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

"Bonnet, what are you doing?" Izzy demands. His breath hitches as Stede's lips trace the side of his neck idly. He doesn't pull away, though he glances towards the deck below them, where the crew is once again hard at work. Stede breathes in again, lips open, just caressing Izzy's skin. Izzy moans quietly, arching up into it. "Fuck, Bonnet, there's no time!"

His head falls back against Stede's shoulder as Stede's hands roam over his chest.

He moans again as one of Stede's hands finds its way inside his vest, squeezing the soft flesh, searching for the hard peak of his nipple through his thin cotton shirt. Izzy whimpers, hips grinding back into Stede's increasingly interested prick.

"Plenty of time, darling," Stede murmurs, and then he pulls Izzy along with him, into one of those damned secret passages Izzy can never seem to keep track of. There's more light than Izzy expects.

Stede press Izzy back against the passageway door as he kisses him. Izzy tangles his hands in Stede's hair, pulling him in tighter. Stede's fingers work at the buttons on Izzy's vest as Izzy untucks Stede's shirt.

"My, uh, my cabin," Stede gasps between hot, desperate kisses, "we can be there in five minutes."

Izzy grins against Stede's lips, already undoing the fall front of his trousers.

"Nah," he says, "told you, we've got no time."

He pulls Stede down again, moaning into his mouth as Stede works at his trouser laces.

"What do you want, darling?" Stede asks, pulling back for a moment to look down at Izzy, "tell me."

Izzy licks his lips, suddenly shy. He looks up at Stede, nervousness making him almost coquettish.

"I want you to fuck me in the ass," he says. Stede makes a strangled little noise, his cock jumping at the idea. Still, he looks at Izzy uncertainly.

"Izzy..." he says, stroking Izzy's cheek. Izzy glares at him, determined.

"I'm not a child, Bonnet," he growls. "I know what I want, and what I want is to feel you inside me before we get to that fucking ship."

Stede strokes the tattoo under his eye and Izzy tilts his face into it. The look he gives Stede is tender, even if his words aren't.

"You asked what I want Stede," he says, "now act like a real fucking sailor and fuck me in the ass"

"Oh," Stede says, suddenly out of breath. "Right."

And then he kisses Izzy again, crowding him back up against the wall. He unbuttons Izzy's shirt, pushing it and his vest down over Izzy's shoulders. He kisses his way down the crook of Izzy's neck, along the sharp line of his collarbone, palming his firm, well muscled tits, running his fingers through the hair on Izzy's chest. Izzy moans, tilting his head back to give Stede better access.

"Fuckin' hell, Bonnet, you don't half take your time," he says, then groans, a broken, wanton sound as Stede closes his lips over one of Izzy's nipples, swirling his tongue around the little silver barbell. Izzy's hands clutch at the back of his head, and he whimpers as Stede pulls back to smile at him cheekily.

"Is that a complaint, Mister Hands," Stede asks, then drags his tongue across the nipple again. Izzy whines, arching into the touch

"Fu- fuck you," is all he manages by way of a comeback--the effect is spoiled by the fact that he can't help but smile at Stede as he kisses his way across Izzy's chest, gently closing his teeth around his other nipple, tugging just lightly until Izzy arches his back again with a hiss. He releases it, soothing it with his tongue.

"I think I'd rather fuck you, actually," Stede says, cheeky grin turning downright wicked.

"Oh, for fuck's..."

"I-- god-- Bonnet!" Izzy growls, half mad with need, reaching back to grab Stede's hips, to pull him in tighter.

"I know, I know," Stede says with a breathy chuckle, "get on with it..."

He kisses a spot behind Izzy's ear and Izzy's knees go weak, Stede's body pressed into his the only thing keeping him on his feet. Stede pulls off his own shirt, tossing it into the corner with Izzy's clothes and then wraps his arms around Izzy again.

Izzy groans again, leaning back into him, Stede's skin against his enough to make him shiver. Stede reaches into his pocket, pulling out an elegant little silver vial. Izzy glances back, frowning as he sees it.

"Is that oil?" he asks, and then laughs. "Have you been carrying that around the whole time, what, just in case you saw a chance to get your dick wet?"

Stede sounds smugger than ever as he responds.

"A gentleman is always prepared."

"I am curious, darling," Stede murmurs, "if you thought I didn't have oil, what exactly did you think I was going to use?"

Izzy lets his head fall forward against the wall, hands searching for any kind of purchase as Stede traces fingers lightly around his hole, teasing him.

"Fuck," he grunts, "I-- ah! A bit of spit was always good enough for me, doesn't even hurt that much really..."

Stede lets out a hiss and Izzy stops, embarrassed.

"Israel," Stede says quietly, "Sometime soon you and I are going to have a conversation about your expectations."

Izzy squirms, uncertain, and then the tip of Stede's middle finger dips barely inside him, and all other thoughts are gone.

"Oh, fuck, Stede," he gasps, then whines as Stede draws back again. "Stede please, please, more, I need it--"

He breaks off with a wordless shout as Stede's finger presses in again, still toying with him.

"Fuck, Stede, would you please just-- ah!"

Izzy shouts as Stede presses another finger into him, rocking them in and out in the same easy, unhurried rhythm. Izzy moans again, then whines. Stede kisses that spot behind his ear again and Izzy growls at him.

"Problem, darling?" Stede asks, continuing at that same maddeningly slow pace.

"Stede," Izzy snarls, "if you don't put your dick in me right fucking now, I really will stab you."