"No," he says. "Try not to drink too much of it."

He hears Ed breathe in, can feel the gears turning in his head. If Ed doesn't have an idea yet, he will soon, Jack thinks. Crazy, brilliant fucker. No wonder Izzy always wanted him.

The sound of the key in the lock breaks the silence. Jack slides back to the wall, quick as he can, trying not to make too much noise, hoping Ed has the sense to do the same. Lantern light blinds them again.

*
The sun has long since set when Stede finally flops down next to Izzy on the fo'c'sle, covered in sweat. Izzy's hands are covered in cannon grease. His face, too, he realizes, as Stede reaches out and wipes at a smudge with his thumb.

"I think I'm just making it worse," he says, smiling apologetically. He doesn't lower his hand though. Izzy leans into the touch as Stede cups his cheek.

"No sign of them yet." Stede states the obvious.

As if Izzy hasn't been scanning the horizon this entire time, looking for sails. Fucking absurd. Out here in the middle of nowhere, following a lead from a fucking seagull. It's the best they've got. He tries not to think about it too hard.

"Buttons, or Olivia, I suppose, thinks we'll cross paths in about two days," Stede continues, smile a little forced. "Plenty of time to prepare. And we'll have the advantage! They don't know we're coming"

Izzy smiles back at Stede, though he suspects it's more of a grimace. Two days. Two days of Ed locked in that monster's brig. And Jack...

Izzy squeezes his eyes shut. Stede wraps his hand around the back of Izzy's neck, pulling him in to rest against his broad, firm chest. He smells of sweat and steel and somehow underneath it all, lavender and a hint of spice. Ponce. Izzy wraps his hands in Stede's shirt and breathes in deep.

Two days.

The visits seem random at first, no rhyme or reason, no pattern to detect... no pattern...

Ed squeezes his eyes shut, thinking, worrying at the idea, grain of sand in a shell--

"Christ, Eddie, will you shut up for five minutes?"

Ed jumps at Jack's voice. Whatever they've given him, it's affecting Jack too. He seems to drift, unmoored. More often than not, he lapses into silence before finishing a sentence. It's scaring the hell out of Ed.

But--

"Ed!" Jack snaps.

It's the most feeling Ed's heard from him since he arrived, but what--

"Ed, stop!"

An edge of panic in Jack's voice. Ed's guts go cold. He's been talking. Fuck, he's been talking this whole time?

"Yup," Jack whispers, irritation overtaking panic, "mumbling about fuckin' patterns and shit. Only pattern you're gonna have to worry about is the one your brains'll make when ol Horny splatters 'em over the fuckin' wall"

"Told you not to drink too much of that fuckin' water, but you couldn't just fuckin' listen, could you?"

Ed's not listening. Jack hears the sound of fabric ripping, loud in the silence of their cell. A moment later, he hears Ed start mumbling again, muffled this time, incomprehensible, hell, almost inaudible, and Jack almost laughs. Fuckin' Eddie. Crazy bastard gagged himself.

Leaning against the bench he's chained to, Ed shuts his eyes.

He worries at it, at the pattern. It's there, he knows it, can almost see it... something... something about what Jack said seemed to make what was forming in his mind a little brighter, a little clearer.

He can hear himself mumbling now that he's aware of it. The bit of his own sleeve he's stuffed in his mouth tastes of sweat and dried blood. He bites down, grinding his molars into it as he tries not to talk. He focuses on the pattern.

*
Izzy rises before the dawn. A heavy mist hangs over the water, the chill scent of morning air filling his lungs as he steps out onto the deck. He left Stede sleeping. The man had grumbled as Izzy slipped out of his bed reaching out with grasping hands. Izzy shoved a pillow into Stede's arms to replace himself, pretending he wasn't the least bit tempted to crawl back in with him.

Stede will have to rise soon anyway. There's more to be done.

The deck is silent, save the rippling of the sails above. Izzy steps around sleeping bodies, loathe to disturb them. Embarrassing, that. Soft.

But with what's coming, they'll need to be in a fit state. A decent night's sleep will stand them in good stead

He moves to the gun deck, checking the cannons again, counting munitions. He wears the gun he squirreled away yesterday in his boot, sword at his hip as always. They've plenty of ammunition

He runs a hand along the ship's rail. Above him, in the dull grey predawn light, he sees Buttons keeping watch in the crow's nest. The scent of coffee drifts up from belowdecks. Roach is already up, then. On the water around them, the mist has already begun to burn away at the promise of the rising sun, barest hint of a glow on the horizon

Izzy stares out at the sea, focused, intent, not sure if he wants Hornigold's ship to appear or not.

He squeezes his gloved hand into a fist, feeling the leather creak as it stretches with the motion. He wants to see it. Of course he wants to see it. Ed needs him. Nothing else matters.

He swallows hard, willing his heart out of his throat. Footsteps behind him disrupt his thoughts, and an arm wraps around his waist before he can turn.

"That's gotten better men than you stabbed, you know," he drawls, leaning back against Stede's chest.

Christ. When the hell did he get this comfortable with the bastard, anyway? Behind him, Stede bends, pressing a kiss to the nape of Izzy's neck

"Better men, I'm sure," he says softly, "but not luckier ones, I'd wager."

Izzy snorts, caught off guard

"Fuck off," he mutters automatically, and then, "We'll be needing that fucking luck against Hornigold, that's for sure."

He feels Stede's smile against his neck. Stede's arm tightens around him

He nudges a coffee into Izzy's hands and then wraps the other arm around him as well.

"And you can't just rely on luck," Izzy presses, "You need a proper plan. Something he won't be expecting. If Ed were here..."

He trails off, blinking quickly, glad Stede can't see his face as he struggles to control it. The silence stretches out. Stede waits patiently as Izzy clears his throat and tries again, voice rough.

"What you need is a fuckery."

He sways, deliberately a bit out of sync with the rolling of the waves, looking for all the world as if he might tumble down to the floor at any moment. He doesn't resist when one o fthe bastards grabs the back of his hair, yanking his head back. The man looks young, maybe thirty, copper hair close shaved and a nasty smile

"Not so tough, is he?" the lad sneers to his companion, a broad, slow-moving man with a leather cap pulled over his ears

The slow man snickers, pushing a ladle of water to Ed's lips. Ed whines, tilting his head away until the redheaded man's hand tightens in his hair, twisting til he stills. The other man pushes the ladle between his lips, laughing when Ed sputters and gags.

Neither man seems to notice that more of the water by far ends up on the cell floor than down Ed's throat. They go through several ladles before they turn to give Jack the same treatment.

Ed sways as they move away, coughing as he slumps against the bench. The men look back as they leave the cell, shaking their heads at the great Blackbeard, greasy hair concealing his face as he leans forward, barely conscious, drooling on the floor of the cell.

"Fuckin' disappointing, that's what I call it," the slow man mutters as they close the door behind them. Jack snorts as the key scrapes in the lock. The men's footsteps recede quickly

"You done?" Jack says, when Ed's quiet moaning carries on. The moaning stops.

"They gone?" Ed asks. Jack rolls his eyes, knowing Ed can't see it, hoping he can feel it instead. Eddie was always pretty good at picking up vibes.

"Yeah, they're gone," Jack mutters. "Fuckin' drama queen."

Ed sighs. After a moment, the muttering starts up again, first clear, then muffled. Jack leans back against the wall. This shit sure as hell wears off slow.

Or maybe they're still just getting too much of it. Not more than a mouthful or two a day at this point, but enough to cloud Jack's head, loosen his tongue

Not that Jack's tongue ever needed much loosening, mind. The rum did that all on its own. Still, the first time he woke up in this cell...

He was confused. Thought he was hungover. Probably was hungover, for that matter. Head aching like crazy. Took him a few minutes to notice the chains

Pretending he was doing anything other than waiting to die on the floor of some shitty little inn in a shitty little town in the ass end of nowhere.

And then he woke up here. Alone. On Hornigold's fucking ship. Took him long enough to figure out there was something in the water. Longer than that to start caring, start fighting.

Too fucking long.

"It's my fault."

He barely recognizes his own voice. The muffled sound of Ed's muttering stops

"And then I just... I was here, and he didn't even have to ask a question. I just sat here, spitting every stupid fucking thought in my head out. Didn't think it mattered. Fuck did I know that he could use, anyway. And then..."

Jack remembers the slow smile that spread over Hornigold's face. Can't even remember exactly what he said or what brought it up, mouth running ahead of him, as usual. But there it was. He knew what port Izzy'd be in.

Hornigold hasn't bothered talking to him since. That's all he was good for, that and the fucking bounty on Calico Jack's head, whatever the fuck it was now. Jack wishes he'd died in one of the piss-soaked alleys he's been sleeping in for the past six months. At least then Izzy migth still be alive--

"Fuck do you mean, he might still be alive?" Ed's panicking and oh, fuck, he doesn't know. Why would he. Izzy must have just disappeared.

Jack's breathing too fast, hyperventilating, thinks he might be having a fucking heart attack actually, but that would be too fucking merciful wouldn't it--

"Jack!" Ed's too loud. "Jack, what the fuck are you talking about?"

The words leave Jack in a gasp, unwilling.

"It's my fault, Eddie, I did it, I gave him Izzy."

Jack hears Ed's breath hitch, wishes they were unchained so Blackbeard could strangle him.

"I'm the reason Izzy's dead."

For once in his life Ed's mind goes silent. Whatever Jack might say next in that broken toneless voice is lost to the ringing in his ears.

Izzy's fine. Ed knows it, he left him with Stede, came here to deal with fuckin' Hornigold, Stede wouldn't let anything...

He remembers Olu bursting into the room searching for Izzy and Stede. Hornigold was hunting them. And Ed... Ed left. He just took a dinghy and rowed away and left them both to...

He shakes his head, trying to clear it, knows Jack's still talking, babbling some fucking apology or other, and he's not even crying, and when has Jack even missed a chance to break out the waterworks? Never worked on Izzy, but Jack never stopped trying...

"How'd you know where he was?" Ed speaks flatly, cutting through Jack's rambling. Jack can't have known where they'd be, how could he, he's wrong, he's fucking wrong. He has to be.

"I just wanted to know if he was okay," Jack says, voice almost a moan, like the horror of it has crawled all the way down into his bones. "I wasn't gonna do anything, I wasn't gonna try to see him, I was just keeping track of where you were, I always kept track of him, I thought if I knew where he was maybe I could look after him, maybe I could be there if he needed me, I--"

Jack's voice cracks and he falls silent. Ed hears him breathing.

"And then what." The emptiness in Ed's gut spreads out through his limbs, heavy and numb. He feels like he doesn't exist. He feels like he could tear this ship apart with his bare hands. He thinks he might.

"I was drunk." Jack's voice is bitter, self-loathing. "Didn't even put up a fuckin' fight when the fuckers came for me. They got a bellyfull of that shit in the water inside me and... fuck, man, I don't even know if it made a difference."

"I was drunk and I was tired and everything hurt so I just-- I just talked. I said whatever the fuck I wanted to. Figured they were gonna kill me anyway so I might as well talk their fuckin' ears off but then--"

Jack's voice breaks again, a dry, heaving sob. Ed says nothing.

"I barely even noticed, man. I wasn't even sure I was right, I just told him where I thought you'd go next. I talked about Iz... I was always thinking about him anyway"

Jack breaks off, keening to himself, an animal sound.

"Oh, fuck," he gasps, and Ed doesn't think he's ever heard Jack sound like that. Under any other circumstances he'd probably give a shit. Jack's not really talking to him anymore anyway, crying and muttering Izzy's name. The emptiness in Ed has turned to ice, smooth and cold and deadly sharp

"What am I gonna do, Eddie, fuck, I don't know what to--"

"Shut up, Jack," Ed says, emotionless.

"Ed, please--"

"I said shut up," Ed snaps. He hears the click of Jack's jaw as his mouth shuts. "Nothing we can fucking do about it, is there? Besides. Makes things easier."

Jack gasps softly.

"Eddie, what the fuck are you talking about?"

Ed barely hears him, the poison running through him the only reason he replies.

"Killing Hornigold," he says, dispassionate. "Hell of a lot easier if neither of us is getting off this ship alive."

*
It's late afternoon when the Swede interrupts Stede and Izzy's latest drill. He twiddles his thumbs nervously as the rest of the crew stare at him, frozen in media res

"Um, excuse me Captain Bonnet and Mister Hands..."

He trails off, waiting expectantly. Stede and Izzy exchange a look.

"Yes?" Stede prompts sharply, as Izzy snaps, "Fuckin' what?"

The Swede jumps, apparently remembering abruptly

"I thought that you would like to know..."

Another friendly, expectant pause. Izzy's jaw creaks as he grinds his teeth. Stede pinches his bridge of his nose between his fingers.

"Yes?" Stede repeats.

"What?" Izzy grates out simultaneously.

The Swede nods cheerfully as he continues.

"There is a sail on the horizon. At first I thought it was a bird, or a mountain, or maybe a ghost but now I am almost positive it is a sail!"

Izzy is moving before the Swede finishes speaking.

He races up to the fo'c'sle, snatching the glass from his pocket as he goes. He places it to his eye, looking out to the horizon as he turns a slow circle until...

There, to the north west, the very tips of a set of billowing white sails, just barely visible above that place where the world seems to sheer off in a precipitous edge.

There's no way to know if it's Hornigold.

Izzy doesn't doubt it for a second.

"Change of course!" he shouts.

"Tack the sails! We're heading Northwest, fast as she can!"

Stede, behind him, squints as though he might be able to see the sails with his eyes alone.

"Is it there?" he asks, breathless, "Is it them? How long do we have?"

"It's them," Izzy says. "We've got three hours if the wind holds, maybe four if they decide to run."

"Well," Stede says. "I suppose it's time for finishing touches."

Izzy grunts in agreement, still watching the sails.

Stede hesitates for a moment, glancing down at the crew. They're already back at it, some clustered in groups, debating the merits of different versions of the plan, some drilling hand to hand. He looks at Izzy, still staring out to sea, the tense line of his shoulders, his neck. Stede steps up behind him, closer, moving slowly, waiting for Izzy to pull away.

He doesn't.

Stede wraps an arm around his waist, and feels Izzy melt back into him