Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Right,” Stede said, stifling a sigh. “So that’s five for and five against.”

Some of the crew glanced around at each other. “Fang, Frenchie, what the fuck?” Jim asked. “How can you want him to stay on the ship after what he did to all of us?”

“You saw how weak he is,” Fang explained, shaking his head sadly. “If we banish him, I don’t reckon he’ll survive.”

“And coming back from the dead is quite the feat in my book,” Frenchie piped up. “Not saying it earns him a second chance, but I wanna see where he’s going with it.”

“What about you, Black Pete?” Stede asked. “You’re happy with your choice?” He tried to keep his voice steady, not wanting to come across like he was trying to sway the vote. But Pete had looked reluctant, hadn’t he?

Pete grimaced a little, but he looked at Lucius and took his hand. “Yep,” he replied in a resigned tone. “I say banishment.”

“Hmm,” Stede murmured. “Right.”

Somehow, a draw almost felt worse than an outright loss, because Stede didn’t know what to do with himself next. He’d braced himself for having to banish Ed, but now? Now he was just stuck.

“Eh, cap’n,” Buttons spoke up, “there is one more person aboard this ship who could be giving a vote.”

“What?” Stede asked, frowning. “Who do you mean?”

His first mate raised his finger in the air, pointing up towards the deck. “I think you’ll find him in an argument with a unicorn,” Buttons said.

It took Stede a moment to realize who Buttons was talking about, and then his heart sank. Izzy. Stede didn’t like dealing with Izzy under normal circumstances, and now this? Put Ed’s fate in the hands of the man whose leg he’d shot off? The man who’d skewered Stede to the mast? The man who’d sold them out to the English just to keep Stede and Ed apart?

“Mmm—lovely,” Stede said, his voice coming out in a squeak. “Yes, of course. I’ll just, er, see what Izzy has to say.”

Up on deck, Izzy was indeed over on the beakhead, scowling at what was left of the unicorn as he guzzled down rum. Stede approached, trying to keep it casual, but when he looked at Izzy, he got a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. The portion of Izzy’s brain that wasn’t currently drowning in rum looked to be spoiling for a fight—not exactly the portrait of a man who was prepared to have a cogent discussion about the well-being of his former captain.

“Hey,” Stede said. He looked toward the headless unicorn and remarked, “Oh, he's seen better days, hasn't he?”

Clinging to a rope to keep him upright, not just from the missing leg but from his heavy libations, Izzy shouted spitefully at the unicorn, “At least he's still got both legs!”

“Yes!” Stede joined in. “Oh, he can't hear you. He's got no head.” He turned back to Izzy. “You've got a head, though…” He winced as the broken man gulped down most of the remainder of his bottle. “...Which you should look after.”

“What do you want, Bonnet?” Izzy demanded, swaying on his rope. The smell of alcohol wafting off him would’ve been enough to make the whole ship go up like a tinderbox. 

Stede took a breath. “Er, well, here's the thing,” he told Izzy. “The crew, they're in a bit of a deadlock over the whole ‘banishment of Ed’ thing. And I just thought, seeing as, well, you were the one who kept his body aboard, maybe you should weigh in.” 

And hell, why not just say it? “You've already murdered him once. Seems like a pretty good payback.” Stede forced a chuckle. “So, what do you think?”

Izzy looked blearily at him. “My vote?” He made to speak, stumbled a little, then let out a low grumble. “That twat…” he muttered, spitting over the railing.

With a growl, Izzy said, “That’s twice now he’s tried to make me kill him. First time I refused, second time he drove me to it. I won’t be the deciding fucking vote in doing it a third time, he can fuck right off with that.”

“Really?” Stede asked, a surge of relief flooding through him. It was quickly tempered, though, and he added, “Just to confirm, was that a nay or yay on the banishment?”

“It’s a stay of fucking execution,” Izzy said. He drained the last of the rum and threw the bottle overboard with wild aim. “Give him a day or two, make sure he won’t just die the second you chuck him off. Then the crew votes again.”

The relief came back, more slowly, spreading up from Stede’s toes. But he was surprised to find some trepidation threaded through it as well. All he’d wanted was to have Ed back, so why was Stede now scared to face him? 

But he said to Izzy, “Thanks. You won’t regret it, I promise.”

The mutilated man gave a half-choked laugh. “I’ve nothing but my fucking regrets, Bonnet,” he replied. “They’re all that’s keeping me standing.”

“Well, sort of,” Stede said distractedly. His mind whirred, excitement and nervousness and heartache and longing all rolled into one. “Right. I’ll let the crew know, then.”

The ‘nays’ were rather disappointed, and Lucius even suggested that Stede was lying about Izzy’s answer, but a vote was a vote. “Don’t sweat it, we’ll get another chance,” Jim reminded Lucius. “Once he can stand again, then we’ll vote him off the ship.”

“Or maybe you’ll have reconsidered by then?” Stede offered.

Lucius gave him a withering look. “And what do you think the odds of that are?” he asked.

Nope, probably not. Still, maybe Pete would come round.

Now that the vote had gone Ed’s way, it was time to deal with the reality of the vote going Ed’s way. As Stede headed back up to the deck, accompanied by Roach and Fang, it felt like a heavy weight was pressing down on his chest. There was Ed, shackled to the railing. He looked bedraggled, out of it, and…angry? Did he look angry? The headbutt had carried with it a suggestion of anger.

Stede opened his mouth to speak, but as Ed fixed his large dark eyes on him, his head lolling a bit, Stede felt all his words dry up. He tried moving his lips to see if he could coax them out—no joy.

Roach glanced at Stede, then turned to Ed. “It’s your lucky day,” Roach announced. “Well, lucky for a half-dead man that most of the crew hates, anyway. We’re not kicking you out yet. We’re letting you recover a little before we decide what happens to you.”

Ed managed a glower before his head sagged. “Y-yes, thank you, Roach,” Stede said, finally finding his tongue. “If you chaps could just bring him to my quarters?”

“Right, captain,” Fang replied, and Stede thought he saw a flicker of something pass over Ed’s face for a moment. Recognition that Fang was on Stede’s crew now? Was he sorry for what he’d done to drive Fang away? Or did he think Stede had poached a good pirate who’d been sailing with him for decades?

Stede drew in a sharp breath to bring himself out of his spiraling thoughts. He stepped out of the way as Roach unshackled Ed. Fang and Roach got Ed mostly on his feet, half-carrying him with his arms over their shoulders. Stede could tell that Ed was trying to walk, but his feet were dragging and stumbling.

They brought Ed down to the captain’s quarters. “Just there,” Stede said quietly, nodding to his bed. Roach exchanged a look with Fang, who shrugged. They hefted Ed onto the bed like he was a sack of potatoes, leaving him lying on top of the blanket.

“What should I chain him to?” Roach asked.

“Let’s say no to chains right now,” Stede replied. His eyes were on Ed, and it felt like he just couldn’t tear them away.

“Captain,” Roach said insistently. 

“Look at him—he can’t get up on his own,” Stede pointed out. “There’s no danger.” He wasn’t looking in Ed’s eyes. He wasn’t sure he had that right anymore, and he was afraid of what he might find there. But his curls, his hands, his short beard, all that was fair game.

Stede felt himself drawing his key out of his pocket. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll lock the door,” were the words that came out of his mouth. “We’ll be all right.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Roach pressed. No doubt he was looking at the bruise on Stede’s face.

“That’s all for now,” Stede said. “I’ll call you if you’re needed.”

Roach shrugged. “Hey, I tried.” As he and Fang headed for the door, he called over his shoulder, “Yell for help if he hits you again.”

“It was an accident!” Stede insisted, although he felt a little less sure of that now.

Locking the door behind them, Stede turned back toward the bed. It was just the two of them now. Just him and Ed.

“...Are you all right?” Stede managed to ask.

A flicker of a grimace on Ed’s face. “What do you fucking think?” he muttered.

They were the first words Ed had spoken since he’d come back to life—looked like he didn’t have couscous for brains after all!—so Stede took that as a positive sign. The hostility in those words? A bit less so.

“Right,” he mumbled, looking down. “Stupid question. Of course you’re not.” He allowed himself one glimpse at Ed’s face. “Glad you’re not dead.”

It was woefully inadequate for what he meant. He wanted to say thrilled, ecstatic, bursting with relief and love, and he wanted to say it while holding Ed’s hand. But the words stuck on his tongue, and his hand clenched at his side.

At the sound of a grunt, Stede looked up again. Ed was trying to shift in bed, and his expression was knit with pain. “Ed….” Stede murmured, rushing forward to help.

But Ed lifted his hand to warn Stede back, although that slight movement made him grit his teeth. “D-don’t fucking touch me,” he said.

“Right,” Stede said, taking a step back. “Sorry.”

How had he gotten this all wrong? When Mary told him that love felt easy, Stede had known exactly what she meant. But this wasn’t easy at all. 

Searching around for something else to say, Stede offered, “Can I help you with the blanket?”

Ed was trying to tug the blanket out from beneath his prone body so he could drape it over himself. “I’ve got it,” he muttered. “Used to taking care of myself, aren’t I?”

“I know,” Stede admitted, “but I’m not sure you’ve done such a good job of that lately.”

Letting out another grunt of pain as he wrestled the blanket free, Ed pulled it over his upper body. Stede saw him trying to catch the other end of it with his toes so he could cover his legs too. “C-can I…?” Stede asked, taking a tentative step forward. “I’ll just arrange it for you, and then I’ll step back again. I won’t….” He trailed off, and silence hung in the air like a thick fog.

“Fine,” Ed finally said in a low voice.

That one wary word was enough to buoy Stede’s heart, and he couldn’t help smiling a little as he closed the distance between them. Well, the physical distance anyway. 

“There we go,” he said, gently laying the blanket over Ed’s legs. 

“I-I’m just cold,” Ed mumbled. He turned his eyes toward the window, away from Stede.

“I know, it’s all right,” Stede told him. “Sorry it’s not more comfortable. I’d had more blankets in one of my trunks, but—”

“Most of your shit is at the bottom of the ocean,” Ed said dully. “We threw it overboard.”

“Right—yes,” Stede fumbled. “I suppose we’ll make do with this.”

The silences were so long, so stifling. It had never felt like this between Stede and Ed before, and Stede didn’t know how to fix it. In a sudden desperation to fall back and regroup, Stede said, “Why don’t I get you some tea?” Already heading towards the door, he added, “I’ll, er, I’ll just pop down to the galley.”

Ed told him, “Your fancy cups are—”

“At the bottom of the ocean, right,” Stede realized. “No matter. I’ll manage.”

Hurriedly, Stede unlocked the door and slipped out into the hall, sinking back against the door as he shut it again. He let out the sigh he’d been holding back. What now?

Chapter Text

A dollop of milk and seven sugars—that was how Ed liked it. Or rather, how he had liked it. Did he still? Stede thought about what Izzy had told him before, everything that had happened on the Revenge while Stede was gone. Had Ed taken his tea with milk and seven sugars while he was torturing the crew?

It was hard to think about. Stede knew about some of the heavier moments in Ed’s past, including things he didn’t think Ed had ever shared with anyone, but it hurt his heart to imagine such heavy moments in Ed’s present. 

You broke him, that’s what Lucius had said. And what about Izzy? You and I did this to him. Such a mess Stede had made of things.

But as much as he might like to run away, to curl up in his dressing gown and try to forget, he couldn’t. For a start, his dressing gown had probably also been consigned to the sea. No, if there was any way out of this, it would have to be through it.

He returned to his quarters and found Ed lying where Stede had left him. Of course—not like he could’ve gone anywhere. As Stede approached the bed again, he saw Ed struggling to sit up. Biting back a wince, Stede asked, “Can I help at all?”

Ed didn’t answer, just gave another grimace of pain and then let out a huff as he collapsed back onto the pillow. “Your body’s been through a lot,” Stede said softly. “You’ll need time to get your strength back.” He frowned, thinking. Then, “What if I take the pillow out from under your head—carefully—and prop it up? Then maybe you can scoot yourself back into it.”

Ed gave the smallest possible nod. “Okay,” Stede replied. Setting down Ed’s tea, he gingerly eased the pillow away, taking care not to touch Ed or accidentally snag his hair. Stede set the pillow at an angle, and Ed used his palms to push himself back against it, inch by exhausting inch.

Slowly, Ed drew one hand up to his chest, tapping it. “Put it here,” he said. Stede puzzled for a moment, then realized he meant the tea. He did as Ed had asked, withdrawing once Ed had a weak grip on the mug and it was clear he wasn’t going to drop it.

Tipping the mug a bit with his hand, Ed found the rim with his mouth and took a few awkward sips of tea. It made Stede feel uncomfortable, seeing him so battered and helpless. Stede ought to have been there. He could barely protect himself half the time, but he would have protected Ed.

For some time, Stede didn’t try to speak. Ed obviously didn’t want to hear from him, and Stede didn’t know what he would’ve said anyway. He moved to a chair, letting Ed navigate drinking his tea without interruption.

At last, Ed tipped his mug back to an upright position. “Finished?” Stede asked. Ed nodded. It looked like it might be getting slightly less taxing for him to move, small movements at least.

“Okay,” Stede said, rising and taking the mug off Ed’s chest. As he set it down, his eyes lingered for a moment over Ed’s face. “Ed?”

“Mmm?” he mumbled.

“I know you said you don’t want me to touch you, but can I please feel your forehead?” Stede requested. “You’re shivering and sweating at the same time.”

Ed sighed, looking away. “Just get on with it.”

For the first time since Ed had come back to life, Stede touched the man he loved. Not a pleasant touch—Ed’s forehead was clammy—but Stede cherished it all the same. “Ooh,” he murmured sympathetically. “You definitely have a fever.”

“All right already,” Ed told him. “Get off.”

Stede drew his hand back. “You sit tight,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

He went off to find some water, filling a cup for Ed and wetting his handkerchief. Come back to his quarters once more, Stede ventured closer, holding up the handkerchief like a peace offering. “May I?”

“Fine,” Ed said quietly.

With a gentle hand, Stede rested the handkerchief across Ed’s brow. He was still shivering, and Stede carefully pulled the blanket around him a little more securely. “Is that any better?” he asked.

Ed managed a slight shrug. “I dunno,” he muttered. “I guess.”

“I like the shorter beard, by the way,” Stede said shyly. “I mean, the old one was fab. It was—well, it was your brand! But the new one’s very nice, too.” He smiled. “I like that I can see more of your face.”

“Don’t—” Ed began, grimacing, “don’t do that.”

Stede frowned. “Sorry?”

“Don’t say stuff like that,” Ed told him. “It makes me—”

He broke off, sighing as he looked down toward his toes. Stede noticed him rubbing the edge of the blanket between his fingers. “When you say things like that, I get stupid,” Ed admitted, so quiet Stede had to lean in to hear him. “Start thinking you care the way I did.”

“But I did! I do!” Stede exclaimed. Too loudly, he realized, when Ed recoiled a little at the volume. Toning it down as much as he could, Stede tried again. “Of course I do. You have to know that. Ed, I lo—”

“Don’t,” Ed warned. And weak as he was, his voice still carried the authority of the most fearsome pirate who’d ever lived. Stede clammed up.

After a long silence, Ed said, in a lower tone, “If you cared, you’d have met me on the dock.”

“I wanted to,” Stede replied. “I was going to, but—”

“But what?” Ed demanded. “I waited all fucking night for you, man. Where the hell did you go?”

In the time they’d been apart, Stede had pictured Ed thousands of times, but it suddenly occurred to him that he’d never pictured that moment: Ed sitting on the dock, waiting for the man who never showed. The image made him sick. What he must have thought?

“I-I had to fix the mess I’d left behind,” Stede said, a paltry explanation.

“What are you talking abou—?” Ed cut himself off, and Stede could see the thoughts turning behind his eyes. When the realization struck, Ed’s face knit into a glower. Fixing Stede in his gaze, he asked, “Mary?”

“And the kids,” Stede offered weakly.

“You left me for fucking Mary?” Ed said. He turned away from Stede, but it must’ve been too much movement for him too quickly, because he gritted his teeth, sucking in a sharp breath.

Stede wondered if he was standing too close to Ed. He didn’t want Ed to feel crowded or cornered, but he didn’t want to be too far away either. He drew himself back a little, sitting down at the foot of the bed.

“So that’s it,” Ed said. It sounded like he was talking more to himself than Stede. “Once he was finished playing pirate, Stede Bonnet went back to his world. Back where he belongs.”

“I didn’t belong there, Ed,” Stede said quietly. Although Ed had every right to be angry, Stede had the right to say what was true. “I never belonged anywhere ‘til I met you.”

“Then why didn’t you fucking meet me?” Ed cried out, and the pain in those words startled Stede, left him breathless. No, Ed wasn’t just angry. He was hurt.

“Someone…” Stede tried to explain, “someone stopped me.”

Ed scoffed. “What, they held a gun to your head and made you go back to your family?” he asked.

“A gun was involved, but no,” Stede admitted. The sound of the gunshot cracked through his memory, and he clasped his hands together to stop them shaking. “They just convinced me that—well, that it was better this way.”

“Right,” Ed muttered. “Better off without me, then.”

The mere idea, that Ed could’ve thought such a thing, jolted Stede from his awful recollections, and he looked back up. “No!” he insisted. “That you were better off without me! I defile beautiful things, Ed. I ruin everything I touch; I didn’t want to ruin you too.”

For a moment, Ed was quiet. Then, low, he asked, “Who told you that? Who fucking told you that?”

“It was Badminton,” Stede told him. “Chauncey.”

Ed’s jaw clenched, and his nostrils flared a little. But when he spoke, his voice was even. “You let that stuffed shirt colonizer prick tell you what I needed?” he said. “You let him say something so horrible about you, and you listened to him?”

Stede shook his head. Not in disagreement, just at the enormity of what they were talking about. “I mean, I’d already made a mess of things with my family. I—”

“But I told you,” Ed interrupted. His eyes shone wet, and his expression contorted as he tried to keep his lip from trembling. “I told you on the beach. Why did you believe him and not me?”

The crack in Ed’s voice broke Stede’s heart. “I didn’t mean to upset you like this,” he mumbled. “Maybe I should go.”

As Stede made to stand up, Ed gave a short cry of pain, lifting a hand to cover his eyes. “I’m sorry!” Ed said, his voice choked with emotion. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Stede assured him. “No, I’m sorry.” He didn’t want to touch Ed without asking, so he placed his hand beside Ed on the mattress. Just a slight pressure to show he was still there.

“I know the virtues of a good cry, believe me,” Stede went on. “But you’re already unwell, and I was trying to make you feel better, not worse.” He let his eyes fall closed for a moment. “See? I ruin things.”

When Stede looked up again, Ed was still covering his eyes. “Everybody always fucking leaves,” he said despairingly.

“I—” Stede didn’t know what to say. He would hate to see Ed so upset regardless of the circumstances, but to know that he’d caused it? “I don’t know if I’m helping or hurting,” he admitted.

For a long moment, Stede just stood there, listening to Ed’s shuddery breaths. “Please, Ed,” he said softly. “What can I do?”

Ed shook his head a little. “I don’t know,” he admitted in a strained voice.

“Can I…?” Stede ventured, his hand hovering uncertainly over Ed’s. 

At last, with a shaky sigh, Ed nodded, uncovering his face. Stede took his hand. “Okay,” Stede said, squeezing it warmly in his. “Here we go.”

He turned to reach over for the cup of water, raising his eyebrows in an unspoken question. Ed nodded again. Stede picked up the cup and held it to Ed’s lips so he could take a few slow sips.

“I am sorry,” Stede went on. “More sorry than I could ever say. I-I wish I’d gone to meet you. I should’ve never let Chauncey get in my head.”

Ed sniffled. “Too fucking right,” he said. The tears still stained his cheeks, but he was breathing more steadily now. 

“The trouble was, I was already in my own head,” Stede told him. “It was easy for him to get to me because, deep down, I was ready to believe those things about myself. It doesn’t make it right, but it’s what happened.”

They were quiet for a minute. Stede told himself that the quiet was all right, because he was holding Ed’s hand and it made him think of the moment when Ed came back to life. Back to him.

Then, softly, Ed confessed, “I ruin things. Look at your ship. Your crew. Izzy. You’re standing in my fucking ruin right now.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s a competition over who causes the most—” Stede broke off, shook his head. He squeezed Ed’s hand. “When I went back to…Barbados,” he said, realizing he probably shouldn’t mention Mary’s name, “I thought it would fix things, but that was just as bad. For them, for me, for everyone.”

He contemplated his words. “We found a way to a fix in the end, but not how I thought we would.” Stede sat back down on the edge of the bed. “Is this okay?” Ed nodded a little.

“We were never meant to be husband and wife,” Stede went on. “She’d built a better life without me, and the only way to make it right for either of us was to stay on the new paths we were forging, not return to an old one that never fit in the first place.”

Ed shifted a little in bed, grimacing. “I’d thought I could have a new path,” he admitted. “Have something else, be someone else. But all I am is this. We're just not those kind of people.” He gave a barely perceptible shake of his head. “Never will be.”

“I see,” Stede murmured, although he felt he only half got it. With a puzzled frown, he asked, “Is that the royal ‘we?’”

“I fucking fell apart when you left,” Ed continued. He didn’t acknowledge the question, and Stede realized it wasn’t the most pressing matter at the moment. “I wallowed in it. I cried, I wrote songs, I ate your marmalade….”

Stede felt himself smile, just a bit. “You wrote songs?”

“A song,” Ed amended, “a really good one. Powerful stuff, you know? Very raw.” He bit back a wince. “I don’t get to have that, though. I don’t get sadness or softness or—or fucking vulnerability.”

The words tore at Stede’s heart. “Who told you that?” he asked.

Ed shook his head. “I was filled to the brim with all that,” he said, “but I couldn’t be any of it. So I tried empty. Tried angry, tried crazy. None of it worked.”

Glancing around at the wreck of the cabin, Stede recalled, “I figured you were either gonna watch the world burn or die trying.”

“Got that a bit backwards, didn’t you?” Ed mumbled in a low voice.

For a moment, Stede couldn’t make any sense of that response. But then, he literally reversed the statement in his head and realized what Ed meant: he was either going to die or burn the world trying.

“The mutiny,” Stede realized. “Oh Ed, I’m so sorry.” He gave Ed’s hand another squeeze, interlacing their fingers.

“But then—” Ed closed his eyes for a long moment. “But then, after it was done and it was too late to turn back, I couldn’t bear it. It was dark and cold and there was no one, and…and I thought even a shitty ruinous life was better than no life at all.”

“But it wasn’t too late,” Stede told him. “You did turn back.”

“I couldn’t do it on my own,” Ed insisted. “I was trying, but I couldn’t get out, not until I saw….”

Stede waited, trying to search Ed’s face for the unspoken answer. “Until you saw what?” he finally asked.

Ed’s beautiful dark eyes met Stede’s. “...You,” he replied. So soft, so tentative, barely above a whisper. “You swam down to me in the dark a-and I wasn’t alone anymore.”

It felt as if a warm blanket had been wrapped gently round them both. “What I said before about Barbados, about forging a new path?” Stede offered quietly. “I couldn’t find my way to it until I realized that I lo—” but no, Ed said he didn’t want to hear that word yet, “—until I realized how I felt about you.”

After a long quiet moment, Ed told him, “I’m not saying things are just gonna go back to like they were before.”

Stede nodded his understanding. “I know.”

“There are fucking issues here, man, and we can’t just sweep that aside,” Ed said.

“Right,” Stede agreed.

“And even with the whole ‘new path’ breakthrough, I still think you’re a dick for going back to Mary,” Ed added.

“I suppose I deserve that,” Stede admitted.

“But don’t go,” Ed said. His eyes trailed down, but back up to Stede. “Please. I-I don’t want you to go, and I don’t want to be alone. Okay?”

“Okay,” Stede echoed. He held Ed’s hand in both of his. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “Try to rest now, all right? I’ll be here when you wake up. To talk some more, or work on figuring things out, or…or whatever we want.”

Ed’s expression faltered a little, and Stede wondered if he was going to start crying again. But he just nodded, mumbling, “G-good,” in a soft, grateful-sounding voice.

Things broke much more easily than they could be fixed. Fixing took time. The ship, the crew’s trust, Stede and Ed—it would all take time, and it was too early to say what would come out of it in the end.

But they’d made a start, at least. Everything that had broken was worth fixing, and to see it done right, Stede was prepared to take all the time in the world.