It wasn’t like grand adventures were exactly anything new to Stede. He’d read all about them over the years of his life and had even managed to live some on the high seas as The Gentleman Pirate! But this adventure… well, this was deeply weird and deeply concerning, if only because he had no idea how he was meant to get back to his little dinghy and his crew that, last he’d seen, were stranded on an island.
He’d hardly had a chance to even wonder about that before he up and found himself in what was apparently a place called San Francisco in the land of California. He’d been told it was the year 2025 and that was already too much to try and comprehend.
Then there’d been things handed to him and a piece of paper he was told was the equivalent of several thousand dollars, though it certainly didn’t look like money. Still, the person had explained rather thoroughly how to exchange it for actual, spendable money and how to use the – what was it again? A phone? That sounded right. But right now, all he wanted to do was take his damned boots off and sit for a spell, to figure out what he was meant to do about this particular mess he’d found himself in somehow.
Stede unlocked the door to the apartment he’d been told was his and sighed as he stepped inside; it was spacious and quiet, and though it was perhaps too simply decorated for his own personal tastes, it would do for now. He sighed and made his way over to an empty chair and sat down, letting out a quiet ‘oof’ to himself before he hoisted one leg and then the other to remove his boots in turn. “Ah, that’s better,” he murmured to himself, giving his toes a little wiggle before he sank back into the cushioned seat and closed his eyes.
To be sure, Edward had paid considerably less attention to the admittance process than Stede. Already halfway through his morning bottle of what was left of Stede’s collection of perfect brandy when he was pulled through the rift, the poor government official who had greeted the wayward pirate captain had been forced to deal with a churlish, inebriated man with the patience of a gnat. Finally, he was escorted from the premises and pointed in the direction of the housing complex with a key and the relief that he would be somebody else’s problem now.
An hour or two later, he lay sprawled out on his back across the first bed he had come upon. He had long since stopped trying to understand the situation he found himself in, convinced now that it was some kind of senseless dream that he would soon wake up from. He drained the last of the brandy, then hurled the empty bottle through the open doorway into the larger living space he had stumbled through earlier. He expected to hear it shatter, but instead was greeted with the sound of a harmless thump as the thick bottle landed safely upon the plush carpet. Ed craned his neck to look in the direction of the door way, before letting his head fall back onto the mattress with an equally as soft thud. “What a fucking disappointment,” he told the ceiling.
Well, that was unexpected.
Stede heard the muffled thud of the glass hitting the floor somewhere nearby, and he opened his eyes to look up at the ceiling, focusing on the sound and the direction it had come from. And of course, the hushed grumble of a voice that followed it. That was even more unexpected; no one had told him that this home was already occupied or that he’d be sharing it with someone. So much for a bit of peace and quiet – though to be fair, he’d had enough of that on his own in the dinghy as he rowed back toward the direction his ship had last been.
He shifted in the chair he’d claimed and with a deep inhale, sat up straight again. Might as well introduce himself to whoever it was he’d heard. He pushed himself to his feet again, grimacing only a little to himself before he quietly made his way toward the darker hall and yet even darker rooms off of the hall. Stede swallowed down a nervous lump that was beginning to form in his throat and blinked, squinting into the dark at the glass of the bottle which he crouched down to pick up and look at.
Stede frowned at it, because he was certain he knew this bottle, and yet that couldn’t possibly be the case given the circumstances. Still, he swallowed again despite his heart that was starting to thump precariously against his ribs.
“Excuse me?” he said as he turned to look into the room beside him, where he could only assume the bottle had come from. “I believe you– erm, you dropped this.”
Ed had been too far in his own head (or maybe too far into his bottle) to notice that he was no longer alone in the spacious rooms he had been told were his own. So the sudden voice from a figure in the doorway sent him bolt upright in the bed, his hand reaching for the knife that was usually sheathed at his side. His hand came up empty–the weapon had been confiscated earlier with middling resistance–but when he saw who it was, his gloved hand balled into a fist. “You,” he said, the word somehow coming out as both a growl and a sob. Whatever blur his mind had been only moments before, it had now focused in on Stede as his pulse thrummed rapidly in his ears.
Stede’s grip on the bottle fumbled and it fell to the carpet with yet another muffled thunk when he registered the voice of the person who spoke. Maybe it was only one word, but he’d know that voice anywhere.
His eyebrows lifted toward his hairline, blonde waves swept back from his features, as a relieved smile grew. He let out a rushed breath, a sigh, thankful that Ed was here — even if it didn’t make sense, he was with him. “Ed! Oh, thank God, I was—” Then Stede cut himself off and paused to glance down at the empty bottle again. That was when he registered the mild stench of brandy in the air.
Oh.
“Are you alright?” he asked then, features falling into concern and voice more hushed as he looked back into the room.
If neither the tone of Edward’s voice nor the brandy was a signal to Stede that this might not be the man he was expecting, then his appearance certainly would. Blackbeard might have lost the facial hair that had once been his namesake, but in its place was a jaw blackened with kohl and eyes as dark as the sea during a storm.
His body acted on instinct, the Kraken coming out to protect him from the man who had already done such damage. Ed slid to the edge of the bed and scrambled to his feet with very little grace. He looked around for something to use as a weapon, finding only what he would later learn was a remote on the bedside table. It seemed harmless, but Blackbeard had caused pain with more innocuous items, and he brandished the remote like a knife as he took several heavy steps toward Stede in the doorway. He stopped just short of overtaking the man and snarled, “What the fuck do you think?”
Everything seemed to happen a lot faster than Stede had been prepared for and as Ed approached rather rapidly and menacingly, Stede stumbled back just a little and into the wall directly behind him opposite the doorway. He swallowed a little, eyes blown wide as he took in the appearance of the man he loved.
It broke his heart a little to see him like this.
Once the immediate shock of the threat wore off, his expression settled again into concern and he just looked at him. Looked at his unkempt hair, the kohl around his eyes and his jaw, and the steely, unforgiving look in his gaze. “Oh, Ed. Who did this to you?” he breathed, lips turning down into a frown.
Stede reached a hand up to touch his face but hesitated, thinking better of it. A remote wouldn’t decapitate his hand but he didn’t want to risk it either.
If this truly was a dream, it was beginning to lose points for originality. The whole transportation to another time was one thing, but this reunion with Stede was quite another. Oh, Edward had dreamt of the man plenty since his desertion. But always it had been a continuation of what Ed thought they had started that night in the sand–a new start, a new life. And always it left him feeling so very empty in the morning until he filled himself up again with bitterness and alcohol. So this, while something new, still had entirely too much of the one man Edward wished to rid himself entirely of.
The sound of that name–his name–on Stede’s lips caused him to recoil. “My name is Blackbeard,” he snarled, as if that were an explanation for his transformation. And in a way, it was. He had done this to himself. Allowed himself to believe he could be anything other than what he was, who he had always been. Stede had been right to leave. His grip tightened on the remote, but he did not move to use it.
The frown on his lips deepend and his eyebrows knit together slowly, but Stede never looked away. His eyes remained on Ed’s face, looking him over slowly, taking in his appearance and letting the reality of it settle over him. Stede swallowed and briefly grit his teeth, tightening his jaw in quiet defiance while they both stood there.
He wasn’t entirely sure what he ought to do, but something needed to be said. Done, even. But what? Did he just need to try and make conversation? That could work, he supposed.
After a beat and a quiet shudder of a breath, he spoke. “I’ve been looking for you,” he murmured, tone thick with relief despite the precarious circumstance he found himself in. Granted, he hadn’t been looking for him long, but the fact of the matter remained that he’d actively been out on the open ocean in search of Ed when he landed here instead. “And I’m– I’m awfully glad to have found you. Even if it’s in this strange land. How long have you been here?”
The painful shock of Stede’s sudden appearance was beginning to fade, replaced again by his own dizzying thoughts–hurt and anger, but longing too, as Edward glared back at Stede, unable to look away, even as his heart reminded his head of all the damage he had caused. Finally, Ed took a few steps back and looked away...
And then could only look back again when Stede confessed to have been looking for him. “Bit late for that,” he grumbled bitterly as Stede continued talking. But his words made little sense. Why look for someone you had already abandoned? Stede had known exactly where to find Ed, and had left him there to sit alone with his dinghy like a fucking idiot. “Why?” he asked, disregarding Stede’s question for one of his own. Because he genuinely could not fathom a reason for the other man to seek him out now. There was no way Stede could have known about the fate of his ship or his crew in so short a span of time. Hell, what remained of the crew was probably still alive on that island, assuming one of the weird ones hadn’t decided to eat the others.
The question wasn’t much of a response and Stede opened his mouth to say something before he thought better of that specific sentiment. His brows furrowed even further together, his shoulders going a bit more slack as he looked at him still, attempting to read anything but hatred on his face.
“Why what?” he asked after a beat. “Why was I looking for you? Ed, I– sorry,” he covered quickly, apologizing, though refused to acknowledge him as Blackbeard. Ugh. “Why wouldn’t I come look for you?” Stede was trying to think of reasons why Ed would feel this way, but he couldn’t.
Unless…
Realization dawned on him then and his eyes went a little wide with understanding, though he wasn’t positive that he was right. “Oh, you’re–” Stede stumbled over his words, gesturing a little toward Ed’s face and makeup, “this is all because of me, isn’t it? I wanted– I needed to find you, to apologize before it was too late and tell you how I… well, I don’t suppose it matters right this second what I wanted to tell you, does it?”
For the smallest of moments, Edward did not know how to proceed. On the one hand, yes, it very much was all because of Stede; but on the other, Ed did not want to give Stede the satisfaction of knowing he could have any sort of effect on him whatsoever. That feeling quickly passed, overwhelmed by the hurt and anger that churned inside of him like choppy seas, threatening to take him under if he let them. Sometimes he did, but now he directed the feeling outward onto Stede.
“I waited,” he began, taking a menacing step toward Stede, “all fucking night.” And then some. Even after he had returned to the Revenge, Ed had held on to the hope that maybe it had been a mistake. Maybe Stede would come back. Maybe happiness was still possible. Eventually, he had been forced to let go. “Save your apologies. I’m well past needing them.” It was a lie, but Ed desperately wanted to believe it was true.
Still, despite the anger being hurled at him and the threatening demeanor Ed was showing him, Stede continued to hold his ground. Somehow he knew – he trusted, really – that he wouldn’t actually be harmed at the hand of this man. He swallowed though, quietly and desperately trying to convince himself to keep his chin high.
“I really am terribly sorry for keeping you waiting for so long,” he finally said, his words hushed, though there was a quiet pleading to his tone all the same. They were alone in this apartment, sure, yet his apology was meant for Ed’s ears only.
“I was– um, well– I was rather incapacitated against my will when we were meant to meet and in hindsight I should’ve kept my wits about me and gone to the dock, but I… I had been convinced you wouldn’t want me. Or– or that you were better off without me.” Stede’s voice fell a little more quiet, his eyes drifting to look at a dark spot on the wall over Ed’s shoulder as he talked. “Then Chauncey tripped and shot himself through his eye and oh, Ed, it was gruesome and just– I couldn’t handle it and something in me snapped and I ran. Like a coward, I ran and before I knew it I was back in Bridgetown.”
After a beat, his gaze went back to Ed’s and he felt his lower lip tremble a little, throat growing tight from the memory of that night. “I shouldn’t have left, I know. I’m so sorry, Ed.”
In spite of Edward’s refusal to hear an apology, Stede continued to give one anyway. Two, actually. Sandwiched in the middle was something that sounded like an excuse, and a poor one at that. “Was there something about what I said to you that was unclear?” It might have been that Ed was referring to what he had spoken only moments before about apologizing, but then he continued, “I named you my happiness.” Each word that he spoke was said with more emphasis than the one before it. “I planned for our future.” His eyes grew wide. “I thought that was pretty fucking clear.”
If there was something that Stede was trying to tell him, he was blinded by his own emotions and bias. And yet, now that he had yelled a bit, there was a great sense of relief at having been able to do so.
And at first he did think Ed was referring to what he’d only just said, his shoulders growing tense and his eyes widening a little – as much as he believed he wouldn’t be hurt, Ed was still quite menacing like this. Stede swallowed and shifted a little, almost uncomfortably, from one foot to the next just as Ed began to speak again.
Those next words made his breath hitch and his throat grow tight again. “It was,” he replied once Ed had finished, his eyes growing damp as he stood there with his heart lurching. He was desperate to touch him, but continued to keep his hands to himself. At least for now. “Oh, Ed, it was clear. I was– I was an idiot, I know. And I’m not going to beg for your forgiveness, I don’t deserve it, but I did mean it when I said– I still mean it, that you make me happy, too. I shouldn’t have let what Chauncey said get to me so badly, but I can’t change what’s happened either, as much as I wish I could.”
Ed stood there for a moment and blinked. He was close enough to touch the other man. With his makeshift blade, if he wished. Or, caress his face the way he did in his dreams–nightmares. But his hands were fully-gloved. There was no more touching fine things.
“What changed?” he finally asked. “You were certain enough to leave. Why come back?” All of this was spoken as if they were not standing in a room in what was apparently no longer New Spain three hundred years from the date they had awoken on that morning. Ed had been so certain he knew why Stede had not appeared on the dock that night. To learn that he was mistaken was difficult for him to process, especially given everything he had done as a consequence of his grief.
The question, as it were, was enough of a shift that Stede wasn’t quite sure how to proceed right that second. His throat was still tight, eyes still damp with unshed tears, and his mouth fell open as he tried to think of how to explain his answer. Was honesty truly the best policy in this moment? Ed didn’t even want to hear apologies, so what would he do if Stede mentioned love, of all things?
Stede inhaled a slow, shaky breath and closed his mouth for a beat before finally speaking. “I realized my feelings for you. Or– or rather, I was able to put a name to them,” he replied softly, trying to swallow around the lump that had settled in his throat. “I know you aren’t keen to believe me right now, but there was nothing certain about my leaving. But coming to find you? To tell you in better words what it is that I feel? I’ve never been more certain of anything in all my life, Ed.”
That may have seemed like the obvious answer to someone like the dearly departed Lucius, but to Edward, who had been made to feel that what he had to give was not enough, it was difficult to comprehend. “Impeccable fucking timing,” Ed replied coolly, but his eyes betrayed the fact that Stede’s words had an effect on him–no longer shooting daggers, but asking questions instead. Love was not something that Edward knew the shape of, though were Stede to describe it to him, he would find it very familiar. But the reappearance of Stede had made the fresh wound of his departure even more raw, and Ed had reached his fill of unfathomable information for one evening.
His eyes locked with Stede’s tearful ones, and a warm feeling began to stir inside him. The Kraken quickly doused the flame. He had been hurt before–it would not happen again. A veil of darkness covered Ed’s face, and he looked away for a moment. When he looked back at Stede, it was in the process of stepping backwards into the room he had been occupying and slamming shut the door.
As soon as Ed’s weight had shifted and he’d begun to move backward, retreating back into the dark he’d been in when Stede had found him, he tried to speak up and even reach for Ed’s arm. “Ed, no, please don’t–”
When the door slammed, he fell quiet, standing there and staring at the door for several long beats. Eventually he released a quiet, shaky breath, wondering if there was anything he could say then to get Ed to come back out and talk to him. But the line he’d drawn was clear and Stede needed to respect that, didn’t he? Of course he did.
Then an idea hit him and he glanced back down the hallway, wondering where he might find what exactly it was he needed. He thought about telling Ed he’d be right back, but there was no point, so he hurried back toward the room he’d been in to search for some parchment and something to write with. It took a while, but finally he returned to Ed’s door and slipped a half-crumpled piece of paper under it. Inside it read:
Edward,
Take this as an olive branch. I do not wish to quarrel with you.
I will be here when you are ready, if you wish me to be. That is a promise.
Yours, Stede x
In the morning, Stede would find the same note shoved under his door with additional text scrawled below it in Ed's hand.