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Over the past three months, most of Stede’s waking (and quite a few of his sleeping) thoughts have been occupied with Ed.
He imagined tearful apologies and a sword fight or two, thought about Ed’s beautiful brown eyes - and in private moments, also hoped for a kiss.
This is nothing like that.
For one, there’s the issue of the British soldiers who are currently trying their best to kill them. Although Stede has been getting lessons from Izzy Hands himself, it’s still by no means an easy feat to hold his own against his Majesty’s finest. (Though, the feeling of literally fighting his way down a beach is so exhilarating Stede barely registers all the near-misses that almost end his life. Plus, every time he dares to look over to where Ed is fighting his way towards him, he feels a jolt of awe and affection so strong it makes him forget about all the sand that is currently getting into his clothes.)
Another point that completely ruins all his imagined scenarios - Stede doesn’t even get to run all the way to Ed. Stede is halfway down the beach, and there’s only two guys left between them (he’s so close, so close after almost four months) when the one closest to him fires his gun and Stede’s left leg explodes into sheer agony.
Stede doesn’t even register his knees folding or hitting the sand; the next thing he’s aware of is seeing the guy run towards him with this sword drawn.
Not like this. Not when I’m so close, Stede’s terrified heart squeaks.
But it feels like he’s moving through molasses - his fumble for his own weapons is too slow, too clumsy, and he just lies there, helpless.
Suddenly, the right half of the guy’s face disintegrates. He immediately drops like a puppet that had its strings cut.
Stede lets out a terrified whimper.
And then there’s Ed, hurrying over to him with smoke still rising from his gun, looking every bit like the scary pirate everyone sees him as.
If Stede was still standing, he would’ve swooned on the spot.
Ed drops to his knees next to him, and it hits Stede, through his pain and the blood loss, that this is it, this is the moment he’s been waiting for for months, and he can’t even look at his notes first.
"I’m sorry," he says (gasps, really), "You have no idea how sorry I am. Ed, I -"
But Ed isn’t even looking at him - he’s looking at where a piece of his leg is missing, face turning pale at an alarming rate.
"We need to get you help," Ed says, and starts taking off his jacket.
"We’re on a deserted island," Stede says, bewildered. "There’s nothing- Ed, what are you doing?"
The last part of his sentence is a confused squeak that he’s not particularly proud of. In his defense - Ed had chosen that moment to pull his shirt over his head.
Stede gets about two seconds of staring at Ed’s chest in pure and utter shock while Ed tears the fabric into strips. Then, Ed ties the remnants of his shirt around his thigh and Stede can’t think of anything but the pain radiating up his spine.
He might’ve let out a scream, or blacked out a little; when his senses realign themselves again, he’s lying flat on his back with the back of his head pushed into the sand and Ed’s worried face above his.
"You with me?"
Honestly, Stede’s not entirely sure. There’s a painful pulse where the fabric is (hopefully) holding his upper leg together and he’s starting to feel lightheaded.
But Ed looks scared, and Stede did not spend four months chasing him across the Caribbean while training with Izzy, trying to become worthy of history’s greatest pirate, to fold to a simple gunshot.
"Yeah," he breathes.
Ed studies Stede’s face for a moment longer, fear and sympathy mixing in his expression.
"Good," he says, curtly. "We need to move."
Ed wraps his arms around Stede’s knees and shoulders. Stede is about to protest - walking on sand is difficult enough, this would be hell on Ed’s bad knee - but as soon as Ed moves him, the pain more than doubles and it’s all Stede can do to not lash out as Ed hoists him into his arms.
"Sorry," Ed whispers, "I know it hurts. Just stay with me, okay?"
Unconsciousness tugs at him like a good night’s sleep after a long day. Stede is in more pain than he can remember ever being in, and he fears it may push him into insanity (it happens, Buttons has told him some stories he wishes he could unhear).
But Ed asked him to stay awake, so Stede does his best.
Fortunately, Ed doesn’t carry him very far. When they get to the other end of the beach, Stede can feel Ed’s steps getting more and more shaky before he finally lays him down inside of a small cave.
"I can’t carry you any further," Ed says, and there’s so much frustration and self-loathing in his tone it would have Stede up in arms if he would, y’know, be able to move at all. "But no one should see you in here, even from out on the ocean. You’ll be safe."
Oh right, Stede thinks faintly. Because that was definitely not the last they’d seen of the British.
Then, he notices Ed is moving away from him and a noise of protest escapes his mouth.
"I need to get some supplies," Ed explains. "But I’m gonna come right back, okay?"
Stede nods, even though the thought of Ed leaving sends his heart into a frightened sprint.
Ed stares right into his eyes and the resolve Stede sees in them is the only thing keeping him from breaking into terrified tears.
"Don’t die." It’s said as sternly as it is fearful.
"Wouldn’t dream of it," Stede whispers. "I’ll be right here waiting for you."
Ed freezes, and Stede realizes why just a second too late. Damn him, this is why he wrote those notes in the first place. And now they’re back in his cabin, of no use to anyone.
"Ed…"
But Ed has already ducked out of the cave and Stede is left alone on its cold floor.
He can’t say how long Ed stays gone, but it feels like an eternity. He has to fight for every single second of consciousness but doesn’t want to risk missing Ed’s return. He also can’t tell how bad the wound on his leg really is; Ed seemed worried though, and Stede’s stomach turns at the thought of not getting the time to make things right between them.
Also, dying is still a rather daunting prospect, no matter how many heroic depictions he’s come across in novels.
When Ed finally comes back into view, he’s carrying a small sack and a stack of wood, and he’s visibly limping.
"Your knee!" Stede exclaims, because that’s the only concern he’s able to address directly right in that moment.
But Ed brushes him off with a curt "It’s fine" and starts arranging the wood on the ground to make a fire. It’s such a difference to how Ed used to act around him, and Stede feels the sting of that in his chest, but he also didn’t miss Ed’s relieved sigh when he entered the cave and saw Stede looking back at him.
It’s impressive, really, how quickly Ed gets a fire going, but Stede can’t dwell on that for too long because next thing he knows Ed takes out his knife and lays it onto the wood, angling the blade into the flames. Stede’s stomach drops, and he twists to get a look at his leg. Surely amputation isn’t strictly necessary?
"Don’t move," Ed immediately barks at him. "You’ll make it worse."
Stede freezes, tries not to sound scared and fails miserably as he asks, "How bad is it?"
Ed looks at him, really looks him in the eyes and Stede shivers.
"You’ll be fine, okay? I’ll make sure of it."
His tone permits no argument.
Stede gulps and reluctantly lies back against the damp ground.
Ed takes a bottle with a brown liquid in it from the sachet and kneels next to Stede’s mangled leg. He’s careful when removing the makeshift wrapping, but Stede still has to bite down on whimpers that he knows would just make the whole situation (make Ed) feel even worse.
Ed’s expression is very carefully controlled when he takes a look at the wound, gingerly peeling back the shredded remnants of Stede’s pants. Even Ed’s eyes don’t betray what he's thinking and it’s clear that that’s only for Stede’s benefit.
Stede supposes that that is just fair enough. If Ed’s capable hands can’t save him then no one can, and so he just breathes deeply to calm his nerves and whispers, "Thank you."
"Nothing to thank me for," Ed says gruffly, and opens up the bottle.
Stede knows what’s coming before the alcohol hits his exposed muscles, but that doesn’t help him process the way his entire upper leg suddenly catches on fire.
It’s a good thing Ed is holding onto his thigh, because Stede’s entire body jolts with the pain. He has to press his mouth together with all the strength he can muster, and still, a drawn-out whimper escapes his lips.
When the pain ebbs away and Stede comes back to his body, Ed’s hand by his hip is anchoring him to the cave.
Ed is watching him with something akin to heartbreak in his eyes. "Scream if you need to, okay? It’s just us here."
And it probably should have worried him, that Ed was anticipating that there would be significantly more pain to come, enough to make noise and possibly alert others to their location, but Stede is so caught up on hearing Ed say us that it barely registers to him.
He nods and Ed takes the knife from the fire and oh, okay, maybe a little fear is there after all.
"There’s no exit wound," Ed says, not unkindly, upon seeing Stede’s worried glance towards his blade. "I need to get the bullet out."
Considering the whole probably-deserted island situation they’re in, Stede supposes he ought to be glad Ed has any tools at all, but that doesn’t really make the prospect of having that go inside his leg any less daunting.
"Hey." Ed says, all concern and compassion again, and Stede’s heart soars. "It’s gonna be alright, yeah? Nothing you can’t handle."
Stede swallows and gathers every single bit of courage he has left. He’s a pirate now, goddammit, and he’s been training for months to become worthy of the greatest pirate of the seven seas.
"Do it," he says, and his voice only wavers a little.
When Ed starts poking around in his wound, Stede’s body immediately explodes into agony. It completely eradicates every thought from Stede’s mind; he can’t even be embarrassed of the loud shrieks he’s making.
When the pain relents for a moment, Stede vaguely registers that a sheen layer of sweat is forming on his skin.
"Found it," Ed says, all tight concentration. "Now we just need to get it out."
Getting the bullet out proves to be even worse than locating it in the first place. For a second, Stede feels a morbid curiosity about how one would go about getting a bullet out of a wound. But as soon as Ed touches his leg again, he can only focus on screaming and screaming until there is a dull thud to his left and the weird feeling of a foreign object in his leg is gone.
Panting and with tears in his eyes, Stede blinks towards the cave ceiling and tries not to pass out.
Ed’s worried face fills his vision, and Stede feels one of Ed’s calloused hands touching his cheek, turning his head towards where Ed is kneeling over him.
"It’s out," Ed whispers. "You’re okay."
Stede nods, still feeling unsteady despite already laying down. But he doesn’t want to leave Ed alone in this situation, and so he needs to stay as present as he can even though he struggles to remember ever experiencing pain quite like this.
Ed puts the knife away, which sends a wave of relief through Stede, and then douses the wound in alcohol one more time. While Stede breathes through this new wave of agony, Ed takes a needle and thread from his bag.
"We’re gonna close this up now, worst part’s behind you," Ed says.
After having Ed dig around his leg muscles to find and then dig out a bullet, the sting of the sutures almost doesn’t register to Stede.
He finds himself watching Ed work.
Ed’s eyes are trained on Stede’s leg; he barely even seems to blink as he closes up the wound with quick, steady hands. If Stede wasn’t bleeding profusely in a cold, damp cave, all that intense focus on him may have even made him blush.
The soft light coming into the cave makes Ed’s features seem softer, almost makes him seem like an otherworldly being sent to protect him.
Beautiful, Stede thinks.
Plus, underneath all the pain he’s able to feel the warmth of Ed’s hand on his thigh and that gives him new resolve to push through this ordeal - one day, he tells himself, he will have Ed’s hands on him without a flesh wound as an excuse.
When the last stitch is made and Ed puts his supplies to the side, Stede sees his hands tremble.
"Are you alright?"
Ed raises an eyebrow at him. "I’m not the one with the torn up leg, mate."
"I know," Stede says evenly. "That’s not what I meant."
Ed hesitates, and it sparks a flicker of hope in Stede’s chest. Just one moment of open honesty would be such an important step for them…
But Ed turns around and resumes packing up his bag.
"You should get some rest," he says eventually. "I’ll keep watch, make sure the fire doesn’t go out."
Yeah, that’s not happening. Stede can still feel the shock of the bullet hitting his leg; it’s making him feel all jittery and restless. Plus, the reality of their situation is slowly starting to dawn on him.
"What are we gonna do?" Stede asks, and hates how small his voice sounds.
They’re alone on an island, they’ve just killed a bunch of British soldiers, which means that the Navy will come for them sooner or later and Stede can’t exactly protect Ed in the state he’s currently in. Stede’s seen all those wanted posters of Blackbeard, he knows how badly they all want Ed dead.
"Hey," Ed says, turning around and then completely misinterpreting the rising panic on Stede’s face. "You’ll be fine. Your leg’s all patched up and I know now to survive out here for a few days. Izzy’ll find us sooner or later."
"They were trying to kill you," Stede says.
Ed stares at him as though he’s started speaking in tongues.
"I can’t help but think… if I’d gotten here just a little bit later…"
"Stede."
But Stede can’t stop the words pouring out of his mouth.
"I’m sorry, darling. I know I’ve hurt you terribly, but please know that I never meant to and I’ve spent the last four months looking for you. Ed, I -"
"Stede." Ed has been frozen throughout Stede’s entire speech, but all of a sudden he flinches. "Don’t, okay?"
Stede can feel more words pushing against his lips - the rest of the explanation he’s spent the past three months preparing is demanding to be told - but Ed’s eyes are pleading with him, and so he swallows them down.
"Will you at least come sit here, then?"
Stede barely dares to make his request, and he knows calling Ed darling again would not be well received but the temptation is almost too strong to resist.
Ed looks at him, long and contemplating, and Stede is prepared to be refused again, but then Ed reluctantly shuffles over to his side.
For a while, they’re just next to each other like that - with Stede lying on the floor and Ed sitting next to him, his eyes fixed on the beach outside the cave.
Stede can almost feel the heat radiating off of Ed’s body. At first, it’s enough to make him a bit flustered, and as a consequence to make him feel hot all over. Then, the effect of the blood loss settles in and he starts shivering.
Ed’s concerned eyes are on him immediately. "You okay?"
His eyes make it so easy to tell the truth. Stede’s always been a sucker for kindness.
"I’m cold," he says quietly.
For a moment, Ed’s eyes scan the cave. But there is nothing that could make Stede’s predicament any better. They don’t have any clothes save for the ones on their back and there aren’t any more logs for the fire.
Stede almost regrets admitting to being cold; Ed is starting to look agitated again, when really, he shouldn’t be worrying about Stede more than he already is.
Then, rather abruptly, Ed moves. He lies down next to Stede, much closer to him than when he was sitting, and carefully, haltingly, puts am arm around Stede’s chest.
Stede doesn’t dare breathe. He can feel Ed’s eyes on him, burning a mark into his left temple.
Be brave, Stede tells himself. Ed’s been brave so many times; it’s time the Gentleman Pirate follows Blackbeard’s example.
Stede turns his head to the side. Ed’s eyes immediately find his.
"Thank you," Stede whispers and Ed smiles a little.
It’s a small win, but after everything Stede’s heard about Ed in the past couple of months, it feels monumental.
But just as quickly, that smile turns into a frown again. And then, horrifyingly, Stede sees tears pooling in Ed’s eyes.
"Ed, what -" And he almost reaches out to him, but then Ed takes a big, shuddering breath and says; "I miss you."
It separates Stede’s heart right in two.
"We’ll figure it out," Stede hurries to tell him. He doesn’t have to fake the conviction in his voice; right in that moment he knows they’ll find each other again.
Ed gives him a tiny nod. His arm tightens its grip on Stede.
That does it. Stede lifts his left hand and slowly moves it towards Ed. It gives him ample time to pull away, but he doesn’t, and so Stede’s palm finds its way to Ed’s cheek.
"I miss you too," Stede tells him, because he needs Ed to know.
Ed’s gaze falls to his lips. Stede swallows, tries not to think about their kiss on the beach and fails. He can’t get ahead of himself, he knows that. Ed reaching out to him doesn’t mean he’s forgiven, doesn’t mean that Ed is ready for -
Ed starts moving towards him, and Stede is trapped in his exact spot by both the pain in his leg and in his heart.
Then, Ed is kissing him and Stede can feel neither of those hurts anymore. Ed’s lips are dry and Stede can tell that there are tears running down his face now, and yet, their second kiss is absolutely perfect. It’s slow and gentle, but also firmer and with no trace of hesitation.
For this, Stede thinks, he will spend a lifetime begging for Ed’s forgiveness and lamenting his own mistakes and it will be worth it.
When they break apart, Ed immediately buries his face in Stede’s neck. Stede lets him, settles his arm on Ed’s shoulders and breathes.
They will be okay. Maybe not right now, and maybe not in the near future, but they will be, he knows that now.