Chapter Text
One second a man is standing with his back turned to Ed, no wiser to his approach than Stede is, and the next there isn’t. Ed doesn’t think as he unsheathes the stolen sword and drives it through his torso (the right side, not the left, this is meant to kill). He realizes only as he pulls the sword free and the body hits the ground with a sickening thud that it’s Chauncey. The bald head should have been a dead giveaway, but Ed was too panicked at the sight of a gun drawn on Stede to think things through properly.
He hears Stede shriek, but only distantly. Ed’s eyes go from Stede to the dead (maybe still dying, he’s not quite sure) man on the ground, back to his shaking hand, brandishing a sword he stole off a guard. He feels sick but can’t explain why. He’s caused more deaths in his life than he cares to count, but he hasn’t ever directly killed anyone, not since his father.
Those memories threaten to rush back to him, but he pushes them down as deep as they can go and throws the blood-soaked sword away like it's something filthy. He ignores the nauseating feeling deep in his gut and surges forward towards Stede, stepping over a probably dead man on the ground. He moves on instinct, cupping Stede’s face in his hands and giving him a once-over, making sure he’s not visibly wounded.
“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Ed demands, words jumbled together and panicked. There’s a white-hot rage bubbling under his skin at the thought of Chauncey pulling a gun on Stede and threatening his life. Ed can only be grateful that he thought to check up on Stede in the middle of the night. Otherwise, he might’ve been too late.
He can’t bear to think of that.
“What happened?” Ed asks, allowing his thumbs to trace gentle lines across Stede’s cheeks. He’s given no response beyond heavy breathing and wide, horrified eyes. After so long on the sea, of seeing death, violence, and every imaginable way to hurt or traumatize someone, Ed knows what shock looks like. He’s caused it, been the recipient of it, but rarely (if ever) been the one talking someone down from it. He’s not sure he knows how to, if he’s even capable.
Ed forces Stede to look at him rather than Chauncey’s body, tilting his head in his direction. He realizes not for the first time that Stede is shorter than him, if only by a couple of inches. He’s usually wearing those ridiculously uncomfortable heeled shoes, but now, barefoot in the middle of the woods, he seems so much shorter than usual. It might have something to do with how unsteady he is, though. Ed isn’t sure he’d be able to stand up on his own if not for him holding him in place.
“Look at me. Look me in the eye,” Ed directs. His voice feels shaky, but he’s still more stable right now than Stede is. He wonders briefly what exactly it is that got to Stede. This isn’t the first time Stede’s been threatened with certain death, nor has it been the first time he’s seen death. He never handles it well, not compared to most pirates, but it’s never this bad. Ed has never had to hold him up to keep him from falling at the sight of a dead body before. Clearly, there’s something that Ed is missing.
“Tell me what happened here,” Ed pleads, keeping his voice gentle. Sometimes he’s surprised at just how soft his voice can go; it’s like it’s not even coming from him. He’s not sure if he’s always been capable of it, or if Stede brings it out in him.
Stede blinks, eyes watery as he struggles to speak. Ed wipes away a tear that falls down his pale cheek, all the while looking him directly in the eye. He wants to help, wants to fix whatever the fuck just happened, but he can’t. Not if Stede won’t tell him what happened.
“He’s dead,” Stede finally says. Stede tries to look back at Chauncey, but Ed won’t let him. He holds his face firm in his hand, not allowing him to budge.
“Yeah, I got that much,” Ed says.
He doesn’t let his mind linger on the fact that he just directly took a life for the first time since he killed his father, no matter how much his brain seems to want him to. He distracts himself by brushing his fingers along the soft skin of Stede’s cheeks, doing anything he can to ground him, even when he feels nowhere close to grounded himself.
“You said… you never…”
“He had a gun on you.”
For the first time, he wishes he never told Stede about his father, or that he hasn’t killed anyone since. Then maybe this wouldn’t be such a big deal, maybe it would take some of the weight off Stede’s shoulders. If he could be the vicious killer everyone thinks he is, maybe Stede wouldn’t care as much about him taking one more life.
He exhales and straightens up, trying to seem stronger than he feels. “I did what I had to do.”
Ed can’t quite read what Stede is thinking or feeling. He’s panicking, that’s for certain, but there’s something else behind it. Something beyond shock and disbelief. Ed doesn’t know what to do, and it drives him crazy. He hates feeling helpless.
“C’mon, you gotta talk to me,” he pleads.
Stede just stares at him, wide-eyed and shocked. Before Ed can ask him to speak again, Stede falls into his arms, face buried in the crook of his neck. Ed’s only surprised for a second before he wraps his arms around Stede’s back, almost acting on instinct, like they’d shared an embrace this sweet before. Stede smells like the sea, mixed with honey and lavender. If circumstances were different, Ed would stand here forever, soaking in Stede’s warmth and tenderness.
It’s not realistic, though. Ed just killed a man. A British officer, no less. If given the chance, he’d do it again, if it meant protecting Stede. Even so, Chauncey’s untimely death makes their situation that much harder. It’s not something they can move on from and pretend never happened. Someone is bound to realize he’s missing and find his body. Ed would like to be as far away as possible by the time that happens.
“We can’t stay here,” Ed whispers into Stede’s ear. He’s rubbing a gentle circle into his back, trying his hardest to comfort him back to reality. “Someone will come looking for us. Or him. We have to go.”
Stede lets out a couple of deep breaths before shifting slightly in Ed’s arms. “I can’t.”
Ed pulls away enough to look Stede in the eye. “What?”
There’s a beat of silence before Stede averts his eyes. “Chauncey… he said…” Stede takes another deep breath as his eyes fall to the dead body behind them. “He said I ruin everything, he said–”
“He was a dick,” Ed cuts him off. “He’s dead, fuck him. Let whatever he said die with him.”
Stede shakes his head aggressively. “No, he was right. That’s the problem. I killed his brother. And him–”
“ I killed him,” Ed cuts him off again. “And I’d do it again if it meant stopping him from shooting you.”
“Ed, please…”
“No, fuck that. You didn’t kill anyone,” Ed continues, his voice raising. “Neither of the bastards. Didn’t gravity do most of the work for Nigel?”
“Stop it.” Stede bites his bottom lip, stopping it from quivering as he speaks. “He was right. It was my fault they died. Everything’s my fault. I ruined them, my family and…” Stede is quiet for a moment, making too much eye contact with Ed. If it were anyone else, Ed would’ve looked away. Or pushed them away, more likely. With Stede, he can’t even bring himself to look away.
“I ruined you too,” Stede finishes.
“You didn’t fucking ruin me, Stede.” Ed’s grasp on Stede grows impossibly tighter. There’s a very large, irrational part of him that fears that Stede will slip away from him if he doesn’t continue to hold his arms with a death grip. “You’re the only person I’ve ever known that’s made me this happy. How could you possibly think you ruined me?”
Stede brings an unsteady hand up to Ed’s cheek, fingers caressing his bare skin. Ed feels naked without his beard; he’s been hiding behind it for the better part of his life. Now, he feels exposed and vulnerable, even more so now with Stede clutching onto him for dear life.
“I’m so sorry,” Stede whispers. “I-I can’t.”
“Can’t what?” Ed asks, panic thick in his voice. His heart is beating so viciously he’s afraid it might jump out of his chest. He wants to scream, cry, and hold Stede so tight that neither of them could move all at once. He settles on clutching onto him so tight that Stede winces, but still doesn’t try to escape his gasp.
When Stede doesn’t immediately respond, Ed continues, trying and failing to minimize the anxiety in his voice. “Can’t leave with me? Can’t restart? Fine, that’s okay. We’ll figure something out. We’ll–”
“Ed…”
“No, no, we’ll figure it out,” Ed continues, nodding his head. He’s not sure who exactly he’s trying to convince: himself or Stede. Maybe a bit of both. “We’ll go back to The Revenge. Or we’ll go back to the academy and go to sleep, pretend none of this,” he motions vaguely toward Chauncey’s body, “ever happened. Or–”
“I need to go back to my family,” Stede interrupts, the panic and shock in his face replaced with sorrow and regret. “I have to make things right with them.”
“Fuck that!” Ed shouts. Stede opens his mouth, likely to tell him to quiet down, that someone could hear them, but Ed doesn’t care. The entire British navy couldn’t stop him from trying to talk Stede out of an idea this horrendous. “You left for a reason. You don’t have to go back. You…” he swallows hard around a lump in his throat, trying his hardest to ignore the ache and fear bubbling deep in his chest. “You don’t have to leave.”
The me is unspoken, but Ed is sure Stede hears it all the same.
Stede blinks, tears still falling from his eyes. Ed wants to brush them from his cheeks, but he can’t bring himself to loosen his grasp on him, not even for a second. “I left them. All alone, in the middle of the night. I didn’t even say goodbye. Just wrote a ridiculous note. And now…” Stede lets out a labored breath. “They think I’m dead.”
“Fine, then I’m going with you,” Ed says without thinking. He knows the second the words come out of his mouth that it’s a stupid idea, but he doesn’t care. He’s had stupider ideas in his life, even acted on most of them. “If you have to go back to them, to check on them, or whatever, then I’m going with you.”
“Ed… that is a monumentally terrible idea,” Stede tries, voicing Ed’s own thoughts. “How would I explain who you are? Or why you’re with me? Besides, you’d be miserable. You don’t belong in that life. You’d hate it.”
“I don’t fucking care,” Ed insists. He twists his fingers up in Stede’s loose-fitting shirt, the fabric ripping slightly as he does. “I’d rather be miserable in some stupid, posh town than miserable anywhere else without you.”
Stede stares Ed down like he’s trying to look directly into his mind, to figure out what the fuck is wrong with him for suggesting that he go back to Stede’s family with him. The longer Ed thinks about it, the stupider the idea seems. He doesn’t know how to live a high-society life, nor does he want to. His one foray into aristocracy ended in a burning ship and aggression that went from passive to physical in record time.
Ed won’t back down, though. He thought he was going to lose Stede once as he stood in front of a firing squad. He remembers the panic, grief, and rage he felt at that moment. The thought of living a life without Stede terrifies Ed, more so than death, more so than his own memories, more so than having to fit in with a foreign group of aristocrats. He can’t do it again. He refuses . The thought of going back to his old life without Stede, hiding away in a captain’s cabin and giving out orders, to plan and pillage and plunder… it’s fucking miserable. He can’t go back to that life. Not now. Ed knows what happiness is for the first time in his life and he’s got no plans of losing it.
Ed forces himself to move his hand from Stede’s arms to his hand, still resting on his cheek. It was such an intimate position, maybe more than when they kissed by the water hours back. He could so easily lean in and kiss him again; the only thing that stops him is the dead body lying only a couple of feet away from them. Instead, he twines his fingers together with Stede’s, feeling the cool metal of rings press against his skin.
“We’ll figure it out. Just don’t leave without me.” Ed takes a breath and squeezes Stede’s hand. “I don’t want to be without you.”
Stede is only quiet for a couple more seconds before nodding. It reminds Ed of the quick nod he gave him by the water, right after he proposed they’d run away together. Of course, this isn’t what Ed had in mind, but he’d take it. Anything to be with Stede.
“Okay.” Stede nods again, a little quicker, but not much surer. “Okay, you can come.”