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The leg had to go.
Despite the crew taking shifts caring for the injured first mate, Israel wasn't doing well. For all his efforts to make Edward see sense, Blackbeard had shot him and ordered Frenchie to finish the job. You'd offered to haul Izzy off the deck, helping the newly appointed first mate until Blackbeard was out of sight. Thankfully, you both seemed to have the same idea.
"You know that hideaway in the brig?"
"Already planning on it, Princess." Frenchie huffed, and thus started the horrifying game of keeping Izzy alive. Every member of the crew did their part digging out the bullet and cleaning the wound, but his condition only seemed to worsen.
Currently, it was Jim's shift to wash the sweat off the man's brow and disinfect the injury. Unfortunately with the infection progressing, You'd offered to help and Archie had joined too, explaining that the others had her duties covered for the time being.
Izzy's face had gone pale, his breathing only coming alongside grunts of pain and curses. Despite your efforts to cool him off, he was sweating like a madman.
"We have to cut it before it kills him," you snapped. Your patience had worn out, looking down at the pair near the end of the makeshift bed. "Obviously what we've been doing isn't working."
"Fucks sake, jus' fuckin kill me." The half-delirious voice of your first mate filtered between Archie and Jim's debate on which saw to use.
"We aren't killing you jackass. Stop making so much noise." You hissed, covering his mouth with a hand. The hand remained too, as Jim did their best to tie off and remove the leg. "Fuck, I'm sorry. God, Iz. I’m so sorry." You murmured, forced to watch the terror in Izzy’s brown eyes as he thrashed and you stifled his screams in your palm.
His hand, shaking and clammy, found where your leg rested on the bed and clung to it like a lifeline. Blunt nails dug into your pants, vicelike. Thankfully, the pain knocked him out before you had to. Taking your hand from his mouth, you pushed his hair away from his face. It was an uncomfortably familiar sensation now, taking the damp rag and rinsing it before wiping at his forehead.
Even in rest, Izzy looked pained. His brown remained pinched, a permanent frown marred his lips. You paused to run gentle fingers along his jaw, and catch on the stubble. His skin was still so pale, and worry curled in your gut.
"He gonna make it?" Jim asked, their head half-angled back toward you as they spoke. “I know you’re buddies and all.”
"Eh, I give him 50/50." Archie replied, and you responded with a sigh.
"You two can go. I'll watch him." Having the other two here was a comfort and concern. There were already too many occupied by Izzy's care. Any more and Blackbeard would surely notice. Thankfully, the other two didn't put up a fight and left you alone with the first mate.
Well, previous first mate.
The silence only broke when Izzy woke up, cursing and moaning like he hadn't passed out to begin with.
"Shut the fuck up, Israel." You hissed, once again clapping a hand over his lips until he quieted down. His breaths came hard against your fingers, great puffs of air as he calmed. Those angry brown eyes held yours, only looking away when you allowed him to speak again.
"Shoulda killed me. Save yourself the trouble." His fingers fretted over the ties just a few inches above where his leg had been severed. You suspected the pained expression on his face was not purely from the agony, watching his head fall back against the pillow.
"We weren't gonna let you die, Iz." The words were gentle, continuing to dab the rag at his forehead until he shooed your hand away. " I wasn't gonna let you die."
"Why not?" For a moment, his tone suggested the same irritating degree of crassness he exhibited with the whole crew; you realized after that it was an entirely genuine question.
"You aren't the only one hung up on somebody." The words were out before you could stop them, avoiding Izzy's face in favor of watching the door. Whatever his reaction might have been, if he might have understood, you'd never know.
Instead, the door kicked open and there was the Captain. You had the misfortune of locking eyes right off the bat, cursing under your breath.
"See, I expected disobedience from Frenchie, Jim, maybe even Archie. Would've thought you knew better." The way Blackbeared leaned against the doorframe, casual in his malice, was worrisome. The quiet rage was more frightening than any shout. "Suppose I should've known. Always following this sorry sack of shit about."
"You're a bastard." You hissed, rising to your feet and putting your body between Edward and Izzy. "I'm not going to let you kill him."
"Mm, could just kill ya both. Save myself the trouble."
"You can try." Your hand was on your sword, but your name on Izzy's lips stopped you.
"Go on. He's right. Get out of here." The broken tone made your shoulders fall, looking back to the first mate. An unspoken question passed between you, the desperate are you sure that you couldn't bear to ask. "Fuck outta here."
At least he tried to sound angry about it.
"If you kill him, I'm gonna make you regret living." You pressed onto your toes to get in Ed's face as you spoke, hoping he understood how serious you were.
"Already do. Go on, listen to the little fucker." For his nonchalance, you checked him with your shoulder as you passed. How easy it was to resent someone you once respected.
You waited outside the room, back pressed to the wood until Blackbeard pushed out of the hideaway and made for the deck. Your hand was on the door when the crack of a pistol echoed through the ship. It stilled your movement, and you contemplated rushing in before you had to stop.
After everything, you weren't certain you could handle seeing his corpse. You went to find Fang instead. At least you still had someone from your old crew to confide in.
-
Taking time to grieve had been the plan, instead you were clinging to the deck as rain pelted your skin. The drops were thick, sending hair into your face and water into your eyes. Jim and Archie were fistfighting, Fang was trying to keep Frenchie from going overboard. You clung to the banister of the stairs as the ship pitched in the waves.
Ed had a cannon pointed at the main mast, and you knew he was going to light the fuse any minute unless someone did something. It was when you decided to make a move, then suddenly many things happened all at once.
Jim refused to kill Archie.
Blackbeard went to fire the cannon.
A shot fired near enough to your body to feel the reverberation of the powder igniting.
A gloved hand falling to your shoulder, followed by a heavy puff of breath and the collapse of weight onto your side.
Blackbeard's goal of murder suicide was thwarted, and you reached out to support Izzy's before both of you tumbled to the deck. The gun that had saved all your lives hung in his other hand, his dark eyes only on Ed.
The rest of the crew went to subdue the Captain, furious and terrified as only a mob can become. Joining them wasn't even a consideration, not when the first mate struggled to stand.
You supported him, helped him join the others when Jim finally raised the cannonball above Blackbeard's head. You felt the turn of his head, the press of his face against your shoulder when he couldn't bear to watch.
For a moment, he felt like yours.
Then, he was talking the others down from tossing Teach's body over the side. Fang and Archie brought him down to the brig, and you helped Izzy back to his room. He couldn't bear to look at the body. Couldn't look at anyone, he'd said.
You had to leave him be.
-
It was the next morning that Stede and his merry group of idiots showed up, boarding from a Chinese ship asking about his paramore. Everyone seemed content to pretend, save for yourself.
"Your boyfriend spent the last months torturing us." You snarled, tone deadly. "Go find him for yourself."
The worry on the gentleman pirate's face was devastating, moreso because you knew it wasn't for the crew. All he cared about was finding Teach. Nothing else explained the mad dash through the ship, brushing past even his original crewmates.
Priorities, you thought bitterly.
It didn't take more than a few hours to find him, and the entire crew was soon locked away in the pirate Queen's vessel. The mood was somber. Only death rewarded mutiny.
You sat across from Izzy, a makeshift crutch under his arm and a shoddy peg leg fastened to what remained of his own. He looked straight through you, empty eyed.
Israel Hands deserved a bit of grace. He'd lost the man he loved; you'd only thought you had.
It was difficult to count such a thing as a victory, regardless.
Only after Stede's almost unfathomable rescue, and after you'd made it out to sea, did Izzy speak again. Granted it was almost entirely slurred curses, but it was talking nonetheless.
You'd taken it upon yourself to sit with him at the bow, near enough to grab him if one of his full-body fuck yous sent him sprawling toward the sea.
This, of course, thrilled him.
"Fuck off with the rest of 'em." Izzy had snapped, narrowing his eyes at you. It was downright venomous, but you held your ground as you played with your sewing kit. "I said-"
"Fuck off. Yeah yeah. Toss a twat in there for good measure." You replied, leaning against the wood of the ship. "At least let me stitch the…" Your voice trailed off, hesitating to mention what the mark on his forehead truly was.
"It didn't work. Might as well let it fucking scar as a reminder."
"Iz, please." You didn't have the strength to really fight him on this, and even on his good days he was stubborn. Stubborn enough to not speak a word as he climbed from the edge of the ship to sit on one of the boxes.
It was in the silence that he allowed you to mend the injured flesh with precise sutures until the wound was closed. Each touch of the needle made him wince, though you thought he might be too drunk to actually feel it.
"Am I…fuck. Nevermind." The first mate let whatever question he'd formed die on his lips, looking out onto the horizon. "Why Stede fucking Bonnet?"
"Why Ed?" You asked, glancing down at his eyes while you tied off the thread. "After everything he did, you can't let go."
"Not having this conversation piss-drunk."
"You started it."
"Now 'm ending it. Fuck off." Izzy moved away then, half-drunk bottle in hand. You debated staying, trying to force talk from him, but you knew it wouldn't go anywhere. Instead, you patted his shoulder and avoided his hand as he went to swat at you.
"Don't fall off." You didn't wait to hear his reply, ducking back into the ship.
-
It was after the crew nearly fought, after Izzy appeared with the sawed-off legs of the figurehead before collapsing, and after the crew put together his new leg.
"How's it fit?" You asked, leaning against the doorframe of Izzy's room.
"You lot didn't have to do this." He whispered, and you gave him the grace of not mentioning the tear-streaked cheeks or the messy state of his hair.
"We know, Iz." You slid into the chair across from him, sliding a hand over to take the bottle from his hand and sip it yourself. "If the gold paint is overkill, I think we have black somewhere too."
"You convince 'em to make this?"
"Wasn't my idea. Jim had to stop me from following you in here while they did arts and crafts." You admitted. "Was worried you'd do something stupid."
Israel looked both relieved and confused, the turmoil of emotion setting his frown even deeper than usual. He used his hand to brush his hair from his face, sighing heavy enough to visibly heave his chest.
"Where's yer loyalty, if not to Edward?" He finally asked. "You were on his crew, under his command."
"The only orders I ever followed were yours," it was easy enough to admit now that Blackbeard had been exiled onto the nearby island. No fearsome Kraken to strangle the truth from you, only silence. "You know why I joined Ed on the Revenge. I never tried to hide it, just knew it wasn't the time."
"Kept coming back. No matter how many times." He replied in a hum, eyes half-open.
"Learned from the best."
Silence settled between you both as the words festered. A scar you both wore re-opened in the emptiness. The pain of loving beyond reason, loving more than the object of your affection could understand.
Loving unrequited.
"I'm not sure I'll ever…" He paused, looking like he was contemplating what to say next. "I'm not a good man. Not near as together as I'd like to be."
"I'd hardly consider myself a good woman." You took another swig from the bottle, enough to burn your throat on the way down. "You've got me, Iz. Long as you'll let me stick around."
When you went to stand, a hand caught your wrist. His eyes were watery, a sort of hopefulness in them. His leather-clad thumb rested on your pulse, holding you near before dropping back to the table. You opened your mouth to ask if he wanted you to stay, but he spoke first.
"Go on then. I'll be out in the morning. Providing the inevitable fucking hangover doesn't kill me."
"I'll see you then."
-
As he always did, you suspected he'd need time to work through emotion on his own.
After too long of silence though, you sought him, as you always did.
"How goes it?" You asked, slipping into the room to take up leaning on the wall. "Still better than half the crew?"
"Better than all of 'em." Israel huffed, practicing slow movements with his cutlass. The wood of his new leg slid against the deck, though he seemed to be managing well enough. The art of reacquainting oneself with your body was a feat you couldn't imagine. "I'm assuming you want to talk."
"Only if you want." You replied, watching the sweeping motions of his blade. "Though I won't complain about the view, if you'd rather ignore me." These words earned you a glance over his shoulder, and a scowl.
He didn't respond, instead practicing his preferred attacks as you watched. You'd half expected him to shoo you away, enjoying being able to admire Izzy without shame. You were fond of the tattoo on his neck, the way sweat made his skin shine in the candlelight, and the dark hair scattered across his chest. Though, the white scars that crossed his back from lashings made you wince.
God, you were staring something awful.
"You don't know the word discretion, do you?" Izzy's question felt like a prod at the ribs, but you couldn't help your grin.
"Never have. Second day I asked if fraternization was allowed. Guess what the Captain said."
"Don't care." Whether he meant he didn't care or was guessing at Ed's words, you weren't sure. Regardless, you continued.
"Don't care, but good luck if you've got your eye on Iz." Your words made him pause, sword falling to his side. He left his circle of candles, much nearer to you than before.
"What's your point?" Izzy was bristling, trying to read your expression.
"I’m just saying, you can do better. You deserve better.” He was too close, breath on your face. There was a dangerous glint to his eye, the blade of his sword caging you between it and a barrel. Try to flee and you’d only run straight into his chest.
“Oh? And you think-” His nose was nearly pressed to yours, lips close enough to kiss if he leaned just an inch nearer. For a moment, you thought he might. Instead, the sound of a door opening silenced you, and both you and Izzy looked at the entry.
In an almost alarming unison, you both grumbled: "Bonnet."
"Oh, hello, sorry. Am I interrupting something?" Good natured and puppy-like as always, there stood the gentleman pirate in all his glory. He was obviously phased by your proximity to the prickly first mate, but was attempting not to look it.
"No." Israel replied.
"Yes." You hissed, eyes snapping back to Izzy. Poor Stede looked between you for a moment before hesitantly continuing.
"I was wondering, if you'd be willing to, er…teach me." He sounded childish even asking such a thing, and you groaned. Standing to nudge past Izzy and push out the door before you had to wait out an asinine conversation.
This also meant you were half waiting on Izzy to appear in the doorway of the quarters you shared with Archie. Still shirtless, the soft shine of sweat on his skin in the lantern light.
"She coming back for a while?"
"No." You knew she was busy with Jim. Judging by how much time those two had been spending together, if would probably be awhile. "What did-"
"You asked me why I stayed loyal to him, but why the fuck did you?"
"I thought it was obvious." You teased, offering a smile. He sat opposite you at the small table, a stray strand of hair hanging between his eyes. It was handsome, in the messy way he was. "Someone has to make sure you don't die trying to make Ed happy."
"And you're that someone?"
“I’d like to be.” The admittance wasn’t embarrassing to you, nor would it come as a surprise to anyone. Half the teasing thrown your way was because of your loyalty to the man they’d all hated. Blackbeard going off his rocker had changed a lot of things, you supposed. “I know that you know I like you.”
“Why?”
“Christ, are you serious?” You looked at him, finding that hesitant look in his eye again. “Israel.”
This time, he didn’t look at you. His eyes stayed hard to the table, hand fidgeting with the leather glove he wore. Cautiously, you reached a hand out and closed it over his.
“This was fucking stupid forget I-” he tried to stand, but you used the leverage of his hand to tug him back down.
“Iz, shut the fuck up.” You snapped. “You’re a damn good leader, the best swordsman on this ship, and the only reason most of us haven’t died six times over.” His attention was on you now, and the expression he wore was shock. “Your loyalty is unmatched, and despite being a prickly motherfucker, I love you.”
Well, there it was. The first time you’d actually said the words rather than dance around it, finally ending the silly game you’d been playing since you joined Teach’s crew. The first mate didn’t reply, silence stretching on long enough that you knew your words had shaken him.
“I know.” Izzy finally mumbled, closing his eyes as he sighed. “I don’t fucking know how to love anyone else. It was only ever him.”
“Was?”
“I don’t want to. I want to be rid of it.” He sounded so painfully genuine, and you couldn’t help the swell of pride you felt for him. Getting over someone like Edward couldn’t be easy. “But…”
“You don’t gotta love me back, Iz. I knew what I was signing up for.”
The hand that you held flipped, allowing your palm to rest on his. It was gentle, like Izzy was worried he might hurt you or make you rethink your words. You didn’t mind the tender touch, offering him a smile as he considered your words.
“I need time, but I’d like to try.” He finally said, words spoken soft.
“I’ll give you all the time in the world.”