Work Text:
Izzy woke up with no recollection of his dreams. This was unusual. As he had been spending most of his time laying down, sleeping the days away, he had plenty of time for dreams and recalled them quite clearly. Mostly, in them, he was living his past life. Working.
His body felt warm and so, so heavy. He groggily moved his arms and legs. He wished he could stretch, but couldn’t; no matter how hard he tried.
It was dark in his cabin but he could tell a little bit of light was making its way through the crack of the door. It must not have been night yet. It was difficult to keep track of time in his condition. He barely ever got out of his cabin and of course, no one kept him informed. The days passed without his notice.
He had no idea how long it had been since he had been reduced to this helpless, infantile state.
One day, –he had been working as usual, fighting with the Revenge’s crew to simply do their jobs, the useless twats—, he simply fell ill. He passed out on the deck and had not gotten up since. If only it had been all there was to it, Izzy might have been able to cope. Sure, not being able to walk on his own two feet would have been disabling. It might have ended his career as a pirate for good, but at least, his dignity would have remained intact. No, whatever demon or witch had decided to punish him for whichever sin had been far crueler. This evil that struck him had gnawed at every bit of autonomy and pride he ever possessed.
He could not speak, or only in brief, clumsy babble. He had resolved himself to not even attempt speech, unless absolutely necessary. Hearing his voice, come out weak, oddly high-pitched, struggling with basic syllables— No, that was too much.
Gone were his fine motor skills; he was only able to hold large objects, on a good day. To think that he had been a skilled swordsman! He did not even dare cling to the hope that one day, he could fight again.
His poor control of his mouth affected equally his ability to eat; he could not handle solid food, relying on mush and liquids that had to be spoon fed to him.
And perhaps most humiliating of all, he had lost any control of his bladder and had to be diapered at all times to avoid making a mess.
In the most simple of terms, he had been reduced to an overgrown baby overnight.
His cabin had been altered to fit his new condition; he slept in a giant crib to avoid falling. How they had acquired it, Izzy did not know. There were childish, colorful decorations on the wall. Many drawings, some of them –the worst of them, scribbles– were his own.
The fact that his condition did not appear to be stable worried Izzy even further. He could feel his mind slipping and all his energy was focused on trying to maintain his consciousness. He had lost all control of his body but inside he was still an adult, capable, intelligent, Blackbeard’s first-mate. He refused to resolve himself to his lot. He would not accept his condition as a permanent reality. He would get better.
Still; It was difficult not to, at times.
Especially when he was being hugged, kissed, cared for. He was rarely alone anymore. The crew did not make fun of him, at least not to his face. Vaguely, this humiliated him even further. After all, the only reason they did not laugh was because his condition was too pathetic to even incite amusement. He was only to be pitied; a sad, grotesque thing utterly reliant on others for survival.
He had been so lonely, all of his life. His happiest moments had been periods of camaraderie with Edward, but all that happiness had long turned sour. After Stede Bonnet and his many, many mistakes in the aftermath.
Now, though, Edward cared for Izzy. He seemed to have forgiven him for his betrayal and disrespect. He had promised they would not abandon him. He hugged him, kissed his forehead, and carried him. It was a warm, fuzzy feeling he had not felt since he was a little child being bounced on his mother’s lap as she sang to him. He at least had Edward, who was looking for a cure. He loved him, he loved him so, so much. He realized now. It only took losing everything for him to realize.
In these moments, embraced by Ed’s warmth and strength, he would feel his defense lower, his thoughts regressing to a lower, simpler plane; he relaxed so much, he felt so good he could not even muster to be horrified as the word escaped his lips: “ba-ba”.
Without realizing, Izzy had begun to sniffle and when nothing happened, it escalated to wailing. He hoped Edward would come and take care of him. He was cold and lonely, so lonely.
It didn’t take long for the door to open and Izzy was so happy, Ed was going to help him, it would be him, he just knew it.
“There, there Izzy,” Bonnet’s voice broke the silence and the frustration caused Izzy to cry harder. Ed had not come. “Daddy is here. Don’t cry,” he cooed.
This was one of the things Izzy hated about Bonnet. The inane baby-talk. Edward was caring but still treated him with respect; he talked to him normally not as if he actually were an infant. He had also taken to self-describing as “daddy”, even though Izzy had never called him that and that it mortified him. He hated Bonnet, hated him so much, he was not his daddy; he was a buffoon of a man who had an undeserved amount of luck and had stolen Edward from him.
“What is it, baby? Are you wet?” Bonnet asked as he checked Izzy’s diaper as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Oh, no, all dry,” he declared and Izzy could swear he noticed a tinge of disappointment in his voice.
Bonnet stroked his cheek gently; he had shaved him this morning and his skin was smooth. The sensation was odd, Izzy could swear his hair was growing slower that it used to.
“Are you hungry?” he asked with a pout. “I brought your milk.”
Bonnet brought the baby bottle to Izzy’s face but he turned his face away, refusing to latch. He wasn’t hungry and he especially did not want to be fed, not by Bonnet. If Edward had been there, it would have been different, maybe.
“Not hungry? Okay then,” Bonnet said, putting the bottle away. “I guess babies sometimes cry for no reason.”
Izzy felt an overwhelming urge to throw the soft toy made of rags that they had left for him in his crib in Bonnet’s face but he knew he could not manage to throw it that high; he saved himself from the humiliation and instead pressed it lightly for comfort with his dominant hand.
“Oh, silly daddy! I know what you want!” Bonnet exclaimed with a laugh. “You just want attention. Poor baby, daddy is so slow today.”
He dragged Izzy out of the crib with surprising ease and sat on a chair that had been put in the corner, Izzy on his lap.
“Here we go,” Bonnet said. “All better?”
Izzy had stopped crying. He did not want to stop, he was angry! He did not want Bonnet to think he was happy to be sat on his lap like a child. Bonnet would think he liked him and would continue more and more. Izzy wanted to scream but all that he was able to let out was a pathetic “ah” sound.
“Yes, yes, settle down, baby,” Bonnet whispered in his best soothing tone. “Daddy’s here, you’re not alone anymore. “
To Izzy’s horror, it worked. Even though he wanted to scream, his body was limp and his anger slowly but surely dissipated.
“Do you want to hear about daddy’s date with Edward?”
No, no, no, no!
Izzy’s legs moved weakly. He certainly did not want to hear about Edward and Bonnet’s date. How much they loved each other, how they had kissed, the food they ate. He did not care to hear any of it, but all he could do was smack his lips. His attempt at a protest only produced more nonsensical babbling. He did not even know what it was he was trying to say.
“Exciting, right?” Bonnet giggled, planting a kiss on the back of Izzy’s head. “It went very well.”
Was he that stupid? Izzy wasn’t sure. There was no way someone could be that stupid, have this little tact. Wasn’t he supposed to be a kind person?
“We had some wine and cakes Roach prepared for the occasion,” he said, in that hushed tone that one reserves for tiny children or dusk old men. “Nothing fancy, but Roach’s cooking is delightful as always.”
“We kissed, of course. We chatted. You came up, baby,” Bonnet said. “Edward is so proud of you for having behaved so well during the drawing session with Lucius. We keep one in the captain’s cabin, you know.”
This is not something to be proud of, Izzy wanted to scream, I am Blackbeard’s first mate, not his infant son.
“Then we simply lazed around in bed,” Bonnet said. “Oluwande was in charge of the crew and all went well.”
They don’t need you to yell at them , Izzy heard. You were useless. It is better now, you’re out of the way.
Bonnet bounced him as he kept talking.
“You know, Izzy, I’m happy we get along, now,” Bonnet said, giving Izzy’s scalp another kiss. “We used to be at each other's throat, remember?”
Izzy whined. What else could he do?
“Oh, I know, you feel so, so guilty about everything,” Bonnet cooed. “It’s okay, baby, daddy forgives you. You didn’t know any better way of dealing with your big emotions. We’re happy now.”
Izzy suddenly felt a familiar dampness against his crotch and immediately, without any warning, fat tears poured from his eyes and his lips quivered.
“You’re all sad again,” Bonnet pouted. “I’m sorry Izzy dear, is it something I said?”
He was wet, wet, wet! He hated it! He wanted to feel clean again.
It did not take long for Bonnet to notice and when he did, he simply laid Izzy down against a mat on the floor.
“Hush, baby, don’t cry,” Bonnet said. “Daddy will clean you up in no time.”
Izzy felt the air against his skin and then fabric as Bonnet cleaned him gently. Izzy was cleaned and so he calmed down.
“There, there! All better,” Bonnet commented as he closed the diaper. “Feeling much better, aren’t we, mh? Good boy, good boy.”
When he was done, he put Izzy back in his crib and popped a pacifier in his mouth.
“You know, when I was a kid, my bullies would call me Baby Bonnet, it was very humiliating,” he said. "I was not a baby. I was just a bit more sensitive than they were."
Izzy did not care, already beginning to doze off again. In his dreams, he could move as he wanted.
“But I knew you would be happier this way,” Bonnet said. “Some people just aren’t meant to be adults, Izzy.”