Work Text:
He knows he’s asleep of course. And yet. And yet. The world before his nearly-waking eyes is tangible and dark, it clings to him like a thousand limpets. He looks up with honey-like slowness and sees a figure walking towards him.
“Stede!” he calls. “Why did you keep me waiting?”
The figure keeps walking. Instead of silky golden hair and perfect posture it has a rough look about it. It slouches, the weight of its bulging stomach causing the planks of the dock to creak. Overhead, clouds whirl together in the sky. A familiar storm. Rain splatters Ed’s face, soaking his cheeks and chin. Both were once protected by a thick gray beard, but now he is vulnerable. He blinks the pouring rain from his eyes and finds he is somewhere different. Wake up, mate. He whispers to himself. This isn’t gonna end well for you. Wake the fuck up. It’s like watching a fire spread slowly over a galleon.
He can’t look away.
He notices the suggestion of arches and domes around him and realizes he is in the church his mother used to take him to. Despite renouncing religion long ago, he kneels before an effigy of Jesus and begins to pray. He is so out of practice he doesn’t quite know the words for what he wants, but he imbues his mind with feeling. A basic need. A basic want. When he opens his eyes he sees statues in alcoves along the walls. Behind him are gray stone likenesses of former friends and lovers. He sees Anne and Mary, Calico Jack, A few nameless one-night stands. The last alcove is empty. Before his eyes, Stede in his blue suit walks slowly and purposefully to the alcove. He looks down at Ed’s shaking, broken form with empty eyes. Ed kneels before him, pleads with him not to go, but it is too late. He’s already turned to stone.
Ed kisses the brow of the statue. “I love you.” He says.
“Stupid good-for-nothing little rat.”
Ed whirls around to see his father standing there, eyes bloodshot and hair soaked in rain.
“You thought you could get away with killing me, huh!” He says. “Thought you were doing everyone a favor.”
“I was.” Ed says. Suddenly, he’s fourteen again, his boots slick on wet wood, a rope in his hands.
“You’ll never be rid of me.” Says the thing that Ed supposes is his father. “Not till the day you die.”
The figure turns and stumbles away. The Kraken didn’t kill my father. I did. Ed watches it go. He looks down to the rope in his hands. I’m not a nice person. He looks back to his father, sees him receding into the background. Looks back to Stede.
“I’m sorry.” He says, and shoves the statue off its plinth. It smashes to the floor, a thousand pieces of a person. Ed steps onto the empty disc of stone. His legs petrify, then his arms, then finally, his head. He sees himself from the outside and realizes that the statue he has turned into is that of a massive, bulbous, squid-like creature. The Kraken.
Ed runs.