Chapter Text
Ultimately, it took less time to convince Ned Low’s crew to mutiny with the help of the long-suffering Hellkat Maggie than the amount of time just the three of them had been in the narcissist’s hands. Stede hoped that made a difference for Izzy, who had been left in Stede’s quarters to wait for Ned to retrieve him.
As soon as Ned was properly tied up and left in a similar waiting-stance, guarded by the crew who despised him, Edward and Stede went to retrieve Izzy themselves.
Stede could have dispatched the bastard before freeing Izzy, but it felt wrong. Izzy not being there. Out of all of them, Low’d wronged Ed and Izzy the most. And judging from what he knew of Izzy, the pirate would want blood, or at least to watch the man expire.
Ed led the way to the Captain’s quarters, practically running in spite of how his knee was acting up after being tied. The fire was but embers, the room shadowed and foreboding in a way Stede had never felt before – even compared to the state of it when he’d first returned.
“Iz?” Edward asked and after a beat, a wrongly small “Edward?” echoed back.
Stede worked on getting a lantern lit while Edward saw to Izzy. When candlelight bounced off the room, pushing the darkness to the outskirts, Stede got a good look at the Revenge’s first mate.
His expression was something Stede vowed to keep sewn close to his breast – a tenderness that Izzy surely reserved for moments long and far in between. And if he looked like that now, moments after Ed sat at his side, Stede can only imagine the relief that would have been etched there when Izzy first saw Edward.
That was not all he missed, averting his gaze to offer them privacy before Izzy shot him a comparable look.
Stede was entirely certain of a few things in life. One, he loved Edward Teach. Two, Edward Teach loved him back even if they weren’t sure how to make it work. Three, he wanted his crew to be the best they could be. And four, Izzy Hands craved Edward Teach’s recognition. His appreciation. His… love. That last one was a tad new, though absolutely blaring if Stede had thought a little harder about their dynamic.
Even after helping the crew mutiny against the Kraken, Izzy had kept Edward’s body. He couldn’t let him go. ”Yeah, well, Blackbeard says a lot of things. But what did he say about me s-specifically?” That had spoken for itself. The stuttering inhale of breath, the attempt at nonchalance all wrapped up in a hopeful tone.
Stede had even felt a tiny bit bad that it was mostly a lie. Edward had said no such thing about Izzy’s skills making him the Captain he was, granted he had heavily implied it. And though the subsequent training Izzy had endeavored to give Stede may not have resulted in much beyond rudimentary knowledge and a reminder of what he wasn’t good at, Stede himself had developed an appreciation for Izzy. For what Edward saw in Izzy, for the trust they’d earned over the years despite its tattered remnants.
Stede better understood what they meant to one another, and he did not wish to be perceived as an obstacle between them any longer. The immutable truths he knew would remain so, regardless of what any of them did to try and change them, so Stede wanted to build something stronger; a new truth for them to settle into, something just for them.
“I’m… glad you’re alive. Both of you.” Izzy’s voice croaked from the previous abuse and a lack of water, but that just served to make his words all the more sincere. He probably hated that. As it was, his expression shuttered, more of his neutral scowl taking over – though his eyes held an almost manic euphoria.
Edward untied Izzy’s hands, the one without the glove virtually purple – Izzy had clearly been trying to maneuver his hand out. Had he been left much longer, Stede guessed that Izzy would have tried the last resort of breaking a finger to wriggle out, but that wouldn’t have done the trick in this case.
“It’d take more than some psycho to put us down, you know that. Don't worry, Stede put him in his place. We'll tell you all about it later.”
Stede huffed but let Edward have his post-triumph confidence.
“Is he dead then?”
“No, we thought you’d want to watch that,” Stede responded, slipping in to form a little triangle. Izzy hummed in acknowledgement, affirming his assumptions. He offered Izzy a cup of water while Edward worked on his leg next; when Ned had removed his unicorn leg, the ropes had loosened enough to be useless, but Ned had re-secured Izzy with a loop around his ankle, tied to the fireplace hearth which was secured to the surrounding wood. Like Izzy was some animal on a leash.
“You were very brave, y’know, Izzy.” Of course Izzy scoffed at Stede’s compliment, but at least he didn’t try to refute it. He wanted to say more, to point out how scary it must have been to be left in here, alone and wondering, but Stede didn’t want to push him too much. Not yet.
Stede’s gaze dropped to the ruddy stains on Izzy’s throat, the cut there still bleeding slowly. It wasn’t especially deep, but it wasn’t superficial either. Then there was the fact that Izzy was still exposed. Stede stood, going to his auxiliary closet that had only recently felt full again, to find something even slightly suitable for their first mate. Nothing superfluous or overly frilly, he wanted Izzy to feel relatively comfortable.
He found a nondescript black linen shirt quickly enough, likely sequestered for Ed, and a burgundy cravat for the cut, the darkest hue he could find. He made a victorious sound and re-emerged only to quiet himself. Edward and Izzy made quite a vision once more, with Ed handing Izzy his wooden leg in something like supplication. There was a fission of energy between them, so much unspoken, but now was not the time. Later. Soon. Very soon.
“I found you a shirt. I hope it’s to your liking?” Stede showed off the fabric, and Izzy glanced up with a gruff shrug. Ed and Stede watched Izzy attempt to sort himself, leg first, but his hands were still numbed from being so harshly tied. His fingers quivered, strength fleeting.
“I do have experience with braces, you know…” Edward started. Izzy flashed his teeth at him, seemingly needing to do this alone. Stede stymied a sigh; that would sound like pity or impatience, and it wasn’t either that made his heart clench.
“You needn’t do everything yourself, Izzy. We’ve all been put through something terrible tonight. Even my own hands wouldn’t work the way I needed them to, earlier. Roach had to staunch the bleeding in my stomach. I couldn’t do it myself.” Stede kept his voice low, infusing as much understanding as he could into it. Izzy met his eyes, clearly prepared to fling an insult at him before his gaze moved between the two of them.
He grumbled, cursing and dithering, but eventually something in him shifted. His mouth curled. He nodded. Quickly, as though Edward feared he would be rebuffed, he crawled forward and ducked around Izzy so the man was propped against his chest. Neither of them appeared to breath as Edward massaged the sore flesh at Izzy’s thigh and guided the brace on. He needed the angle from above to tighten the straps.
Izzy didn’t make a sound. None of them did. Not even when Stede shuffled forward with the linen shirt to place it over Izzy’s head. He and Edward worked together to tie the cravat across the wound on Izzy’s neck, politely ignoring the hummingbird flutter of Izzy’s throat working beneath their fingertips.
Not a word between them, not even a look until it was finished. And only then was the weight in their eyes acknowledged, too much for one person, but perhaps tolerable for three to carry together.
~~
Edward could tell that the crew knew something specific happened, but none of them let their curiosities sting. Fang and Wee John merely flanked Izzy when he emerged, handing him his weapons. Frenchie brushed past him in commiseration while Jim seemed to make it their personal duty to guard not just Izzy but surprisingly Stede as well. They ignored Ed, but that was to be expected. Edward knew full well he hadn’t entirely earned their forgiveness yet. He hadn’t entirely earned his own, either, so it was fine.
Ned Low did not go quietly nor without malice. Even before, he’d tried to manipulate Edward into attacking him. And now, the moment Ned caught sight of Izzy he took his chance, eying him with crazed conviction. “Come to see my final show? I think, Basilisk, that I will be remembered. By you, by…”
Izzy Hands was ever a tempest, a right proper pirate with grit wedged in every step and a wildness wrapped up in his very sinew. When Edward had chosen him as his first mate all those years ago, it wasn’t purely his trust in the man. He’d known Izzy was a pirate by fated blood, just as Izzy worshipped Ed right from the start. He was a legend in his own right, a fierce entity spoken with reverence even separate from Blackbeard, and he had earned every speck of awe.
But Edward himself had worn Izzy down until he had been but a mirror of his former self. Then Ed had tried to destroy him along with himself in some defeatist fugue, one he’d been wrenched from by pain of death – literally and figuratively. And even then he’d been too stuck in his own head to see the ramifications on his first mate. Only recently had he shaken enough of his thoughts clear to begin to own up to what he’d done.
So Edward had apologized, just that morning. Not a great apology, as much as Izzy had seen it for what it was, evident from his heaving ‘Fuck off’. Edward wasn’t good at much that involved emotions, though he was trying to learn. He was trying where Izzy seemed to be making leaps and bounds.
When he’d come out earlier that evening, donned in glamor and a red red rose, he’d seemed a new man. Still Izzy, grizzly and tough, but… touchable. Not just for Edward anymore.
And then Ned had shown up with a promise of retribution only to remind Edward why he still wanted his first mate by his side; after all these years, there was still more to learn about Izzy Hands, and there was a past between them that Edward didn’t wish to leave in the dust.
He hadn’t destroyed Izzy Hands, he hadn’t even destroyed himself; Fang, the bitch Hornigold in his head, and Stede had begun to show him that already. They were simply new people, and they could be better for it, even if Edward still felt unmoored. Even if he still wanted to run away from the future he had thought he could never have in the first place.
Stede helped him feel more grounded. Izzy did too, in a way that Stede couldn’t. They had known each other for so many years. Izzy was safe, Izzy had morphed into something new right alongside him, and he’d perhaps retained more of his fangs than Edward.
And it was that beast that stalked forward then; a remarkable, awful creature with human and myth all tied up together. Edward stood back and appreciated the visible transformation as Izzy pulled out his knife, the one he had used to whittle wooden figurines for nearly every member of the crew – animals, meticulously chosen though he would have waved his middle finger at such an accusation.
And wasn’t that just ironic, that while Edward had driven himself farther from the crew, Izzy of all people was working to be embraced. That he wanted to be accepted. Before, Izzy had cared only for Edward’s attention, and it had been too much for him to handle. But now, Izzy could share himself, and Edward found he was drawn to it. Perhaps it was selfishness that made Izzy’s individuality more appealing, but he let himself fall into it like his favorite plush robe.
Edward watched with bated breath as Izzy’s fingers sunk into Ned’s face, squeezing viciously. The man’s mouth popped obscenely, reminiscent of what he’d done to Izzy just an hour earlier. Izzy’s back was to the crew, but Edward could envision the honed condemnation of his features as he reached in and pinched the slab of meat Ned called his tongue between deft fingers.
Izzy did not make a show of it, slicing out Ned Low’s tongue. Rather, he made it quick, sterile almost, as though Ned did not deserve Izzy’s touch. And he didn’t. But he did merit the gush of copper that made him choke, the shudder of his body as he processed losing the muscle. Granted, Low handled it as well as any torturer should, that is to say with regrettable aplomb. Ned’s eyes gleamed, unfairly pleased, but what mattered is that Izzy seemed satisfied.
He seemed even more so when he threw the meat into the waters, meeting Edward’s eyes as he did so. Heat lapped at Edward’s belly.
Stede looked over at Edward then. The question was clear. Did Edward wish to further maim Ned, as he’d promised? He’d been serious earlier, fully intending on cutting off Ned’s hand and feeding it to him, but the thought of doing that now felt wrong. Izzy had already done a fine job, and it had been for himself, on no one’s command. Committing an extra atrocity seemed unnecessary – the kind of excess that Blackbeard might have contributed, but that Ed felt better off liberating himself from. It was not that he did not wish to punish Ned for his transgressions, but he realized he didn’t really need to. And Stede seemed approving of that.
Still, Edward did not think that Stede would take on the final judgement. He moved forward to stop him, but found the words would not come. Stede seemed committed as Captain, and though it seemed like a mistake, it was a mistake Stede needed to make.
So Edward didn’t try to convince him out of it when Stede pushed the raiding pirate onto the plank. He didn’t stop him as he ramped himself up, encouraged by Ned’s shocked features and lack of acceptance, culminating in toppling him over with that priggish violin of his.
“Good riddance,” Stede said to himself. Edward knew him well enough to watch the play of disdain and disillusionment cross his features, able to imagine how his chest was seizing, his vision surely going wispy until he needed to get away. He was panicking, justifiably so, and Edward would not leave him alone with that.
“The first kill’s always a mind-fuck,” Izzy said from just behind him. Edward glanced at him, and Izzy nodded, saying ‘go to him’ with not a word. So Edward did, not sure what he would say, but he knew whatever it was, things were going to change. Not just between him and Stede, but the two of them and Izzy – as it should, as it needed to.
~~
After the Captains left, Izzy tied up all the loose threads as any first mate should. He collected a miraculously alive Ivan from Hellkat Maggie, who gave Roach some advice about caretaking for specific nonvisible wounds. He and Fang spent some much needed time with their almost lost crewmate, assuring themselves that the man was going to survive. Then Izzy ordered those with injuries to see Roach, and everyone else to rest. He didn’t have to tell any of them twice. Particularly Jim, Archie, and Olu, whose expressions were thoroughly riddled with their plans for the night. Before darting away, Lucius had very nearly patted Izzy on the shoulder, his pursed lipped smile making it clear that he'd be asking Izzy questions later.
Izzy intended on taking the first watch, but Wee John insisted he lay down. Normally he wouldn’t have bent to such silly pressure, but there was something in the other’s gaze that bared no argument. So, for once, Izzy didn’t.
His duties done, he settled in to right himself and treat his own injuries. It was pleasantly rote, to clean with water, sterilize, and bandage. The wounds weren’t deep or even that bad, but he did it because Roach had eyed the wounds and handed him the rolls of bandages.
His mind wandered to the thrill of being alive when he thought they weren’t going to make it. To his contentment that the crew was whole, and that Edward, and yes, especially Bonnet, were safe. But then, more darkly, he thought about Low. How it had felt to have Low’s attention on him. His skin, his very soul, crawled with the thought of it. And still, he felt somehow… conflictingly flattered, deep down. At least now that Low was no longer a threat.
Low had known Izzy’s past, used him as a proxy against Edward, watched him on his single knee, and decided he wanted him. That fiend had seen more in Izzy than anyone had in a long time, and it hurt how that seemed to highlight all the rejection he’d handled over the years.
Being desired was not something he had a lot of experience with; no, he was all around an odious, unpleasant man so he’d been told enough times in his life to be true. Not that he didn’t get his rolls in dark corners, or that people were not occasionally attracted to his particular brand of intimidation and control, but he was unaccustomed to being outright noticed. To being picked out when Edward was right beside him.
Low had intended to keep him, past his usefulness as an object of torment for Blackbeard. It was loathsome, what he’d planned on doing to him; exploring him from the inside out, so he’d promised as he delicately tethered Izzy to the hearth like a skittish mutt.
Being stuck there while Edward and Bonnet had been taken to be tortured, maimed, and killed had driven him half-mad. The thought of the damage Low could inflict on him nearly pushing him over his mental threshold by the time he’d heard Edward’s voice and saw Bonnet’s smile.
Izzy slipped a finger over the emerald on his ring, caressing it to calm down before crushing it tight. Everything Edward had said to him earlier had been a way to win the battle against Low, to take the emotional bullet and throw it back. Now, things would return to the way they were. With Edward looking only at Bonnet, and Izzy watching them both.
It was funny and terrible, how Izzy had always been jealous of Bonnet. His upbringing, wealth, the crew’s loyalty, and his easy charm over Ed, all of it had threatened what Izzy thought he strove to protect. And now it was envy, wasn’t it? A wish that Izzy himself could possibly be fine enough to share in those things too. Like Edward did.
When he’d been left alone in Bonnet’s quarters to contemplate his fate and that of the crew’s, he’d thought of Edward of course. But he’d especially thought of Bonnet saying ‘Izzy, you’re fine. Just get through this, we’re going to be okay.’ All he’d wanted was a chance to ask them both if they were serious. If Edward truly remembered, and if Bonnet actually wanted them all to be okay.
Idiot.
It would be best to ignore what had happened between he and Edward. To forget that their past had been aired to Bonnet. To disregard how kind Bonnet had been about it, how accepting even of Izzy going to his knee on command.
Especially considering those two had found comfort in one another. There was no room for Izzy; granted he was no longer so blind as to think he didn’t fit in some way. But not in such a way as to call for talking it through. What was done was done, best to let it lie.
Izzy should have known better – Stede Bonnet was still an utter twat of a Captain, still shoved so far up his own ass he thought it wise to show up at Izzy’s cabin mere hours after retreating with Edward to process the fact that he’d killed a man in cold blood. No matter how much the shithead of a sociopath deserved it.
“Don’t you have better things to be doing? Or a better someone to be doing – we all heard you two, yknow. Crashing around in there. Congratulations by the way, but I think you’d best you keep at it in your own quarters.”
“Izzy, it’s not just him who thinks we need to have a chat.”
It panged him, how the still-starved part of him lifted its maw at Ed’s timbre, not having seen him standing behind Bonnet. “Edward.”
“Please, Izzy?” Bonnet entreated, horribly sincere. “I know it’s been a long day. A very long day. But I am going to go ahead and guess none of us will be sleeping any time soon. Too much on the mind.”
He slanted one brow, shifting to put more weight on where he was leaning. He hated how right Bonnet was, and yet… “I was just about to get ready to try and sleep at least, Captains.”
He was not beyond a little light manipulation to avoid this discussion. So he called them both his captains, tickling Bonnet’s ego and hoping to unsettle Edward.
“But you still got your hoof on, yeah?” Izzy scowled at that. Leave it to Edward to point that out – and honestly he’d wanted to remove it as soon as he got the chance, if only because he was bone-sore, but memories of Ed helping him put it back on had stopped him. He had, however, used the cloth and oil he’d been given by Wee John to take off his smudged makeup – the lipstick already mostly worn off for reasons he didn’t want to think about.
He wondered, did Edward clean himself before he and Bonnet got down and dirty? Or did he still vaguely taste of Izzy?
“C’mon, Izzy,” Edward pushed, endearingly, dreadfully, “We can talk wherever you’re comfortable. Your room. Or up under the stars.”
Izzy eyed them, sniffing. “I’m not sure I’m particularly comfortable anywhere on this damned ship.” A lot had happened in this room, after all. A lot had happened all over this ship, really. His cabin sometimes rang with the clip of sheers, the deck with a shot of pluming smoke, and Bonnet and Edward’s quarters would likely swell with memories of shame, both new and old.
At the sight of Bonnet’s falling face and Edward’s disappointment, Izzy sighed. “But… I suppose under the stars isn’t a bad option. Calypso’s birthday was supposed to have gone all night after all.”
Bonnet perked up at that, as did Ed. Izzy despised how the approval went right to his chest.
So he followed his Captains up. They chose a spot furthest from Wee John and the helm.
“So. Hell of a night.” Bonnet was painfully awkward, and Izzy wasn’t far behind him.
“Yep.”
“…I, Ed, we… We didn’t want to leave tonight without making some things clear to you. Especially now that he and I have a different… understanding of each other. And of you.”
Izzy tensed. This was going to be worse than he thought. He exchanged looks between the two. Bonnet must be talking about their physical understanding of one another, seeing as they’d just had sex. Loudly. Finally. Something Izzy thought they’d consummated before – first on the deck, though that had been a misunderstanding – but certainly before Bonnet had fled. He only learned otherwise when Edward had been inconsolable that first week, before Izzy had tipped him into the Kraken lurking in his mind.
“I won’t try to get in the middle of you two again, I thought you knew I was over that. If that’s what this is about…”
“No, that’s not what this is about," Bonnet huffed, “I’m already doing this all wrong aren’t I?”
Edward reached out and tucked his hand over Bonnet’s, to which Izzy tried his best not to leer, nor to listen to the abrupt plunge of his heart.
“What Stede’s trying to say is tonight was weird. It sucked. But there were some parts that didn’t suck. Like how we got that prick off our ship. How you defended Stede. Me. The crew.”
“Yes, yes that.” Bonnet breathed out, relieved, and clearly emblazoned. “Izzy, Ned Low did and said some horrendous things tonight. He had no right to reveal what he did about your past, especially, and I am sorry you had your privacy breached like that. We promise to keep it to ourselves, or even to never talk about it, if you want, but also if you do want to...To talk, that is. We’re here?”
Izzy’s scowl deepened, painfully so, though it was not because he was upset. Rather, he didn’t like being reminded that naturally Bonnet would swear to guard Izzy’s reputation, his secrecy. He could be good like that, the principled twerp.
"Nope. But, ah, you did... good, Bonnet. With Low. He had to be dealt with." The acknowledgment didnt even sound entirely gritted out. Izzy knew what it took, to do what was necessary. He was still a bit surprised Bonnet had it in him, must have been his body taking over and all. "Even if it was a stupid way to do it."
Walking the plank. No pirate even did that.
Bonnet grimaced but did seem to take it to heart. "I appreciate that. And I wanted to thank you, personally, for what you did for me. Don’t think I can ignore how you took on torture meant for me just because you thought you could handle it better.”
His shoulders went taut with something akin to offense. “I can handle it better than you.”
Bonnet tilted his head, “Nevertheless. You didn’t have to. But you did. Thank you.”
Izzy didn’t know what to do with this. Gratitude. He ended up sneering, “You’re fuckin’ welcome, I guess, for doing my job. Is that all, Captains, may I go now?”
He started to leave, but a grumble from Edward halted him. “It isn’t just your job, Izzy, and you know it. You’ve changed. I have been so lost in my own shit I didn’t notice. But you have, and it’s… It’s amazing, mate, you’re… amazing.”
That Izzy couldn’t stand. Not when he felt so precarious already. He was shaking slightly as he stared at Edward, pointing with his gloved hand. “Oh shut it! You can’t just say shit like that, like it changes things, like it matters…”
He was prepared to go on a full tilt rant, though he had no comprehension of what he was going to say, when Bonnet grabbed his hand. So gently, damn him. So carefully. Izzy stammered to a standstill. Hell his whole world tilted.
“Izzy, please, let him finish. We need you to let us say this.” Bonnet was sitting far closer than before. Practically cradling him in. It wasn’t as vile as it should have been. As it would have been, even a few days prior. Before Bonnet let Izzy train him, before they were tortured by a sadistic deviant and Bonnet saw him on his knees, bare in so many ways, and was still here, at his side, asking him to listen.
Try as he might, Izzy saw no pity, nothing disingenuous. Izzy pulled his hand from Bonnet’s, shaking it. “Fine.”
When he looked at Edward again, what he found there shattered him just a little. Ed was nervous. Scared, even. Izzy had seen him with that expression more often in the past year than he had in their whole lives, and he’d only recently begun to accept it not as weakness but trust. But that did not mean Izzy was ready to handle it being directed at him. About him.
“Go on, Edward.” Izzy swallowed hard.
Ed nodded three times in quick succession, eyes averted for a bit before barreling into Izzy head-on. “I’ve known you for decades, man. Fuckin’ half a lifetime. More than half. And I never knew what you’d gone through. I didn’t know you’d… you’d loved, and lost.”
“Every pirate goes through shit, Edward, you didn’t need to know the details.” The gravel of his tenor stayed valiantly steady, “I’m sure there’s things about you that I don’t know.”
Edward looked pained at that. Izzy jerked, wondering if, perhaps, he did know more about Ed than he had known about Izzy, at least previous to when they met. He knew why Blackbeard never killed, why he outsourced and avoided anything more than maiming, at least until the Kraken took over. Izzy had learned all about Edward’s moods, the ebbs and flows of sleeplessness marked by excess and rarely anything balanced.
But there had to be other things Izzy missed… Right?
“Iz, I’m really not sure. You remember more. You know me. But you… It makes so much more sense now, how you were always so…. quiet, when we were young. How you kept it so separate. Us. You and I. On Hornigold’s ship. And after. I know it’s a seafarer’s code to keep the unmentionables unmentioned, but lads talk. We all did. But not you. And I thought you didn’t want to continue, I thought you being so distant about it meant it was just a way to pass the time, nothing significant…”
Izzy’s world tilted all the more completely. Comprehension was starting to dawn, and with it, panic. He strove to keep it tamped down, to keep himself above the emotion that both Bonnet and Edward seemed determined to make a spectacle of.
“Tonight, when that arsehole ordered you to touch me….I was reminded.” Edward’s words stumbled less now. “Of how it was. I wanted to be strong for you. For Stede. I wanted to make the fucker eat his words, I wanted his plan to humiliate us to crash and burn. I started out just talking to psych you up. But then it got real. I remembered. Really remembered.”
So he did. He remembered. Izzy’s heart flopped, head going woozy. “I’m sorry, Edward, it was my fault he thought to make us do that, if I’d just been less…” What? Obvious? Even though Edward evidently hadn’t seemed to notice all these years? His chest rattled, a deep-sea grotto slowly filling with bitter saltwater.
“What? No, hush, don’t you apologize for that pervert. That’s not the point. Shit, Izzy, I think I haven’t asked you the right questions. Or any questions, actually. Stede made me realize that. He told me it wasn’t too late to try.”
Izzy blinked at the mention of Bonnet, thinking it would hurt, but it didn’t. It felt… affirming, to know Bonnet agreed with... whatever this was, though he wouldn’t begin to hope. That’d trigger the panic again.
“To try what, exactly, Edward?” His voice was on the precipice, teetering over a cliff so steep his lungs refused to expel any oxygen, keeping it in reserve lest he tumble.
Edward couldn’t speak right away. He looked towards Bonnet, though Izzy did not follow his gaze. He couldn’t even if he tried, stuck staring, a famished man attempting to decipher whether an offering of food and water was but an illusion. He was rewarded when Edward looked back and there was certainty reflected there.
“When you said you… have love for me, you meant more than just as first mate and captain. More than loyalty. Didn’t you?”
Izzy wanted to scoff. To shoot back with a ‘oh, you only just figured that out?’, backed up with a classic ‘you absolute twat’. The familiar, snide armor would come so easy. But Edward’s eyes were so open, and Bonnet’s warm, solid presence was next to him, shielding him.
“You shot me, Eddie. After I told you I loved you.”
A literal fat tear fell, whether on Edward’s face or Izzy’s own, he wasn’t even sure. It didn’t matter. Edward worried at his lower lip, and Izzy’s lungs finally released that pinging breath. It was audible, and Izzy couldn’t even be bothered to feel pathetic for it.
“I did.” Edward didn’t offer another apology; as he shouldn’t. Now was not the time for excuses, it was the time for admissions. “You finally told me, instead of just showing. And I didn’t listen. I didn’t care. I was… broken. And I tried to break you too. For fuck’s sake, I made you eat like, what, four of your toes? By the second one, you didn’t even enjoy it anymore. I tried to make you kill me. I tried to make you kill yourself. I fucked up so hard, Izzy, I did.”
Judging from the harshness of air Bonnet sucked up from beside him, it stood to reason that Edward hadn’t told him the extent of what happened. That he was only learning now, in front of Izzy, satisfied a covetous part of him.
“You did. You did fuck up.” Izzy sniffed and nudged his chin out, a weight dripping up and off his tongue. “But I also fucked up. I betrayed you. I threatened you, Ed, I pushed you into the darkest parts of your mind. All because I couldn’t handle seeing you grieve, couldn’t let go of wanting you to be someone you weren't anymore. That wasn’t right.”
Edward nodded too. Izzy found himself drawn in closer, whether it was Edward or him who closed the distance, he couldn’t be sure.
“But you’re still here,” Edward spoke softly. He even reached out and cupped Izzy’s chin in his hand, thumb drifting over the x on his cheek. Izzy folded into it. “I’m still here. You’re more than that, man, you’ve... become something more, something better, and I’m leagues away still. But I think I want… no, I want to catch up.”
Better? Izzy readied an argument, his jaw pushing against Ed’s fingers, when he stopped. Edward wasn’t totally wrong. He had seen it in himself, the tides turning. He’d been accepted into the crew in a way he’d never been on the Queen Anne. As much as he’d been respected there, he hadn’t been theirs, not like the crew of the Revenge. He fought for them and they fought for him, and not out of sheer self-preservation.
That certainly didn’t make him a better pirate, but it did make him a better… something.
“Better, huh? Well. I did put on a look, earlier, that was something else.”
“Something you,” Bonnet added, not breaking the atmosphere in the least; rather, his conviction and decidedly fond expression just supplemented the tension, the inevitability of it all. “And so you did look very pretty.”
Pretty. He’d asked Wee John for that.
Izzy found himself lost in Bonnet’s gaze then, not sure what he was feeling beyond a lightening of his shoulders, and an abrupt, inflammatory bewilderment. He tugged out of Edward’s grip. “What the fuck’s wrong with you, exactly?”
Bonnet’s unfortunately handsome features stuttered. “Pardon?”
“You. Bonnet, you shouldn’t even be here.” Brown eyes melted like winter ice under a spring sun. Izzy snarled, wholly at himself. “No. I mean you shouldn’t be okay with this. You’re sitting there, all smiley and fuckin’ supportive, after a night of watching your fucking… whatever Edward is to you, get sucked off by the man who tried to sell you to the Navy. Why aren’t you furious?! Why are you telling Edward to talk to me, instead of yelling, instead of kicking me off this damn ship…”
His blustering was interrupted. “Don’t tell me how to feel about watching you go to great lengths to protect me, and Edward, from a madman.” Bonnet’s voice was firm, sending a bolt down Izzy’s spine. “It’s not as if that was your idea. And don’t presume to know my opinion about watching you and Ed prove how well you know one another. We do still have much to learn about each other, after all.”
So Bonnet hadn’t been just showboating for Low when he’d refused to let those taunts get to him. Now it wasn’t just Izzy’s spine that tingled. It was spreading swiftly.
“I am quite sure you’ve heard Lucius say this before, and you saw Olu, Jim, and Archie tonight… I don’t own Ed. He doesn’t own me. We are still figuring each other out. Figuring this out. But after today, I have never been more certain of one thing to do with us.”
Bonnet’s face went through some rapid, arduous phases. Complexity looked good on him. “When we were separated, when Ned took just I and Ed, you still being captive to that swine was distressing. More than distressing. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The threat of losing our lives was enough to handle, but that you might continue to be harmed... It was unbearable.”
A laugh was not the most ideal thing to do in these circumstances, but Izzy couldn’t help himself. He shook his head, “More unbearable than dying? Fuck off, Bonnet, you’re just…”
Whatever he was going to say was sure to be unduly mean, and he was almost grateful when Edward made a frustrated noise and cut him off.
“We could have lost you, Iz. When I thought he was going to kill you, I couldn’t stand the idea of it. You. Dead. Because of me. And then he… Low was right. The thought of him hurting you. Of him touching you, if we’d died, and he took you… My last thoughts would have been of Stede, and you. Both of you.”
Izzy hadn’t given much thought to the notion that the two of them might have worried about him in the same way he had them. He’d assumed they’d been too focused on their own survival. But they had, they’d clearly worried about his fate had he been left at the hands of a depraved rapist who swore to crack him into new, exciting pieces and crawl inside the fractures.
Izzy’s lungs tightened, threatening to bubble up into something humiliating like a whimper.
“And while we were afraid for you, you were afraid for us. Don’t try to deny it, we saw your face,” Bonnet added, much to the chagrin of Izzy’s increasingly constipated expression. “But you were also afraid for yourself. It must have been terrifying, to have been left to your thoughts after Low’s threats.”
Izzy didn’t deny or confirm that, but he was fairly sure his stupid mouth was doing a teeny bit of wavering. He staunchly ignored it, concentrating on Bonnet’s silly, gratifying empathy even if that was not much less overwhelming.
“You let us help you. And helping you steadied our minds too. What I became sure about in that moment is that we are better when you’re with us. When you’re on Edward’s side. My side. Your own side. I’ve learned so much from you these weeks, and I think I can confidently say you’ve learned from me. We’ve made each other better, in just this short while. Imagine what we could do with more time.”
Izzy scowled but he didn’t argue – there was no argument. Stede fucking Bonnet was right, the jerk.
“And I understand so much more now. Why you were so protective of Ed, why you thought I would weaken him. Endanger him. You weren’t even entirely wrong about that, I’ll admit. And yeah, you didn’t make all the right choices when showing that, but have any of us?”
That wasn't all there was to it, his past as Basilisk, but it was part of it. A part no one had known until now.
“And this safe… space ship,” Edward tweaked a grin, his continued nerves on display as much as his confidence, “It isn’t like your old ships. Our old ships. We can be ourselves here, we can explore what we really want.”
“Even if it’s a tad uncommon. You proved that you understand that earlier tonight, I think, when you sang for us. And thank you for that.”
The noise that did leak out of Izzy then was equally as embarrassing as a whimper, though it was impossible to categorize. He couldn’t talk. He couldn’t process. What was it Bonnet was saying here? What was Edward insinuating?
“Edward Teach cannot be without his Izzy Hands,” and didn’t that just hit differently coming from Bonnet, “While Stede Bonnet cannot be without his Edward Teach. And Stede Bonnet has seen why Izzy Hands is so important, so vital. So that means Izzy Hands gets to choose…”
Perhaps there was a glaze to Izzy’s eyes, because Bonnet halted suddenly. He seemed to rework himself, funny little hands doing some tricks in the air before he settled. He twitched again, decidedly reaching out. Izzy was tempted to pull his ungloved hand away, but he didn’t. Rather he let himself be caught, at the same time Bonnet caught Edward too. As if in a trance, Edward grabbed Izzy’s free hand as well, forming an odd little triangle.
His ears burned. Panic still prowled at the corners of his vision, but it felt further and further away.
“You do belong here. With this crew. I was so happy to hear you say it, circumstances aside.” Izzy prickled at that, though it was a warm kind of static. He remembered seeing Bonnet’s expression. He had looked pretty pleased with himself.
“You also belong with Ed. And belonging isn’t possession, no one owns you either.. But, I think, I would like for you to belong with me, too. If you’ll have me. Us. If you want to try for that.” Izzy blinked and Bonnet sped along. “So what does Izzy Hands want?”
Earlier, when Bonnet had grasped his hand and asked him to listen, he had. And now… Now Stede was asking him to talk. He had listened and it was his turn. How often had this ever happened in his life? When had Izzy ever been asked to share? To feel, openly?
He could actually answer that. A whopping five times. And three of those had been in the last week alone, with this crew and now his Captains.
And yet, given this chance, no words would come.
“You still have love for me, don’t you?” Edward urged. Izzy was powerless, nodding out of pure instinct. “Say it again. Please.”
It felt easy to confess then, with prompting that was half-an-order, half-a-plea. “I do… I do still have love for you, Edward.”
“I have loved you too. Best I thought I could. But I was wrong. I can do better, but figuring out how is… hard. Stede helps,” Edward smiled, and it was beautiful. “I think you’ll help too. But it has to be our choice. Each of us. A choice we’ll have to make again every day.”
That last bit didn’t sound like his words. When Izzy peered over, Stede was mimicking the phrase. When he was caught, he looked sheepish, but Izzy found he didn’t care. It just went to prove these admissions, these promises, were well thought out between the two.
Izzy took a while before he spoke, his hand still tentatively held in theirs. He frowned, but it was far less severe than usual. “Bonnet is good for you, Edward. You’re good for each other, you balance each other out.. I can admit that now. And Stede is… good… for me, too.”
There was a little sound from his right, a puff of surprise and tenderness. “Oh. Oh you called me Stede.”
Izzy canted his head, recognizing his slip for what it was. “So I did. Better prove to me you’re worth the respect then, Stede fuckin' Bonnet.”
The man’s face did some adorable gymnastics that Izzy found himself responding to, very nearly smiling. He could barely believe this. It felt unreal. He didn’t feel real.
“You two are actually serious about this? You haven’t even been together just the two of you for very long, and you... want… me…” The words were harder and harder to say. Unable to accept it. Being wanted. Being seen, by one he’d pined forever for, and another whose presence he only recently craved.
Hadn’t he just been thinking about this, getting himself worked up over decades of loneliness? It felt too good to be true.
“Yes, is it so hard to believe?”
The way Stede was gazing at him made Izzy lose it. So he did want them to be okay. The two questions Izzy’d had; answered altogether thoroughly. He glanced away, trying to tug his hand out but neither would let him. “Of course it is, you jackass, look at you two. Fuck’s sake…”
“Oh. I see. A case of low self-esteem is it? Maybe with a dash of self-sabotage? Well don’t you worry,” Stede said brightly, “We’re well versed in that. If both of us can work to get over it, we can train that right out of you at the same time.”
Another zing radiated through Izzy’s limbs. Train? Edward eyed him, knowing full well what that idea did to him.
“Mhm, Stede’s right. We’re not saying it’s gonna be easy, not even saying it’s gonna work, but… yeah mate. Think about it. I don’t wanna pirate much anymore, and you’re no longer pushing me into it,” Izzy had to incline his head at that jab – fair – “While Stede wants to keep pirating and get better and better. We got a crew to care for. Governments to avoid. And you, gods, what else could you be if not a damn pirate?”
It was a compliment, through and through, and Izzy preened despite himself.
“You two can do that, for a while. However long it stays fun. And I can do whatever I decide to do. I can learn to paint, or start fishing. Whatever I want. We’ll have each other, without so much pressure to be what we’re not.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It can be. For now. You in?”
They both looked at him, and he looked back. Really, really looked. Izzy’s mind felt clearer than it had in days, months, years. The panic was driven back, to be rediscovered later, surely, but he wouldn’t be alone sorting it then; for once.
He leaned in, nodding. “Okay. I’m… in, I guess, you fucks. Though, Edward, you really do need to apologize to Ivan. And the rest of the crew. I mean really apologize.”
“Yes, you’ll need to use your words, and your actions, as we’ve practiced.”
“I will, I will. I’ve got this far haven’t I? Can’t stop now.”
And that was that, so it seemed.
The oceanic air smelled simultaneously heavy and light, stirring their hair and caressing their faces. Izzy wondered if they shouldn’t all do something more to mark this, like kiss, but after the night he’d had, any more stimulation and he might collapse. No, this was nice. Holding hands. Swaying with the boat…
Until Edward spoke, his voice belying that the atmosphere had cracked him. “Can I ask something, Izzy, and you not get mad?”
Izzy curled his lip at him. “What is it now?? Do you have to ruin this?”
Edward grinned. “Maybe. So. Uh. What’s a basilisk anyway?”
Only Edward could bring that up, at this moment, after so much had happened, and incur nothing more than a cackle. It was on par for the man he’d loved all these years.
“You idiot,” Izzy said. There was a chuckle from Stede, who followed up with an affectionate, “We’ll explain later, darling, for now I think we’ve earned some silence and some rest.”
Edward’s grin deepened, but he had gotten what he wanted as they all fell into one another, shoulder against shoulder, trembling with laughter instead of the weight of their combined futures. They’d figure that out tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after. Every day a choice.