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The song is Sting, Fortress Around Your Heart .
Under the ruins of a walled city
Crumbling towers and beams of yellow lights
No flags of truce, no cries of pity
The siege guns have been pounding through the nights
It took a day to build the city
We walked through its streets in the afternoon
Sleeping curled up next to Stede was Ed’s favorite thing in the whole world.
Granted, they weren’t officially living together, but, well, they rarely slept apart these days. They both ended up at Stede’s place more often than not. It was bigger, more centrally located.
Things between them were good, amazing even. Ed wanted to pinch himself every day. He could hardly remember how it had been, the long lonely years they had spent apart. What it was like not to wake up in the morning feeling a tingle of excitement at the thought of a new day, even before he looked over and saw Stede’s rumpled gold-silver hair on the pillow next to his.
It hadn’t been easy. There had been so many hard conversations. Tears. Apologies. Cautiously poking at the bruises that still hurt under the skin, trying to find the ones that were safe to work through together. Coping with the sudden explosions of forgotten trauma that would pop up out of nowhere when they were doing something mundane like trying to choose what video to watch next. They were learning to communicate even when it was painful. To trust that neither of them would suddenly lose patience and walk away forever when the talking got hard.
They were good together. They were getting better.
So Ed tried, he really did, not to sweat the small stuff. It was such a little thing. Just… Stede seemed to have an awful lot of nightmares.
Well. Nightmares were normal enough. Ed had them, too. Dreams of his father’s violent hands. Dreams of the dark, unsettled days when he used to seek out comfort in anonymous sex, more hollow even than the misleading comfort of his easy dalliances with Jack. Dreams of the times that he had skirted a little too close to the law, come close to falling into the hands of violent cops when he just wanted to finish a mural on a neighborhood wall. Heck, surreal dreams that made no sense at all but were probably born out of one too many old-fashioneds (in the old days; Ed had happily given them up) and some bad Indian takeout. Nightmares were no big deal.
What worried Ed wasn’t the fact that Stede had nightmares almost every night. It was the fact that he would never tell him what any of them were about.
Ed had told Stede plenty of stories about his own freaky nightmares about octopus tentacles that somehow turned into his father. But when Ed tried to coax Stede to talk about his, holding him as he shook and trembled in the aftermath, Stede always dodged the questions. Made up something vague and innocuous. (Ed was pretty sure that not all of the dreams were about suddenly finding that he was late to work and wearing nothing but underwear.) Or he would straight up claim that he couldn’t remember, just “had a bad feeling.”
Ed couldn’t shake the sense that Stede was being very careful not to tell him something that Ed wouldn’t want to know.
And! The thing was. They had talked, so much, about how important it was to communicate. They had broken down so many barriers together. Ed really believed, at this point, that if it were something essential for the two of them to work through together, that Stede would let him know. And Ed didn’t want to push.
Over time, he developed strategies. Ed soon discovered that if he was awake when the twitching and mumbling started, he could often soothe Stede with a touch. It eased his heart to see how quickly he could ward off the demons just by running his fingers through Stede’s soft curls, or nuzzling his neck, or drawing a gentle finger over Stede’s furrowed brow. Those were good nights.
Sleeping tangled up in one another, spooning as tightly as two bodies would allow - that seemed to help, too. That was good. It let Ed sleep through longer shifts of the night.
The nights when Ed would be jerked out of sleep to find Stede sitting bolt upright next to him, gasping, or screaming out from the depths of sleep, sometimes seeming to take what felt like ages to recognize Ed and realize he was safe - they were fewer these days. That was a good thing, too.
Then I went off to fight some battle
That I'd invented inside my head
Away so long for years and years
You probably thought or even wished that I was dead
Ed tried not to worry, on the bad nights, about what was really going on in Stede’s head. It was so terribly easy to imagine the many reasons why Stede might not want to tell him what his dreams were really about.
What if Stede was having doubts, still, about being with a man? Ed knew very well that Stede had “come out” even before they reunited. Stede had told him, laughing even, about the mighty struggle to overcome his fears before setting his sexuality on his MySpace page, about the heart to heart talk he’d had with Alma (Alma was secretly one of Ed’s favorite people in the universe, not that he would ever tell, it wasn’t nice to play favorites among sort-of-step-kids), about the disastrous “coming out” party when he’d gone to the Revenge on 80s night and seen Ed’s number on the restroom wall. There was no obvious evidence that Stede was having doubts, but… being “out” in theory was one thing, taking a man to his bed every night was another. (Not that Stede ever seemed to have any doubts about the more intimate side of their relations. He was nothing if not enthusiastic.) Being seen out and about on the streets of New York City, even cautiously holding hands sometimes if the surroundings seemed safe - that was another matter. Was Stede struggling with fears he was afraid to share out loud?
What if Stede had doubts… about him? Ed had had dark spells in his past, especially during the long years apart. He had an angry, violent temper. His father had been violent before him, and Ed had learned violence at his knee. Stede had seen too much of that side of him in the early, painful stages of their reunion. Not that he’d ever raised a hand against Stede - god, no - but the violence and the anger were there all the same. It hurt to remember the angry reproaches he had thrown at Stede when they first met again. It made Ed physically sick to think that there might be some deeply buried subconscious part of Stede that was afraid of him. He tried never to entertain that awful fear for long, but it lurked in the depths, coiling.
On the whole, though, Ed found it easy to push the fears aside, at least once the darkest hours before dawn were over. He loved Stede, and Stede loved him. They would be fine.
As I returned across the fields I'd known
I recognized the walls that I'd once laid
Had to stop in my tracks for fear
Of walking on the mines I'd laid
One night, Ed woke to find the other side of the bed empty. That was hardly unprecedented, but he was troubled to find, when he reached out a hand, that the other side of the bed was cold. It wasn’t like Stede to leave their bed for long stretches in the night.
As long as he was awake, it made sense to ease his bladder, so Ed stumbled toward their shared bathroom, only to halt on the threshold.
The bathroom was dark, lit only by the weak streetlight through the narrow windowpane, but he could see Stede huddled in a heap on the floor. Shivering, cold, looking worse than Ed had ever seen him in all their time together since they’d reunited. Eyes red-rimmed with weeping.
In moments Ed was falling to his knees, gathering Stede into his arms. Seeing him in such pain was unbearable.
To Ed’s unutterable relief, Stede leaned into him, snuggling closer for comfort.
“Talk to me, my love,” croaked Ed, voice hardly recognizable, gravelly against Stede’s throat. “Please, tell me, what’s wrong?”
Stede drew a long shuddering breath.
“I know it’s hard, love, but please. It’s important. I need to know.”
“I–” Stede rasped into his chest. “I don’t deserve this. I don’t deserve… to have this. To be happy, with you. I love you so much. I don’t deserve you–”
Stede was sobbing now.
“I took so much, from everyone. I hurt you. I led you on, and I abandoned you. I put you in danger. I hurt Mary. She didn’t deserve that. She tried so hard. My kids – I tried, I did, but I was so miserable. I didn’t know how to love them the way they deserved. I didn’t know how to be the father they needed. I wanted to be better than my father before me, but–”
Ed’s chest felt like it was splitting in two. Stede was the best father he’d ever seen. He had never known that kind of love from his father, but Stede’s kids had. He saw it in Alma every time they met, every time they shared cheeky grins over their latest graffiti’d mural. Alma wore those absurd booty shorts her father had worn before her and she fucking rocked in them.
“I’m sorry, Ed, god, I’m sorry, I am so sorry –”
Fairly early on in their relationship, they had had to establish a “sorry” jar because Stede felt the need to apologize for fucking everything. The sorry fees had paid for quite a few minor domestic luxuries. This wasn’t the time to fine him a quarter for every apology.
“You know the rules, sweetheart. What are you apologizing for? Tell me.”
The breath Stede drew in sounded like he was pulling water through a sluice.
“My fault. My fault, that you heard what I said to Mary. All my lies. I was such a coward. If something had happened to you because of me– My fault. My fault you were miserable for so long. My family, my kids. My fault– all my fault–”
Ed wrapped his arms around Stede’s shaking body and held on as tightly as he could, feeling his heart breaking. Desperately, he tried to summon the confident voice he might once have known how to use.
“We talked about this,” he rasped into Stede’s ear. “You– I– we both made mistakes. We agreed to forgive each other, remember? And I know you know that Mary forgives you. That your kids love you. You KNOW this.”
Stede sobbed raggedly, trying to steady his breathing.
“I know–” harsh gulp. “I know you’re not holding a grudge, god, I know that. I don’t know why or how you can let go so easily, but I know. But.. but…” Another painful breath.
“But what if the universe… hasn’t forgiven me? What if I don’t deserve any of this. And if the universe– takes you from me, it’d be no more than I deserve, but I couldn’t bear it, I–”
Stede’s breathing was definitely accelerating beyond safe levels now. He was within inches of hyperventilating and passing out.
This prison has now become your home
A sentence you seem prepared to pay
It took a day to build the city
We walked through its streets in the afternoon
As I returned across the lands I'd known
I recognized the fields where I'd once played
Had to stop in my tracks for fear
Of walking on the mines I'd laid
Ed tightened his arms around Stede’s shaking body, as tight as he could manage, and pressed his forehead against Stede’s. He knew from experience that this was a gesture that Stede found calming, rooting.
“Breathe for me, sweetheart. Tell me something that you know is true.”
Ordinarily the words might be something as simple as My name is Stede Bonnet. I like boats. Stede didn’t hesitate.
“I know that I love you.”
Ed rubbed his nose against Stede’s and pressed a kiss to his cheek.
“I love you too, my love. Tell me something you can see.”
Stede drew in a shuddering breath. “Your pajamas… they’re purple. I love purple on you.”
“Something you can feel.”
“The floor… it’s cold.”
Ed rubbed his back, trying to rub more warmth into Stede’s chilled body. His hands were like ice, slipping under the silk of the material on Ed’s back.
“Something you can smell.”
Stede nuzzled his face into Ed’s hair. “You smell like… coconut. You’ve been using my shampoo again.”
His breathing was definitely steadier now.
“Something you can hear.”
They both fell silent for a moment, listening. “Traffic… out on the street.” Stede pressed closer to him. “Your heartbeat.”
Ever so gently, Ed brushed his lips over Stede’s. “Something you can taste.”
Stede giggled a little.
“Bubblegum. I don’t know how you can stand that toothpaste, I swear.”
They sat on the floor for a moment, just breathing together.
“Stede. Can you tell me about the nightmare, now? What was it tonight?”
His lover’s body tensed. Ed ran a soothing hand through his tumbled hair. “I know it’s hard to talk about, love, but we need to talk it through. Don’t shut me out, please?”
Stede drew a deep breath, in, then out.
“I’ll tell you. But… could we go back to bed first?”
When they were tucked up in Stede’s warm, soft bed, Stede burrowed deeper under the covers and tucked his face into Ed’s chest. He still felt cold to the touch.
“It was… that night. Memorial Day. I was sitting on the bed with Mary, and I heard myself saying… those horrible words.”
Ed slipped one hand under Stede’s pajama top, and ran a hand along his spine, up and back, up and back. It wasn’t sexual, just a slow, grounding touch.
“Only this time I looked up… and I looked straight into your eyes… standing outside the window. You looked… devastated. Hurt. Betrayed. Angry. Wounded. I saw you drain the glass, and set it back on the windowsill. I found it the next day, did I ever tell you? I knew what it meant. That you were gone and I would never see you again. I didn’t realize you had heard, god, not until much later. And in my dream, I saw you turn away… looking so cold and contemptuous. Like you did when we met again, in your office. And I knew I deserved it, I deserved your contempt. Your hatred.”
Ed had been trying to listen quietly, but he couldn’t help making a soft, protesting noise at that. Stede shook his head, brushing off the protest, but he nestled more closely into Ed’s arms all the same.
“I used to go to church, sometimes, with Mary and the children. It wasn’t exactly my thing, but my father made such a fuss about… keeping up appearances. One time, they were reading the lesson about how Peter denied Jesus for the third time, and Jesus looked him straight in the eye. I had to leave the service. I barely made it to the bathroom in time. Felt like I was in there retching for hours.”
Ed made a pained sound, oddly mixed with a strangled laugh. “I’m no Jesus, mate.” Stede sniggered a little, too. Half laugh, half sob.
“And I’m no rock of the church. Anyhow, in the dream… it changed, and I was sitting in the car, the day the tape got stuck. You know that awful grinding shrieking noise they make when the tape gets snarled up in the player. And, the weird way that things always seem to make sense in a dream, I suddenly knew with absolute certainty that you were… gone. Not on this earth anymore, I mean. I started driving, I don’t even know where, but it was so dark, not even streetlights, and there was static on the radio. I thought if I had to listen to that static for one more minute, I would go mad. That’s when I woke up.”
He didn’t realize he was crying until he became aware that Ed’s pajamas were soaked through where his face was pressed against Ed’s chest. When he looked up, Ed’s eyes were red-rimmed and wet, too.
“Are they always like that?”
“Variations, I guess. Sometimes we’re here, in this apartment, and I reach for you, but you just look at me with such loathing and walk away. Sometimes I’m standing in front of your grave. Those are the worst.”
Ed tugged him close and kissed him, long and hard. “I’m very much alive. I’ll prove it to you as often as you want. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Stede nodded tiredly, burrowing back into his partner’s chest. He felt utterly worn out.
For a time they were quiet, just holding each other. Ed concentrated on fighting off wave after wave of nausea. His chest hurt so badly that he wondered if it was actually possible for a human heart to break, for real. How could he not have seen this sooner? How could he have been so oblivious? They had talked about Stede’s feelings of guilt, but he had never imagined it ran this deep. Stede radiated sunshine, optimism, joy. The sun always casts its rays in all directions, never tiring, but Ed had forgotten that one side of the moon is always dark and cold.
“I’m sorry, too,” Ed whispered. His voice was raspy, like something was stuck in his throat. “I don’t say it enough, I don’t know if I ever even properly apologized, but I think about it all the time. After you told me about that time at the Revenge… I keep picturing you sitting on that filthy floor, crying, typing my number into your phone. And I remember hanging up on you. Deleting your voice messages. Leaving that awful note on your door. The things I said when you brought your car in. You were so brave, do you know that? You just stood there and let me lash out at you. I wish I could have cut my tongue out, that I could take back those things I said.”
“You weren’t wrong,” whispered Stede.
“I wasn’t right, either. You paid the price for years, and I acted like I had the right to be judge and jury over you. Like I had any right to punish you for not abandoning your wife and unborn child, leaving them to get kicked out of their home and disowned by your bastard of a father. I knew you were married from the day of that first potluck. Izzy warned me, told me I’d regret it, but I let myself stay and hope, let myself get closer to you. I think…”
Ed paused, and then pushed through. “There were so many times, when I was little, that I thought how much better it would have been for mum and me if my shit father had left before I was ever born. If he fell down drunk at the bar and never came home. I guess I thought that if you weren’t happy in your marriage, that everyone would be better off if you left. I never let myself think of how Mary would manage, what would happen to the baby. It wasn’t until I met Alma that I really understood. What it might have been like to grow up with a father who taught me that I was worthy of love, capable of love. Free to choose the life and love that I wanted. Worthy of being accepted for myself.
“You gave your kids that. And because you’re who you are, because you gave them that… I’m starting to feel like it’s not too late for me to learn to be a little of what they are. A little stronger. A little freer. A little more… loved.”
Stede was gazing at him with a mixture of grief and wonder. “You are loved,” he breathed. “You deserve so much love. Ed, you’re everything. You’re the brightest star I have ever seen. I loved you when I was just a kid. I will always love you. You are–”
Ed stopped him with a kiss. They didn’t say anything more for a long time after that.
Finally Ed drew back. “I know it won’t always be easy,” he whispered. “For twenty-one years, I thought you didn’t care, that I was nothing to you. For twenty-one years, you’ve been punishing yourself for choosing the only path that was ever open to you. We can’t just wave a wand and make that go away. But promise me, next time the dreams come… you’ll tell me? I want to be here for you. I never, ever want you to be crying on a cold bathroom floor alone, ever again. Promise?”
“I promise.”
And if I built this fortress around your heart
Encircled you in trenches and barbed wire
Then let me build a bridge
For I cannot fill the chasm
Let me set the battlements on fire.