of fucking course he had gone and let himself get wounded, looked to be on the nastier side. Shit, this would be harder to work around than his usual injuries. Usually, he would never let something like this happen to him, but then there was that idiot of a Bonnet he was forced to protect. Not that anyone wanted him close to the love of his captain's life, but he swore utmost loyalty and he would keep his word. Now it was time to make sure he would be able to keep his other promise.
He swiftly drank a mouthful from the bottle before pouring some rum on the rag he had found. He began trying to wipe away the blood from his gaping wound with familiar movements. Had he been anyone else, he would have gotten someone to stitch it up. But he was Izzy Hands, Blackbeard's First Mate, his Hands. He didn't get hurt. He wasn't allowed to. So he should get this fixed on his own. Not that there was much he could do. It was too much to the side for him to stitch it by himself, nor did he have the equipment for it.
All there could be done, Izzy supposed, was to try to keep it as clean as possible and just get back to work. He wasn't stopped by losing a toe, he wouldn't let some fucking idiot with a dagger break his vow.
~^~
So maybe some fucking idiot with a dagger had potentially made him break his vow. By midday Izzy found himself struggling to stand, leaning heavily on his walking stick. The sun was blaring and he had difficulties seeing anything clearly. Shit. This was really bad. Everything was surprisingly in order. Or as much as it could, Izzy supposed. The fools that were the crew of The Revenge had been lately making a tiny inch of progress on becoming somewhat acceptable sailors. Not that Izzy would ever say that aloud.
Right now the lot of them were all gathered on the deck, sewing. The sight painfully reminded Izzy of his own, unsewn side. A wave of shivers ran through his whole body. His knuckles were white as sand from the force he was exerting on the handle of his cane. He hadn't yet managed to decide whether he was mortified or elated to have to use the damn thing. On the other hand, it was a sign of weakness. Sure, he could manage without it for a while, but the pain would always grow to be unbearable. What kind of a pirate used a fucking walking stick? A loyal one, his mind would whisper. That kind of pirate who was so loyal to his captain that he'd let him do anything and wear the marks he left, proud. The kind that had promised not to let anything stop him from following his captain, not even a missing toe and a messed up balance and that weird nub that looked now all wrong.
Izzy felt... well, dizzy. He had to lie down. He had to get away. Away from the sun. Away from all the noise the crew was making. Away away away away a
~^~
Izzy didn't wake up from the near scream Lucius let out when he found the passed out body in the munition storage. He had first seen only one boot and wondered who had left it there. When he had stepped forward to pick it up, he had to both his horror and amusement noticed that the boot was attached to their First Mate. Izzy was sitting in the corner, or at least had been before his lax body had slid to lay on the floor. There was a dark stain on the floor slowly covering more and more area. The humour of the situation was disappearing rapidly. Lucius scrambled away. Stepped back just a little to check. Still breathing. Backed away quickly and began to run to the dining room where everyone would be having dinner.
"Ed? Stede? Captains! Anyone!"