Work Text:
“He’s…what?”
There’s a tense silence surrounding them in the still of the night. But Jim doesn’t seem phased. In fact, they’re probably one of the only people who could safely deliver such a blow and come out unscathed.
Jim scoffs and takes another sip of their drink. It takes all of Blackbeard’s years under his belt to keep from reacting. But he doesn’t want Jim to see him react. No, not to this. He’d rather eat his own face.
Jim finally tilts their head in a slight acknowledgement and says softly, with a surprising amount of emotion in their voice, “He’s dead, Captain. And I’m only telling you this so some other poor bastardo doesn’t take the heat.” Jim moves to leave and Blackbeard surprises even himself with his hand twitching out, just a fraction. But Jim notices. Of course they do. They pause and wait patiently still holding their drink and staring out at the waves.
Blackbeard isn’t sure how much time has passed but he finally works his mouth open enough to ask. “How?” It’s a croaking noise that could have held a damning amount of emotion in it. But it makes Jim’s face change just slightly. Blackbeard thought it might have been a soft change about a month ago. But ever since they left Oluwande on that island, Jim has changed. They were practically a mute again, speaking only when necessary. Which Blackbeard didn’t care about so long as Jim kept taking orders. In fact, it almost made Jim his favorite.
Finally Jim speaks up, just as softly as the first time with their hat tipped down to cover their face, “I heard about it at the last port we were at. Something about publicly apologizing to his wife and then getting mauled by a tiger.”
Blackbeard froze in place staring at the side of Jim’s head, momentarily stunned by the news of the tiger attack. But then a sickness washed over him. He gripped the railing of the ship so hard his leather gloves squeaked against the paint. ‘His wife.’ So, that’s where Bonnet had gone. That’s why he was left. Alone. So Bonnet could run back to his old life and away from the mess he helped make. He can feel the nausea and pain churning in his gut. The sounds of the ocean getting louder in his ears. Blackbeard doesn’t even realize his breath is quickening until he hears a scoff right next to him.
His head jerks over and there’s Jim still casually leaning on the railing. Jim cuts a glance at him full of an emotion he didn’t anticipate. Blackbeard didn’t think the knife thrower and their old captain were that close. So he was cut short by the visible anger in Jim’s body language. Hands still clenching the railing of the ship Blackbeard ground out his words. Acid coating them so thoroughly he fully expected them to burn out his tongue, “He went back to his wife? Then he fucking deserved the tiger.”
Jim slowly lowered their cup away from their face and just stared. Stared at Blackbeard for so long that he almost threw them overboard, talent be damned. Jim seemed to finally make a decision and they said, “It was naval officers you know. These fucking idiots that had just signed on, so they didn’t know or care enough to keep their mouths shut. But they wanted to talk all about how they had been bunked with the great Blackbeard.” Blackbeard's lip curled when Jim gave a small laugh. “No one saw you leave but something had woken one of them up. They saw a balding man take someone out at gunpoint. The man who was bunked over you.” Jim turned their body to face Blackbeard, “Turned out to be that pendejo Badminton who tried you both on the ship.” Jim turned to spit in distaste out at the water and Blackbeard’s heart skipped a small beat. ‘That fucker had Bonnet? Is that what happened to him? But then why was he with his wife? How did he end up there?’
Jim kept talking as if this story wasn’t turning a man’s world upside down. “They couldn’t find either of you, but they found Badminton shot through the right eye.” Jim had this strange, small smile around their mouth as if something about this fact was funny. “He must’ve escaped because about three weeks ago I heard a separate rumor about a man coming back from the dead. Gran escándalo.” Now Blackbeard was finally putting the pieces together. The gears in his head were turning. He held his breath waiting for Jim to go on. Jim paused, took another sip of their drink, “His widow had moved on of course. The whole family had apparently. He was only there for a few days. Then there was an accident. All I could find out before we left was that it involved a tiger and a carriage. And something about a piano but that sounded far-fetched.” Jim finally looked Blackbeard in the face again. It held the most emotion Blackbeard had seen in their face since he took over the Revenge. “Of course, that man Hands of yours has forbidden us from talking about any of this, pero a la mierda.” Jim swigged the rest of their drink down and stood to face Blackbeard fully. “It may not have necessarily been a safe ship; Captain was a bit of un idiota. But it was a home. I didn’t have to worry about anyone on board. It was the closest I’ve felt to safe in a long time. And I had people…” Jim swallowed. “I cared about them. And the Captain cared about us. For whatever that’s worth.” Jim takes a breath, steels themselves and, “I know you both cared about each other. I don’t know what happened after you left the ship. But I thought you deserved to know.” And Jim finally moves away from the railing and quietly slips away.
Blackbeard barely watched Jim leave. It was like a thick fog had settled around his whole body. He vaguely acknowledged the sounds around him but it was as if his senses were cut off. He felt the wood of the deck beneath his feet when he walked but couldn’t hear the sound of his boots. Blackbeard wasn’t sure whether it was him that finally found the door to his quarters. Was it his hand that turned the knob?
More walking. More shuffling. He was in darkness but his body knew where to go. Blackbeard wouldn’t think about how well he knew the layout of the room. There was another door and suddenly he was surrounded by cold copper. He found himself curled up in the bathtub at the back of the secret closet. The chill helped to bring him back into his body. The fog thinned out.
But. Dead. Bonnet…is…dead. He doesn’t know what he is supposed to feel. Blackbeard was supposed to kill him once; he swore not to in this very room. He chose Bonnet over his promise to Izzy. He chose him and trusted him and Bonnet was supposed to choose him back. Bonnet said he was his friend even when he believed himself to be a monster. Blackbeard shuddered thinking he could feel the ghost of Bonnet’s hand on his shoulder and smell the faint scent of lavender around him.
It made a tightness climb up his throat and familiar tears start to form in his eyes. He slammed the heel of his boot into the side of the tub. And he kept going until he felt like he could breathe again, the ringing of the metal echoing around the small room. Is this what his life is now? Just the ghost of Bonnet haunting him? Making him more and more hollow until he’s just a shell? How do you feel your heart break all over again when it’s already been ripped from your chest?
Maybe if he’d been the one to kill Bonnet, he could get some of the warmth back in his limbs. Maybe if Blackbeard himself could have put his hands around Bonnet's throat, he could have sapped some of that life giving energy into his own body. Maybe, just maybe, if he could have been the one to watch the light fade from Bonnet’s eyes that same light wouldn’t be in his dreams. He could finally fucking sleep.
But Blackbeard can’t help his mind wandering. Now that…Stede is gone. Blackbeard takes another deep breath. There’s no danger anymore. No chance of them meeting again. Blackbeard doesn’t have to wonder what that would be like anymore. Doesn’t have to fear it. He doesn’t have to know the sensation of facing the only man who ever made him want to throw it all away. He suddenly feels tired. Bone tired and exhausted. Try as he might to bury it all away, he does remember Stede. But now that Stede is truly gone he doesn’t think there will be another soul who will ever remember him. Not truly as he was. No one will ever get that close. No other would ever touch those parts of his soul again. Blackbeard mourns that too. It wasn’t just Stede that died.
No. Edward is gone as well. All that’s left now is the Kraken. Just the cold, open ocean and a monster with no heart.