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Izzy slips into the galley at the ass crack of dawn, not because he woke up this early, but because aside from a precious one hour nap before his watch at midnight, he hasn't slept.
Izzy's fine. He's alive, he's breathing. He hasn't slept more than two hours a night in two weeks but he's fine. The most pressing issue right now is that he's starving.
Roach is up too, peeling potatoes and chucking them into a massive pot of boiling water. Izzy nods at him and makes a vague gesture to the pot of coffee and Roach nods and points with a knife, blowing out billows of smoke from his cigarette.
Izzy lifts the sieve and tucks it aside, pouring out a tin cup full. He sweetens it quickly and makes to leave the kitchen but Roach stops him.
"I made you a sandwich." He says simply, pointing, with the knife again, at something rolled up in paper on the divider. Izzy frowns at him because he can't help it.
"Why the fuck'd you do that?"
"I never see you eat, man." Roach drops another handful of peeled potatoes into the pot. "You don't come down for any meals and you never steal anything, as far as I can tell. What are you eating?"
"Not hungry." Izzy retorts, shifting uncomfortably. He turns to leave again but the feel of Roach's knife on his shoulder makes him stop.
"Take it." He says, leaving no room for disobedience. Izzy feels a shudder go through him and grits his teeth. "Eat it whenever you are hungry." He jerks his head in the barest of nods and grabs the sandwich.
Someday, he will have to figure out why he goes weak in the knees at the thought of following sternly given orders, but today is not that day.
Today, he heads over to the helm where Buttons is having a hushed conversation with one of his birds.
"South east?" He asks as he grabs the wheel. Buttons nods and the bird jumps from his shoulder onto Izzy's. Two weeks ago he would have shook it off. Today, he leaves it be.
"Mind the shadows that darken when ye cannae sleep, Mr. Hands." Buttons tells Izzy ominously. Izzy stiffens, listening intently despite how insane he thinks the man is. "For in the realm o' wakenin', secrets an' darkness whispers."
"Get more sleep, thank you." Izzy mutters through gritted teeth. He tears open the sandwich and bites into it as Buttons strolls away. Izzy is just thankful he hasn't brought his insanity into their shared cabin. For all his lunacy, the man is mysteriously clean. Izzy keeps the wheel steady, glancing at Guadeloupe as they pass it.
He should have taken Bonnet's offer to jump ship in Port Royal. He shouldn't have stayed. He sighs and the bird on his shoulder ruffles its feathers. It feels almost like a disagreement.
"Good morning." Izzy's hand tightens on the wheel and he nods in response. "Will you be joining us for breakfast?" Izzy glances from the sandwich to Bonnet's hopeful face and raises an eyebrow. Bonnet clears his throat, looking uncomfortable. "Well, I hope you enjoy it." He says magnanimously. Izzy nods curtly. "I am trying here, Israel."
"Don't fucking call me that." He spits, eyes focused on the horizon. Bonnet nods, biting his lip. He opens his mouth, and Izzy can tell he's going to say something else so he cuts him off. "You've tried. Thank you. Go away." He's surprised he even manages that much, because his eyes are watering from the wind and his head is pounding.
Bonnet looks at him, brow furrowing, and then he nods and turns back towards the deck.
Izzy can't bring himself to be relieved.
"Fucking hell, man," Frenchie sighs. Izzy barely restrains himself from yelping in surprise at the voice from his left. He hadn't even seen him walk up. He needs to sleep. "Could you be less testy?" Frenchie tugs some strings on his lute absently. "It's six in the morning."
"Do you have a point?" Izzy growls, feeling a headache coming on. Frenchie shrugs, his hair falling over his eyes.
"Not really. Just wanted to remind you that we're trying to 'move the culture forward' whatever that means." He snorted, mostly to himself. Izzy stares at him, eyes narrowed. He's exhausted, dead on his feet, and it's a struggle to keep his eyes open and Frenchie keeps talking. "Stede is trying his best."
He doesn't have time for this. Izzy turns his head and ignores the other man until Frenchie gives up and leaves him to his watch. He finishes his sandwich and takes a deep breath. He does the inventory after breakfast, then the logs. The ship continues at a steady clip past Dominica, then Martinique. They're coming up on Saint Lucia by the time he's done falsifying the documents they need to make port and there are black spots in his vision.
He's going to fall asleep, but if he does, he's dead.
He has to stay awake.
He has to…
When Izzy wakes, it's abrupt. He's gasping and panting and he can't breathe and Edward is above him and he can taste blood and his fingers are tangled in the sheets and he can still taste the blood and his head is spinning and his stomach is roiling and there is a hand on his shoulder and his fingers are tangled in his shirt and he can still taste the blood.
It tastes like betrayal.
It tastes like vengeance.
"Come on, open up."
Izzy jerks away, hissing and spitting and flailing. His hands hit nothing but air and he can feel his eyes tearing up and he hates this. Hates that his mind still betrays him by hoping that it's Edward who's come to his rescue.
It's not.
His breath hitches and he covers his mouth, swallowing down the sobs, but the tears come anyway. He's shaking, his whole body trembling, and Bonnet is watching him with wide eyes.
"Oh, Israel," He says softly. Izzy shakes his head in protest of the name he's told Bonnet not to use. He can't stop crying no matter how hard he tries. "Izzy, I'm so sorry."
"Fuck you." He hisses, because Bonnet shouldn't be the one apologising. No one should be apologising because it's Izzy's fault. Everything is his fault. He's the one to blame and he's suffering the consequences.
"No, no, I am sorry. I shouldn't have come in here." Bonnet wrings his hands, clearly uncomfortable.
"Why did you?" Izzy spits, scrubbing at his eyes. Bonnet hesitates, his gaze flitting around the room. "Tell me or get out."
"I heard a scream." Izzy stiffens. He hadn't screamed. In his dreams, his mouth is being covered by Blackbeard's hand and he hears the words again and again.
'Stop crying, it's just the pinky'
"Not my fucking fault." He snarls. "Get the fuck out." Bonnet doesn't move.
"Iz—"
"Get out!" He roars, and Bonnet startles backwards.
"Of course, sorry." He hurries from the room and Izzy collapses into his bunk, burying his face in his hands. He hates this. He hates everything. He hates himself for his weakness, hates himself for his inability to stop crying.
By the next morning, his sobs have subsided and his face is significantly less swollen. His eyes are still bloodshot, betraying his lack of sleep.
Roach is in the kitchen again, this time, filleting a fish. He looks up as Izzy staggers in and Izzy swears he sees something like pity in his eyes. Has Bonnet gone out and spread his business over the entire ship?
"Coffee's ready." Roach says, nodding at the pot. Izzy doesn't acknowledge him. "Eat breakfast, yeah?"
"I'm not hungry." He says. He pours himself a cup of coffee and heads up to the deck, ignoring the look of concern Roach is sending him. He can feel the eyes of the few stragglers who are awake at this hour following him, and his face burns in humiliation.
He presses on. Rechecks the logs, this time with Spriggs who is uncharacteristically quiet and looking at him with an expression he can't read. He finishes his coffee and heads to the helm to relieve Fang.
Jim, Oluwande, Fang, and Edward are getting ready to go ashore as he arrives, and it's clear from their faces that they are expecting him to join them.
"Don't hold your breath," He snarls. Fang's face falls, and the crew scatters, clearly disappointed. "Get a move on, you've got things to do."
The four of them take off down the gangplank, and Izzy can't help the twinge of jealousy he feels as he watches them go. Olu's arm is thrown around Jim's shoulders and Ed and Fang are walking side by side, laughing about something.
He turns away and focuses his gaze on the horizon. He'll be fine. It's not the first time he's been the odd one out, and it won't be the last.
He needs to sleep but there are things to do. He confers with the dock master and grits his teeth through the man's incessant questions about where their leisure vessel is heading to next, rechecks the inventory, and goes across to the gun deck to rewick the cannons. There are a dozen things he has to do, and they have to be done right.
He's finishing something up on the foredeck when the nausea overtakes him.
He's barely turned around and emptied his stomach over the side of the boat before there's a hand on his arm, steadying him.
"I gotcha." Ivan murmurs. "Just breathe. You'll be alright."
"Fucking hate you." Izzy spits, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"We both know you don't mean that." Ivan pulls his arm and steers him towards the captain's cabin.
"Stop." Izzy snarls, ripping his arm out of Ivan's grasp. "Don't fucking take me to him." It's a delirious plea and Ivan does not take him seriously.
"Look, man, you need rest." Izzy bares his teeth and Ivan raises his hands in a show of surrender. "I've never seen you this bad before. You need sleep." Izzy opens his mouth, but a wave of dizziness overtakes him and Ivan grabs his arms and continues along.
"Ivan, if you take me in there—" Izzy gasps, his head pounding and his vision spotting. He feels like he's going to vomit again.
"He's not in there, Iz." Izzy pauses.
"What?"
"He's off ship. He's still ashore with Fang." Ivan hesitates like he's contemplating his next words carefully. "The Deputy Governor wanted to broker a safe harbour deal with Blackbeard."
"And he didn't tell me?" Izzy's head is reeling. He can't remember if the British or the French were occupying the little island at the moment but surely Ed wouldn't be so stupid as to try to broker a deal with an English governor. They'd all be turned over to the crown in a heartbeat.
"Well, you've not been yourself, have you?" Ivan replies. He shoves Izzy towards the door to the captain's cabin. "This isn't healthy." He says before he opens the door. "What happened to you in that room was fucked up and I don't think you can sleep in there. Not properly."
"So, what are you doing?"
"Giving you a place where no one will bother you." Ivan steps away from the door. "Stede agreed." Izzy's breath catches in his throat and he pushes open the door, taking a tentative step inside.
It's quiet.
It's not the quiet of being trapped like the first mate's cabin. It's a natural quiet, a peaceful quiet. Izzy breathes deeply and closes the door behind him, his hands shaking.
He lays himself down on the couch the co captains had acquired at some point during the last two weeks and closes his eyes.
He can't seem to relax, though. His breathing is too fast and his head is too full and he's terrified. Terrified of falling asleep. Terrified of waking up to Edward looming over him. Terrified of not waking up at all.
Izzy squeezes his eyes shut and tries to block out the sound of his heartbeat. There's blood in his mouth.
"Breathe." Izzy jerks upwards, his breath catching in his throat. His eyes are wet, and there's a blanket covering him. His chest feels tight and his lungs feel like they're filled with sand. Every breath hurts.
"Can't." He chokes out. His vision blurs, and there are warm, strong hands on his shoulders.
"You can, I promise." The voice says. It's soothing, familiar, and Izzy wants to believe them. "Breathe in. Can you do that for me, Israel?"
"Can't." Izzy repeats, sobbing. His heart is racing and his head is spinning. There's blood in his mouth. He can taste it every time he swallows.
"Breathe with me." There's a gentle pressure on his chest and a hand on his wrist and there are fingers brushing over his cheek.
"Dizzy." He gasps. The fingers card through his hair and the touch is grounding.
"Keep breathing, Israel. Deep breaths. You can do it." Izzy's eyes slide shut. The fingers card through his hair and the hand rubs circles into his chest and Izzy breathes.
It takes a long time. Long enough that the sun has gone down.
Long enough that the person with the fingers has started humming a song, low and soft.
Izzy doesn't recognize the song, but he falls asleep anyway.
When he wakes, it's quiet.
His head is pounding, his body is sore, and there's a hand tangled in his hair. He can hear someone breathing.
"Fuck." Izzy croaks. He sits up, pushing the blanket off of him, and turns to glare at Bonnet.
"Good morning." He says cheerfully, not looking up from his book.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Izzy snaps. Bonnet blinks at him, frowning.
"You were having a panic attack, my dear fellow."
"I'm not your fucking 'fellow', Bonnet." Izzy snarls. He pushes himself off of the couch, stumbling slightly.
"I think you'll find that you are." Bonnet says calmly, finally marking his page and closing the book.
"Fuck you."
"Izzy, stop." Bonnet orders, and Izzy freezes. His eyes widen and he looks from Bonnet's face to the blanket discarded on the couch. "Sit down. You're still weak."
"Fuck you." Izzy repeats.
"No. I've given you space. I've given you the option to leave if you want to." Bonnet stands and crosses the room, grabbing Izzy's arm. "But you're staying on my ship, and that means that I'm in charge. Sit down."
"No." Izzy hisses, pulling his arm out of Bonnet's grasp. "You don't get to tell me what to do."
"As your captain, yes I do."
"You're not my fucking captain." Izzy points out. There had been quite a bit of debate about whether Edward would get to remain on as co captain and the crew had bickered about it for hours before determining that his experience was invaluable.
"As of right now, Edward is not here which means I am."
"Fuck you."
"Israel," Izzy shudders. "Sit down. Right now." His voice is stern, sterner than Izzy has ever heard it and it activates the small part of him that wants to obey. Fuck.
"Fine." He says through gritted teeth, sinking onto the couch.
"Thank you." Bonnet says pleasantly, sitting across from him.
"You're not my captain."
"Right now, yes, I am." Bonnet replies, crossing his legs. "I've been talking to the crew."
"Oh, of course you were, you fucking ponce." He rolls his eyes and wants to get up again. He doesn't.
"You were screaming, Izzy." Stede says quietly, and his face is drawn and exhausted. Izzy stiffens. "That night I came to your cabin?" Bonnet folds his hands in his lap. "Everyone could hear you. I came in and you were screaming."
"Don't know what you're talking about." Izzy mutters.
"It's alright. We all have nightmares."
"Not me."
"I'm afraid you can't lie your way out of this one." Stede says. "You're clearly not sleeping and it's making you ill." He looks considering for a moment. "You being ill means you can't work as well which makes it my problem."
"So, what, are you going to put me on bedrest?" Izzy sneers. Stede smiles at him.
"Perhaps, if that's what it takes."
"I will not stay in bed." He snaps. "Someone has to keep this fucking ship running. I won't be staying in bed all day."
"You're not exactly giving me a reason not to make you." Stede says. His smile is infuriating, his posture relaxed. He's at ease. He's confident.
He's not Izzy's captain. Izzy's captain had stolen into his room in the middle of the night and made him eat his own toe.
"You can't."
"Yes, I can." Stede's eyes are dark and serious. "The crew needs a first mate who can stand upright."
"The crew will get one." Izzy promises. "You want me to fucking sleep? I'll fucking sleep."
"You'll get no argument from me on that."
"Good." Izzy gets up and stalks over to the door. He pauses, his hand resting on the doorknob. "Thank you."
"Oh, it was no trouble, Israel." Stede replies happily, standing and strolling to the drinks cart.
"Don't call me that."
"Whatever you say, darling."
"Fuck you." Izzy storms out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
There's quite a bit to be done despite the fact that Ed hasn't returned.
Izzy receives the goods brought on by Olu and Jim, then gingerly gives Frenchie and Wee John permission to go ashore as well. Fang apparently came back while he was sleeping and informed the crew that Ed had somehow been roped into a meeting with all of the governors of the Lesser Antilles, British, French, and Spanish alike.
It would be a very interesting and time consuming meeting. They'd taken residence in the governor's mansion and Fang takes Ivan with him when he leaves again.
Izzy is supervising the unloading when his vision swims and his knees buckle. He braces his hands on his thighs and sucks in deep, shuddering breaths. Thankfully, no one notices and he continues uninterrupted.
They're docked near the north of the island, a small town that is a hub for pirates and privateers alike. It's a popular destination for those who are in need of a new crew or a new ship. In Edward's absence, the crew eventually pester Bonnet enough that he allows a few more of them ashore.
Izzy declines and spends the next two hours staring blankly at the wall of his cabin, trying desperately not to fall asleep. He's failing, and he knows it.
He can't help it.
He's tired.
He's always tired these days.
But he can't sleep.
"Fuck." He says under his breath, forcing himself upright. He needs to get up.
The sun has set again when Izzy emerges on deck to find the Swede on watch. On watch, meaning that he's sleeping standing up with one hand on the rope of the alarm bell. Izzy kicks his foot to wake him up.
"I'll take over." He says gruffly. Swede gives him a dubious look, like he wants to argue. "Go. Sleep. Now."
"I think you should be taking your own advice." Swede tells him, looking anxiously about the deck, presumably for back up. "I'm on watch. I'll stay."
"That wasn't a question, boy." Izzy crosses his arms over his chest. "I'm not asking you to let me take over, I am telling you to go the fuck to sleep." Swede squeaks. "Go. Now."
"Captain Bonnet says that we aren't supposed to let you on night watches anymore." Swede tries, eyes still darting around. "I'm—" He cuts off to clear his throat and square his shoulders. "I'm staying."
Izzy stares at Swede. Swede stares back.
He can't go back to the first mate's cabin. The moon isn't full which means Buttons will be in there gossiping with his birds and Izzy hates sleeping on the hammock. He rolls his eyes and turns away, stomping off to the railing.
It doesn't take long for him to give in and lay down on the cold wooden deck, staring up at the stars.
"Are you going to sleep?" Frenchie asks, walking up beside him with his lute in hand. Izzy shakes his head.
"No."
"Good." Frenchie sits down and pulls his knees up to his chest, placing the lute on the floor. "We've been talking."
"Are you going to give me your 'be nice to Bonnet' speech again?" Izzy mutters.
"Nope." Frenchie pops the 'p' and rests his chin on his knee. "That's not what's needed. He's been working on himself."
"Great. Fucking amazing. He's a goddamn saint." Izzy turns away, shutting his eyes defiantly. He hears Frenchie sigh.
"You're angry." Izzy scoffs. "We're trying to look out for you, you know." He says suddenly. Izzy wants to recoil at that. "Even though you make it really hard."
"Don't need it."
"Maybe you don't think you do."
"Because I don't."
"You do, though." Izzy turns back. "You spent most of your life taking care of Blackbeard. You said so yourself."
"He was my captain." Izzy replies simply. There's blood in his mouth again and he swallows around it. Chokes.
"Yeah, he was. But who was taking care of you all that time?" Frenchie looks up at the stars. "And don't say Blackbeard. Because we both know that's not true."
"That's not the point."
"It's the only point. You've always been looking out for other people. But nobody's looking out for you."
"I can take care of myself."
"That's a load of bullshit."
"Fuck you." Izzy spits.
"We can all see it, Izzy. We can all see how bad you're doing. And we—" Frenchie takes a deep breath. "I don't want to lose you, you know."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"I don't mean physically." Izzy's face twists.
"I don't know what you're fucking talking about."
"You're killing yourself, Izzy." Frenchie says softly. "And we're all watching. But it's like you don't even realize. And Stede's not the same guy he was when we met him. He's actually been learning. He knows what he's doing, most of the time. He's trying to help."
"Great."
"Just try to cut him a little slack, yeah?"
"I don't owe him shit."
"Izzy—"
"What the fuck are you two doing?" Lucius' voice interrupts. "You're supposed to be sleeping, both of you."
"I'm not tired."
"Bullshit. It's my watch now, so you two need to go the fuck to sleep." Lucius puts his hands on his hips. "I will go get Stede." He says it with the same inflection as a younger sibling threatening to tattle to his parents.
"Fucking fine." Izzy mutters, rolling his eyes.
"Good." Lucius glares at him. "Now. Both of you. Sleep. Go."
"Fine."
"Fine."
Izzy lays down and closes his eyes, and then Frenchie starts singing.
It's a soft song, quiet, and it reminds Izzy of his mother, soft and sweet. He's drifting off before he realises what's happening, and there's a gentle hand on his shoulder and a blanket being tucked over him.
He wakes, what feels like a few minutes later, and has to clap his hand over his mouth to muffle the scream building in his throat. He squeezes his eyes shut and breathes in deeply, letting his hand drop away.
He can't remember the nightmare. Just the fear and the blood. Izzy sits up, his head pounding and his eyes burning. He sees the shadow of someone on the quarter deck, standing with Buttons. He doesn't know if it's closer to midnight or dawn but he shuffles up anyway.
"Mr. Hands, pleased tae see yer lookin' well." Buttons nods. Izzy nods back, thankful the bird is nowhere in sight. Bonnet hides a small smile at their exchange.
"Bonnet." Izzy says curtly. "Do you know when they'll be back?"
"Shouldn't be more than a few hours." Bonnet tells him. "You should go back to bed, Mr. Hands."
"I'm not a fucking invalid." Izzy snaps. "If my captain is not on board then my duties are the same as they have been for years. I have a job to do, and I will be doing it."
"You're supposed to be resting."
"I'm fine."
"I don't believe you."
"Then, by all means, throw me overboard." Izzy crosses his arms and glares, ignoring the small sound of outrage from Lucius who is standing at the mizzenmast.
"Don't tempt me."
"Go ahead." Izzy steps closer. "Push me. Drown me. It'll be a fucking relief." Some small part of him hopes Bonnet might. Bonnet disappoints. As fucking usual.
"No." He says firmly. He sighs, looking tired. "I'm not going to do that."
"Of course not."
"Mr. Buttons," Bonnet turns, his curls bobbing with him. "Thank you for speaking with me." He smiles. "Israel, with me."
"I'm not a fucking dog." Izzy hisses, even as he falls in step with Bonnet.
"Oh, I'm well aware." Bonnet's voice is calm, his face unreadable. "Lucius, I trust you can handle the morning duties until everyone is awake."
"I can fucking do it." Izzy tries to protest but both men ignore him. Bonnet keeps walking.
"Yes, Captain." Lucius calls back.
"What do you want?" Izzy demands, stepping in front of him and blocking the door to the captain's cabin.
"A conversation, Mr. Hands." Bonnet holds his gaze. "Please. Move."
"Fine." Izzy opens the door, letting it slam behind him. "Let's talk."
"I have taken the liberty of moving a few things around to provide you with a new cabin." He says with no preamble. "While I'm not entirely sure what it was that happened to you in there, Ivan and Frenchie seem to be convinced that the room itself is at least part of the reason why you are unable to sleep soundly."
"Fuck off."
"I'm not patronising you."
"Then, what the fuck are you doing?" Bonnet looks thoughtful, and then a bit sad.
"Trying to understand." He says honestly. "Trying to help." Izzy inhales sharply and leans heavily against the door. "Trying."
"Why?"
"Because you are a member of my crew. I can't exactly let you walk clear off the gangway and fall into the ocean because you're exhausted."
"You could." Izzy points out.
"I would have to come after you, then. And I'd have a very angry Edward on my hands when he found out that I couldn't save you."
"He'd probably thank you." Izzy whispers. "He doesn't need me." He wants to say 'if I step out of line again, he won't just take my toe, he'll take my life' but he doesn't.
"I beg to differ." Bonnet walks past him, and Izzy flinches. "But that's not for me to say." He sits on the couch and looks up at Izzy, gesturing for him to sit. "Please, Israel."
"Fine." Izzy drops onto the other end of the couch and immediately regrets it. The couch is soft and it's warm. It's comfortable. The feel of it immediately makes a wave of exhaustion roll over him. He sways slightly and blinks heavily, forcing himself to stay awake.
"The room is yours, of course. If you want it." Stede continues, thankfully ignoring the way Izzy slumps back and practically sinks into the couch. "You and Mr. Buttons will switch with Frenchie and Wee John. And you will sleep."
"You're ordering me to fucking sleep?"
"Yes." Stede looks at him, and Izzy shudders. "I expect you to get a full seven hours of sleep after your watch, every single night." His voice is stern again. "If you can't manage that, then..." He trails off, looking thoughtful. "I will have to find some other way of keeping you in bed."
"Like what?"
"That, Mr. Hands, is for me to know."
"And for me to find out." Izzy snorted. "I'm not a fucking child, Bonnet."
"Then stop acting like one." Bonnet replies easily. "You have a problem, Israel. It's not healthy. It's affecting the crew. I would appreciate it if you would work with me, but I will make sure you are taken care of whether you like it or not."
"Fuck you." Izzy snaps, sitting up straight. "You have no right to order me to do anything." The breath Stede takes is bordering on exhaustion. He looks like he hasn't slept either and the irony is not lost on Izzy.
"Israel." He says simply. "Go to sleep." It's not a command, it's a plea. He sounds like he's begging.
"I can't." Izzy hisses. "I've tried, and I can't."
"What can't you do?"
"Sleep."
"Nightmares?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"Nothing."
"Israel." Stede's voice takes on a softer note. "Talk to me." The plea is soft, and it's so reminiscent of Ed's gentle teasing of so long ago that Izzy can't help the words that pour out of his mouth.
"I can't sleep." He chokes out, tears threatening. Exhaustion and frustration boiling over. "I—I can't. I close my eyes and I can't. I keep seeing him."
"Ed?"
"No. Yes." He shakes his head. He can feel himself growing lightheaded, the dark spots floating in front of his vision. Stede reaches out and grabs his shoulder, steadying him. "I can't—I'm afraid. I'm afraid if I go to sleep, he's going to come back and he's going to hurt me. Again. And I'm scared, Bonnet." He looks away, tears stinging at his eyes. "I'm fucking terrified. every time I close my fucking eyes."
"I won't let him."
"You can't stop him."
"I can." Stede says firmly. "He won't lay another hand on you. I will not allow it."
"You're a fucking fool."
"Maybe. But that doesn't change the fact that I will not allow you to continue like this." Stede sits forward, reaching out and placing a hand on Izzy's leg. "Please. Izzy. Just try."
"I can't."
"Can't, or won't?"
"I can't." Izzy chokes on the words and the blood. Stede nods.
"Okay. That's okay. We'll figure something out." He stands, pulling a blanket from a chair and holding it up. "You can stay here tonight." He suggests softly. Izzy opens his mouth to argue but a yawn cuts him off. Stede's hand moves to the back of his neck and squeezes lightly. "There's a good lad."
"I'm not fucking good." Izzy mutters. "This is my own fucking fault."
"I don't think so." Stede says quietly, guiding Izzy into a lying position. "You're punishing yourself."
"I deserve it."
"No. You don't." Stede insists and Izzy feels more tears pricking at his eyes. He's not sure why he's even bothering with trying to fight them.
"I do. I—"
"You provoked him. Yes." Stede sits right at the edge of the couch that Izzy is laying in. "You threatened him. Yes." Izzy nods. "That was wrong."
"It was."
"It was not your fault, however, that he reacted the way he did. And it certainly doesn't mean that you should be suffering for it." Stede runs a hand through his hair and that small touch is Izzy's undoing.
He breaks. He closes his eyes and exhales, tears slipping free and soaking into the cushion beneath his head.
"You both did terrible things to each other." Stede continues. "That doesn't mean you deserve any of this." Izzy shakes his head but Stede is relentless. "You don't deserve this, Israel."
"I do."
"No." Stede says again. "I know that it's hard for you to believe. But it's true."
"I can't forgive myself."
"It's okay."
"It's not."
"You'll get there."
"How can you be so fucking sure?"
"Because you've been trying." Izzy shakes his head.
"No. Not really."
"You have, though." Stede insists. "You've been trying so hard, even if you don't realise it. You've been learning. And that's what matters. I think you can get there, eventually. It will just take time."
"You're a goddamn idiot."
"So are you."
"Fuck you."
"Shh." Stede reaches down and strokes a hand through his hair. "Sleep now. Please." Izzy opens his mouth to argue but a yawn cuts him off. Stede's hand moves to the back of his neck and squeezes lightly. "There's a good lad."
"I'm not fucking good." Izzy mutters. He feels himself being laid down, the couch cushions soft beneath him. He feels the blanket being pulled tighter over him, a pillow being put under his head.
"I think you are." Stede's voice is soft. There's a gentle hand stroking through his hair, and Izzy's eyes drift closed. He feels himself sinking, the darkness creeping in around him. "Try, Israel. Please."
"I'll try." Izzy mumbles, already half-asleep. "I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"Everything."
"It's okay. I forgive you." Stede whispers. Izzy wants to protest this. He wants to tell Stede that he's not worthy of forgiveness. He doesn't deserve it.
He doesn't say anything. Stede's soothing touch chases away every negative thought the second he thinks it. Izzy feels his eyes grow heavier, his body melting into the couch.
"Goodnight, Israel."
"G'night." Izzy's words are slurred. His breathing evens out, his eyes slide shut.
Izzy is asleep before he realises what's happening.
He doesn't wake once.