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It was dark in the captain’s cabin. It was always dark in there these days. After… after what had happened, Ed had covered up all the windows so that even the barest scrap of sunlight was filtered through dark fabric. If it was dim in there at midday, it should be nearly pitch black in there now, when it must be past midnight.
But tonight, Ed had been desperate for a little light. The moon was out and for some inexplicable reason, he was drawn to the window seat to look up at the sky and remember brighter times.
Even if it hurt to remember brighter times.
To remember a full moon and a man that had shone like the sun and a piece of soft red silk that was now lost to time and the sea - both the man and the silk.
Ed didn’t bother to stifle the tears. There was no one to see him cry. There was no one to care. Just him and the moon, tonight.
He didn’t know how long had passed until something changed. A noise, perhaps, or a stirring in the air, alerted him to the fact that there was someone else in the room. And, well, he may be crying in the moonlight, but he was still Blackbeard. And no one snuck up on Blackbeard ( especially when he was crying in the moonlight).
Silently, he drew a knife, then lunged at the body he could feel creeping up. Before he could blink he had the body pinned up against the wall in the dark. But the moonlight - the moonlight he had been so moved to allow into his rooms tonight - revealed his intruder’s face.
“Stede,” he whispered.
“Hello, Ed,” Stede whispered back, a soft smile on his face that didn’t match the dagger being held to his throat.
Something in Ed instinctively reached out to that soft smile, wanted to collapse into Stede’s soft arms, wanted to feel comfort again.
A greater part of Ed saw that soft smile, heard that voice, and remembered only pain. And like any wounded animal, lashed out to prevent further pain.
“I should kill you,” he growled, holding the dagger closer. Stede didn’t flinch, only continued to smile softly.
“If that’s what you want to do, I won’t stop you,” Stede replied. “Only, please let me explain. I had to come back and see you. I had to come and tell you what happened that night, why I-”
Here Ed was the one who flinched, leaving Stede with a slight cut.
“I don’t want to hear anything from you. I know why you left. I don’t care. No pretty words will make up for what you did. I should kill you. I will.”
“Very well,” Stede said, sounding sad, rather than scared.
There was no fear in his eyes as Ed pulled the dagger back, aiming it for the right side of his body, where all the important bits are. No fear as Ed growled menacingly and lunged forward - only sadness and an emotion Ed couldn’t quite name.
The dagger met skin -
- and Ed bolted upright in the nest of fabric he’d built for himself in the auxiliary closet, heart racing.
Another nightmare.
He folded himself up, head on his knees. He was shaking, from the adrenaline, he told himself. But a few traitorous tears leaked out, outing his lie. What a nightmare. They’d been coming ever since Blackbeard returned. Stede returning and Ed fighting him. Stede returning and Ed welcoming him, only for Stede to stab him in the back, literally this time. Stede returning and then leaving again. Sometimes softer dreams, where Stede returned and things worked out, but those were rare.
But it’s only recently that the dreams have involved Ed - Blackbeard - wantonly murdering Stede.
Only since Izzy came in one morning, giddy with the news that one wealthy landowner from Barbados had been killed in a series of freak accidents.
Stede Bonnet was dead. He was never going to return.
Any hope Ed had of ever reconciling was gone. And he had realized that he had hoped, somewhere deep down. After all, hadn’t he dreamt of Stede returning so many nights, even if he couldn’t quite believe in a smooth reunion? But now all he could dream of was Stede’s death.
The shakiness was abating, though the tears kept falling. He shook himself out of the nest of Stede’s clothes and linens and walked over to the window. The moon was indeed full and beautiful, resting gently in the sky and making the sea look like it was made of diamonds more rare than any Ed had ever plundered. And once again he thought of the night he missed his chance. If he had gone for it - leaned in just a little closer - would Stede have let him? Would they have been able to start something sooner? Would Stede have stayed with him? And if Stede had stayed with him, would he still be alive?
Barbados.
Ed’s mind flashed back to the first day they met, and the foolish game they played.
I’m Stede Bonnet, wealthy landowner from Barbados.
So he’d gone home. Home to his family? Presumably. Home to his grave as well, though the two were unrelated, given the circumstances of Stede’s death. But both thoughts lingered in Ed’s mind. The family. The grave.
Barbados. Family. Grave.
He pulled himself together, removing all traces of Ed who cried at night in a nest of Stede’s things and becoming Blackbeard who cared for nothing and no one. Back in his familiar leather and familiar role, he emerged from the captain’s quarters - quarters that felt nothing like his - and went to find Izzy.
It was Izzy’s night at the helm, thankfully, so he didn’t have to wake the man up.
“Izzy, change course,” he ordered. “We’re going to Barbados.”
“Barbados? You’re not still thinking about that-” a dagger quickly cut off Izzy’s petulant tone.
“I said ,” Blackbeard growled, “we’re going to Barbados. Are you unable to follow even such a simple order? Do I need to find myself a new First Mate?”
The threat was clear.
“N-no sir,” Izzy said. “I just don’t understand what you hope to accomplish by going there.”
“Understanding isn’t for the likes of you, Iz. But I want to see the grave. I want to know he’s dead, see it for myself. And maybe a quick visit to the family, pay my condolences.”
The smile Blackbeard gave at that was anything but friendly, seeming to assuage Izzy’s concerns, and he began to change course.
But as Ed turned away, he gazed once more at the moonlight shining on the sea.