Archive of Our Own ^beta

Day One 

Edward Teach wakes to the realization that he’s moving slowly across an knobbly, uncomfortable floor, his legs dragging behind him as two pairs of arms lug him forward. His vision spins and his stomach churns with nausea, the air cold around him, clammy on his damp skin. Though the specifics evade him, Ed understands one thing, if nothing else – whoever had taken him had finally captured the one thing he’d always treasured more than anything else: his freedom. Edward Teach, born on a beach, fettered in chains at last. 

Truthfully, he’s not surprised. Ever since Stede Bonnet had left him sitting alone on that pier, waiting like a dog pining for its master, Ed had let himself go. Sure, he’d put the Blackbeard mask on again, but his heart hadn’t been in it. He made more mistakes, took more risks, and left most of the day-to-day bullshit to Izzy. That part, at least, hadn’t changed. He sifts from the murky swamp of his addled mind the memory of a fleet of British ships intercepting them near an island. He’d fought hard, harder than he’d fought in a long time, perhaps because he’d known this was the last time. Long after most of his crew had gone down, he continued to mow down British soldiers with gun and sword, but… there’d simply been too many. 

“You’re dead, Teach. Know what that means?” One of the soldiers sneers as he jerks Ed forward, eliciting a groan of pain. “That means you belong to us now. We can do whatever we want to you. You understand that?” 

“You’re gonna suffer for what you’ve done to our mates.” The other soldier says, a cruel glee audible in his voice. Ed just drops his head, letting them laugh over his half-conscious body. It mattered very little to Ed where the two of them got their kicks. 

In an odd, demented sort of way, this situation provided a modicum of comfort to Ed. Much like signing the Act of Grace and shipping off with Stede to the British navy, the loss of control felt less like a seizure and more like a quiet withdrawal, a breath of fresh air. Of course, nothing about this jail evoked freedom or refreshment; whatever happened here, Ed knew he’d have a bad time. Then again, he’d already suffered – every day since Stede Bonnet had walked out of his life had evoked more pain than any instrument these thugs could employ. 

The pair of soldiers toss Ed into an empty cell, and while one of them locks the door behind them, the other yanks him upright and manacles his hands to the wall. He doesn’t fight back; honestly, what was the point? Instead, Ed takes this moment to look around, and to his surprise he finds that all of the other cells within his sight sit empty. Had none of his crew survived? Or had they simply been taken elsewhere? Ed doesn’t kid himself, after all, none of his crew apart from Izzy would have any worth to these people beyond setting an example for common folk with dreams of piracy in their heads. 

“Now, listen up, Edward, ” The soldier who had restrained him jerks his head up by the chin, spitting directly into his face. “Hehehehe. Not even worth my spit, you aren’t. Our superior officer wants you alive, though. According to Captain Hornigold, you’ve got a lot of information locked away in that twisted mind of yours.” That stings a bit, more than the cold iron biting into his wrists. Hornigold. Yes, that’s how they managed this in the first place. In many ways, Ed had followed in the footsteps of his former mentor – and tormentor – and joining up with the King’s men had simply been one of many. 

“Fuck off, mate. Don’t know anythin’ of use to you.”

“Oh? Don’t you? What about the location of the ship and crew of Stede Bonnet?” Hearing Stede’s name outside of his own head shook Ed to his core, and he reflexively lunges forward, slamming his forehead into the soldier’s and nearly knocking him backwards onto his backside.

“ Don’t say his name! Don’t say his bloody fucking name!”  Ed screams, earning himself a hard backhand across the face. His ring catches the corner of his lip, tearing it and producing a small spurt of blood that scatters across the hard cobbled floor. 

“I can say whatever I bloody well feel like, you animal.” The soldier sneers and grabs Ed by the neck, squeezing hard and making Ed choke. “Now. Me and my mate here, we’ve got some more questions for you. You’re gonna answer them, and then you’re getting on a ship straight to some godforsaken jungle in the Caribbean. Someone’ll have use for you down there, someone who’ll make sure you keep in line. No Act of Grace for you this time.” 

“You’re a fuckin’ idiot. Stede Bonnet’s dead.” The soldier looks to his mate, then back to Ed as he stands to his full height… then brings his foot down hard into Ed’s bad knee, the one he’d once protected with his slapshod brace. He can’t help but scream as the tendons and ligaments holding his kneecap together thrum with agony. The sound seems to amuse his captors, who both let out a thin laugh as Ed writhes in pain below them.

“Shows how much you know then, don’t it?” 

Day Two

The next day goes much like the first, with the exception that after the pair of soldiers beat and berate Ed, they unhook his hands from the wall and shackle them together instead, threading the chain through a loop of metal hammered into the floor, presumably to allow him to eat. So they were trying to keep him alive, after all. Honestly, Ed’s surprised – after a torture session that had left his two soldier friends exhausted and ultimately empty-handed, he’d figured they’d write him off to the scaffold. Could Stede really be alive? Was that… even possible? Ed couldn’t entertain that thought too long; it gave him a feeling somewhat akin to hope that tasted bitter on his tongue and made his heart swell against his bruised rib cage. 

After a while of staring at a few flies dancing around his meal, he shoos them off and tries to eat the parts that seem reasonably edible. Outside his window, he can see the sun beaming down in the middle of the sky. Noon. No wonder the cell had begun to grow hot. By the time they’d arrived here yesterday, night had fallen and the air here had felt wet and cold. They’d taken him down a long hall, deep into the jail; he’d counted somewhere around 200 footfalls from the front door to his cell.

Ed couldn’t help but collect these little observations, despite the pointlessness of the exercise; noticing things had kept him alive for so long, it felt more like an instinct than habit. Normally, he’d try to leverage that knowledge into some sort of escape plan, but Ed had nothing to escape to, not anymore. Ed finishes the stale bread and pale soup that he’d been provided, pushing the plate away and pulling his good knee against his chest. The other could barely move; they’d done a number on it yesterday.

Ed looks across his cell and studies the other side of the room, though strangely he could glean very little. Because of the way the window angled, the corner of this particular cell got barely any light at all. The window barely fit the definition anyway; it might have been an arrow slit at some point. Whatever the case, Ed couldn’t see through the darkness there, and his mind quickly moves on to something more compelling: memories. He plays them through his mind, over and over, combing through them to see where things had gone so incredibly wrong. 

Noon dissolves into afternoon, and the shadows in the cell grow deeper, the air cooler. The sweat that had gathered on Ed’s skin begins to dry, and he swipes his dry tongue over his lips. Chances were good his two little friends would be back again to play with him soon. That was fine. He distracts himself from the dread of their tortures by thinking about the Revenge. He thinks about Izzy and Fang and Ivan, how they fought alongside him, even as he’d nearly put Izzy’s head through the wall earlier that day. He thinks about how the three of them are probably dead now… probably lost to the sea or worse, hanged on a scaffold, their heads mounted on pikes. He thinks about Stede, too… but there’s rarely a time he’s not . 

Suddenly, he hears the door slam open down the hall, and the sound of stomping feet and fabric dragging across the floor. Another prisoner , he thinks, and he’s right – the soldiers who had brought him here toss another body into the impenetrable shadows across from him, his head covered with a bloody bag. Ed watches as the two of them each give the man a good kick, and then storm back out, spitting in Ed’s direction as they leave and lock the doors behind them. “Don’t worry, Teach! We’ll be back for you later!” They laugh uproariously together, heading out and slamming the door hard behind them.

Silence falls over the cell, broken by nothing but the dripping of condensation on the stone floors, and the ragged breathing of his new cellmate. Ed almost gets the idea to crawl over to him, but remembers that his hands are attached to the chain bolted to the floor. He leans back against the wall and sighs angrily, his head bouncing off the rock with a thunk. 

“Right, buddy… so what are you in for?” Silence, save for the rattling of his breathing. It sounded like they’d probably broken this man’s nose, judging from that and the blotch of blood staining the bag around his head. “Hey! You there?” No answer. Hell, maybe they’d beaten all the sense out of him. “Fucking hell. What’s the point of a cellmate if you won’t commiserate? Haha…” Ed laughs weakly, but the feeble attempt at humor falls flat with no audience, and he slumps back against the wall. “Well… I dunno if you can hear me, but if you ever get bothered to answer, my name’s Ed.” 

Drip. Drip. Drip. 

Nice to meet you too.  

Day Three

The sun rises and sets again, along with another round of beatings, interrogations and stale bread. Ed shivers as his stomach churns, having struggled to get his meal down. He’s certain it’s infested with… something, but if he has to choose between this and starving, he’ll be damned if he chooses the latter. He sighs and leans his head back on the cold stone, trying to take deep breaths as his skin glistens with sweat and fresh blood. Normally, by now he’d have come up with a plan to escape, but… he can’t summon the motivation. He just doesn’t give a fuck.

“Hey…” He calls out, remembering that despite his cellmate’s silence, he’s not alone. “Hey, man… come on, say somethin’.” Silence, except for a small cough and groan. “Hit you that hard, huh? Haha… what’re you in for, huh?” More silence. “You know… that’s fair, I’m asking you to talk about yourself, and I haven’t told you a thing, eh? Nothing but my name.” 

Ed takes a moment to think – how does one speak of one’s self when they’re stuck in a jail cell, chained up and nearly starving, beaten to a pulp? “So… first off, killed my dad when I was twelve. Don’t worry, he earned it. Heh…” Ed swallows hard, his dry throat aching as he closes his eyes. “Couple years after that, I ran away from home, joined up on a ship. Became the greatest pirate ever known, and now here I am! Pretty crazy.” Ed chuckles thinly, waiting for a response from the shadows. “You know that corner never gets light? If you want, you can come closer.” No response. “Nah? Yeah, fair enough. I probably smell like shit.”

For a while, Ed sits in silence, watching the sky slowly darken through the slit of a window the jail afforded. Occasionally, he thinks he can see a star or two twinkling in the murky blackness, and wonders if he’ll see the open night sky again before the end. The last time he truly remembers noticing it was after that horrible party on the French ship, when Stede had so delicately folded that old scrap of red silk into his borrowed waistcoat pocket. The moon, impossibly large, had felt like a spotlight that night. It had made him feel terribly afraid, seen … but the way it had reflected in Stede’s eyes had reminded him of starlight.

“Sorry to bother you with all that, mate. You probably wanna sleep, eh?” Ed turns onto his side, pulling the scrap of a blanket they’d given him over his chest. “G’night. Maybe we’ll talk tomorrow?” He asks, knowing full well the answer he’d receive. 

---

Ed doesn’t sleep. 

Instead, he dreams of Stede, and that golden afternoon on the shore– the one where they both finally professed their affection for one another. He remembers the way his cheek had felt brushing against his own as they’d kissed, the curls of golden hair tickling his fingers as he had rested his hand on his neck, the reflection of himself that he’d seen in his hazel eyes. He dreams that he wraps his hands around Stede’s throat and pins him to the sandy grass, squeezing the life out of him, his eyes boggling out of his head and his face turning red, then blue, then finally the stark white of death. It takes nearly every ounce of strength in his body to do it, and even more to keep himself from letting go..

How dare you leave me If I take you now you’ll never have to go Why wasn’t I enough Why do I still miss you Why do I still love you

Ed bolts awake and yelps, looking around himself and feeling almost relieved to find himself still in the jail cell, still manacled to the floor. God above, is that what he wishes he could do? 

“Agh… fuck…” Ed groans, leaning his head against the wall as he stares into blackness. The sun hasn’t even begun rising yet, and so he can barely see three feet in front of him. “You know, I left out a lot from my story earlier. Sorry about that. Becoming the greatest pirate who ever lived wasn’t a ton of fun, actually. I know that’s probably really surprising. Actually took a lot of work, dealing with a lot of bullshit.” Ed pauses, chewing on his bottom lip. “‘S how I met Iz. He’s half the reason I got as big as I did. He always knew what moves to make, what ships to gun down, what booty to take, while I preoccupied myself with all my little tricks.” Ed thinks bitterly about how many times he’d scolded and scorned Izzy for “ruining a good time”. “He was a better pirate than I ever was. Reckon my heart wasn’t in it, eh?” Another cough, this one wet and rattling, echoes through the cell. “Yeah. Sorry, mate. Sure you’re tryin’ to sleep. I’ll shut up.” Ed closes his eyes again, but he doesn’t let himself drift off again. 

Day Four

“Oy, d’you know I’m an aspiring restaurateur?” Ed asks, spitting out blood and the shard of one of his teeth onto the cobbles beneath him. His soldier friends – Bacon and Strothwick, they were called – had just finished up their taking out their daily frustrations on his battered body. Somehow, he could still move, and this he mostly chalked up to the fact that the two men were weak, and put very little real strength behind their blows. “That’s right, mate. Blackbeard’s Bar and Grill, and Delicacies and… other fuckin… hahaha, I can’t remember it all right now. Lemme tell you though, it was gonna be a fuckin’ banger. Guests lined up down the street, a gift shop. Fuckin’ gift shop, mate, it’s genius…” Ed laughs raggedly, leaning his head back to stare at the ceiling. “Y’know… Stede and me, we were gonna run away together. Would have been absolutely mental, just… figuring out each day together, starting a new life in a foreign land. Honestly, I think he thought I was crazy. Maybe I was.” Maybe I am, he corrects in his mind. 

Still no response. 

“Honestly, man, I dunno why I keep talkin’ to you. You’re either taking the longest nap ever, or you’re the rudest guy I’ve ever met.” Ed shakes his head and smiles wryly, swiping his dry tongue over his bottom lip. “Guess it’s better than nothing, yeah? Better than making up an imaginary friend in my head or some dumb shit like that. Heh…”

Ed talks, and talks. Before long, Ed thinks he’s told this guy his entire life’s story. It seems to Ed like a fitting epitaph for the greatest pirate of all time: the reality of his life lost to these four walls and a man locked away in shadow.

Day Five 

Yet another day, and another, and another passes, the same as all the rest. For whatever reason, the British continue keeping him alive. Even the quality of his food had increased, however marginally, probably to prevent him from simply starving or dying of malnutrition. Then again, the British love their tortures; they need no reason at all to stave off his death, save for the promise that it would prolong his suffering. Nevertheless, the routine had begun to really take its toll. His lips, cracked and chapped, hurt with nearly every movement. His hair had grown dry and brittle, and matted in the back where it chafes against the wall. His eyes have ceased producing tears; his body refuses to sweat; his mind grows more addled by the day.

Still, through all this, that devil across the cell has said nothing. Ed felt strongly that he might actually have died by now. 

“Oy… oy , mate… if you’re still over there, fuckin’... come on, give me an answer. Somethin’. Anythin’. A word.” Nothing. “Fuuuuuuck…” Ed growls, beating his head against the back wall in frustration. “So you’re gonna just lemme die all alone, huh? Fuck you. Heh…” Ed pants, feeling a little dizzy as his heart rate elevates. “You’re just… like him.” He nearly chokes on a sob, but freezes as he hears the door to the cellblock open, allowing Bacon and Strothwick access. “Come on, do it, you ninnies. You bastards , you lily-livered cowards! Kill me! Do me in!”

“Much as we’d like to, Teach… ain’t in the cards for you. Gonna be shippin’ you off to the mainland soon, boyo. And then… you’re gonna get the execution you deserve. Hangin’, most like, with your ugly head on a pike.” Both Bacon and Strothwick snicker at that thought.

“Great. Fuckin’ A.” Ed says, pursing his bloody lips as Bacon grabs him by the hair. Bacon wrenches Ed’s head up and out of the way, while Strothwick grabs the manacles and fastens them over Ed’s head. 

The beating proceeds, same as all the rest of them… but unlike all the other times before, Bacon and Strothwick forget to unshackle Ed from the wall. “W-wait… wait! Oy!” He cries out, wincing at how painful the simple effort of raising his voice had become.

“Whuzzat, Teach? You say somethin’?” Bacon calls back from the other side of the bars as Strothwick locks the door.

“Aren’t you… aren’t you gonna…” Ed shakes his wrists, pulling against the manacles and jangling the chains. Bacon just smirks, his simpering face gleaming with sweat from his exertions.

“Nah. Don’t think so. G’night, Teach!” He laughs cruelly, the pair of men heading back out into the unknown recesses of the jail.

He won’t be able to eat. He will have even more trouble getting sleep. They know this.

“Fuck. Fuck! ” Ed feels a white-hot rage surge through him, and he lunges forward once, twice, three times, trying more desperately than he ever had before to free himself. When nothing budges, he slumps against the wall and lets out a pathetic sob, his eyes stinging with what might have been tears a few days prior. “And what about you?! Huh? Fuckin’... you fuckin’ corpse! What’ve you got to say for yourself, huh? Won’t even tell me your fuckin’ name?! Some fucking roommate!” Ed lets his head droop and cries. “I’ve got no one in this world who even gives a damn that I’m here. Nobody. They’re all dead, or gone, or… I dunno. Living their lives without me. Nobody cares. Not even the fuckin’ corpse on the floor!”  

Again, silence. A moment or two passes, with Ed’s ears rushing with blood and pounding with the beating of his heart. 

Finally, his ears pick up… something.

“No… that’s not true.” 

Ed actually laughs out loud, a hoarse and barking sound that hurts when it claws its way up from his lungs. “Ohhhh, now he speaks! You’ve gotta be fuckin’-- How the fuck would you know, mate? Hmm? Christ, you’ve not said a damn word since you got chucked in here and now you wanna give me a motivational speech?” Ed laughs again, then sobs as he jerks uselessly against the chains. “I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for him. Stede fuckin’ Bonnet. I’d have retired to China. I’d have planted a stupid little garden and built a stupid little house… all for him. He didn’t want that though, did he? He wanted his rich life and his rich wife… and all he could give me were scraps.” 

More silence. Ed begins to think he might be hallucinating. Wouldn’t surprise him, given the loss of blood, the lack of food and water, the trauma to his head. He sighs and shakes his head, chuckling softly in disbelief, closing his aching eyes and trying his best to sleep. Somehow, he manages it – a half-conscious daze that manages to at least disconnect him from the brunt of his pain.

When he opens his eyes again, things are just as they’d been before, except that the sun has finally risen, casting a soft golden light through the arrow slit window, Ed groans and gently tugs against his shackles, then frowns as he feels something resting beside him. “The hell…”

Ed swears his heart stops dead in his chest at what he sees. 

Nestled with his head against Ed’s thigh, lays Stede Bonnet. He’s filthy, stinking and as bloody as himself, but there’s no mistaking that head of fluffy blonde hair. Ed feels bile rising up in his throat as he comes to terms with what he’d done for the past week or more, then gently nudges Stede with his knee.

“Stede… Stede, wake up! Come on, wake up…” Ed frantically looks around the cell and whimpers as he sees a trail of blood emerging from the shadows and leading right to Stede’s body. He’d bled all the way here… to be at his side. “No… no, no, Stede… please, Stede, you gotta wake up.” Almost instantly, Ed feels galvanized. He doesn’t care what Stede did. He doesn’t care how much it all hurts. He doesn’t care about anything… except making sure that Stede Bonnet doesn’t die in a dingy cell, in a pool of his own blood. He could try to steal the keys off of his jailers when they come back, trip them up and knock their brains out on the stone wall. He could drag Stede out, carry him on his damned back if he–

Before he can come up with any other wild plans, the wall beside him bursts open, and he’s knocked unconscious, the manacles and chains around his wrists shattering into pieces.

Day ???

Edward Teach wakes to the realization that he’s comfortably nestled in a pile of soft sheets, his head cradled by plush pillows. The near-constant pain throughout his body had not vanished, but it had lost some of its edge. His eyes struggle to open, as if weighed down, but he manages to force them to move enough that he can begin perceiving the space around him. The first thing he sees… is him. Like a beautiful ghost, he’s perched in a chair across from the bed, one hand resting gingerly on his side and the other holding a book in his hand. A pair of delicate brass spectacles perch on his nose, and a small smile dances across his lips as his eyes dart back and forth. 

No, not his eyes. His eye. 

Across one of his eyes, a simple patch of black with a matching strap and delicate gold stitching covers Stede’s left eye. Oh God, they took it from him.

“Stede… Stede… ” He groans, his voice sounding almost foreign to him from the damage it had incurred throughout this entire hellish experience. At the sound of his voice, Stede gasps and snaps the book quickly shut, tossing it onto the bed as he moves close, leaning over Ed and taking his hand.

“Hello, there, my love.” Stede softly coos, cupping Ed’s cheek with a warm, loving smile on his lips. “How are you feeling? It was rather tough back there, wasn’t it?”

“Wh-what are you… what happened, Stede? Why…”

“Shhhhh… don’t worry, my darling. Everything is taken care of. My crew rescued us. I think their aim with those cannons was just a little too good, though, what do you think?” He chuckles, and Ed can’t help but scoff, regretting it instantly as he’s rewarded with a sharp stab of pain in his ribs. “You know, ever since you saved me from the Spanish all those months ago, and sat by my bedside so diligently, I’ve wanted to return the favor.”

“You idiot – you should be in bed too!” Ed complains, reaching out and grabbing the front of Stede’s shirt. “Tell me what the hell is going on, Stede Bonnet. Tell me now. None of this makes any sense–”

“Ed… I’ll explain everything, don’t worry. As for the bed, I don’t mind. I want you to be comfortable.. Besides, I owe you. I owe you everything and more.” Stede replies, and Ed rolls his eyes, looking away with a deep frown. 

“Fuck off. You don’t owe me shit. What about your eye? You fuckin’...”

“Yes. I lost it, sadly. Luckily, I only really need the one, eh?” Stede’s lips twitch upward, and then he leans a bit closer, his voice softer and more private. “I heard what you said, back there in that jail cell. All of it. And it’s true. I hurt you so badly… worse than those soldiers ever could, didn’t I?” Ed doesn’t answer immediately, and certainly doesn’t argue. The truth was the truth. After a few moment’s pause, he speaks again.

“Stede, whose ship are we on?”

“Mine, of course. You don’t think a pirate could have made such a daring escape without a ship, do you?” Stede chuckles again, taking Ed’s hand away from the front of his shirt and running his thumb over the top of it. Ed swallows hard, trying to take all of this in, a piece at a time.

“If you heard everything, why didn’t you say anything?” He asks, his voice shaking with the threat of tears.

“What was there to say? I couldn’t beg for your forgiveness… I need to earn it. And I’m going to. I’m going to take care of you from now on, Ed.” Stede leans in close, gently pressing a kiss to Ed’s forehead. “You won’t have to worry about a thing ever again. I promise you that.”

Ed doesn’t argue; he doesn’t have the energy or the time, for as Stede pulls away, he feels his eyelids beginning to droop. “That’s right. Go ahead and sleep. I’ll bring you some dinner when you wake.” Ed obeys, allowing the fog of exhaustion to overtake all of his fear and anger. Later, he thinks. Later, he’d make Stede answer for it all, but… God above, he couldn’t deny how wonderful it felt to be kissed by him again…

Stede watches Ed slowly fade, his eyes closing and his breathing evening out into a deep, rattling snore. He can’t help but smile at that; a simple, endearing proof of Ed’s life, of his proximity to himself. He slowly rises from Ed’s bedside and moves toward the door of the cabin, grabbing his pistol from a small end table beside it. The love and affection that he’d shared with Ed vanishes without a trace from Stede’s face as he steps up onto the deck of the Vigilant, one of the British navy’s smaller, sleeker ships. Around him, his men – Frenchie, Buttons, Jim and all – point their weapons of choice at the terrified crewmen operating the ship. Taking it had been easy enough; after all, who could expect a real threat from a man like Stede? Affable, soft, pathetic Stede.

It had made the perfect trap.

“Well, Captain! I think this spells the end of your use to me.” Stede smiles, his remaining eye empty and devoid of feeling as he points the barrel of his gun to the back of the captain’s head. “Don’t worry about your crew, though – we always talk things through on the Gentleman Pirate’s vessel. Don’t we, lads?” As Stede’s crew audibly agrees, he pulls the hammer back on his pistol. He closes his eyes, thinks of Ed nestled in bed – in his bed – and smiles as the seagulls scatter, flying fearfully off into the sunrise.