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Izzy has never ever cared what people say about him.
But one day, when he’s reawakened the kraken and he can barely breathe for how dissatisfied he feels that the whole situation is STILL wrong, he remembers something he heard on deck weeks ago when Stede Bonnet was still a plague on his life and his Blackbeard was still far far out of his reach.
Lucius had been talking to god knows who whilst Izzy lurked in the shadows in his usual fashion and had casually spoken the words that left Izzy reeling for breath as though he’d been stabbed straight in the lungs.
“I don’t know, I feel for both Edward and Izzy I mean…they’re so bad for each other and they don’t even know it.”
Izzy had seethed in anger, intent on marching out onto the deck to throw that fucking ponce overboard. But he’d hesitated. Then he’d gone back to his room to pace angrily instead. Then he’d sat down with his hands in his head, panting with anger and confusion as he pondered what he’d heard.
They’re so bad for each other.
He hadn’t been able to figure it out. He’d tossed the words together over and over again in his head until eventually he had to admit he didn’t know what to do with them. He didn’t know if they were right, he didn’t know if they fit. He didn’t know if he’d ever considered it before.
The words played on his mind now. He had to leave his room and see Edward. He needed to have an interaction with him to see if there was any merit to what the boy had said back then. He needed reassurance that it was all ridiculous. Izzy looked out for Edward, Izzy kept him afloat, Izzy ran the ship to perfection whilst Edward couldn’t. Izzy made sure the crew knew the big bad cruel beast that was Blackbeard and kept the soft weak Edward hidden from everyone’s view but his own. Izzy protected Edward. They weren’t bad for each other at all, they were complimentary perfection. There couldn’t be one without the other. There could never be Izzy without Ed. So he takes himself to Blackbeard, his resolve as steady as a sinner looking for absolution in confession.
Tell me they’re wrong, tell me they’re all wrong about us, he prays as he enters.
He’s lucky Blackbeard is more Edward tonight, that he indulges Izzy in a meaningless conversation that could’ve been had in the morning instead of at midnight.
He even lets Izzy sit down at the table with him which is a novelty that has Izzy burning with pride and satisfaction.
But he falters when the conversation is over. The doubt and fear and confusion rise up again to choke him and he’s suddenly afraid.
What if they are right?
Blackbeard catches his falter and his eyes pierce Izzy sharply as he moves to stand up.
“Are you going to fuck off now or not?” he asks him lazily.
It’s a question, not a statement. Ed isn’t telling him to fuck off, he’s asking if he will. Izzy knows him enough by now to appreciate the difference.
He sits back down in his seat and reaches to pour himself a drink.
Edward’s eyebrows raise in surprise and Izzy can tell he knows something is coming.
“Edward?” he hesitates before looking up at him uncertainly, “are we…bad for each other?”
He says it so hesitantly, like it’s a concept he can’t quite grasp.
Ed frowns and considers it for the first time in his life, are we bad for each other?
He flicks through their memorable encounters, specifically the ones that could be termed as “bad”.
He recalls the first time he’d realised Izzy had changed their course and had been right to do so to avoid an oncoming storm but his fury at being disobeyed had him choking his first mate with the intent to kill him in the captains quarters anyway. He’d only just let Izzy live and Izzy couldn’t talk for days afterwards. Ed had cried alone when Izzy left. Then they repeated the whole thing a few weeks later like a twisted curse was upon them.
Then the time they’d both killed a man together because Ed liked his necklace and the man had insisted it couldn’t be brought. Ed was so drunk he barely remembers it at all except the sob of the pathetically weak fisherman as he pleaded for his life and Izzy slicing through his flesh cleanly but still dragging it out for Ed’s pleasure. And how pleasurable that had been. Ed had lost the necklace a few weeks later and had forgotten about it ever since.
Then he has a brief memory of straddling and holding Izzy down after a brutal, brutal fight between them with all his limbs throbbing and aching in protest, holding a needle and ink unsteadily in his drunk hands, licking Izzy’s cheek softly.
I think I’ll make my mark right here on you Iz.
Don’t you fucking dare Ed, don’t you dare!
But he hadn’t moved, he hadn’t overpowered him and Ed hadn’t stopped.
And Izzy was branded on his face for everyone to see. It made Ed dizzy to think about the things Izzy had let him do to him. Then it made him sick to think of the pleasure that sparked in him whenever he saw that wobbly cross, on his face where everyone could see what Blackbeard did to his closest sailors.
Changed them, maimed them.
“Well you only like me when I’m Blackbeard Iz," he drawls, "think that makes you a bit of a bad friend to be honest.” He says it half in jest and half seriously.
“You cut off my fucking body parts Edward," his voice is flat and unimpressed.
“Body part Iz," he corrects softly burning with shame of the memory of inflicting that pain and the brutal satisfaction that had followed from maiming him, changing him irreparably again.
“Just the one.”
“One more than necessary perhaps," he spits but it’s said carefully enough that Ed doesn’t hit him there and then and hiss at him to get out of his fucking sight, even though he could.
“Perhaps," he concedes, "that doesn’t take away from what I said. You only like me when I’m Blackbeard.” He emphasises Blackbeard. That ugly ugly word.
“I liked Edward first,” Izzy offers not unkindly.
“But you like Blackbeard more," Ed whispers. And isn’t that true for everyone? Don’t they all love Blackbeard more? Izzy near enough creams his breeches when Blackbeard’s out to play, stalking around the deck like a viscous beast. Hadn’t Stede begged him to show him how to be just like Blackbeard? Hadn’t Stede left him in a flash once that beard had gone and Edward had come out. Stupid soft Edward.
I want to do what makes Ed happy.
The words make him cringe in shame now. How soft and frail he’d been in front of Stede. Edward is nothing. Blackbeard holds up the tattered broken remains of Edward, Blackbeard gets him through everything.
“You are Blackbeard Edward,” Izzy says firmly, “you’re one and the same. The man and the legend. The greatest pirate that ever lived. That is you.”
Edward hates the certainty in his voice. Edward has no idea who he is anymore. How can Izzy talk with such adoration for a man that barely exists?
“Besides,” Izzy carries on with an edge is his voice now, “I’m not the one who wanted Edward gone. You were.”
It rushes in his mind, so painfully true. How he had hated himself after killing his father. How he had writhed in agony at night imagining himself turning into a violent, vengeful monster striking down anyone in his path. How his mother who knew what he’d done, who knew exactly what she’d created, looked at him in terror sometimes before she could mask it.
Edward fucking hated being Edward for years after he killed his father. When the rumours of a vicious pirate, described only as a mad man “with a black beard”, had followed them in every port they docked at, Edward had thrown himself into the role feverishly. He had lusted to become someone other than Edward and all his crew knew that to call him Edward was a death wish. Izzy used to be no exception and he seemed to love Blackbeard’s brutality and undefeatable strength as much as Edward did, if not more. Blackbeard, ironically, used to be so safe for both of them. Two boys who had never felt safety in their lives, feeding the legend and revelling in its comforting blaze.
“You wanted it as bad as I did, the glory, the monster,” he says to Izzy. He feels so numb, has he always been this numb inside? Has he been this numb since he tied his father’s noose and became the kraken? Was he numb all these years before Stede?
“I helped steer the ship,” Izzy acknowledges, nodding thoughtfully, “but you chose the destination. You chose to get rid of Edward and make a name for yourself. I just helped.”
“You just helped," he repeats dully looking at Izzy. He’s staring at Edward too and Izzy can’t understand his expression. He’s hard and closed off but there’s a flicker of something else and Ed is too tired to figure out what it is.
“Don’t you want to say anything to me?" he pushes him curiously, “since we’re sharing feelings and all.”
Izzy is quiet again.
“You’re making that face Iz,” Ed says in a bored tone even though the kraken’s anger seethes underneath it, “like you’re trying to figure out what to say to placate me. I don’t want placating, I want your truth. Tell me a truth Israel, I want to hear you tell me a truth.”
More silence.
Just when Ed thinks he really might have to beat Izzy just to hear something from him, he speaks up slowly.
“Sometimes I have to placate you Edward.”
Ed raises his eyebrows.
“Sometimes you’re not yourself. You drift away and you don’t know where you are or who you are. Sometimes I have to tell you one thing and do another, sometimes you need me to take the reins from you altogether so I do. And I do it well. I manage you well Edward.”
“Do you now?” he mutters, fiddling with the handle of his knife. “Do you manage me Izzy?”
“When I must," he concedes.
“Do you think you own me Izzy?” he asks suddenly, staring at Izzy intently.
“No boss.”
He says it so simply but Ed can’t tell if he really believes it.
“No Izzy, I think you do think you own me. That’s why you couldn’t let Stede get close to me, that’s why you couldn’t bear to let Blackbeard go. You think you own me because of all the years we’ve spent together?” he scoffs in Izzy’s face and twirls his knife in the air.
“I don’t think that Edward.” And Ed thinks he almost sounds like he’s pleading.
“What would you do without me then Iz?” he whispers, now he feels so raw and painful inside, “if I were to throw myself overboard right now, what would you do?”
“I don’t know," he admits quietly after a long silence. “You’re everything I have Ed.”
“Would you jump after me?”
“Yes.”
He doesn’t hesitate and Ed smiles with satisfaction.
“To save me? Or to be damned to the sea with me?”
“Either,” he says and has he always been this infallible? Has his devotion always been this thorough? Does it comfort him? To give everything he has to Edward?
They don’t speak for a while, Edward can’t seem to find a response.
“Nothing is keeping you here you know,” he spits because the anger is more comforting and familiar than the confusion and dread over everything he’s done, “if you were so unhappy,” he sneers the word, “you could have left years ago-”
“Ed-”
“Your captain is still speaking Israel!” he spits harshly because the Kraken is still in there. Ed doesn’t get to tuck it away in the back of his mind when he feels like it, the Kraken is always always lingering there just on the edges of Edward. Waiting to hurt somebody again. Izzy has backed away in his chair and Ed sees he can’t even look at him.
He breathes deeply and reminds himself he doesn’t want to fight Izzy anymore.
“Why didn’t you leave me all those years ago? When I started becoming,” he smiles wryly, “a shell of a man. You were right Iz, you’ve been managing my, ah, increasing erratic moods for a long time now. You could have left at any time. You could have left as soon as I stopped being everything you wanted. Why did you stay Iz? All this time, why did you stay?”
“Above all else is loyalty to your captain,” Izzy says stoutly punching a hysterical laughter out of him.
“Fuck Iz, we were kids when I told you that. I didn’t know a fucking thing about running a ship and it sounded like the right thing to say at the time. I wanted your loyalty that’s all, your unwavering loyalty and I would’ve said anything to get it.”
Its cruel and twisted to admit but Izzy says nothing still, Ed knows he already had it then and has it still now.
“You always took me so seriously," he shakes his head in frustration, “you never let loose Izzy. You never relax, do you?”
He knows it’s because Izzy doesn’t know how. Izzy can’t contemplate retirement for Ed because he can’t even contemplate it for himself. A life of leisure might as well be the myth of mermaids to Izzy, he doesn’t believe in it one little bit.
Izzy still doesn’t say anything and it’s driving him mad. Ed needs to hear his voice again. Sometimes he worries he’s thrown Izzy overboard too or thrown every single member of the crew over and he’s just sailing out here alone waiting to go aground or to finally smash into the cliffside and sink down to the sea floor where he belongs.
“You’re not a soft man are you Iz?” he says gently.
“It’s not a soft profession boss.” He’s gruff and defensive and it’s so familiar it makes Ed sigh.
“That’s what I never understand about you Iz. How is it you’re still such a hard man hmm? Doesn’t it tire you? To be so hard and mean and cruel all the time? Don’t you ever want something else?”
“A pirates life isn’t soft Edward.”
“A pirates life," he scoffs at Izzy, “what “pirates life” Iz? When we were young and swabbing decks and throwing out buckets of the crew’s shit and being kicked around and spat on? That was the pirates life then sure but what did you think our lives would be like when I appointed you my first mate? The same shit you’d take as a cabin boy? You haven’t swabbed a deck under orders in a very long time Iz. We didn’t need to be hard men once we had the legend of Blackbeard - that did all the fighting for us.”
We didn’t need to be hard men once we got everything we deserved together.
He thinks he sees Izzy trying to understand where he’s coming from so he presses on.
“Don’t you want fine things Iz?” he presses him, “I liked fine things plenty with…Stede.”
Fuck don’t think about Stede.
“I’ve never had fine things," he sneers and Ed throws his hands up in frustration.
“For fucks sake Izzy that’s what I’m saying.” He stands up and paces the room.
“You’ve never had them so don’t you want them? All you’ve ever had is this hard life of pain and gruelling work and being stomped on and screamed at and looting and killing and maiming and hurting all the time. Fuck man, don’t you want to try new things? Don’t you want to like,” he motions around wildly with his arms, “enjoy things? Haven’t you ever enjoyed anything Iz?” he asks him desperately because he can’t believe in all the years he’s known Izzy, he doesn’t know the answer to that question. Not really.
“I’ve enjoyed being your second in command,” Izzy offers.
Ed grits his teeth with the sheer fucking frustration of him.
“Have you ever enjoyed anything that wasn’t related to me Iz?” he asks impatiently.
That silence again. Edward starts to imagine Izzy’s body, cold, bloated and blue on the seabed with fish ripping apart his delicate skin. His eyes decomposing in his skull and his lovely cross tattoo being worn away by the salt sea.
He nearly throws up.
“I enjoy the sea,” Izzy huffs shortly as though he can’t believe he’s having to admit to enjoying anything, “I enjoy sailing and navigating and being on a ship.” He’s closed off again as if this stupid scant piece of information is really enough enjoyment for a whole lifetime of living. Ed knows it is not.
“I can’t deal with you Izzy," he says tiredly, shaking his head. He means to carry on but he can’t so the statement sits in the air, stale and unpleasant.
“Do you want me to go? To leave?” Izzy is almost whispering. He’s staring at the table blankly and Ed hears the unspoken fear in his level voice anyway.
“Leave?" he contemplates a life without Izzy Hands by his side and that life is impossible.
“Where would you go?” he asks and he knows he’s being cruel to tease without giving an answer. God maybe he just needs to hear Izzy begging to stay, he needs to know someone still needs him.
“I don’t know.”
“You were going to leave after the fog when we evaded the Spanish," he reminds him but he tones down the scornfulness he’d felt when it had happened, "where were you going to go?”
“I don’t know Edward, I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t want to leave.”
Ed doesn’t say anything, he revels in the pleasure of knowing he was right. Izzy can’t leave him and the thought let’s him breathe easier.
“Why didn’t you let me go?” Izzy asks him accusatorially with the most emotion he’s shown in this conversation so far, “you said you needed me here. Why didn’t you let me go then?”
Edward shrugs guiltily.
“I didn’t think I’d love Stede Bonnet.”
Izzy draws a sharp breath and Edward can see he’s shocked to hear him say it so blatantly.
“You don’t usually kill and steal the identities of people you love Izzy," he says it for Izzy’s benefit, after all how the hell would he know about what you do in love?
“I thought I was still a hard man Iz. I didn’t think he would change me like that," he looks at Izzy.
“I’m sorry.” Izzy snaps his head up to look at him and his face is incredulous.
“For what?” he’s bewildered and a little angry.
Classic Izzy.
Ed gestures vaguely.
“For all the fucked up shit between us man. I’m sorry. I keep hurting you and you just take it. You manipulate things and bitch at me when I can’t be Blackbeard. Fuck. I’m sorry Izzy. Maybe we are bad for each other.”
He tries to laugh it off and regrets it when he sees Izzy’s stricken face.
“Do you really think that?” he asks Ed, intently searching in his face for something and he seems to Ed then like a young boy all over again. Ed remembers the days of sleeping side by side in the deck and whispering to each other under the light of the moon. He remembers the keen look in Izzy’s eyes as he hung on to his every word, beseeching Edward always for more more more.
He’s still embarrassingly old when he realises, he loves Izzy Hands, really loves him.
“Yeah Iz. We have been pretty bad to each other, haven’t we? I think… me more than you actually.”
Izzy looks torn, like the life’s been ripped out of him. His hands tremble on the table.
“We could be better couldn’t we Israel?” Ed asks him daringly. He sits back down and reaches for Izzy’s shaking hand on the table. Izzy doesn’t hold it back, he’s frozen still as a statue staring at their hands linked together.
“We should do better for each other.” And fuck Ed feels wise when he says that and it hurts hurts hurts that he hopes Stede would be proud of him for talking to Izzy like this.
“Izzy, say something," he pleads, squeezing his hand tightly. The cold fear that he is actually alone on the ship still sits inside him, Izzy must be real, he must be here with him.
“Ed," his voice is so hoarse, so stripped of the angry bitter Izzy Edward knows so well by now, “I don’t understand what you want… I don’t know how...” but he sounds like he wants to and that’s enough for Edward.
“I know Izzy, I know," he brings Izzy’s hand up to his mouth and kisses it gently, “I’ll show you Izzy, I’ll show you.”