87 Birds - Chapter 6
Sep. 24th, 2022 02:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gwyllionTitle: 87 Birds
Author: gwyllion
Genre: Canon era
Pairing: Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet
Rating: R
Words: 31,800
A/N: 87 Birds was written for the Our Flag Mean Death Big Bang 2022. Please see Chapter 1 for more notes.
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters. No disrespect intended. No profit desired, only muses.
Comments: Comments are welcome anytime, thanks so much for reading!
“Stede…”
Sometime during the night, Stede pressed the last of the cool compresses to Ed’s brow. Safely under the spell of the Revenge as it rocked on the sea, Stede eventually fell asleep beside Ed.
His dreams were full of harrowing loss, the kind of dreams from which Stede could never wake. The kind of dreams that wouldn’t come to an end, but cruelly cascaded into the next dream and the next, each one bringing Stede no closer to the surface of waking. He never quite arrived at a point where his sleep could be considered restful, before he plunged into despair again.
“Stede…”
Izzy standing firm on the deck of the merchant ship.
“Stede…”
The sound of a pistol being fired.
“Stede…”
Ed’s leg, dangling like a hunk of meat caught on a shark’s tooth, with only a bit of torn flesh holding it to the rest of Ed’s body.
“Stede?”
Stede’s stupid ideas.
The time he organized a treasure hunt to try to convince Ed to stay aboard the Revenge. Because surely Ed wouldn’t stay for the pleasure of Stede’s company alone. What sane person would think Stede was interesting enough to spend time with him, unless they were being paid for it as part of the crew?
Soft-handed…
The stupid idea to banish Calico Jack from the Revenge, knowing Ed would follow before Stede could tell Ed how he felt about him. In his dreams, he could see Ed slipping over the rail of the Revenge and jumping into the dinghy with Jack. It broke his heart, even though Ed later claimed that he had… never left.
Weak-hearted…
The stupid idea to run back to Bridgetown after Chauncey fell dead. He justified it in his own mind, telling himself that when Ed invited him to escape to a new life in China, Stede first bit his lip and said, “I think so.” He hadn’t been committed to the plan, or at least Ed should have seen that he was hesitant. Of course, he had only left Ed alone on the dock because he knew Ed would be better off without him. But here, he could blame Ed for the confusion, instead of blaming himself. Although the idea of blaming Ed made Stede hate himself even more than usual.
Lily livered…
His stupid idea to raid the English ship. He could argue all he wanted that the raid would be a fun way to get some English books so Lucius could pretend to teach Ed to read. He should have known that such an endeavour could lead to bloodshed. He should have been able to fend Izzy off for a third time. He failed. And now, Ed lay lifeless at his side.
Little rich boy…
With a gut stab in his belly on a Spanish ship…
With his ship run aground on a distant beach…
With his family, who were better off with him dead…
All of it.
Stede was nothing.
And that’s all you’ll ever be, Stede Bonnet…
Stede awoke. He sucked in a breath to stop his tears. He grasped the pink velvet of the dressing gown that covered Ed’s chest. Burying his face in the fabric, he stopped breathing. He could not remember whether he had draped the dressing gown over Ed before he had dozed off.
Only the creaking of the Revenge broke the silence.
“Ed?” Stede whispered.
But Ed hadn’t moved.
Had he?
Stede huddled closer to Ed in the half-light of morning. He traced Ed’s eyebrow with a fingertip, searching for signs of life.
Ed’s skin was radiant. Neither the yellow hue that plagued him when he had lost so much blood, nor the grey cast of death that coloured his skin in the past days when his body fought against the infection. An adorable constellation of freckles danced across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.
Stede found Ed’s hand and clasped it in his own. His thumb smoothed over the ink of the nautical star. He took in the black crosses that marked the ships Ed had seized when he was still a young man and the serpent that wound its way from Ed’s shoulder to his wrist, inciting a jealousy in Stede that someone had the privilege of touching Ed’s skin for so many hours.
Stede only had stupid ideas. The stupidest idea of all was that he thought a man like Ed could love him. No one could love Stede when he was so broken. The secret of his brokenness lived deep inside, sheltered by the fortress he had built around it, lest anyone peer in and see the truth.
Tears welled in Stede’s eyes again as he felt the squeeze of Ed’s hand.
“Stede?”
It couldn’t be. “Ed?” Stede gasped.
Ed’s lips had moved, Stede was sure of it. His hand gripped Stede’s lightly. He had survived the night.
Stede’s heart leapt momentarily, but just as quickly as the joy had flooded through him, the fear overtook Stede. He didn’t know how much Ed remembered of what had happened during the raid. If Stede needed to explain that Ed had lost his leg because of Stede’s stupid idea to raid the English ship, he would die of humiliation. Because, no matter how he explained what happened, he couldn’t escape the stark truth. He was responsible for Ed getting hurt. No matter what Ed remembered, Stede already knew that he would grieve over his bad decision for the rest of his life.
“Stede?”
Stede propped himself up on one elbow and took the cloth from Ed’s forehead. He pressed a hand against Ed’s furrowed brow. His skin felt cool. His body no longer shook with fever.
“Where is everyone?” Ed whispered without opening his eyes.
“The crew is fine,” Stede promised. “Everyone accounted for.” He remembered well the concern he had for his crew when he awoke from the incident with the stabby Spaniard. Ed had provided such a relief to him back then, when he appeared at his bedside in the very same alcove. It seemed a lifetime ago.
Ed murmured a soft assent of relief.
“You’re alive,” Stede said, his voice full of wonder. He watched as Ed’s eyes opened, the warmth of them seeping into Stede’s bones.
“You’re here,” Ed said, his shoulders relaxing and sinking further into the mattress.
“I’ve been right here by your side,” Stede said, hoping that Ed would take comfort in his presence, despite his ineptitude. “Can I get you anything?”
“Could do with a cup of tea,” Ed said, finding his voice after sleeping for nearly two days. His fingers stroked the velvet of the pink dressing gown. “Or, better yet, rum.”
“I think you’d best stick to water,” Stede said with relief. He turned to find a pitcher and a tin cup that one of the crew had left on the nightstand. He filled the cup and held it to Ed’s lips, saying, “You’ll want to go easy with this.”
Ed took a few sips before sinking back into his pillow. After a moment, he reached up and threaded his fingers through Stede’s hair.
“And what did I do to deserve such a handsome nursemaid?” Ed asked.
Stede covered Ed’s hand with his own, shattered that Ed had called him handsome, when he was so very underserving of Ed’s affection. “I was so worried about you. You nearly died,” Stede whispered, setting the cup on the nightstand.
“It’ll take more than a shot from Izzy to kill me,” Ed said.
“I’m afraid it’s a bit more serious than that,” Stede said, stalling for the time needed to figure out how to explain to Ed that he had lost his leg. There wasn’t enough time. There wouldn’t be enough time if Stede lived for a hundred years.
Ed linked their fingers together.
Stede squeezed Ed’s hand gently and asked, “How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?” He held his breath, waiting for an answer that would surely ruin him.
“To be honest, the knee feels better than it has in years,” Ed said.
Stede’s mouth fell open. “But, but—” he started and stopped, unable to voice a coherent thought.
“Relax, mate,” Ed said. “I figured out my leg is gone.”
“Oh, God, Ed, I’m so sorry,” Stede said, tears filling his eyes. He lowered his head to the pillow where Ed rested. Their hands still clasped together as Stede shook with grief. In many ways, it was best that Ed already knew about his leg. It saved Stede from the agony of having to explain what had happened to him. Although now they could move to the phase of recovery where Ed would want Stede to suffer a long and torturous death for all the havoc he had brought to Ed’s life.
Ed turned his head and pressed a kiss to Stede’s temple. “Don’t cry, love,” he said. “I’ve suffered worse, believe it or not.”
Stede wanted to shift so he could kiss Ed’s lips. He craved the warmth of life that flowed through Ed, but he couldn’t take what he knew in his heart would never belong to him again. “I can’t imagine worse,” Stede whispered.
Ed turned his hand so he could play with Stede’s hair. He let the curls roll over his fingers as if they were strands of the finest silk. “And how are you doing?” Ed asked, his voice full of concern.
“Me?” Stede asked, his voice sounding like a squeak. He was stunned that Ed would ask for him, when he was the cause of Ed’s suffering. Surely he was only being polite.
“You’re all I could think about while I was asleep.”
Stede blinked back tears. Ed was too cruel to hold out this sweet promise of empathy to him, when he would certainly snatch it away as soon as Stede dared to reach out for it. “Oh, there’s no need to worry about me,” Stede sniffled. “Not when you were so badly hurt.”
“You were hurt too,” Ed said. He moved his hand along the pink dressing gown and found Stede’s chest. “I saw you take a pretty bad knock into the rail.”
Stede thought about the fight with Izzy. Over the past days, there was little beyond the firing of the pistol and the swing of Roach’s cleaver in his memory of the raid. His hand went to his ribs.
“Hmm?” Ed murmured. His fingertips skimmed over Stede’s chest, his brow knotted with a question.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Stede said, despite the realization that his ribs had ached every time he moved during the past two days. He breathed in deeply to test the level of pain, deserving every twinge and ache that it gave him.
“Are you sure? It’s not hurting when you breathe?” Ed asked.
“I might be a little bruised, but I think I’m breathing normally.”
“I’ll have to put an end to that, Captain,” Ed said. He reclaimed Stede’s hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist. “I thought I could make your heart race?”
A shiver ran through Stede when he felt the soft touch of Ed’s lips on his sensitive skin. He could only laugh at the innuendo, “God, Ed, these past few days… I’ve been worried sick about you.”
“So, the raid didn’t go as planned. These things rarely do,” Ed said.
“Oh, Ed,” Stede said. “It’s a thousand times worse than that.” His voice broke as he let his head fall. His forehead pressed to their clasped hands.
“And now, you’re wound tighter than a bird with a broken wing surrounded by a dozen cats,” Ed said, his voice rough from the days of fever.
Stede’s shoulders shook as he sobbed. “I wish I never suggested the raid. It ruined everything. I ruined everything.”
“It could be worse,” Ed said, giving Stede’s shoulder a squeeze. “Izzy never got to run you through again, did he?”
“No... I tried… I intended to take the sword on my left side,” Stede sputtered. “It would have been so much better than what happened. I wish I could take back everything that happened on that day.”
Stede’s tears fell onto the pink dressing gown.
“I know,” Ed said. “There’s no need to cry. I still can’t believe you weren’t badly hurt.”
“I wasn’t,” Stede sniffled, but he truly wanted to scream. He wanted to make Edward understand that some injuries didn’t leave bruises or scrapes. Some injuries were on the inside. They chafed and pricked at him every day. Every time he said something stupid. Every time he acted on an idea that would inadvertently hurt the people he loved. “Not too badly, at least.”
“No stabby wounds anywhere on your pretty self?” Ed asked. He smoothed his hand over Stede’s shoulder, his arm, his chest.
“No, I’m alright,” Stede said. Ed’s touch, Ed’s kind words, they destroyed Stede from the inside out as he reminded himself how unlovable, how unworthy of kindness he was. “But you…”
“Like I said… this is the best my knee has felt in years,” Ed said. “You have no idea, mate.”
“Even though… it’s not there anymore?” Stede whispered, the guilt running through him like a rope through a steel grommet.
“Might be the best thing that ever happened to the old knee,” Ed said. “You’ve seen me when I try to climb up to the crow’s nest. And getting back down? Now, there’s a feat.”
“But won’t it be more difficult while you’re missing a leg?” Stede asked in disbelief.
“Stede… I haven’t been able to run in years. Could barely walk, even when wearing the brace. And the pain? Kept me from sleeping most nights unless I had a bottle of rum in me.”
“But what if you can’t ever walk again?” Stede asked.
“We’ll find out, won’t we?” Ed said. “I’ve always been up for a challenge. The time you taught me about all those spoons, all the fuckeries I’ve planned—remember how I even looked forward to the Privateering Academy, when we first got there?”
Stede remembered. His first glimpse of Blackbeard without his black beard sent him scurrying away, stunned that Ed was no longer the pirate he once knew. “I remember you folding your socks,” Stede said. “It was as if you were finally relaxing a bit before seeing where the next adventure would take you.”
“That’s the way life is, love,” Ed said. “You’ll be there with me for the next bit?”
Stede could barely breathe. Love. He was overwhelmed that Ed would still want him at his side after all that had happened because of his stupid idea to raid the English ship. “I will, if you want me there,” he said choking down his self-doubt so it wouldn’t be obvious that he was drowning in it.
“Of course I want you there,” Ed said. “Until I get up to speed, I’m going to need you to help me kick the arses of the Izzys of the world.”
Stede huffed out a breath. He could hardly do as Ed suggested. Ed put a lot of faith in him for being a shit swordsman, even with Ed’s training. If he only knew the truth about Stede, he wouldn’t be so anxious to have him as a co-captain, a partner, or even as a friend.
“I’m not sure what help I would be,” Stede said, looking away. His eyes found the pink dressing gown, its soft velvet smooth beneath his fingers as he rubbed his thumb back and forth over it.
“Come on, man,” Ed said. “You’ll be brilliant. You always are.”
Of course, Stede would do anything to protect Ed, to defend him against any foe, even when that foe was Stede himself and his stupid ideas that would likely get both of them killed. “I’d be willing to try,” Stede said.
“That’s the spirit,” Ed said.
The gentle light of morning had broken through the sky. The soft rain that had been falling for the past days as the Revenge made its escape to the broad waters of the open sea had scattered its last drops.
“Does it hurt badly?” Stede asked, steadying his breath. He wished Ed would say that it didn’t. It would kill Stede to know that he caused Ed pain.
“It pinches a little,” Ed said. “Listen mate, I know it’s asking a lot, but might we take a look at it?”
“We could…?” Stede said, more of a question than anything else.
“Yeah, but I don’t want you to go freaking out on me if you can’t take the sight of it when I pull back the covers.”
“No, I’ve seen it when it was at its worse,” Stede said. “If you must know, I don’t think it will look nearly as gruesome now.” He hoped that Ed’s high spirits upon waking was an indication that Roach’s treatments worked to stop the infection.
“Let’s do it,” Ed said.
With trembling fingers, Stede sat up. He tugged the pink dressing gown toward him, bunching it up into his lap. “Are you ready?” he asked.
Ed nodded and propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look.
Stede reached for the blanket that covered Ed’s lower half and lifted it off him.
Ed turned his attention to his chest, his torso, lower, to his thighs.
Stede remembered well the blood and guts and how Roach worked to rid Ed’s body of the infection. Now, the site of Ed’s amputation was covered in a clean bandage. No blood. No putrid festering wound. Aside from the fact that Ed’s lower leg was gone, one would hardly guess the drama that had recently unfolded as the crew worked to save Ed’s life.
“Gotta admit,” Ed said, twisting his thigh this way and that, “it looks pretty badass.”
Stede sighed. “That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose,” he said despite the guilt slamming into him, tearing at his insides. Stede didn’t notice when his hands began shaking. A lump formed in his throat that left him unable to speak. He choked on his own breath as he sobbed while trying to get some air into his lungs.
“Stede?” Ed said. He pulled the covers back over his thighs.
Stede’s breath caught in his throat. He gulped for air, but his lungs only burned from the effort.
“What’s wrong?” Ed reached for Stede’s arm, but it only made Stede’s shoulders vibrate more intensely.
“This—”
“What is it?”
“This is all my fault,” Stede finally blurted out. And yet, he knew Ed didn’t blame him. That made him feel even worse as he shook with remorse. He wished he knew what he had done to make Ed think he shouldn’t be run through as a punishment for his stupidity. The tears streamed from his eyes as he sobbed.
“Hey, hey,” Ed said, running a hand over Stede’s arm. “It’s alright.”
“It’s not,” Stede cried. He didn’t deserve Ed’s affection, Ed’s love. He only deserved Ed’s rage that he withheld. He buried his face in his hands and gasped for air.
“We’ll work through it, Stede,” Ed insisted with a hand on Stede’s shaking shoulders. “I’ll deal with it. I’m the kind of guy who rolls with the punches. You know that by now.”
“I don’t deserve this. Why are you being so kind to me?” Stede muttered from behind his hands that worked to hide his shame.
“Stede,” Ed said softly. “I wish you didn’t feel this way. This isn’t your fault.”
Stede wailed, his words catching in his throat, “I thought everything was going well. After we reunited. What we did the night before the raid. I thought we were on our way to having more of that kind of affection in our lives, but then I had to fuck it all up with my stupid idea to raid an English ship.”
“You didn’t fuck anything up,” Ed said. “Sure, we didn’t expect Izzy to take a shot at us, but—”
“He was shooting at me!”
“Yeah, I was kind of surprised when he went for his pistol, but I had to get in the way. If anything ever happened to you…”
“No, no, no,” Stede cried. “I’m not worth it. And now you’ve lost your leg. That’s all you have as a reward for being kind to me. And if you think otherwise, you’re a stupid as I am.”
“No, Stede, no,” Ed said. “I don’t know where these thoughts are coming from.”
Stede helplessly fell into the space between Ed’s arms.
Ed stroked Stede’s back. He pulled on Stede until he was cradled in his arms while he sobbed.
“Hey,” Ed said, rubbing Stede’s back soothingly, “You’re always telling your crew to talk it through.”
Stede’s shoulders heaved. “I do,” he cried. “It’s to help them become better people. It helps them to stay sorted out. We’re living on a goddamn pirate ship, for heaven’s sakes!”
“I get it. I get it. But what about you?” Ed whispered.
“Me?”
“Do you ever get yourself sorted out?”
Stede couldn’t speak. He knew full well what Ed was reaching for. Stede had hidden that awful part of himself every day of his life. Only occasionally did he slip and show his sadness, his shame for his ideas that seldom would make sense to a rational person.
“Hey, Stede. This is me. You can share anything with me,” Ed said. “I’ll still love you, no matter how you’re bent on treating yourself like shit.”
Stede wished with all his heart that he could tell Ed how he felt. But it was so much to ask for. He had said it once before on the beach before they kissed for the first time.
“I’ve only got stupid ideas.” Would it be so hard to admit now?
“Come on. What brought these tears on? Is it my injury that makes you feel this way? That’s what I think, if I had to guess.” Ed said. He twirled Stede’s hair between his fingertips and hugged him closer.
“It’s all my fault,” Stede whispered. “I make the stupidest decisions. I have the stupidest ideas. I wish I could be… I don’t know… good enough to deserve you. But I’m just nothing… absolutely nothing.”
“Oh, shut up,” Ed whispered, without any heat.
“Don’t tell me to shut up!” Stede complained, his eyes flying open. He only got an eyeful of the pink dressing gown that was bunched up between them as they lay in Ed’s sickbed.
“Stede… love,” Ed murmured.
“I’m not…” Stede cried.
“Shhh,” Ed hushed. “Of course you are.”
“No, I’m just a fake pirate with a ship and a crew that I bought for myself,” Stede said. “I’m nothing like you.”
“Of course not,” Ed said. “But you’re perfect just the way you are. I think you’re amazing.”
Stede shook his head. “I should be comforting you over the loss of your leg, but here I am crying like an idiot,” he said. The least he could do was apologize for his childish behaviour.
“And your crew?” Ed asked. “They adore you. Remember how they stuck up for you when Badminton was waving his sword around the deck during our capture? They love you. They’ll stand by you, always.”
“They wouldn’t if they knew the real me,” Stede whispered.
“They would,” Ed insisted. “I’ve sometimes seen glimpses of the real you that you hide behind your frilly shirts and lavish waistcoats. And I’m not running away.”
Stede noted the poor choice of words. “It will be a long time before you can run anywhere, thanks to me.”
“You’ve got a great sense of humour, mate,” Ed said after a beat.
“Sorry.”
“It’ll take some getting used to,” Ed said. “but I can do it.”
Stede couldn’t imagine Ed being well again, feeling whole again after all that had happened to him.
“It took some convincing, but every day, I think about how happy it made me that you came back, after you ran off to Bridgetown,” Ed reminded Stede.
“I don’t know why,” Stede said. “I’m just causing more trouble for you.”
“Naah, mate. I think we’re meant to be together,” Ed said. “I mean, if you didn’t run away after I told you about being the Kraken and how I killed my own dad… well, I guess I thought you’d never run away. I thought we shared something special that night. It’s not often that you find someone who you can speak so openly with.”
Stede remembered the night when he first learned about the true identity of the Kraken. How Ed huddled like a scared child in his copper bathtub. “I’ve never had the chance to ask, Ed,” Stede said. “But why did you kill your dad?”
Ed took a deep breath.
“It’s alright if it’s too much to ask,” Stede said, fearing that he overstepped.
“No, I’ll tell you,” Ed said, his fingers tracing the outline of bird shapes on the pink robe.
“I hope you know that I could never truly be afraid of you,” Stede said, reaching out with gentle fingertips to trace Ed’s own bird, rendered in black ink and residing at the base of his throat.
Ed swallowed. “He used to knock my mum around. He’d hit her,” he tersely admitted. “That’s why I strangled him one night when he wandered drunk on the docks.”
“Oh, Ed,” Stede whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Ed said. “My mum died a few years after him. I’d like to think that I made the last years of her life more tolerable.”
“I’m sure of it,” Stede said. He found it unbearably painful that Ed had been compelled to kill his father, the person who should have loved him the most. He swept away the thoughts of similarity with his own father and how he preyed on Stede’s inadequacies. Stede had buried the emotions deep, but now they threatened to rise to the surface. He swiftly tried to change the subject. “And that’s when you took to the sea?”
“Yup, joined a crew, Hornigold, the rest is history,” Ed said.
But the subject lingered on Stede’s lips. “I’m sorry you had to endure all that,” he said, remembering his own suffering. “You might be the type of guy who rolls with the punches, but I’d imagine you’d reach your breaking point when someone hurt your mum.”
“Yeah, well, I couldn’t bear seeing her get hurt,” Ed said.
Stede nodded, still safely wrapped in Ed’s embrace.
Ed whispered, “I couldn’t bear it if you were hurt either.”
Tears pricked at the corners of Stede’s eyes. Memories from his past flooded through him. The bullying from his classmates. His father, who berated him at every opportunity. The Badmintons, both from his childhood and who taunted him as an adult. His family, who, until he planned his own fuckery of a death, never seemed to appreciate him for who he was on the inside. He had never felt seen. He barely knew what it felt like to be accepted and loved for who he was at his very core, but here was Ed, the most fearsome pirate in all the Caribbean, whose heart would shatter if Stede—Stede with his stupid ideas—was hurt.
“What does it feel like, to say these things to me?” Stede choked out. He could not fathom what it would feel like to share of himself from a place where he hid the sadness that had affected him so deeply. “How do you get to the point where you can tell me these things without being afraid that I’ll run away, or think you mad?”
“I’m just speaking from the heart, man.” Ed said, his hands spread wide on Stede’s back.
Stede rested his hand on Ed’s chest. He felt the thrum of his heartbeat beneath his palm. “But you’re so strong, such an icon of piracy, and yet, you share these intimate details of your life with me. Aren’t you afraid of feeling foolish or looking weak?”
Ed cocked his head. “Not with you, Stede,” he said reassuringly. “We’re just talking it through—like you say to your crew. What about you? Do you think you’d like to talk it through with me?”
Stede took a deep breath. The one thing that he had always secretly wished for was being handed to him on a silver platter. No snail tongs necessary. His most ardent wish, to have someone with whom to talk it through, was within reach. Someone who wouldn’t ridicule him when he showed his true self. Someone who wouldn’t laugh at his eccentricities. Someone who wouldn’t care that he was a weak-hearted lily-livered little rich boy.
But his shame at only having stupid ideas ravaged him. “I can’t,” Stede finally said through his tears. He couldn’t let Ed, the only person who ever loved him, see the truth.
“Shh,” Ed hushed. “You can.”
Stede shook his head.
“Here’s something that might help,” Ed whispered. He took Stede’s hand and pressed it flat against the pink dressing gown.
Stede’s fingers went to one of the birds of paradise that decorated the fabric. He rubbed his thumb over the velvet.
“You’re doing it now,” Ed said.
Stede’s brow furrowed, but his thumb continued its motion back and forth over the softness.
“When I came back to the Revenge after you failed to show on the dock, I stole your dressing gown and brought it into my blanket fort.”
Stede nodded. He had heard about the marmalade in the blanket fort and he remembered the story of the sad poetry that helped Ed work through his emotions.
“I lay there day after day, tracing the birds on the dressing gown with my fingers.”
Stede raised his thumb from the fabric.
“There are eighty-seven of them,” Ed said.
Stede let his thumb caress the velvet again. “Eighty-seven birds? You counted them?”
Ed shrugged. “It helped me. Just tracing each of the birds on the velvet, day after day. The feel of the cloth beneath my fingertips. Maybe they can help you, too.”
“I don’t know where to begin,” Stede said with a shudder, his thumb tracing the outline of a bird. The light scratch of his thumbnail against the velvet might as well have been the only sound on the Revenge.
“Start at the beginning,” Ed said. “But whatever you do, please believe me when I tell you that you deserve to have someone to listen to you.”
“Someone,” Stede sighed. “That’s you.” A tingling sensation worked its way downward from the top of his skull. It flowed down his spine and surrounded him with warmth.
“That’s me,” Ed said.
The sound of Ed’s voice made Stede believe that maybe, just possibly, what Ed said was true. The colours of the birds, red, blue, green, purple, peacefully passed beneath his fingertips.
“I’ll listen to you, Stede,” Ed said. “I see you.”
Entranced by the warmth from Ed’s embrace, the soothing scratch of his thumbnail against the velvet birds, and the gentle rock of the Revenge, Stede spoke. “I’ve never admitted this to anyone before, but when I was a young lad growing up in the Bonnet household, it wasn’t easy for me….”
~
From the deck of the Revenge, Stede gazed toward the shoreline. He carried the dressing gown, the pink one with the birds of paradise, over one arm. The last vestiges of sunset streaked the sky with orange and purple brilliance. In the distance, the beachside bonfire illuminated most of the crew. The sweet tones of Frenchie’s lute wafted across the water toward Stede. He could make out Black Pete and Lucius as they danced to the tune. Somewhere on the beach, Oluwande and Jim cuddled beneath a blanket, while Wee John and Ivan took turns keeping the fire going. Stede’s hand went to his belly. Roach had certainly perfected his bouillabaisse recipe. The forty-orange glaze cake was the icing on the… well, the perfect finish to the beachside meal.
Without preamble, a wooden contraption flew from the water and landed on the deck beside Stede with a clatter. He shook his head and stooped to pick it up. “Do you need any help?” Stede asked, turning his attention to the portside ladder.
“Nope, I’ve got it,” Ed said.
Stede draped the dressing gown over the top rail so it wouldn’t get wet. He picked up the contraption and shook the water off it as he watched Ed’s hands come into view.
“You should really take better care of this,” Stede tutted, setting the device down so he could give Ed a hand if he needed it.
Wearing only a pair of black smallclothes and his purple undershirt, Ed swung himself onto the deck. His one bare foot landed with a splat. “The damn thing floats. Makes it nearly impossible to swim.”
“You could have ridden in the dinghy with me, you know,” Stede said, going to Ed’s side. He had already taken advantage of a head start to light some candles and pour the brandy in the captain’s quarters in anticipation of their romantic night alone on the Revenge.
“Where’s the challenge in that?” Ed asked, pulling Stede close.
Stede closed his eyes and cringed at the feel of the sopping wet fabric of Ed’s clothing as it pressed against his dry white shirt. “Ed! You didn’t even bother to undress before diving in?”
“Didn’t want to give the crew a look at the goods,” Ed said as Stede peeled his purple undershirt from him.
“My darling, we live on a pirate ship. It’s nothing they haven’t seen before,” Stede said, slipping his hands beneath the waist of Ed’s smallclothes after allowing Ed’s shirt to land on the deck in a wet clump. “Although I might get jealous if any of the crew were to start ogling you.”
Ed went in for a kiss while Stede palmed at his arse.
The salty taste of Ed’s beard made Stede shudder. His hands moved upward to rub over the cold damp skin of Ed’s back. “Let’s get you warmed up,” Stede said.
“I hear there’s a fireplace on board this vessel,” Ed said with a grin.
Stede stooped to pick up the contraption that had landed on the deck. “Will you be wanting this?”
The object in question was one of Black Pete’s newest projects. Assembled from bits and bobs he found in his travels, along with a fair amount of whittled driftwood, the contraption looked just like a real leg. It even wore the black boot that matched Ed’s good leg… when he was wearing his boot.
“Well, I’m not going to let you throw me over your shoulder and carry me off like I’m a damsel in distress,” Ed replied. He slipped his upper leg into the contraption and fastened the buckles that held it in place. “Although that might be fun.”
Stede laughed. “Whatever you’d like, dear,” he said.
“That’s sorted,” Ed said, admiring his handcrafted leg.
“I love everything about you, but I will admit you look particularly formidable with one bare foot, one black boot, and nothing else but your body art,” Stede said. It was true. Ed was stunning in the moonlight. Stede especially thought so, knowing they’d have the whole evening to themselves aboard the ship.
“I should get Black Pete to make me a flesh-toned one for our other adventures,” Ed said, waggling his eyebrows.
“Let’s not give him any inappropriate ideas about his co-captains,” Stede said.
“It was your brilliant idea to give the crew a night off, relaxing on the beach,” Ed said. “Don’t you think they’ve seen your ulterior motive of getting me alone for the night.”
“Hush, you,” Stede said. He wrapped Ed in the pink dressing gown and gave Ed his arm, but Ed hadn’t really needed its support for some time.
Ed had adapted to the loss of his leg as well as might be expected for a fearsome pirate. Although he was a bit unsteady while walking on sand, Ed was never a man for the land anyway. The deck of the Revenge, with its predictable swaying and rocking made Black Pete’s contraption, with its springs and pulleys, work like a charm.
“Goodnight you lot,” Stede half-heartedly waved toward the crew, although it was unlikely that they could hear him from across the waves.
Inside the captain’s quarters, Ed made himself comfortable on the velvet brocade sofa. In recent months, the raiding had produced several more amenities, including a mahogany tea table and a mis-matched set of crystal glassware. Stede’s belongings that had been cast away were gradually being replaced by objects that he and Ed had acquired together. Each one told a new story of their adventures.
As a rule, they avoided the English ships… for the time being, at least.
Stede tended to the fire as soon as they arrived in the captain’s quarters.
Ed sprawled out on the sofa, a glass of brandy in his hand. Naked, except for the pink dressing gown, which splayed wide open beneath him, Ed was the embodiment of desire. The light from the new chandelier illuminated his every feature, dark ink on his bronze skin. Dionysus himself could not be more alluring.
Stede stripped off his shirt and breeches. He went to the sofa and knelt in the space between Ed’s real leg and his contraption.
Ed passed him his brandy and let him sip from the same glass. “Do you mind if it’s on or off?” he asked.
“It’s entirely up to you, darling,” Stede said, returning the glass to the tea table.
“Off, please,” Ed said.
Stede hummed in agreement. It pleased Stede that Ed was never self-conscious about him handling the contraption or the part of Ed’s body where it attached. Unlike Stede, Ed was always comfortable in his own skin, whether he chose to be Blackbeard, Ed, the Kraken, or even Jeff the accountant. Stede aspired to feel as confident as Ed someday. With the passage of time and the sharing of heartfelt conversation, he was getting there.
Stede’s fingers went to the buckles that held the contraption in place. With practiced moves, he unfastened it and let it drop to the floor. The scar from Ed’s injury had long since healed. Tiny white lines marked Roach’s stitches against the healthy flesh. Besides that, only the memory of that awful day remained.
Ed speared Stede’s hair with his fingers and tugged him forward.
Stede was slow to move, leaving a trail of kisses across Ed’s body from his belly to his mouth, where the taste of the brandy lingered. They rarely had time to indulge in the privacy of having the Revenge all to themselves and Stede was determined to enjoy every minute of it. He canted his hips, pressing his length against Ed’s, making his intentions clear.
Ed snuck his hand between the cushions of the sofa and found a vial of coconut oil that they kept there for its specific purpose. He raised an eyebrow at Stede.
A broad grin broke over Stede’s face.
Theirs may have been a story about missing parts, but the parts that were missing were not the ones that an observer may have anticipated. With the help of a velvet dressing gown and Ed’s patience in listening to the tales of Stede’s struggles, his failures, his shame at having only stupid ideas, Stede Bonnet healed. It was an amputation of sorts, one that removed the part of Stede that had ached for so long. The fortress Stede had built around the secrets of his heart had been dismantled, its weathered beams cast aside until only light reached him. And for the first time, he was seen.
The end
Author: gwyllion
Genre: Canon era
Pairing: Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Stede Bonnet
Rating: R
Words: 31,800
A/N: 87 Birds was written for the Our Flag Mean Death Big Bang 2022. Please see Chapter 1 for more notes.
Disclaimer: I did not create these characters. No disrespect intended. No profit desired, only muses.
Comments: Comments are welcome anytime, thanks so much for reading!
“Stede…”
Sometime during the night, Stede pressed the last of the cool compresses to Ed’s brow. Safely under the spell of the Revenge as it rocked on the sea, Stede eventually fell asleep beside Ed.
His dreams were full of harrowing loss, the kind of dreams from which Stede could never wake. The kind of dreams that wouldn’t come to an end, but cruelly cascaded into the next dream and the next, each one bringing Stede no closer to the surface of waking. He never quite arrived at a point where his sleep could be considered restful, before he plunged into despair again.
“Stede…”
Izzy standing firm on the deck of the merchant ship.
“Stede…”
The sound of a pistol being fired.
“Stede…”
Ed’s leg, dangling like a hunk of meat caught on a shark’s tooth, with only a bit of torn flesh holding it to the rest of Ed’s body.
“Stede?”
Stede’s stupid ideas.
The time he organized a treasure hunt to try to convince Ed to stay aboard the Revenge. Because surely Ed wouldn’t stay for the pleasure of Stede’s company alone. What sane person would think Stede was interesting enough to spend time with him, unless they were being paid for it as part of the crew?
Soft-handed…
The stupid idea to banish Calico Jack from the Revenge, knowing Ed would follow before Stede could tell Ed how he felt about him. In his dreams, he could see Ed slipping over the rail of the Revenge and jumping into the dinghy with Jack. It broke his heart, even though Ed later claimed that he had… never left.
Weak-hearted…
The stupid idea to run back to Bridgetown after Chauncey fell dead. He justified it in his own mind, telling himself that when Ed invited him to escape to a new life in China, Stede first bit his lip and said, “I think so.” He hadn’t been committed to the plan, or at least Ed should have seen that he was hesitant. Of course, he had only left Ed alone on the dock because he knew Ed would be better off without him. But here, he could blame Ed for the confusion, instead of blaming himself. Although the idea of blaming Ed made Stede hate himself even more than usual.
Lily livered…
His stupid idea to raid the English ship. He could argue all he wanted that the raid would be a fun way to get some English books so Lucius could pretend to teach Ed to read. He should have known that such an endeavour could lead to bloodshed. He should have been able to fend Izzy off for a third time. He failed. And now, Ed lay lifeless at his side.
Little rich boy…
With a gut stab in his belly on a Spanish ship…
With his ship run aground on a distant beach…
With his family, who were better off with him dead…
All of it.
Stede was nothing.
And that’s all you’ll ever be, Stede Bonnet…
Stede awoke. He sucked in a breath to stop his tears. He grasped the pink velvet of the dressing gown that covered Ed’s chest. Burying his face in the fabric, he stopped breathing. He could not remember whether he had draped the dressing gown over Ed before he had dozed off.
Only the creaking of the Revenge broke the silence.
“Ed?” Stede whispered.
But Ed hadn’t moved.
Had he?
Stede huddled closer to Ed in the half-light of morning. He traced Ed’s eyebrow with a fingertip, searching for signs of life.
Ed’s skin was radiant. Neither the yellow hue that plagued him when he had lost so much blood, nor the grey cast of death that coloured his skin in the past days when his body fought against the infection. An adorable constellation of freckles danced across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose.
Stede found Ed’s hand and clasped it in his own. His thumb smoothed over the ink of the nautical star. He took in the black crosses that marked the ships Ed had seized when he was still a young man and the serpent that wound its way from Ed’s shoulder to his wrist, inciting a jealousy in Stede that someone had the privilege of touching Ed’s skin for so many hours.
Stede only had stupid ideas. The stupidest idea of all was that he thought a man like Ed could love him. No one could love Stede when he was so broken. The secret of his brokenness lived deep inside, sheltered by the fortress he had built around it, lest anyone peer in and see the truth.
Tears welled in Stede’s eyes again as he felt the squeeze of Ed’s hand.
“Stede?”
It couldn’t be. “Ed?” Stede gasped.
Ed’s lips had moved, Stede was sure of it. His hand gripped Stede’s lightly. He had survived the night.
Stede’s heart leapt momentarily, but just as quickly as the joy had flooded through him, the fear overtook Stede. He didn’t know how much Ed remembered of what had happened during the raid. If Stede needed to explain that Ed had lost his leg because of Stede’s stupid idea to raid the English ship, he would die of humiliation. Because, no matter how he explained what happened, he couldn’t escape the stark truth. He was responsible for Ed getting hurt. No matter what Ed remembered, Stede already knew that he would grieve over his bad decision for the rest of his life.
“Stede?”
Stede propped himself up on one elbow and took the cloth from Ed’s forehead. He pressed a hand against Ed’s furrowed brow. His skin felt cool. His body no longer shook with fever.
“Where is everyone?” Ed whispered without opening his eyes.
“The crew is fine,” Stede promised. “Everyone accounted for.” He remembered well the concern he had for his crew when he awoke from the incident with the stabby Spaniard. Ed had provided such a relief to him back then, when he appeared at his bedside in the very same alcove. It seemed a lifetime ago.
Ed murmured a soft assent of relief.
“You’re alive,” Stede said, his voice full of wonder. He watched as Ed’s eyes opened, the warmth of them seeping into Stede’s bones.
“You’re here,” Ed said, his shoulders relaxing and sinking further into the mattress.
“I’ve been right here by your side,” Stede said, hoping that Ed would take comfort in his presence, despite his ineptitude. “Can I get you anything?”
“Could do with a cup of tea,” Ed said, finding his voice after sleeping for nearly two days. His fingers stroked the velvet of the pink dressing gown. “Or, better yet, rum.”
“I think you’d best stick to water,” Stede said with relief. He turned to find a pitcher and a tin cup that one of the crew had left on the nightstand. He filled the cup and held it to Ed’s lips, saying, “You’ll want to go easy with this.”
Ed took a few sips before sinking back into his pillow. After a moment, he reached up and threaded his fingers through Stede’s hair.
“And what did I do to deserve such a handsome nursemaid?” Ed asked.
Stede covered Ed’s hand with his own, shattered that Ed had called him handsome, when he was so very underserving of Ed’s affection. “I was so worried about you. You nearly died,” Stede whispered, setting the cup on the nightstand.
“It’ll take more than a shot from Izzy to kill me,” Ed said.
“I’m afraid it’s a bit more serious than that,” Stede said, stalling for the time needed to figure out how to explain to Ed that he had lost his leg. There wasn’t enough time. There wouldn’t be enough time if Stede lived for a hundred years.
Ed linked their fingers together.
Stede squeezed Ed’s hand gently and asked, “How are you feeling? Are you in any pain?” He held his breath, waiting for an answer that would surely ruin him.
“To be honest, the knee feels better than it has in years,” Ed said.
Stede’s mouth fell open. “But, but—” he started and stopped, unable to voice a coherent thought.
“Relax, mate,” Ed said. “I figured out my leg is gone.”
“Oh, God, Ed, I’m so sorry,” Stede said, tears filling his eyes. He lowered his head to the pillow where Ed rested. Their hands still clasped together as Stede shook with grief. In many ways, it was best that Ed already knew about his leg. It saved Stede from the agony of having to explain what had happened to him. Although now they could move to the phase of recovery where Ed would want Stede to suffer a long and torturous death for all the havoc he had brought to Ed’s life.
Ed turned his head and pressed a kiss to Stede’s temple. “Don’t cry, love,” he said. “I’ve suffered worse, believe it or not.”
Stede wanted to shift so he could kiss Ed’s lips. He craved the warmth of life that flowed through Ed, but he couldn’t take what he knew in his heart would never belong to him again. “I can’t imagine worse,” Stede whispered.
Ed turned his hand so he could play with Stede’s hair. He let the curls roll over his fingers as if they were strands of the finest silk. “And how are you doing?” Ed asked, his voice full of concern.
“Me?” Stede asked, his voice sounding like a squeak. He was stunned that Ed would ask for him, when he was the cause of Ed’s suffering. Surely he was only being polite.
“You’re all I could think about while I was asleep.”
Stede blinked back tears. Ed was too cruel to hold out this sweet promise of empathy to him, when he would certainly snatch it away as soon as Stede dared to reach out for it. “Oh, there’s no need to worry about me,” Stede sniffled. “Not when you were so badly hurt.”
“You were hurt too,” Ed said. He moved his hand along the pink dressing gown and found Stede’s chest. “I saw you take a pretty bad knock into the rail.”
Stede thought about the fight with Izzy. Over the past days, there was little beyond the firing of the pistol and the swing of Roach’s cleaver in his memory of the raid. His hand went to his ribs.
“Hmm?” Ed murmured. His fingertips skimmed over Stede’s chest, his brow knotted with a question.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Stede said, despite the realization that his ribs had ached every time he moved during the past two days. He breathed in deeply to test the level of pain, deserving every twinge and ache that it gave him.
“Are you sure? It’s not hurting when you breathe?” Ed asked.
“I might be a little bruised, but I think I’m breathing normally.”
“I’ll have to put an end to that, Captain,” Ed said. He reclaimed Stede’s hand and pressed a kiss to the inside of his wrist. “I thought I could make your heart race?”
A shiver ran through Stede when he felt the soft touch of Ed’s lips on his sensitive skin. He could only laugh at the innuendo, “God, Ed, these past few days… I’ve been worried sick about you.”
“So, the raid didn’t go as planned. These things rarely do,” Ed said.
“Oh, Ed,” Stede said. “It’s a thousand times worse than that.” His voice broke as he let his head fall. His forehead pressed to their clasped hands.
“And now, you’re wound tighter than a bird with a broken wing surrounded by a dozen cats,” Ed said, his voice rough from the days of fever.
Stede’s shoulders shook as he sobbed. “I wish I never suggested the raid. It ruined everything. I ruined everything.”
“It could be worse,” Ed said, giving Stede’s shoulder a squeeze. “Izzy never got to run you through again, did he?”
“No... I tried… I intended to take the sword on my left side,” Stede sputtered. “It would have been so much better than what happened. I wish I could take back everything that happened on that day.”
Stede’s tears fell onto the pink dressing gown.
“I know,” Ed said. “There’s no need to cry. I still can’t believe you weren’t badly hurt.”
“I wasn’t,” Stede sniffled, but he truly wanted to scream. He wanted to make Edward understand that some injuries didn’t leave bruises or scrapes. Some injuries were on the inside. They chafed and pricked at him every day. Every time he said something stupid. Every time he acted on an idea that would inadvertently hurt the people he loved. “Not too badly, at least.”
“No stabby wounds anywhere on your pretty self?” Ed asked. He smoothed his hand over Stede’s shoulder, his arm, his chest.
“No, I’m alright,” Stede said. Ed’s touch, Ed’s kind words, they destroyed Stede from the inside out as he reminded himself how unlovable, how unworthy of kindness he was. “But you…”
“Like I said… this is the best my knee has felt in years,” Ed said. “You have no idea, mate.”
“Even though… it’s not there anymore?” Stede whispered, the guilt running through him like a rope through a steel grommet.
“Might be the best thing that ever happened to the old knee,” Ed said. “You’ve seen me when I try to climb up to the crow’s nest. And getting back down? Now, there’s a feat.”
“But won’t it be more difficult while you’re missing a leg?” Stede asked in disbelief.
“Stede… I haven’t been able to run in years. Could barely walk, even when wearing the brace. And the pain? Kept me from sleeping most nights unless I had a bottle of rum in me.”
“But what if you can’t ever walk again?” Stede asked.
“We’ll find out, won’t we?” Ed said. “I’ve always been up for a challenge. The time you taught me about all those spoons, all the fuckeries I’ve planned—remember how I even looked forward to the Privateering Academy, when we first got there?”
Stede remembered. His first glimpse of Blackbeard without his black beard sent him scurrying away, stunned that Ed was no longer the pirate he once knew. “I remember you folding your socks,” Stede said. “It was as if you were finally relaxing a bit before seeing where the next adventure would take you.”
“That’s the way life is, love,” Ed said. “You’ll be there with me for the next bit?”
Stede could barely breathe. Love. He was overwhelmed that Ed would still want him at his side after all that had happened because of his stupid idea to raid the English ship. “I will, if you want me there,” he said choking down his self-doubt so it wouldn’t be obvious that he was drowning in it.
“Of course I want you there,” Ed said. “Until I get up to speed, I’m going to need you to help me kick the arses of the Izzys of the world.”
Stede huffed out a breath. He could hardly do as Ed suggested. Ed put a lot of faith in him for being a shit swordsman, even with Ed’s training. If he only knew the truth about Stede, he wouldn’t be so anxious to have him as a co-captain, a partner, or even as a friend.
“I’m not sure what help I would be,” Stede said, looking away. His eyes found the pink dressing gown, its soft velvet smooth beneath his fingers as he rubbed his thumb back and forth over it.
“Come on, man,” Ed said. “You’ll be brilliant. You always are.”
Of course, Stede would do anything to protect Ed, to defend him against any foe, even when that foe was Stede himself and his stupid ideas that would likely get both of them killed. “I’d be willing to try,” Stede said.
“That’s the spirit,” Ed said.
The gentle light of morning had broken through the sky. The soft rain that had been falling for the past days as the Revenge made its escape to the broad waters of the open sea had scattered its last drops.
“Does it hurt badly?” Stede asked, steadying his breath. He wished Ed would say that it didn’t. It would kill Stede to know that he caused Ed pain.
“It pinches a little,” Ed said. “Listen mate, I know it’s asking a lot, but might we take a look at it?”
“We could…?” Stede said, more of a question than anything else.
“Yeah, but I don’t want you to go freaking out on me if you can’t take the sight of it when I pull back the covers.”
“No, I’ve seen it when it was at its worse,” Stede said. “If you must know, I don’t think it will look nearly as gruesome now.” He hoped that Ed’s high spirits upon waking was an indication that Roach’s treatments worked to stop the infection.
“Let’s do it,” Ed said.
With trembling fingers, Stede sat up. He tugged the pink dressing gown toward him, bunching it up into his lap. “Are you ready?” he asked.
Ed nodded and propped himself up on his elbows to get a better look.
Stede reached for the blanket that covered Ed’s lower half and lifted it off him.
Ed turned his attention to his chest, his torso, lower, to his thighs.
Stede remembered well the blood and guts and how Roach worked to rid Ed’s body of the infection. Now, the site of Ed’s amputation was covered in a clean bandage. No blood. No putrid festering wound. Aside from the fact that Ed’s lower leg was gone, one would hardly guess the drama that had recently unfolded as the crew worked to save Ed’s life.
“Gotta admit,” Ed said, twisting his thigh this way and that, “it looks pretty badass.”
Stede sighed. “That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose,” he said despite the guilt slamming into him, tearing at his insides. Stede didn’t notice when his hands began shaking. A lump formed in his throat that left him unable to speak. He choked on his own breath as he sobbed while trying to get some air into his lungs.
“Stede?” Ed said. He pulled the covers back over his thighs.
Stede’s breath caught in his throat. He gulped for air, but his lungs only burned from the effort.
“What’s wrong?” Ed reached for Stede’s arm, but it only made Stede’s shoulders vibrate more intensely.
“This—”
“What is it?”
“This is all my fault,” Stede finally blurted out. And yet, he knew Ed didn’t blame him. That made him feel even worse as he shook with remorse. He wished he knew what he had done to make Ed think he shouldn’t be run through as a punishment for his stupidity. The tears streamed from his eyes as he sobbed.
“Hey, hey,” Ed said, running a hand over Stede’s arm. “It’s alright.”
“It’s not,” Stede cried. He didn’t deserve Ed’s affection, Ed’s love. He only deserved Ed’s rage that he withheld. He buried his face in his hands and gasped for air.
“We’ll work through it, Stede,” Ed insisted with a hand on Stede’s shaking shoulders. “I’ll deal with it. I’m the kind of guy who rolls with the punches. You know that by now.”
“I don’t deserve this. Why are you being so kind to me?” Stede muttered from behind his hands that worked to hide his shame.
“Stede,” Ed said softly. “I wish you didn’t feel this way. This isn’t your fault.”
Stede wailed, his words catching in his throat, “I thought everything was going well. After we reunited. What we did the night before the raid. I thought we were on our way to having more of that kind of affection in our lives, but then I had to fuck it all up with my stupid idea to raid an English ship.”
“You didn’t fuck anything up,” Ed said. “Sure, we didn’t expect Izzy to take a shot at us, but—”
“He was shooting at me!”
“Yeah, I was kind of surprised when he went for his pistol, but I had to get in the way. If anything ever happened to you…”
“No, no, no,” Stede cried. “I’m not worth it. And now you’ve lost your leg. That’s all you have as a reward for being kind to me. And if you think otherwise, you’re a stupid as I am.”
“No, Stede, no,” Ed said. “I don’t know where these thoughts are coming from.”
Stede helplessly fell into the space between Ed’s arms.
Ed stroked Stede’s back. He pulled on Stede until he was cradled in his arms while he sobbed.
“Hey,” Ed said, rubbing Stede’s back soothingly, “You’re always telling your crew to talk it through.”
Stede’s shoulders heaved. “I do,” he cried. “It’s to help them become better people. It helps them to stay sorted out. We’re living on a goddamn pirate ship, for heaven’s sakes!”
“I get it. I get it. But what about you?” Ed whispered.
“Me?”
“Do you ever get yourself sorted out?”
Stede couldn’t speak. He knew full well what Ed was reaching for. Stede had hidden that awful part of himself every day of his life. Only occasionally did he slip and show his sadness, his shame for his ideas that seldom would make sense to a rational person.
“Hey, Stede. This is me. You can share anything with me,” Ed said. “I’ll still love you, no matter how you’re bent on treating yourself like shit.”
Stede wished with all his heart that he could tell Ed how he felt. But it was so much to ask for. He had said it once before on the beach before they kissed for the first time.
“I’ve only got stupid ideas.” Would it be so hard to admit now?
“Come on. What brought these tears on? Is it my injury that makes you feel this way? That’s what I think, if I had to guess.” Ed said. He twirled Stede’s hair between his fingertips and hugged him closer.
“It’s all my fault,” Stede whispered. “I make the stupidest decisions. I have the stupidest ideas. I wish I could be… I don’t know… good enough to deserve you. But I’m just nothing… absolutely nothing.”
“Oh, shut up,” Ed whispered, without any heat.
“Don’t tell me to shut up!” Stede complained, his eyes flying open. He only got an eyeful of the pink dressing gown that was bunched up between them as they lay in Ed’s sickbed.
“Stede… love,” Ed murmured.
“I’m not…” Stede cried.
“Shhh,” Ed hushed. “Of course you are.”
“No, I’m just a fake pirate with a ship and a crew that I bought for myself,” Stede said. “I’m nothing like you.”
“Of course not,” Ed said. “But you’re perfect just the way you are. I think you’re amazing.”
Stede shook his head. “I should be comforting you over the loss of your leg, but here I am crying like an idiot,” he said. The least he could do was apologize for his childish behaviour.
“And your crew?” Ed asked. “They adore you. Remember how they stuck up for you when Badminton was waving his sword around the deck during our capture? They love you. They’ll stand by you, always.”
“They wouldn’t if they knew the real me,” Stede whispered.
“They would,” Ed insisted. “I’ve sometimes seen glimpses of the real you that you hide behind your frilly shirts and lavish waistcoats. And I’m not running away.”
Stede noted the poor choice of words. “It will be a long time before you can run anywhere, thanks to me.”
“You’ve got a great sense of humour, mate,” Ed said after a beat.
“Sorry.”
“It’ll take some getting used to,” Ed said. “but I can do it.”
Stede couldn’t imagine Ed being well again, feeling whole again after all that had happened to him.
“It took some convincing, but every day, I think about how happy it made me that you came back, after you ran off to Bridgetown,” Ed reminded Stede.
“I don’t know why,” Stede said. “I’m just causing more trouble for you.”
“Naah, mate. I think we’re meant to be together,” Ed said. “I mean, if you didn’t run away after I told you about being the Kraken and how I killed my own dad… well, I guess I thought you’d never run away. I thought we shared something special that night. It’s not often that you find someone who you can speak so openly with.”
Stede remembered the night when he first learned about the true identity of the Kraken. How Ed huddled like a scared child in his copper bathtub. “I’ve never had the chance to ask, Ed,” Stede said. “But why did you kill your dad?”
Ed took a deep breath.
“It’s alright if it’s too much to ask,” Stede said, fearing that he overstepped.
“No, I’ll tell you,” Ed said, his fingers tracing the outline of bird shapes on the pink robe.
“I hope you know that I could never truly be afraid of you,” Stede said, reaching out with gentle fingertips to trace Ed’s own bird, rendered in black ink and residing at the base of his throat.
Ed swallowed. “He used to knock my mum around. He’d hit her,” he tersely admitted. “That’s why I strangled him one night when he wandered drunk on the docks.”
“Oh, Ed,” Stede whispered. “I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault,” Ed said. “My mum died a few years after him. I’d like to think that I made the last years of her life more tolerable.”
“I’m sure of it,” Stede said. He found it unbearably painful that Ed had been compelled to kill his father, the person who should have loved him the most. He swept away the thoughts of similarity with his own father and how he preyed on Stede’s inadequacies. Stede had buried the emotions deep, but now they threatened to rise to the surface. He swiftly tried to change the subject. “And that’s when you took to the sea?”
“Yup, joined a crew, Hornigold, the rest is history,” Ed said.
But the subject lingered on Stede’s lips. “I’m sorry you had to endure all that,” he said, remembering his own suffering. “You might be the type of guy who rolls with the punches, but I’d imagine you’d reach your breaking point when someone hurt your mum.”
“Yeah, well, I couldn’t bear seeing her get hurt,” Ed said.
Stede nodded, still safely wrapped in Ed’s embrace.
Ed whispered, “I couldn’t bear it if you were hurt either.”
Tears pricked at the corners of Stede’s eyes. Memories from his past flooded through him. The bullying from his classmates. His father, who berated him at every opportunity. The Badmintons, both from his childhood and who taunted him as an adult. His family, who, until he planned his own fuckery of a death, never seemed to appreciate him for who he was on the inside. He had never felt seen. He barely knew what it felt like to be accepted and loved for who he was at his very core, but here was Ed, the most fearsome pirate in all the Caribbean, whose heart would shatter if Stede—Stede with his stupid ideas—was hurt.
“What does it feel like, to say these things to me?” Stede choked out. He could not fathom what it would feel like to share of himself from a place where he hid the sadness that had affected him so deeply. “How do you get to the point where you can tell me these things without being afraid that I’ll run away, or think you mad?”
“I’m just speaking from the heart, man.” Ed said, his hands spread wide on Stede’s back.
Stede rested his hand on Ed’s chest. He felt the thrum of his heartbeat beneath his palm. “But you’re so strong, such an icon of piracy, and yet, you share these intimate details of your life with me. Aren’t you afraid of feeling foolish or looking weak?”
Ed cocked his head. “Not with you, Stede,” he said reassuringly. “We’re just talking it through—like you say to your crew. What about you? Do you think you’d like to talk it through with me?”
Stede took a deep breath. The one thing that he had always secretly wished for was being handed to him on a silver platter. No snail tongs necessary. His most ardent wish, to have someone with whom to talk it through, was within reach. Someone who wouldn’t ridicule him when he showed his true self. Someone who wouldn’t laugh at his eccentricities. Someone who wouldn’t care that he was a weak-hearted lily-livered little rich boy.
But his shame at only having stupid ideas ravaged him. “I can’t,” Stede finally said through his tears. He couldn’t let Ed, the only person who ever loved him, see the truth.
“Shh,” Ed hushed. “You can.”
Stede shook his head.
“Here’s something that might help,” Ed whispered. He took Stede’s hand and pressed it flat against the pink dressing gown.
Stede’s fingers went to one of the birds of paradise that decorated the fabric. He rubbed his thumb over the velvet.
“You’re doing it now,” Ed said.
Stede’s brow furrowed, but his thumb continued its motion back and forth over the softness.
“When I came back to the Revenge after you failed to show on the dock, I stole your dressing gown and brought it into my blanket fort.”
Stede nodded. He had heard about the marmalade in the blanket fort and he remembered the story of the sad poetry that helped Ed work through his emotions.
“I lay there day after day, tracing the birds on the dressing gown with my fingers.”
Stede raised his thumb from the fabric.
“There are eighty-seven of them,” Ed said.
Stede let his thumb caress the velvet again. “Eighty-seven birds? You counted them?”
Ed shrugged. “It helped me. Just tracing each of the birds on the velvet, day after day. The feel of the cloth beneath my fingertips. Maybe they can help you, too.”
“I don’t know where to begin,” Stede said with a shudder, his thumb tracing the outline of a bird. The light scratch of his thumbnail against the velvet might as well have been the only sound on the Revenge.
“Start at the beginning,” Ed said. “But whatever you do, please believe me when I tell you that you deserve to have someone to listen to you.”
“Someone,” Stede sighed. “That’s you.” A tingling sensation worked its way downward from the top of his skull. It flowed down his spine and surrounded him with warmth.
“That’s me,” Ed said.
The sound of Ed’s voice made Stede believe that maybe, just possibly, what Ed said was true. The colours of the birds, red, blue, green, purple, peacefully passed beneath his fingertips.
“I’ll listen to you, Stede,” Ed said. “I see you.”
Entranced by the warmth from Ed’s embrace, the soothing scratch of his thumbnail against the velvet birds, and the gentle rock of the Revenge, Stede spoke. “I’ve never admitted this to anyone before, but when I was a young lad growing up in the Bonnet household, it wasn’t easy for me….”
~
From the deck of the Revenge, Stede gazed toward the shoreline. He carried the dressing gown, the pink one with the birds of paradise, over one arm. The last vestiges of sunset streaked the sky with orange and purple brilliance. In the distance, the beachside bonfire illuminated most of the crew. The sweet tones of Frenchie’s lute wafted across the water toward Stede. He could make out Black Pete and Lucius as they danced to the tune. Somewhere on the beach, Oluwande and Jim cuddled beneath a blanket, while Wee John and Ivan took turns keeping the fire going. Stede’s hand went to his belly. Roach had certainly perfected his bouillabaisse recipe. The forty-orange glaze cake was the icing on the… well, the perfect finish to the beachside meal.
Without preamble, a wooden contraption flew from the water and landed on the deck beside Stede with a clatter. He shook his head and stooped to pick it up. “Do you need any help?” Stede asked, turning his attention to the portside ladder.
“Nope, I’ve got it,” Ed said.
Stede draped the dressing gown over the top rail so it wouldn’t get wet. He picked up the contraption and shook the water off it as he watched Ed’s hands come into view.
“You should really take better care of this,” Stede tutted, setting the device down so he could give Ed a hand if he needed it.
Wearing only a pair of black smallclothes and his purple undershirt, Ed swung himself onto the deck. His one bare foot landed with a splat. “The damn thing floats. Makes it nearly impossible to swim.”
“You could have ridden in the dinghy with me, you know,” Stede said, going to Ed’s side. He had already taken advantage of a head start to light some candles and pour the brandy in the captain’s quarters in anticipation of their romantic night alone on the Revenge.
“Where’s the challenge in that?” Ed asked, pulling Stede close.
Stede closed his eyes and cringed at the feel of the sopping wet fabric of Ed’s clothing as it pressed against his dry white shirt. “Ed! You didn’t even bother to undress before diving in?”
“Didn’t want to give the crew a look at the goods,” Ed said as Stede peeled his purple undershirt from him.
“My darling, we live on a pirate ship. It’s nothing they haven’t seen before,” Stede said, slipping his hands beneath the waist of Ed’s smallclothes after allowing Ed’s shirt to land on the deck in a wet clump. “Although I might get jealous if any of the crew were to start ogling you.”
Ed went in for a kiss while Stede palmed at his arse.
The salty taste of Ed’s beard made Stede shudder. His hands moved upward to rub over the cold damp skin of Ed’s back. “Let’s get you warmed up,” Stede said.
“I hear there’s a fireplace on board this vessel,” Ed said with a grin.
Stede stooped to pick up the contraption that had landed on the deck. “Will you be wanting this?”
The object in question was one of Black Pete’s newest projects. Assembled from bits and bobs he found in his travels, along with a fair amount of whittled driftwood, the contraption looked just like a real leg. It even wore the black boot that matched Ed’s good leg… when he was wearing his boot.
“Well, I’m not going to let you throw me over your shoulder and carry me off like I’m a damsel in distress,” Ed replied. He slipped his upper leg into the contraption and fastened the buckles that held it in place. “Although that might be fun.”
Stede laughed. “Whatever you’d like, dear,” he said.
“That’s sorted,” Ed said, admiring his handcrafted leg.
“I love everything about you, but I will admit you look particularly formidable with one bare foot, one black boot, and nothing else but your body art,” Stede said. It was true. Ed was stunning in the moonlight. Stede especially thought so, knowing they’d have the whole evening to themselves aboard the ship.
“I should get Black Pete to make me a flesh-toned one for our other adventures,” Ed said, waggling his eyebrows.
“Let’s not give him any inappropriate ideas about his co-captains,” Stede said.
“It was your brilliant idea to give the crew a night off, relaxing on the beach,” Ed said. “Don’t you think they’ve seen your ulterior motive of getting me alone for the night.”
“Hush, you,” Stede said. He wrapped Ed in the pink dressing gown and gave Ed his arm, but Ed hadn’t really needed its support for some time.
Ed had adapted to the loss of his leg as well as might be expected for a fearsome pirate. Although he was a bit unsteady while walking on sand, Ed was never a man for the land anyway. The deck of the Revenge, with its predictable swaying and rocking made Black Pete’s contraption, with its springs and pulleys, work like a charm.
“Goodnight you lot,” Stede half-heartedly waved toward the crew, although it was unlikely that they could hear him from across the waves.
Inside the captain’s quarters, Ed made himself comfortable on the velvet brocade sofa. In recent months, the raiding had produced several more amenities, including a mahogany tea table and a mis-matched set of crystal glassware. Stede’s belongings that had been cast away were gradually being replaced by objects that he and Ed had acquired together. Each one told a new story of their adventures.
As a rule, they avoided the English ships… for the time being, at least.
Stede tended to the fire as soon as they arrived in the captain’s quarters.
Ed sprawled out on the sofa, a glass of brandy in his hand. Naked, except for the pink dressing gown, which splayed wide open beneath him, Ed was the embodiment of desire. The light from the new chandelier illuminated his every feature, dark ink on his bronze skin. Dionysus himself could not be more alluring.
Stede stripped off his shirt and breeches. He went to the sofa and knelt in the space between Ed’s real leg and his contraption.
Ed passed him his brandy and let him sip from the same glass. “Do you mind if it’s on or off?” he asked.
“It’s entirely up to you, darling,” Stede said, returning the glass to the tea table.
“Off, please,” Ed said.
Stede hummed in agreement. It pleased Stede that Ed was never self-conscious about him handling the contraption or the part of Ed’s body where it attached. Unlike Stede, Ed was always comfortable in his own skin, whether he chose to be Blackbeard, Ed, the Kraken, or even Jeff the accountant. Stede aspired to feel as confident as Ed someday. With the passage of time and the sharing of heartfelt conversation, he was getting there.
Stede’s fingers went to the buckles that held the contraption in place. With practiced moves, he unfastened it and let it drop to the floor. The scar from Ed’s injury had long since healed. Tiny white lines marked Roach’s stitches against the healthy flesh. Besides that, only the memory of that awful day remained.
Ed speared Stede’s hair with his fingers and tugged him forward.
Stede was slow to move, leaving a trail of kisses across Ed’s body from his belly to his mouth, where the taste of the brandy lingered. They rarely had time to indulge in the privacy of having the Revenge all to themselves and Stede was determined to enjoy every minute of it. He canted his hips, pressing his length against Ed’s, making his intentions clear.
Ed snuck his hand between the cushions of the sofa and found a vial of coconut oil that they kept there for its specific purpose. He raised an eyebrow at Stede.
A broad grin broke over Stede’s face.
Theirs may have been a story about missing parts, but the parts that were missing were not the ones that an observer may have anticipated. With the help of a velvet dressing gown and Ed’s patience in listening to the tales of Stede’s struggles, his failures, his shame at having only stupid ideas, Stede Bonnet healed. It was an amputation of sorts, one that removed the part of Stede that had ached for so long. The fortress Stede had built around the secrets of his heart had been dismantled, its weathered beams cast aside until only light reached him. And for the first time, he was seen.
