87 Birds - Chapter 3
Title: 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 stroked the back of Ed’s hand. He couldn’t blame Roach for leaving Ed’s gloves on before getting down to the business of his surgery, but the black fingerless gloves seemed oddly out of place.
“Oh my darling, I fear that this is all my fault,” Stede whispered as he held a gloved hand. If only Ed would awaken. If only he would speak again, Stede would be able to breathe.
An hour earlier, Ed’s eyes had fluttered closed as slowly as he had opened them. And then, nothing but the shallow rise and fall of his chest convinced Stede that he was still alive.
Needing Ed to get his rest and worried that he might catch a chill, Stede smoothed the covers over Ed where he lay. From the foot of the bed, Stede found the pink dressing gown, salvaged from Ed’s days of being a menacing Kraken. It had served as a comfort item for Ed in those days. Perhaps it would serve as such again, Stede mused as he draped it over Ed. He touched a finger to one of the bird’s bodies and traced its shape, velvet soft to his touch.
Ed’s eyes stayed closed, but he looked peaceful.
Stede gently brought each of Ed’s sleeping arms atop the covers. He wondered if Ed would mind if he removed his gloves. The tattered leather crusted with dried blood couldn’t be comfortable. And Stede longed to hold Ed’s hands in his own, to feel the life coursing through him when the end had been so near.
Stede took Ed’s left hand and cautiously unfastened the glove.
Ed mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep, stopping Stede in his tracks.
Stede pressed his ear to Ed’s chest, but no further communication came. Biting his lip, Stede worked to assure himself that the sedatives Ed had been given wouldn’t wear off for some time. He hoped earnestly that Ed was not in pain.
“I’m going to remove your gloves, if I may,” Stede spoke quietly, but Ed gave no answer.
Stede slipped his fingers beneath the leather of the glove. He worked it free and gently tugged each fingerhole loose. When he held the dirty glove in his hand, he stroked the length of each of Ed’s fingers checking for some previously missed injury that might need attention.
Relieved that Ed’s left hand was intact, Stede pressed a kiss to Ed’s knuckles, admiring the black polish that Ed had taken to wearing on his nails. The fearsome pirate captain would strike terror into most men’s hearts, but Stede had only ever felt affection for him.
With the glove gone, Stede counted each of Ed’s fingers, remembering with nostalgia that he had done the same thing to Alma and Louis when they were born. Like the babes’ tiny digits, Ed’s fingers were perfect in every way. A pang of sorrow made Stede’s tears well, when he realized that he would never do the same to all of Ed’s toes.
It would do no good to cry over what could not be changed, Stede thought with a sniffle. He reached for a pitcher of water and poured it over one of the many clean rags that had been left on the bedside table. Wringing out the cloth, he proceeded to dab it at Ed’s palm, between his fingers and across the back of his hand. He scrubbed lightly to wash away the dried blood and grime that had seeped underneath his glove. Some might say that giving such attention, like that of a nursemaid, was beneath a man of Stede Bonnet’s social standing, but Stede could not care less.
When Stede finished with Ed’s left hand, he moved to the right. Loosening the fastenings of his glove, Stede slipped his fingers beneath the leather that covered Ed’s right palm. Ed’s pulse beat strong against Stede’s fingertips.
“That’s it,” Stede said, his voice cracking with emotion as he removed the glove. “You’re so strong, so brave. You’ll be strong enough to survive this ordeal. I just know it.”
Tears welled in Stede’s eyes. He doubted whether he would be able to endure such an atrocious injury. He’d likely have panicked and leaped into the sea, if the same had happened to him. He had no confidence that he could rely on others to care for him. Most people Stede knew would have simply let him bleed to death when his injury became apparent. But Ed did not need to worry about such things. Ed had Stede, for better or for worse. Stede took some comfort in the idea that he no longer had only himself to look after, that he could be of some use to Ed. He prayed that he was up to the task. For his whole life, the only care Stede received was that which he gave to himself. And even that was lacking by most people’s standards, but Stede never dared to ask for more from another.
Outside the window of the cabin, the clouds slid by as the Revenge cut a path through the sea. Stede had commanded Buttons to set a course for the safety of open water as soon as each of their numbers were accounted for. Despite his limited experience on the sea, Stede found himself reassured by the speed of the clouds and the length of the Revenge’s wake.
Soon enough, night fell and the clouds kept their secrets from Stede.
Still Stede stayed at Ed’s bedside. Every hour or so, he applied a cool cloth to Ed’s brow as he rested. Dawn brought visitors, including Roach and a change of bandages, to the quiet captain’s quarters.
“You should get some rest, Captain,” Oluwande said. He took Stede by the arm and guided him to the sofa.
Stede sat with Oluwande, but his eyes remained firmly on the alcove where Roach finished inspecting Ed’s wound.
Members of the crew came and went as the morning broke. It seemed that the hard feelings between the crew of the Revenge and Ed had steadily dissipated since their return. They now looked upon Ed with genuine concern.
Unfortunately, Stede had the uncomfortable task of explaining to the Swede that Ed’s leg would not, in fact, grow back.
Fearing that Ed would catch a chill, Stede employed assistance from Frenchie and Wee John when they stopped by to check on Ed and to give Stede a few moments of relief from his caregiving duties. Stede looked on while they carefully dressed Ed in one of Stede’s softest nightshirts.
Stede believed that Ed would approve of Frenchie’s assistance. The two had a special kinship, despite their unbalanced level of power in the world of piracy.
The crisp white linen rarely suited Ed, who preferred to sleep wearing only what nature and a tattoo needle had given him, but Stede admired how the shirt made the freckles on Edward’s nose stand out. He stroked a finger over Ed’s nose while he slept and whispered thanks to God that Ed still breathed.
“I’ve never been more grateful to have a gentle giant like Wee John on our crew,” Stede said to Lucius, who had braved another visit to the captain’s quarters.
“Everyone wants Ed to make a full recovery. Just wait until you see what Pete’s working on for him,” Lucius said, tapping Stede’s shoulder enthusiastically.
Stede sighed. He could only guess.
“I appreciate it, Lucius,” Stede said tiredly. “More than you’ll ever know.”
“How about you?” Lucius asked. “When was the last time you got some shut-eye?”
Stede closed his eyes and tried to recall it, before finally shrugging and admitting to Lucius that he could not remember the last time he slept.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Lucius said.
Stede gazed toward the alcove where Ed rested peacefully and undisturbed now that the crew had each departed.
“He’s not going anywhere. Get some rest,” Lucius said, closing the door behind him with a creaky thud.
Stede sighed and went to the washbasin. He threw some water onto his face and tried to avoid getting a glimpse of himself in the oval mirror that someone had thought to perch atop the bedside table. Without looking, he knew his eyes were red with tiredness. He hadn’t even the energy to yawn.
Smiling when he recognized that Frenchie had thought to replace the pink dressing gown over Ed’s sleeping form, Stede carefully crawled onto the mattress beside Ed. He curled up beside the man he loved, slipping his hand beneath the pink garment that covered Ed’s lower half. Ed’s chest rose and fell with his breathing, as normally as if he had been sleeping at Stede’s side.
“Oh, my darling,” Stede whispered, pressing a kiss to Ed’s brow. “Will you ever forgive me for what has happened to you.”
Stede fussed with the ties to Ed’s nightshirt, one of his favourites that he’d sacrificed to the potential ruin from blood and guts. It was easy to sacrifice his things to Ed. He had already done so inadvertently when he first caught of glimpse of his library upon his return, his precious books all cast into the sea. The loss of his books was a small price to pay if it meant he could have Ed back in his arms again. He hoped that Ed would view the decision Stede made about his leg in a similar light. His heart weighed heavily with the worry that Ed would be furious with him. There seemed to be an equal chance that Ed, infuriated with what had been done, might berate Stede and display his anger with Stede in front of the crew.
“Please, no,” Stede whispered. They had come so far, especially in the way Stede had gained the support of his crew when they were captured by the English. And Ed… the crew had come far in their willingness to have allowed Ed his moment of an unfettered descent into his own private world of self-hatred, something that had only been made possible by Izzy and his grasp on Ed’s emotions.
“Izzy,” Stede murmured. It was much too soon to think about Izzy.
Stede’s fingers traced the outline of a soft velvet bird that rested on Ed’s belly. The movement of his fingers slowed his thoughts when his head threaten to fill with the arguments over what had happened in the raid.
Instead, Stede let the softness guide him into sleep.
~
Stede tried to use the red silk to wipe the remaining tears from Ed’s eyes. He looked around his former quarters in search of water to finish swabbing the black grease from Ed’s cheeks and chin. Finding nothing of use, except tattered old blankets that Ed had apparently used to make a sort of blanket fort on the far wall of the room, Stede pressed a kiss to Ed’s forehead and whispered, “I’m going to leave you for a moment, but I’ll be right back.”
Ed reached out and grasped Stede’s forearm, his fingers digging into Stede’s sunburned flesh. His deathly blackened eyes darted to Stede’s face in a plea to stay.
“It’s all right, my darling,” Stede assured him, stroking his cheek with a gentle hand.
Ed’s eyes fell to the scrap of red silk that Stede still held.
Stede couldn’t tell whether Ed feared for his safety or lamented that Stede would leave him again. Noting that he hadn’t heard any signs of a struggle coming from the main deck, he tucked the red silk into Ed’s palm and folded his fingers over the prize. “Don’t worry about me,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “It will take a lot more than a walk on the plank to kill me. I’m sure my crew will keep Izzy at bay.”
Ed released his hold on Stede’s arm. He shrank back to the corner of the room where he sat among the ruins of a blanket fort.
Rising to his feet, Stede’s knees cracked. His legs tingled with pins and needles from crouching on the floor beside Ed for so long. “I’ll only be a moment,” he assured Ed.
True to his word, Stede tiptoed out of the cabin, listening all the while for a ruckus coming from the deck. His heart broke for Ed, who reminded him of an injured bird, struggling to find flight again.
Stede slipped down the hall to the bathroom to retrieve some water and a clean washcloth. He let out a breath when he saw that his copper bathtub still stood against the wall. He traced his fingers along the rim of the tub, remembering the day of the fuckery, where the crew had so expertly executed their plan to taunt the Dutch sailors. Ed had been at his most distraught on that night. So many confessions in the span of minutes when he rested his forehead on Stede’s hand as if the weight of all his years had been lifted from him. Times like those came but a few times in a man’s life, if ever. The time had come for Blackbeard… for Ed that night, although Stede doubted he would ever be able to speak as plainly to anyone, even Ed.
Beside the washstand, Stede found a pitcher of tepid freshwater and poured it over a rag that he deemed to be moderately clean. Rinsing his hands to wash off some of Ed’s dirt and the grime that resulted from his days of rowing, he considered washing his face and pressing the wet cloth to his chapped lips, but he refrained, devoting the limits of the freshwater to be used to tend to Ed.
On his way back to the captain’s quarters, he was met by Oluwande who lingered in the hallway.
“We heard you moving around down here and they sent me to check to make sure you were doing alright,” Oluwande said, his eyes darting nervously toward the damaged door to the quarters.
“I’ll be fine,” Stede said, passing the wet washcloth from one hand to the other. “And Izzy? Does Jim still have him under their knife?”
“They’ve brought him to the brig,” Oluwande said.
“Ahh,” Stede nodded. He never knew he’d have a use for the brig when he had the Revenge commissioned. He made a mental note to thank the shipbuilder for suggesting it.
“Roach is in the galley, cooking up some grub for the rest of the crew. And you needn’t worry about Ivan and Fang,” Oluwande nodded. “They’ve befriended Lucius after-did you know Ed tossed him overboard?”
“I imagined as much from what Lucius told us when we boarded,” Stede said.
“Do you need anything? I mean, Are you safe with him?” Oluwande asked, tilting his head toward the door where Ed waited.
“I’ll be fine,” Stede said, clasping Oluwande’s shoulder. “Could you be a good man and see to it that my bathing tub is filled with warm water? I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you organize the crew to help with it-I think they’ll benefit from participating in a group activity to acknowledge the benchmark of returning to the ship.”
“Certainly, captain,” Oluwande agreed and returned to the main deck.
Stede hadn’t dared to tell Oluwande that the bath was for Ed and not for himself. He was relieved that he hadn’t asked.
Back in the room, Ed hadn’t moved from his position on the floor where Stede had left him.
Stede stopped to light a few more candles that were scattered across his old desk, the surface scarred with gouges and the pointy stab marks of a knife. Grateful that Ed didn’t object to the light, Stede knelt in front of him on the floor. It pained him to see Ed in such a state. He looked like he hadn’t eaten anything or slept in weeks. Perhaps he truly hadn’t.
Eyes downcast, Ed still clutched at the pink dressing gown with one hand. The fingers of his other hand massaged the red scrap of silk.
“I’m sorry that you’re hurting,” Stede said, bringing the washcloth to Ed’s face. He would do anything to alleviate Ed’s lingering pain. Stede could hardly process the destruction of his precious books and other belongings when the man he cherished more than any material object suffered so. “I didn’t mean to hurt you by my hasty departure and failure to notify you of my intentions. I assure you, if we can get past this, I’ll never do such a thing again, not intentionally at least.”
Ed inhaled huskily before speaking. “I don’t know what to do. I thought I could make myself feel better, find my footing again if I destroyed things. If I maimed. If I killed,” Ed said, his face looking much cleaner than it had before Stede began his ministrations.
“You’d kill? Well, thank heavens it didn’t come to that,” Stede said. He took comfort in Oluwande’s news that the crew would soon be enjoying a hearty meal, rather than starving on the deadly barren island.
“You know, I had a lot of time to think when I rowed back to the ship,” Ed said. “At first, I tried to do the things I thought you might do if you wanted to curl up into a ball and die. You’re always telling the crew to talk about such things, so that’s what I tried to do, at first.”
“I’m sure you tried very hard. You were probably quite brilliant at it,” Stede said, still surprised that anyone would miss his presence so much.
“I wrote some lyrics and gorged myself on your fine marmalade. I listened to your boy… Lucius… I tried to take his advice, but…” Ed said, his voice growing softer.
“He’s a good listener, isn’t he?” Stede said as he continued to tend to Ed’s face, the stubble of his whiskers catching on the washcloth. He remembered how many times he had sought Lucius for advice about his relationship with Ed when that awful Calico Jack visited their ship.
“I killed him,” Ed cried out. “I tried to tell you a long time ago that I’m not a good person, Stede. And now I’ve killed your scribe. I’m so sorry, it was my only way of getting back to being myself, the Blackbeard who everyone feared and respected, the Blackbeard who was your friend, the Blackbeard who you could make happy just by sitting by his side in the crow’s nest.”
“Ed?” Stede gasped.
“Don’t lie to me. You didn’t want the Blackbeard who kissed you on the beach at the Privateering Academy. No one did!” Ed lamented.
“Oh my darling,” Stede cried. On his knees, he surged forward and awkwardly took Ed into his arms. He rubbed Ed’s back through the leather of his jacket, wishing that Ed could take some comfort from whatever he could feebly give.
Ed’s shoulders shook with sobs that came from deep in his chest.
“I do want you,” Stede whispered. “I want you however you are, however you need to be in order to be your true self, Ed.”
Ed gulped in great breaths of air as he fought to control his sobbing.
“And hey, you didn’t kill Lucius.”
After a long stretch of silence, Ed asked “What?” his voice muffled by the cloth of Stede’s tattered shirt.
“You may have thought you killed him. But, yeah, he’s very much alive,” Stede said, drawing back to look at Ed’s face.
“Fuck off,” Ed chortled.
“Of course, I suspect he’s been hiding in plain sight on the ship these past few weeks,” Stede said, letting his hands stroke the backs of Ed’s arms, one bare and one shielded by leather.
“Now that you mention it, I thought I caught a glimpse of him once or twice,” Ed said, without pulling away. “I assumed it was his ghost rising from the deep to torment me.”
Stede raised an eyebrow at him. “I used to think that about the Badmintons,” he mused. He took Ed’s hand and said, “I think Fang and Ivan had something to do with Lucius’ rescue.”
Ed let out an unrestrained laugh.
“I’d venture to guess that the two of you will have a way to go to make amends, but it can be done,” Stede said.
“Can it?”
“I think so.”
Stede could say the same for the rest of the crew, but he didn’t dare overwhelm Ed with talk about the long journey toward reconciliation that lay ahead of him. The worry that Ed would never reciprocate the love that Stede felt for him was causing enough stress for one day in the life of Stede Bonnet. This love thing was complicated as fuck, but Stede was going to try his best not to cock it up if Ed gave him a second chance.
“Listen,” I asked Oluwande to prepare a bath. I’m sure it’s ready by now,” Stede said. “Would you let me take you to it?”
Ed tilted his head to face Stede. “I must look awful. I haven’t bathed in weeks,” he admitted.
“I can tell,” Stede said with a laugh, inhaling the scent of sweaty leather and stale rum. “But I know that, underneath all of this, you’re as lovely as ever. Come along.”
Stede got to his feet and reached an outstretched hand to Ed, who took it. He pulled Ed up, carefully helping him get some leverage without tweaking his bad knee.
“I’m sorry that you’ve probably ridden the ship of that lavender soap you liked so much,” Stede said, taking his eyes off Ed for a moment to gaze around the barren candlelit room. “We can get some more if you’d like, the next time we visit a port.”
“I wish I had kept it,” Ed said. “But I did whatever I could to rid myself of the memory of your fine things, even the things that Ed enjoyed so much.”
“The things can be replaced,” Stede said, his heart feeling lighter. “But you, my darling, are irreplaceable. Will you let me take care of you?”
Stede led Ed down the hall to where the bath awaited him. Although Ed had never been shy about his body, Stede turned his back to allow Ed some privacy as he removed his leathers. When he heard a groan and the slosh of water as Ed sunk into the bath, he turned around and joined Ed by sitting on the floor at the side of the tub. From this angle, he could rummage around in the cabinet below the washstand. He found a cake of soap that had been overlooked during Ed’s stint at remodelling. It wasn’t the lavender soap that Ed favoured, but it would do.
“How’s the water?” Stede asked quietly.
Ed let out a soft hum that convinced Stede that the temperature was acceptable.
Stede knew from experience how soothing the warm bath felt. To have the sensation of being submerged in the water of the bath while the Revenge rocked on the waves was a special comfort every time he luxuriated in it.
“May I help with your hair?” Stede asked.
“If you’d like. It could do with a good scrubbing,” Ed said, waving his hand above the surface of the water to grant his consent.
Stede exhaled with relief that Ed would allow Stede to touch him while he was in this tenuous state of vulnerability. Ed had ordered his death only an hour earlier. He had been so anxious to reunite with Ed, but now he wasn’t sure whether he would ever want to kiss him again like he had on the beach at the Privateering Academy. He knew he wanted to kiss Ed again. But by running back to Bridgetown, he had certainly cocked up whatever friendship they had. He knew it would take his every effort to prove that Ed could put his trust in him again.
Ed sat in the tub, his tattooed knees rising above the surface of the water. He gathered the long strands of his hair and leaned forward to submerge his head in the space between his knees.
Stupid, stupid man, running back to your family, Stede berated himself as he dipped the soap into the still water behind Ed’s back. The black of Ed’s ink gleamed wet in the dim light. Stede could have gazed upon this beautiful man every day of his life and never tired of it. Ed had wanted to run away to China with him, for God’s sake, but now Stede might have irrevocably fucked that, and any other plans for a future, right the fuck up. He took the cask of soap from the water and rubbed it between his hands to work up a lather.
With his hair dripping wet, Ed shifted forward and leaned back so Stede could soap his hair.
The sight of Ed’s naked body in the tub made Stede’s breeches grow tighter. He tenderly slid his soapy hands through the dripping cascade of Ed’s hair. Grateful for the privilege, he gently massaged Ed’s scalp with his fingertips. Now he finally understood the warm feeling he got in his belly every time he saw Ed. The overwhelming desire to please Ed went hand in hand with the love he felt for him. But his brain needed to reset itself after learning that Ed had reacted so hurtfully, both to the crew, and to himself, when Stede didn’t join him on the dock as they had planned. At the time, Stede could have been convinced that his trip back to Bridgetown was inconsequential where Ed was concerned, but Ed had been devastated.
Imagine that.
The power of such love terrified Stede.
With a finger, Ed traced a lazy line along the surface of the soapy bathwater. He reached for a rag and silently dragged it over his skin, without any ceremony or predetermined order.
With Ed’s hair a sculpture of bubbly swirls, Stede let his hands fall to Ed’s shoulders. He squeezed at the warm damp flesh, admiring Ed’s tattooed and scarred skin that told of a lifetime of adventure.
Ed was a hundred times the pirate that Stede would ever be.
Stede remembered the distant night of the fuckery when Ed lay curled up in this very same bathtub. The confession that Ed had killed his own father… the way Ed shared himself with Stede so willingly, as he always did. Stede hoped they could get back to that place where Ed would speak so openly with him. He would love nothing more than to show Ed how much he cared for him, by listening to the secrets of his heart.
Ed was a hundred times the man that Stede would ever be.
Ed reached for Stede’s hand that had stopped moving on his shoulder. Fingers adorned with black polished nails squeezed Stede’s hand as Ed whispered, “Thank you.”
Stede swallowed back a sob. With all his heart, he wished that their journey together could begin again. He had nothing but admiration for Ed and his ability to speak from his heart, something that Stede had never been able to embrace for himself. Stede remained safe if he kept his mouth shut. His fears needed to be kept hidden.
What was it that Ed had once said? If you discover your enemy’s fear, you’ll own them…
Stede could never let Ed know of his darkest fear.
Weak-hearted, soft-handed….
He only had stupid ideas.
Stede didn’t dare call attention to it, not again, for fear that Ed would become aware of his many shortcomings. He had left after Ed bared his soul to him on the beach at the Privateering Academy. If Stede exposed the pain that haunted him, there was a chance that Ed would finally see him for what he was. A lily-livered little rich boy… Stede knew that was all he’d ever be. And he’d try his damnedest to keep Ed from finding out.
Keeping this secret was what Stede Bonnet did best.
Ed could never learn about Stede’s shame at having one stupid idea after the next. The ache of keeping his heart safe from the stabbing words that threatened to tear him to shreds- it was Stede’s greatest fear that his pain would be discovered and his very soul would be laid bare.
The muscles in Ed’s shoulders relaxed under Stede’s touch. With one soapy hand, Ed reached back and clasped Stede’s hand in his own.
Ed seemed to understand Stede’s thoughts without him giving them voice.
Stede leaned forward and mouthed a hard kiss to the spot below Ed’s ear. The wet heat of Ed’s fingers linked his and Stede’s together. Ed’s palm burned against Stede’s. Water dripped from Ed’s palm, the droplets running across Stede’s wrist and creeping down Stede’s forearm in rivulets.
Stede’s eyes opened when Roach shouted, “Get some seawater, we need to cool him down!”
~
Stede’s clammy hand slid from Ed’s. In the chaos of the cabin, it took him a moment to understand what was happening.
Half the crew had come to Ed’s aid while Stede had carelessly slumbered away.
Roach moved with lightning speed. He thrust some yardage of linen into the bucket of seawater that Wee John had carried into the alcove.
“Frenchie! Lucius! Swirl that around so it’s soaked,” Roach barked out his orders.
“Oh, God, I was not made for this,” Lucius lamented.
“Sorry Captain,” Roach said, sparing a glance Stede’s way. “We need to get this off him if you want him to live.”
Stede watched as Roach climbed onto the mattress and tore Ed’s nightshirt cleanly in two. The screech of tearing linen sounded with a finality.
“No, do whatever you must,” Stede cried, his approval coming too late because the task had already been completed. He couldn’t care less that Ed now lay half-naked on the sheets. This was no time for decorum. Stede’s fingers clutched uselessly at the pink dressing gown that he had draped over Ed’s body.
Without delay, Roach reached for the linen, dripping wet with cold seawater. “Give me a hand,” he commanded, and Black Pete accepted the challenge.
“Anything to save Blackbeard’s life,” Pete said.
“You’re a good man, Pete,” Lucius said, patting him on the shoulder.
Ed’s skin gleamed with sweat, beads of it catching on his scars as they followed the path of his tattoos. The crew worked to lay the wet fabric over Ed’s body. It covered his arms, his torso, and his intact leg.
Stede crawled off the bed and reached into the bucket for more cold wet cloth to cover Ed’s forehead. Even through the cloth, Ed’s skin burned like fire beneath Stede’s fingertips.
“If you guys can keep cooling him down, I can work on the infection,” Roach shouted.
“Infection?” Stede cried. “Oh God!”
“These infections can happen sometimes,” Roach assured Stede. He leaped to the foot of the bed and began unwinding the bandages from the stump where Ed’s leg had been cleaved. As each bandage was stripped away, the sight became more gruesome. A yellow pus seeped through the white cloth that became streaked with more and more diluted blood as each layer of fabric was removed.
“Is it supposed to look like that?” Stede cried.
Lucius’ eyes rolled back in his head as he sank, unconscious, to the floor.
Stede had to admit that he felt queasy. It was bad enough the Ed’s leg was gone and he suffered with fever, but the visceral appearance of his stump reminded Stede all too well of Lucius’ infected finger. No wonder the poor lad had passed out cold.
“It’s fine! It’s fine!” Roach sang as he prodded and squeezed at the healing wound.
“It doesn’t look fine,” Stede shouted. He regretted that he knew so little about medicine. If only he had studied to be a doctor, maybe he’d know what to do to help Ed. It took all his will power to trust that Roach knew what he was doing.
“Keep switching out the cloth,” Roach directed Pete and Frenchie when Wee John arrived with a fresh bucket of cold sea water.
Ed said nothing, his eyes squeezed shut while his head lolled from side to side like a metronome.
“If we can’t get his fever down, I fear that Captain Teach will not recover,” Roach said.
“How do we do that?” Stede cried.
“They’re doing it,” Roach said, nodding to the crew who worked to cool Ed’s body.
“And what about you?” Stede asked. “This looks terrible.”
“I’m busy pulling the infection from his leg. It’s a good sign that it’s flowing out like this,” Roach said. “His body is ridding itself of the bad humours.”
Stede wrinkled his nose with disdain. He loved Ed dearly, but the oozing blood and pus that flowed from his leg nauseated him. He wanted to crawl into a hole. This was all his fault. From start to finish. And now all he could do was watch as Roach coaxed the infection from Ed’s destroyed limb.
The pink dressing gown lay in a heap at the foot of the bed. Lacking anything useful to do, Stede retrieved it from where it lay. He fought against the urge to press it to his face, so he could feel the softness of the velvet that Ed loved so much. Instead, he stroked his fingers across the birds that decorated the gown. They faced this way and that, each a bit different in their appearance. He traced their plumage quietly as his crew worked to diminish Ed’s fever and Roach lent his capable hands to the effort of healing the man Stede loved.
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 stroked the back of Ed’s hand. He couldn’t blame Roach for leaving Ed’s gloves on before getting down to the business of his surgery, but the black fingerless gloves seemed oddly out of place.
“Oh my darling, I fear that this is all my fault,” Stede whispered as he held a gloved hand. If only Ed would awaken. If only he would speak again, Stede would be able to breathe.
An hour earlier, Ed’s eyes had fluttered closed as slowly as he had opened them. And then, nothing but the shallow rise and fall of his chest convinced Stede that he was still alive.
Needing Ed to get his rest and worried that he might catch a chill, Stede smoothed the covers over Ed where he lay. From the foot of the bed, Stede found the pink dressing gown, salvaged from Ed’s days of being a menacing Kraken. It had served as a comfort item for Ed in those days. Perhaps it would serve as such again, Stede mused as he draped it over Ed. He touched a finger to one of the bird’s bodies and traced its shape, velvet soft to his touch.
Ed’s eyes stayed closed, but he looked peaceful.
Stede gently brought each of Ed’s sleeping arms atop the covers. He wondered if Ed would mind if he removed his gloves. The tattered leather crusted with dried blood couldn’t be comfortable. And Stede longed to hold Ed’s hands in his own, to feel the life coursing through him when the end had been so near.
Stede took Ed’s left hand and cautiously unfastened the glove.
Ed mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep, stopping Stede in his tracks.
Stede pressed his ear to Ed’s chest, but no further communication came. Biting his lip, Stede worked to assure himself that the sedatives Ed had been given wouldn’t wear off for some time. He hoped earnestly that Ed was not in pain.
“I’m going to remove your gloves, if I may,” Stede spoke quietly, but Ed gave no answer.
Stede slipped his fingers beneath the leather of the glove. He worked it free and gently tugged each fingerhole loose. When he held the dirty glove in his hand, he stroked the length of each of Ed’s fingers checking for some previously missed injury that might need attention.
Relieved that Ed’s left hand was intact, Stede pressed a kiss to Ed’s knuckles, admiring the black polish that Ed had taken to wearing on his nails. The fearsome pirate captain would strike terror into most men’s hearts, but Stede had only ever felt affection for him.
With the glove gone, Stede counted each of Ed’s fingers, remembering with nostalgia that he had done the same thing to Alma and Louis when they were born. Like the babes’ tiny digits, Ed’s fingers were perfect in every way. A pang of sorrow made Stede’s tears well, when he realized that he would never do the same to all of Ed’s toes.
It would do no good to cry over what could not be changed, Stede thought with a sniffle. He reached for a pitcher of water and poured it over one of the many clean rags that had been left on the bedside table. Wringing out the cloth, he proceeded to dab it at Ed’s palm, between his fingers and across the back of his hand. He scrubbed lightly to wash away the dried blood and grime that had seeped underneath his glove. Some might say that giving such attention, like that of a nursemaid, was beneath a man of Stede Bonnet’s social standing, but Stede could not care less.
When Stede finished with Ed’s left hand, he moved to the right. Loosening the fastenings of his glove, Stede slipped his fingers beneath the leather that covered Ed’s right palm. Ed’s pulse beat strong against Stede’s fingertips.
“That’s it,” Stede said, his voice cracking with emotion as he removed the glove. “You’re so strong, so brave. You’ll be strong enough to survive this ordeal. I just know it.”
Tears welled in Stede’s eyes. He doubted whether he would be able to endure such an atrocious injury. He’d likely have panicked and leaped into the sea, if the same had happened to him. He had no confidence that he could rely on others to care for him. Most people Stede knew would have simply let him bleed to death when his injury became apparent. But Ed did not need to worry about such things. Ed had Stede, for better or for worse. Stede took some comfort in the idea that he no longer had only himself to look after, that he could be of some use to Ed. He prayed that he was up to the task. For his whole life, the only care Stede received was that which he gave to himself. And even that was lacking by most people’s standards, but Stede never dared to ask for more from another.
Outside the window of the cabin, the clouds slid by as the Revenge cut a path through the sea. Stede had commanded Buttons to set a course for the safety of open water as soon as each of their numbers were accounted for. Despite his limited experience on the sea, Stede found himself reassured by the speed of the clouds and the length of the Revenge’s wake.
Soon enough, night fell and the clouds kept their secrets from Stede.
Still Stede stayed at Ed’s bedside. Every hour or so, he applied a cool cloth to Ed’s brow as he rested. Dawn brought visitors, including Roach and a change of bandages, to the quiet captain’s quarters.
“You should get some rest, Captain,” Oluwande said. He took Stede by the arm and guided him to the sofa.
Stede sat with Oluwande, but his eyes remained firmly on the alcove where Roach finished inspecting Ed’s wound.
Members of the crew came and went as the morning broke. It seemed that the hard feelings between the crew of the Revenge and Ed had steadily dissipated since their return. They now looked upon Ed with genuine concern.
Unfortunately, Stede had the uncomfortable task of explaining to the Swede that Ed’s leg would not, in fact, grow back.
Fearing that Ed would catch a chill, Stede employed assistance from Frenchie and Wee John when they stopped by to check on Ed and to give Stede a few moments of relief from his caregiving duties. Stede looked on while they carefully dressed Ed in one of Stede’s softest nightshirts.
Stede believed that Ed would approve of Frenchie’s assistance. The two had a special kinship, despite their unbalanced level of power in the world of piracy.
The crisp white linen rarely suited Ed, who preferred to sleep wearing only what nature and a tattoo needle had given him, but Stede admired how the shirt made the freckles on Edward’s nose stand out. He stroked a finger over Ed’s nose while he slept and whispered thanks to God that Ed still breathed.
“I’ve never been more grateful to have a gentle giant like Wee John on our crew,” Stede said to Lucius, who had braved another visit to the captain’s quarters.
“Everyone wants Ed to make a full recovery. Just wait until you see what Pete’s working on for him,” Lucius said, tapping Stede’s shoulder enthusiastically.
Stede sighed. He could only guess.
“I appreciate it, Lucius,” Stede said tiredly. “More than you’ll ever know.”
“How about you?” Lucius asked. “When was the last time you got some shut-eye?”
Stede closed his eyes and tried to recall it, before finally shrugging and admitting to Lucius that he could not remember the last time he slept.
“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Lucius said.
Stede gazed toward the alcove where Ed rested peacefully and undisturbed now that the crew had each departed.
“He’s not going anywhere. Get some rest,” Lucius said, closing the door behind him with a creaky thud.
Stede sighed and went to the washbasin. He threw some water onto his face and tried to avoid getting a glimpse of himself in the oval mirror that someone had thought to perch atop the bedside table. Without looking, he knew his eyes were red with tiredness. He hadn’t even the energy to yawn.
Smiling when he recognized that Frenchie had thought to replace the pink dressing gown over Ed’s sleeping form, Stede carefully crawled onto the mattress beside Ed. He curled up beside the man he loved, slipping his hand beneath the pink garment that covered Ed’s lower half. Ed’s chest rose and fell with his breathing, as normally as if he had been sleeping at Stede’s side.
“Oh, my darling,” Stede whispered, pressing a kiss to Ed’s brow. “Will you ever forgive me for what has happened to you.”
Stede fussed with the ties to Ed’s nightshirt, one of his favourites that he’d sacrificed to the potential ruin from blood and guts. It was easy to sacrifice his things to Ed. He had already done so inadvertently when he first caught of glimpse of his library upon his return, his precious books all cast into the sea. The loss of his books was a small price to pay if it meant he could have Ed back in his arms again. He hoped that Ed would view the decision Stede made about his leg in a similar light. His heart weighed heavily with the worry that Ed would be furious with him. There seemed to be an equal chance that Ed, infuriated with what had been done, might berate Stede and display his anger with Stede in front of the crew.
“Please, no,” Stede whispered. They had come so far, especially in the way Stede had gained the support of his crew when they were captured by the English. And Ed… the crew had come far in their willingness to have allowed Ed his moment of an unfettered descent into his own private world of self-hatred, something that had only been made possible by Izzy and his grasp on Ed’s emotions.
“Izzy,” Stede murmured. It was much too soon to think about Izzy.
Stede’s fingers traced the outline of a soft velvet bird that rested on Ed’s belly. The movement of his fingers slowed his thoughts when his head threaten to fill with the arguments over what had happened in the raid.
Instead, Stede let the softness guide him into sleep.
~
Stede tried to use the red silk to wipe the remaining tears from Ed’s eyes. He looked around his former quarters in search of water to finish swabbing the black grease from Ed’s cheeks and chin. Finding nothing of use, except tattered old blankets that Ed had apparently used to make a sort of blanket fort on the far wall of the room, Stede pressed a kiss to Ed’s forehead and whispered, “I’m going to leave you for a moment, but I’ll be right back.”
Ed reached out and grasped Stede’s forearm, his fingers digging into Stede’s sunburned flesh. His deathly blackened eyes darted to Stede’s face in a plea to stay.
“It’s all right, my darling,” Stede assured him, stroking his cheek with a gentle hand.
Ed’s eyes fell to the scrap of red silk that Stede still held.
Stede couldn’t tell whether Ed feared for his safety or lamented that Stede would leave him again. Noting that he hadn’t heard any signs of a struggle coming from the main deck, he tucked the red silk into Ed’s palm and folded his fingers over the prize. “Don’t worry about me,” he said, squaring his shoulders. “It will take a lot more than a walk on the plank to kill me. I’m sure my crew will keep Izzy at bay.”
Ed released his hold on Stede’s arm. He shrank back to the corner of the room where he sat among the ruins of a blanket fort.
Rising to his feet, Stede’s knees cracked. His legs tingled with pins and needles from crouching on the floor beside Ed for so long. “I’ll only be a moment,” he assured Ed.
True to his word, Stede tiptoed out of the cabin, listening all the while for a ruckus coming from the deck. His heart broke for Ed, who reminded him of an injured bird, struggling to find flight again.
Stede slipped down the hall to the bathroom to retrieve some water and a clean washcloth. He let out a breath when he saw that his copper bathtub still stood against the wall. He traced his fingers along the rim of the tub, remembering the day of the fuckery, where the crew had so expertly executed their plan to taunt the Dutch sailors. Ed had been at his most distraught on that night. So many confessions in the span of minutes when he rested his forehead on Stede’s hand as if the weight of all his years had been lifted from him. Times like those came but a few times in a man’s life, if ever. The time had come for Blackbeard… for Ed that night, although Stede doubted he would ever be able to speak as plainly to anyone, even Ed.
Beside the washstand, Stede found a pitcher of tepid freshwater and poured it over a rag that he deemed to be moderately clean. Rinsing his hands to wash off some of Ed’s dirt and the grime that resulted from his days of rowing, he considered washing his face and pressing the wet cloth to his chapped lips, but he refrained, devoting the limits of the freshwater to be used to tend to Ed.
On his way back to the captain’s quarters, he was met by Oluwande who lingered in the hallway.
“We heard you moving around down here and they sent me to check to make sure you were doing alright,” Oluwande said, his eyes darting nervously toward the damaged door to the quarters.
“I’ll be fine,” Stede said, passing the wet washcloth from one hand to the other. “And Izzy? Does Jim still have him under their knife?”
“They’ve brought him to the brig,” Oluwande said.
“Ahh,” Stede nodded. He never knew he’d have a use for the brig when he had the Revenge commissioned. He made a mental note to thank the shipbuilder for suggesting it.
“Roach is in the galley, cooking up some grub for the rest of the crew. And you needn’t worry about Ivan and Fang,” Oluwande nodded. “They’ve befriended Lucius after-did you know Ed tossed him overboard?”
“I imagined as much from what Lucius told us when we boarded,” Stede said.
“Do you need anything? I mean, Are you safe with him?” Oluwande asked, tilting his head toward the door where Ed waited.
“I’ll be fine,” Stede said, clasping Oluwande’s shoulder. “Could you be a good man and see to it that my bathing tub is filled with warm water? I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you organize the crew to help with it-I think they’ll benefit from participating in a group activity to acknowledge the benchmark of returning to the ship.”
“Certainly, captain,” Oluwande agreed and returned to the main deck.
Stede hadn’t dared to tell Oluwande that the bath was for Ed and not for himself. He was relieved that he hadn’t asked.
Back in the room, Ed hadn’t moved from his position on the floor where Stede had left him.
Stede stopped to light a few more candles that were scattered across his old desk, the surface scarred with gouges and the pointy stab marks of a knife. Grateful that Ed didn’t object to the light, Stede knelt in front of him on the floor. It pained him to see Ed in such a state. He looked like he hadn’t eaten anything or slept in weeks. Perhaps he truly hadn’t.
Eyes downcast, Ed still clutched at the pink dressing gown with one hand. The fingers of his other hand massaged the red scrap of silk.
“I’m sorry that you’re hurting,” Stede said, bringing the washcloth to Ed’s face. He would do anything to alleviate Ed’s lingering pain. Stede could hardly process the destruction of his precious books and other belongings when the man he cherished more than any material object suffered so. “I didn’t mean to hurt you by my hasty departure and failure to notify you of my intentions. I assure you, if we can get past this, I’ll never do such a thing again, not intentionally at least.”
Ed inhaled huskily before speaking. “I don’t know what to do. I thought I could make myself feel better, find my footing again if I destroyed things. If I maimed. If I killed,” Ed said, his face looking much cleaner than it had before Stede began his ministrations.
“You’d kill? Well, thank heavens it didn’t come to that,” Stede said. He took comfort in Oluwande’s news that the crew would soon be enjoying a hearty meal, rather than starving on the deadly barren island.
“You know, I had a lot of time to think when I rowed back to the ship,” Ed said. “At first, I tried to do the things I thought you might do if you wanted to curl up into a ball and die. You’re always telling the crew to talk about such things, so that’s what I tried to do, at first.”
“I’m sure you tried very hard. You were probably quite brilliant at it,” Stede said, still surprised that anyone would miss his presence so much.
“I wrote some lyrics and gorged myself on your fine marmalade. I listened to your boy… Lucius… I tried to take his advice, but…” Ed said, his voice growing softer.
“He’s a good listener, isn’t he?” Stede said as he continued to tend to Ed’s face, the stubble of his whiskers catching on the washcloth. He remembered how many times he had sought Lucius for advice about his relationship with Ed when that awful Calico Jack visited their ship.
“I killed him,” Ed cried out. “I tried to tell you a long time ago that I’m not a good person, Stede. And now I’ve killed your scribe. I’m so sorry, it was my only way of getting back to being myself, the Blackbeard who everyone feared and respected, the Blackbeard who was your friend, the Blackbeard who you could make happy just by sitting by his side in the crow’s nest.”
“Ed?” Stede gasped.
“Don’t lie to me. You didn’t want the Blackbeard who kissed you on the beach at the Privateering Academy. No one did!” Ed lamented.
“Oh my darling,” Stede cried. On his knees, he surged forward and awkwardly took Ed into his arms. He rubbed Ed’s back through the leather of his jacket, wishing that Ed could take some comfort from whatever he could feebly give.
Ed’s shoulders shook with sobs that came from deep in his chest.
“I do want you,” Stede whispered. “I want you however you are, however you need to be in order to be your true self, Ed.”
Ed gulped in great breaths of air as he fought to control his sobbing.
“And hey, you didn’t kill Lucius.”
After a long stretch of silence, Ed asked “What?” his voice muffled by the cloth of Stede’s tattered shirt.
“You may have thought you killed him. But, yeah, he’s very much alive,” Stede said, drawing back to look at Ed’s face.
“Fuck off,” Ed chortled.
“Of course, I suspect he’s been hiding in plain sight on the ship these past few weeks,” Stede said, letting his hands stroke the backs of Ed’s arms, one bare and one shielded by leather.
“Now that you mention it, I thought I caught a glimpse of him once or twice,” Ed said, without pulling away. “I assumed it was his ghost rising from the deep to torment me.”
Stede raised an eyebrow at him. “I used to think that about the Badmintons,” he mused. He took Ed’s hand and said, “I think Fang and Ivan had something to do with Lucius’ rescue.”
Ed let out an unrestrained laugh.
“I’d venture to guess that the two of you will have a way to go to make amends, but it can be done,” Stede said.
“Can it?”
“I think so.”
Stede could say the same for the rest of the crew, but he didn’t dare overwhelm Ed with talk about the long journey toward reconciliation that lay ahead of him. The worry that Ed would never reciprocate the love that Stede felt for him was causing enough stress for one day in the life of Stede Bonnet. This love thing was complicated as fuck, but Stede was going to try his best not to cock it up if Ed gave him a second chance.
“Listen,” I asked Oluwande to prepare a bath. I’m sure it’s ready by now,” Stede said. “Would you let me take you to it?”
Ed tilted his head to face Stede. “I must look awful. I haven’t bathed in weeks,” he admitted.
“I can tell,” Stede said with a laugh, inhaling the scent of sweaty leather and stale rum. “But I know that, underneath all of this, you’re as lovely as ever. Come along.”
Stede got to his feet and reached an outstretched hand to Ed, who took it. He pulled Ed up, carefully helping him get some leverage without tweaking his bad knee.
“I’m sorry that you’ve probably ridden the ship of that lavender soap you liked so much,” Stede said, taking his eyes off Ed for a moment to gaze around the barren candlelit room. “We can get some more if you’d like, the next time we visit a port.”
“I wish I had kept it,” Ed said. “But I did whatever I could to rid myself of the memory of your fine things, even the things that Ed enjoyed so much.”
“The things can be replaced,” Stede said, his heart feeling lighter. “But you, my darling, are irreplaceable. Will you let me take care of you?”
Stede led Ed down the hall to where the bath awaited him. Although Ed had never been shy about his body, Stede turned his back to allow Ed some privacy as he removed his leathers. When he heard a groan and the slosh of water as Ed sunk into the bath, he turned around and joined Ed by sitting on the floor at the side of the tub. From this angle, he could rummage around in the cabinet below the washstand. He found a cake of soap that had been overlooked during Ed’s stint at remodelling. It wasn’t the lavender soap that Ed favoured, but it would do.
“How’s the water?” Stede asked quietly.
Ed let out a soft hum that convinced Stede that the temperature was acceptable.
Stede knew from experience how soothing the warm bath felt. To have the sensation of being submerged in the water of the bath while the Revenge rocked on the waves was a special comfort every time he luxuriated in it.
“May I help with your hair?” Stede asked.
“If you’d like. It could do with a good scrubbing,” Ed said, waving his hand above the surface of the water to grant his consent.
Stede exhaled with relief that Ed would allow Stede to touch him while he was in this tenuous state of vulnerability. Ed had ordered his death only an hour earlier. He had been so anxious to reunite with Ed, but now he wasn’t sure whether he would ever want to kiss him again like he had on the beach at the Privateering Academy. He knew he wanted to kiss Ed again. But by running back to Bridgetown, he had certainly cocked up whatever friendship they had. He knew it would take his every effort to prove that Ed could put his trust in him again.
Ed sat in the tub, his tattooed knees rising above the surface of the water. He gathered the long strands of his hair and leaned forward to submerge his head in the space between his knees.
Stupid, stupid man, running back to your family, Stede berated himself as he dipped the soap into the still water behind Ed’s back. The black of Ed’s ink gleamed wet in the dim light. Stede could have gazed upon this beautiful man every day of his life and never tired of it. Ed had wanted to run away to China with him, for God’s sake, but now Stede might have irrevocably fucked that, and any other plans for a future, right the fuck up. He took the cask of soap from the water and rubbed it between his hands to work up a lather.
With his hair dripping wet, Ed shifted forward and leaned back so Stede could soap his hair.
The sight of Ed’s naked body in the tub made Stede’s breeches grow tighter. He tenderly slid his soapy hands through the dripping cascade of Ed’s hair. Grateful for the privilege, he gently massaged Ed’s scalp with his fingertips. Now he finally understood the warm feeling he got in his belly every time he saw Ed. The overwhelming desire to please Ed went hand in hand with the love he felt for him. But his brain needed to reset itself after learning that Ed had reacted so hurtfully, both to the crew, and to himself, when Stede didn’t join him on the dock as they had planned. At the time, Stede could have been convinced that his trip back to Bridgetown was inconsequential where Ed was concerned, but Ed had been devastated.
Imagine that.
The power of such love terrified Stede.
With a finger, Ed traced a lazy line along the surface of the soapy bathwater. He reached for a rag and silently dragged it over his skin, without any ceremony or predetermined order.
With Ed’s hair a sculpture of bubbly swirls, Stede let his hands fall to Ed’s shoulders. He squeezed at the warm damp flesh, admiring Ed’s tattooed and scarred skin that told of a lifetime of adventure.
Ed was a hundred times the pirate that Stede would ever be.
Stede remembered the distant night of the fuckery when Ed lay curled up in this very same bathtub. The confession that Ed had killed his own father… the way Ed shared himself with Stede so willingly, as he always did. Stede hoped they could get back to that place where Ed would speak so openly with him. He would love nothing more than to show Ed how much he cared for him, by listening to the secrets of his heart.
Ed was a hundred times the man that Stede would ever be.
Ed reached for Stede’s hand that had stopped moving on his shoulder. Fingers adorned with black polished nails squeezed Stede’s hand as Ed whispered, “Thank you.”
Stede swallowed back a sob. With all his heart, he wished that their journey together could begin again. He had nothing but admiration for Ed and his ability to speak from his heart, something that Stede had never been able to embrace for himself. Stede remained safe if he kept his mouth shut. His fears needed to be kept hidden.
What was it that Ed had once said? If you discover your enemy’s fear, you’ll own them…
Stede could never let Ed know of his darkest fear.
Weak-hearted, soft-handed….
He only had stupid ideas.
Stede didn’t dare call attention to it, not again, for fear that Ed would become aware of his many shortcomings. He had left after Ed bared his soul to him on the beach at the Privateering Academy. If Stede exposed the pain that haunted him, there was a chance that Ed would finally see him for what he was. A lily-livered little rich boy… Stede knew that was all he’d ever be. And he’d try his damnedest to keep Ed from finding out.
Keeping this secret was what Stede Bonnet did best.
Ed could never learn about Stede’s shame at having one stupid idea after the next. The ache of keeping his heart safe from the stabbing words that threatened to tear him to shreds- it was Stede’s greatest fear that his pain would be discovered and his very soul would be laid bare.
The muscles in Ed’s shoulders relaxed under Stede’s touch. With one soapy hand, Ed reached back and clasped Stede’s hand in his own.
Ed seemed to understand Stede’s thoughts without him giving them voice.
Stede leaned forward and mouthed a hard kiss to the spot below Ed’s ear. The wet heat of Ed’s fingers linked his and Stede’s together. Ed’s palm burned against Stede’s. Water dripped from Ed’s palm, the droplets running across Stede’s wrist and creeping down Stede’s forearm in rivulets.
Stede’s eyes opened when Roach shouted, “Get some seawater, we need to cool him down!”
~
Stede’s clammy hand slid from Ed’s. In the chaos of the cabin, it took him a moment to understand what was happening.
Half the crew had come to Ed’s aid while Stede had carelessly slumbered away.
Roach moved with lightning speed. He thrust some yardage of linen into the bucket of seawater that Wee John had carried into the alcove.
“Frenchie! Lucius! Swirl that around so it’s soaked,” Roach barked out his orders.
“Oh, God, I was not made for this,” Lucius lamented.
“Sorry Captain,” Roach said, sparing a glance Stede’s way. “We need to get this off him if you want him to live.”
Stede watched as Roach climbed onto the mattress and tore Ed’s nightshirt cleanly in two. The screech of tearing linen sounded with a finality.
“No, do whatever you must,” Stede cried, his approval coming too late because the task had already been completed. He couldn’t care less that Ed now lay half-naked on the sheets. This was no time for decorum. Stede’s fingers clutched uselessly at the pink dressing gown that he had draped over Ed’s body.
Without delay, Roach reached for the linen, dripping wet with cold seawater. “Give me a hand,” he commanded, and Black Pete accepted the challenge.
“Anything to save Blackbeard’s life,” Pete said.
“You’re a good man, Pete,” Lucius said, patting him on the shoulder.
Ed’s skin gleamed with sweat, beads of it catching on his scars as they followed the path of his tattoos. The crew worked to lay the wet fabric over Ed’s body. It covered his arms, his torso, and his intact leg.
Stede crawled off the bed and reached into the bucket for more cold wet cloth to cover Ed’s forehead. Even through the cloth, Ed’s skin burned like fire beneath Stede’s fingertips.
“If you guys can keep cooling him down, I can work on the infection,” Roach shouted.
“Infection?” Stede cried. “Oh God!”
“These infections can happen sometimes,” Roach assured Stede. He leaped to the foot of the bed and began unwinding the bandages from the stump where Ed’s leg had been cleaved. As each bandage was stripped away, the sight became more gruesome. A yellow pus seeped through the white cloth that became streaked with more and more diluted blood as each layer of fabric was removed.
“Is it supposed to look like that?” Stede cried.
Lucius’ eyes rolled back in his head as he sank, unconscious, to the floor.
Stede had to admit that he felt queasy. It was bad enough the Ed’s leg was gone and he suffered with fever, but the visceral appearance of his stump reminded Stede all too well of Lucius’ infected finger. No wonder the poor lad had passed out cold.
“It’s fine! It’s fine!” Roach sang as he prodded and squeezed at the healing wound.
“It doesn’t look fine,” Stede shouted. He regretted that he knew so little about medicine. If only he had studied to be a doctor, maybe he’d know what to do to help Ed. It took all his will power to trust that Roach knew what he was doing.
“Keep switching out the cloth,” Roach directed Pete and Frenchie when Wee John arrived with a fresh bucket of cold sea water.
Ed said nothing, his eyes squeezed shut while his head lolled from side to side like a metronome.
“If we can’t get his fever down, I fear that Captain Teach will not recover,” Roach said.
“How do we do that?” Stede cried.
“They’re doing it,” Roach said, nodding to the crew who worked to cool Ed’s body.
“And what about you?” Stede asked. “This looks terrible.”
“I’m busy pulling the infection from his leg. It’s a good sign that it’s flowing out like this,” Roach said. “His body is ridding itself of the bad humours.”
Stede wrinkled his nose with disdain. He loved Ed dearly, but the oozing blood and pus that flowed from his leg nauseated him. He wanted to crawl into a hole. This was all his fault. From start to finish. And now all he could do was watch as Roach coaxed the infection from Ed’s destroyed limb.
The pink dressing gown lay in a heap at the foot of the bed. Lacking anything useful to do, Stede retrieved it from where it lay. He fought against the urge to press it to his face, so he could feel the softness of the velvet that Ed loved so much. Instead, he stroked his fingers across the birds that decorated the gown. They faced this way and that, each a bit different in their appearance. He traced their plumage quietly as his crew worked to diminish Ed’s fever and Roach lent his capable hands to the effort of healing the man Stede loved.