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Working day and night, hand and fucking foot to his co-captains –ugh– Izzy followed Blackbeard like his lap dog, and yet- And yet he saw no reward. Working for Blackbeard was certainly some reward, people feared him, respected him. Izzy didn't expect tangible rewards or to receive the affections Edward let slip now and again. Praise. The smallest morsel to be fed on and quench his thirst. Blackbeard would smile, squint his eyes, pat his shoulder, the smallest things were monumental to him. It warmed Izzy from the soles of his boots to the tips of his shoulders, but he knew deep down it wasn't enough. Never enough. For once in his life he needed a break, a retirement as Ed once said. This was no retirement, there was no such thing. He was just momentarily distracted by Stede fucking Bonnet, playing with his crew and entertaining their stupid fantasies. Izzy knew he'd tire of them and move on… soon, he hoped.
Barking at the crew helped him vent out his frustrations, even when there was nothing to vent about, sometimes he'd get caught up in his own fucking trap, bleeding his heart out for Blackbeard. Sometimes… a crew member would pipe up.
"Give us a fucking break, Izzy," Jim growled at him.
His eye twitched as he resisted smiling, to gloat at Jim for biting his baited hook. "Orders come from the Captains, Jim." He smirked, then his eyes drifted beyond Jim to Buttons out on the bow. "Well? Put your backs into it! " he yelled as fiercely as he could, shoving past Jim who cursed after him.
Buttons was feeding his friendly seagull, Olive? He couldn’t remember. Izzy stood squarely, arms crossed, waiting for his presence to be felt. Buttons didn’t turn to look at him, but acknowledged his existence. “Aye, Mr. Hands?”
“Have you done anything today?” He chewed at the inside of his cheek impatiently.
“We’re travlin’ well, Sir. Been keepin’ a sharp eye out for ya.” Buttons held another grain of corn for the gull to peck.
Izzy’s mouth twitched. Why won’t he turn? Why do they ignore him so?
“Buttons…?” His legs felt hollow, his balance uneven as the boat swayed. “The crew… they don't listen to me.” It was hard to hide the frustration in his voice. He didn’t care for this crew, had no intention of speaking to them for longer than a single night, and now look where they were.
“Oh, they listen.” He turned to glance at Izzy, finally . “It’s that they don’t respect ye.”
Izzy clenched his jaw. “Respect me?” His knees shook, his fists tightened. I’ll fucking show them .
“Aye, they can take an order or two, Mr. Hands, but yer askin’ a bit much from ‘em.” Buttons had a cool, unphased aura about him, regardless of the building tension in Izzy.
"Asking too much? This deck is a mess, the ship is barely held together with neglect. The captains shirk their duties."
"Would ye like t’ feed Olivia, Mr. Hands?" Buttons outstretched a hand to Izzy, seemingly ignoring his outburst.
He could swear a blood vessel was about to burst on his forehead. He snatched the corn from Buttons’ hand and threw it to the seagull, spooking it enough to fly over and stand on Buttons’ head.
" Are you even fuckin' listening? " Izzy seethed.
Buttons eyed him warily and kept the corn to himself again, reaching up to feed Olivia one more grain. "I am, Mr. Hands. I was only tryin' t' offer ye some peace. D'you have a hobby?"
"The fuck- No I don't have a 'hobby'. I work Nathaniel. I work and then I die. Why the fuck aren't the rest of you?"
Izzy took his frustrations below deck, his foot aching from its regular pains, the reminder, like a brand. His loyalty to Blackbeard.
Not Stede .
He sat in the gally, thankful no one was around to witness his ‘break’. He stretched his leg on the bench and sighed, holding his head in one hand. They’re a bunch of no good lackadaisical fucking idiots, he tried to remind himself. Bonnet’s crew were softies, untrained, half-wits. Some of them at least… and if he really thought about it, he couldn’t pick who was the worst.
“Need a rest there, Dizzy Izzy?” A voice called from across the cabin.
Izzy stiffened and stood quickly. Pain shot up his leg to his spine to his neck. “ Fuck,” he winced and folded back into the bench.
“Watch out, don’t break your back over me,” Roach laughed from the chef's serving window.
“ Fuck off ,” Izzy snapped.
Roach approached him and knelt down. “Oh… you’re not taking a rest, are you?”
Izzy kept a tight lip, looking away from Roach. He couldn’t be seen like this. No pain, no pain. Suck it up, Israel.
“Could I help?” Roach opened his palms to Izzy. It was a stark contrast to the rest of the crew's approach to Izzy in the last few weeks.
“ No ,” Izzy seethed, biting his tongue.
Roach shuffled to kneel beneath him and reached out cautiously. When Izzy didn’t flinch, didn’t stop him, he let his hand make contact, laying a gentle palm over the knee of Izzy’s bad leg. “I might know a thing or two about this, Iz.”
“It’s Hands , to you.” He spared a glance at Roach who was soft as morning daylight –big brown eyes offering to help. Softies, half-wits, Izzy repeated to himself. They know nothing . However, Roach had been the most forward of all the Revenge crew, hadn’t questioned his authority, only the occasional joking remark. Now this?
He stretched his leg out toward Roach wordlessly, staring off to the back of the room. Roach smiled. “That wasn’t so hard-”
“Don’t test yourself, Roach.” Izzy scowled. Roach simply smiled and looked down, unphased, like Buttons. Some of Bonnet’s crew were capable.
He pulled off Izzy’s boot with a slight groan on Izzy’s part, then rolled up the leather as far as he could up his calf. His fingers prodded into his skin and Izzy strained, holding the bench beneath him in support. Roach changed his approach, swiping a hand up and down his shin, holding his ankle and looking up from time to time, turning it this way and that, watching Izzy and being careful. Izzy bit his lip in anticipation of excruciating pain, but it all played out fairly mild. Roach dug his thumbs into the soul of his foot and he felt a swooping sensation run up his whole leg and spine. Roach placed his foot down and rolled the leather back down his leg. “Hmm, it’s better than I thought…”
“But…?” Izzy waited on baited breath.
“Well… you’ve been limping for weeks now, and stopped using your cane.”
He noticed? “Don’t need that fuckin’ thing.”
“Well, you’re only doing further damage.”
“M’ not.” Izzy tilted his face away from Roach.
“Izzy, I’m just telling you-” Roach stopped mid sentence. Izzy tried to stop himself, it was ridiculous, the slightest break of a tear formed at the corner of his eyes.
“I’m no swordsman… not anymore,” Izzy said in a hoarse, broken voice.
Roach shuffled closer instantly, laying a light hand on his knee. “You haven’t failed the crew yet, even if you are a little terrifying.”
Izzy scoffed. “Is this terrifying to you?” He winced away from Roach.
Roach was quiet, his hand left Izzy’s knee. That’s right, leave me.
His head was pulled into the messy confines of Roach’s apron and stained scarf tied across his waist. Izzy froze. “What are you…”
“On this ship, we talk things through.” Roach patted down his hair, Izzy was so shocked he didn’t know what to do but to let it happen. Roach’s warmth passed through him, quelling the instinctual rejection he wanted to force upon him.
He shifted to look up at Roach, the tears smearing from his eyes. Roach smiled down at him with that lopsided smile, quirky brows and truly unusual beard. He swallowed the tears down. He wouldn’t admit it, but it helped a great deal, being held like that.
Roach’s palm smoothed over his shoulders and he turned Izzy in his seat. “Move over,” he instructed, and positioned Izzy over the bench so he could sit behind him and started massaging his shoulders.
“Roach you really shouldn’t…” And why shouldn’t he? Who was there? Who knew?
His thumbs pressed into the muscle across his shoulders, then rubbing the nape of his neck. Izzy’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. What a fucking feeling, he’d never realised how tense he’d been. His head sunk with the pressure, Roach’s hands pushed into his hair, over his neck, across his shoulders. “Is that better?”
“Yeah,” Izzy sighed quietly. His breathing came in slow heavy waves, closing his eyes and enjoying the moment. He’d never felt peace like this before.
“You know,” Roach started. “You remind me of a pet I once had.”
A pet? “Hmm?” Izzy couldn’t manage to push out a word so he hummed.
“Back home, before this life, I had the craziest dog. She was so riled up, telling everyone how important she was, snapping and snarling. But when I picked her up, she never bit me, she let me pat her belly and stroke her ears.” He heard the light laugh of Roach’s sentimental memory coming back to him. “Mumma always said I had this energy about me, stole her anger and replaced it with something else.”
“ Mmn, what’re you getting at?” Izzy sighed heavily. So he was a dog, great.
“What I’m saying is… You’re a bit of a lost pup aren’t you?”
Something about what Roach said shifted something in Izzy. “ Pup? ”
“Yeah.” His hand dragged through his hair and back to his neck with a deft push and pull.
Fuck .
Izzy shrugged Roach off suddenly, stretching his back and half turning to look at him. “Don’t you dare tell any of the crew about this.” He narrowed his eyes at Roach.
Roach met him with a wide look. “I wouldn’t dare.” His hands were up in submission.
Izzy stood up and took a moment to process his thoughts. He glanced back at Roach, still sat, watching him back. “Um…” he grabbed Roach’s shoulder in his naked palm. “ Thanks .” It was blunt, it was hard to say, but it was genuine. He squeezed, then let go, and left Roach in the gally.
Pup… just a lost pup.