An hour later Ed sat at the table, a mix of anger and hunger clawed at his belly as Stede filled him in on what happened while he was out cold. He ignored the shredded books and mess of ruined food that was getting dry and crusty, sipping at a warm glass of rainwater, the throbbing in his head slowly fading into a dull ache.
Stede had managed to run outside and snag a few oranges, which they gobbled up almost immediately.
No other food. He was starving. Stede was starving too.
The Kraken remained quiet, but Ed could hear his footsteps as he paced around the lighthouse.
Enjoy walking in circles forever, you fucking bastard, Ed thought dully, glancing at Stede.
Bruises started to bloom across the blond man's face in various shades of purple and scarlet. Guilt stabbed Ed right through the heart, regret gushing out in great crimson waves. A maroon smear of blood remained on Stede's upper lip. Stede sat with him, the dirty, stained nightshirt clinging to his exhausted body, eyes swollen from a mix of crying and The Kraken's anger.
"No extra loaf of bread hidden away somewhere?" Ed asked quietly.
"He got everything. I double checked." Stede answered. He spoke slowly, like it hurt to talk.
Ed took another tiny sip of his water, mindful of his tender lower lip. Stede looked like a shipwreck, and Ed supposed he didn't look any better. The Kraken had managed to land a mean right hook before Ed was able to kick him into the lighthouse and lock the door.
Now he sat in the middle of another mess to clean up.
Another glorious mess I made of everything, Ed thought glumly.
The Kraken made it, not me.
It doesn't matter if I made it or The Kraken. Stede didn't make it. I need to clean it up. I need to fix this.
"I'll get us some food," Ed spoke suddenly, standing up, gritting his teeth as a fresh round of pain began pounding throughout his body.
"Now?" Stede gaped, wincing against his own pain.
"You're hungry, aren't you?" It took Ed a few seconds to get his barings, then stomped to the bedroom and returned with two pillowcases.
Stede blinked at his friend, then at the empty white sacks. "What do you need those for?"
"To hold the food I'm going to get us," Ed replied, pivoting to the door.
"No merchants are going to be out now. It's been pouring down rain all day. It's a mudbath out there!"
Ed stopped in his tracks, not turning around. "Stede," he began, his voice quiet but with the authoritative edge to it, the voice he used only when he was dead serious about something. "I'm going to get us some food. Get ready to get the stove going. I'll be back in a while."
"Promise?" It was just one word but Stede's voice cracked while saying it.
"I promise." Ed trudged out into the soggy night, not looking back. The door closed.
All the food was gone, but The Kraken didn't disturb any of the dishes or cookware aside from taking the knife. He would have woken up everyone on the whole island if he broke the dishes Stede thought with a trace of amusement and shipload of annoyance as he made sure there was some wood ready to cook whatever Ed brought back, then gathered up the remains of his books, hoping at least one or two could be saved.
Ed left. What if The Kraken comes back?
Ed said he's locked up.
Are you sure? Is Ed sure?
Stede placed the pile of pages on the bookshelf, then began to pace as the anxious thoughts started to flood his head.
The Kraken is not coming back. Ed is coming back with food for us. The Kracken is gone for good.
Are you sure? ARE YOU SURE?
The weight of the knife against his ankle was a little reassuring. Probably not much against something as strong and devious as The Kraken, but it was at least something.
Stede began to walk in circles around the table, feeling nervous, then feeling guilty about feeling nervous as images of The Kraken's twisted rage flashing in and out as he tried to comprehend how that same face belonged to the man he loved so much. Ed loved him back as much as The Kraken hated him. Such fury and such kindness sharing the same body, the same mind. It didn't make sense.
Will it ever make sense? Does it make sense to Ed?
The circles around the table continued. Five, then ten, then twenty. Then twenty more.
Ed should be back soon.
Or is The Kraken going to kick in the door, then knock you to the floor and break your neck before you can even think about reaching for the knife...
STOP IT!
Those thoughts were barely out of his head when the door swung open so hard it bounced against the wall and a tall black figure with a dirty pillowcase in each hand strode inside.
"The little fuckers are quicker than they look," Ed muttered as he dumped the contents of the pillowcases onto the table—two dead chickens from one and a heap of grapefruit from the other, the bounty taken from Mrs. Cortez's yard. It could last two or three days if they were careful, giving some time to heal from that morning's rampage.
Stede looked up from the stolen meals on the table, bracing himself in case it was The Kraken looking back. He relaxed as kind eyes met his. Ed stood there, looking triumphant, his hair tangled like a mass of seaweed, covered head to toe in mud.
A short laugh escaped from Stede before he knew what was happening. Then another, and another, and another until he was doubled over, barely able to breathe, clinging to a chair lest he crumple to the floor from laughing so hard. It was as if Ed had been swimming in a pool of mud, it was literally dripping from him, spatters of it following him wherever he stepped. The pillowcases were more mud than cloth. Then Ed's laughter joined Stede's, gales of it bouncing off the walls, out the door, filling the kitchen to the ceiling. Only a few hours ago they were falling to pieces, the bed covers stained with their tears, the air overflowed with their wails. Now the absurdity of the six foot tall blinking clump of mud in the kitchen sent Stede into another helpless fit with Ed happy to join in, the earlier events of the day momentarily forgotten, carried along like a feather on the breeze.