Chapter Text
When the Whydah sank, Jackie had been the one to tell them.
Ed and Izzy had walked into her bar, expecting to be met with a wall of sound only to be instead met with silence. And while it wasn’t all that unusual for silence to fall over a crowd when Blackbeard arrived, this wasn’t a silence of awe or fear.
This silence was heavy and unsettling.
Grief.
Pirate deaths were usually met with a round of drinks and a night of indulgence- either in celebration that the world was finally rid of the man, or in remembrance of him. But Sam Bellamy- a man with a perpetually friendly grin, boisterous laugh, gold-filled pockets, & generous nature- had never failed to make friends wherever he went, even in the prickly and back-stabbing world of piracy.
The news of his death had hit hard, especially in the Republic.
Jackie had led them into the back room before telling them of Sam’s fate, shielding them from strange eyes.
Ed had cried.
Izzy had stared at the floor, feeling as though it had disappeared from under him, with the way his stomach swooped & the world seemed suddenly off-balance.
They had left the bar, gathered the crew, and sailed immediately. After all, a pirate like Blackbeard didn’t cry at the loss of a friend.
And it hurt all the more that both Ed and Izzy would have to keep the depth of their loss a secret.
Especially Izzy.
Before Ed had joined the crew of The Ranger , a whirlwind of energy and ambition and reckless ideas, it had been just Izzy and Sam.
Izzy and Sam, two boys forced to grow up too quickly aboard a brutal ship with a brutal captain. Izzy and Sam, who shared a hammock and slept in shifts to keep the other safe. Izzy and Sam, who shared their first kiss- the first of many more to come- under the night stars when the moon was full and the crew had drunkenly retreated below deck and the captain was shut away tightly in his cabin.
Izzy and Sam, who fell in love.
But then Ed arrived, bare-faced and spindly-limbed, and although Sam was never as taken with Ed as Izzy was, he was gracious by nature. Ed was never as taken with Sam as Izzy was, nor did he share the same graciousness.
Sam had half of Izzy’s heart and Ed, like a toddler with a favorite toy, resented having to share.
At every opportunity, he’d steal Izzy away. The few private moments that Izzy and Sam would manage to sneak aboard the crowded ship and under the watchful eye of Hornigold were always interrupted- Ed needed help with the rigging, or a second opinion on the shape of a cloud, or an ear to ramble into- and Izzy would go. Because Sam didn’t need Izzy like Ed needed Izzy.
When the mutiny happened Izzy went with Ed, even as Sam departed with The Whydah . Because without Izzy, Ed would forget to eat without him shoving food under his nose. He’d forget to sleep without Izzy dragging him to bed, or forget the practicalities of plans without Izzy’s reminders.
His nagging , as Ed called it. Sam didn’t like that, but Izzy didn’t mind. Sam didn’t like that Izzy didn’t mind, either.
Sam and Izzy still met up at ports. They carefully and meticulously planned their schedules to coincide at least once a month, spending as many days together as they could spare. Try as Ed might to delay making port or convince Izzy to take a detour, this was the one thing that Izzy held firm on.
He might’ve gone with Ed, but he hadn’t abandoned Sam.
Izzy wore his emerald ring proudly on his finger, reminding himself- whenever the nights became lonely or the frustration of managing Ed’s moods was wearing too heavily- of its match on the finger of his matelot.
After those days spent ashore with Sam, Ed would become almost unbearably affectionate. At every opportunity, he’d pull Izzy away from work and into bed. He’d touch him casually on deck- an arm around his waist, a trail of his fingers, a squeeze of his hand. He’d whisper I love you before bed and kiss Izzy awake every morning.
That affection would fade as the days turned into weeks, as Ed forgot that Izzy wasn’t his and his alone, until a month passed and Izzy was in Sam’s arms once again.
This cycle had, at first, given Izzy whiplash. But he quickly came to treasure the days he got with Sam, and look forward to the days he got with Ed afterwards.
But Sam was dead. He wouldn’t be waiting in the next port for Izzy, wouldn’t be there to greet him as they sailed in and wrap him in a tight embrace right there on the docks. And somewhere off the coast of Cape Cod, down in the murky depths, was a shipwreck and a skeleton with an emerald ring on his finger and Izzy could no longer find comfort in wearing his own.
So he strung it around his neck instead.
Soon enough, Ed stopped crying. He was, after all, grieving a friend. Not a husband.
Izzy hadn’t cried. Instead, just like in the back room of Jackie’s bar, he felt as though the planks underneath him had vanished and plunged him into a watery abyss. He felt like he was drowning, saltwater filling his lungs and spilling into his throat. Tears would be superfluous, when there was all this water and he was drowning (just like Sam).
Ed was affectionate again, for months this time instead of days. He requested meals for Izzy that would be gentle on his stomach. Hugged him close whenever he found Izzy staring at the deck, checking that it was still there. Told him “I love you” every night and kissed him every morning and held him through nightmares.
But then Ed met Stede and Izzy came to a horrible realization.
A toy that a child has to share is one that they jealously covet.
But when that child no longer has to share their toy, it’s no longer coveted. It’s forgotten and discarded.
In the span of four months, Izzy had lost both Sam and Ed. His entire world, crumbling around him and slipping through his grasp like sand.
Sam, he lost to the sea. But Ed, he lost to Stede. And Izzy couldn’t hope to win against the sea, but Stede was a man and men could always be beaten.
But Izzy’s desperation- and the way his world felt unsteady and unreal and his stomach was always rebelling against food and the constant rocking of waves- made him careless. Because Izzy couldn’t beat Stede and Ed sent him away.
Discarded.
Izzy became even more desperate. He made a deal and watched as Ed continued to slip through his grasp, tossing away everything they’d built for a man he’d known for mere weeks compared to the decades he’d known Izzy.
Discarded.
When Stede left and Ed returned, anguished and then aimless and then angry, Izzy found himself grateful for the hand wrapped around his throat, because at least Ed was touching him again.
At least he was breathless because of Ed’s grip and not because of the seawater that threatened to fill his lungs and drag him under (like Sam).
Izzy could live like this, missing a toe and with a new bruise every morning, because at least the pain meant he was alive and he hadn’t lost everything .
But Ed got worse and worse and suddenly Izzy realized that they were drowning together. He wasn’t sure who was dragging the other down into the depths- maybe they both were- but Izzy was almost content to let them both drown.
Almost, because the crew didn’t deserve to be dragged down with them.
A gunshot (end it), a sawn off leg (kill me), another gunshot (I still can’t kill you), a storm (like Sam), a cannonball (I still can’t let go of you). A liminal time spent aboard a broken ship, floating aimlessly with the currents and feasting on seabirds.
Stede returning. Ed reviving.
And Izzy has once again lost everything, but he’s no longer desperate. He’s tired.
The crew were kind to him, undeserving though he was. They offered him belonging, a place in their family- cobbled together and broken but held together by rope and love and acceptance . When he was singing, face painted and surrounded by flowers, he could almost ignore the feeling of seawater filling his lungs. He could almost imagine Sam beside him, wearing flowers in his long black hair and humming along. It had been their song.
It was nice, while it lasted. A joyous night, a golden leg, a kind note, a smiling Ed. A nice way to conclude a life that had been filled with very few nice things- other than Ed and Sam (or maybe it had always just been Sam).
Dying from a gunshot was preferable to drowning, Izzy decided, as he lay bleeding on the deck. It was quicker, at least. Izzy had been drowning for months and it had been so tiring .
He’d be with Sam soon. Reunited in whatever watery underworld it was that took sailors and pirates and all the others buried at sea.
(So why couldn’t he find him?)
(Why does it feel like his lungs are full of sand instead of seawater?)
(Why is his ring gone?)