Another deluge of rain came along which helped wash off most of the mud. Ed stripped out of the leathers into some clean clothes Stede brought him, all the while he and Stede fought off fits of ridiculous giggling. His hair still had clumps of dirt hanging in it, but it would have taken the rest of the water to clean up and it wasn't anything that couldn't wait until morning. Ed tied his soggy hair into a messy bun then sat at the table and began to peel a grapefruit.

"This would be easier with a knife", Ed remarked.

"Not now", Stede said quickly and curtly as he began to absently pluck away at the feathers.

"Stede-"

"Not yet."

Ed glanced up. Stede's face was set in stone, no sign of the red, laughing face that was there a few minutes earlier. The temperature seemed in the tiny kitchen seems to plummet, a coldness settled in. There were no knives on the table, just a fork on the other end of the table next to Stede.

He was going to kill me this time.

"What about the knife in your boot?" Ed asked quietly. Stede's hands froze for a split second, but Ed noticed it all the same. "I was a pirate for decades, Stede. I learned all the little tricks and saw what happened to the idiots who didn't."

Stede nodded slowly and replied, "You can have a knife later. But not yet. You understand. You know why."

Ed sighed. He did understand all too well. He did know why. Not that it made anything better. Not that it made the bruises on Stede's face any less purple. Not that it made Ed's father any less dead.

"Fair enough", Ed said, and went back to peeling the grapefruit without another word, pausing only to toss half of it to Stede. The rest of the evening was quiet except for the occasional patter of rain on the roof. The first plucked, bare chicken went into the stove. Soon the smell of the cooking bird filled the house and made Ed's mouth water. Stede used the fork to pull off Ed's share of the meal; the knife remained hidden in his boot. His right boot. Ed remained silent. He would never give Stede a reason to use it. He didn't say a word even as the hot food burned his fingers.

The chicken was good and it was tempting to finish it all off right then and there, but Stede gently reminded him they needed to save some for later. They weren't in any shape to go the markets and the outside was still a mudbath with no end to the rain in sight for the time being. Ed grumbled but agreed.

Ed could see the weariness settling over Stede, and not wanting to dance around the debris strewn all over the bedroom, he got up and grabbed the pillows and blankets and set up another larger blanket fort for the both of them. He could still sense Stede's reluctance. Carefully, Ed tugged his arm and Stede relented, joining him under the tangle of bedding. The night air traced its cool fingers around them. Stede relaxed and welcomed the warmth of the blankets and Ed's body.

"Do you have any idea how special you are?" Ed whispered, then Stede felt a soft kiss on his temple. "You came back to me. After all this you came back."

"Never left. I'm not going anywhere, Ed."

"But you're afraid," It was an observation, not an accusation. "I can tell. You kept your distance at the table. You're reluctant to be close to me now."

"Afraid of The Kraken, not you. Never you, Ed. Never you. You say he's locked up. I believe it, but...," Stede trailed off, letting the thought hang in the air like a faint trace of cologne.

"You could have left earlier. You could have left while I was unconscious and been long gone on a ship by the time I woke up. Why didn't you?" Ed's voice was getting thick with sleepiness. Exhaustion was overtaking them like the tide taking over the beach.

"It never occurred to me to leave, Ed. Not once."

"You won't leave?"

"Never," Stede said, reaching over to caress a hand over Ed's stubbly jawline.

"But you'll hide the knives just in case."

"They'll stay hidden until I say otherwise."

"But I could have stabbed you with a fork."

"You wouldn't. The Kraken would. But he's locked up."

"You're a fucking lunatic and I like it."

"Come here," Stede said, pulling the other man to him, burying his head in the crook of Ed's neck. Ed smelled of the rain, the earth, of leather, and a musky scent that was all his own. "You protected me, Ed. You protected me from The Kraken. When Ned Lowe attacked the ship you pushed me behind you to protect me. I noticed that, Ed. Believe me, I noticed. I'll always be grateful that you were there for me."

"Always you, Stede," Ed muttered before exhaustion dragged him under. "Only you are worth these battle scars."

"So are you," Stede whispered into the dark, pulling the blankets over Ed's shoulders before falling into a dreamless abyss.

Stede woke up alone in the blanket fort feeling cozy and sore and lazy. The little nest Ed had made was just perfect, a little shelter from the storms brought by the sea and The Kraken. For now there was no rhythm of rain on the roof. The air was humid with a tinge of salt. He kept his eyes closed, just floating on a cloud of slumber for a while. Then some low babbling drifted through.

"I was never very good at fishing. I don't know if Stede is," Ed said.

A different voice answered, "It's not that hard, you fucking twat."

Stede's eyes flew open after the other voice reached his ears, and he continued to listen.

The other voice continued. "You put some bait on the end of a hook and wait for a fucking fish to chomp on it. Why do you make these things harder than they have to be?"

It wasn't The Kraken's feral growl of a voice. No signs of threat or violence in the other voice. This other voice was softer, high pitched and raspy...and familiar. Stede was sure he had heard it before. But he and Ed kept their distance from their neighbors and Ed wasn't never interested in having any visitors, even for just a few minutes.

"It's boring and you have to wait for a fish to come along," Ed replied.

"The ocean is full of fucking fish. You don't have to wait that fucking long!" the other voice grumbled, sounding exasperated. "Learn some fucking patience, will you?"

"Oh, fuck off," Ed grumbled back.

"Ed?" Stede called out.

"Hey! You're awake!" Ed called back cheerfully.

"Who else is here?" Stede asked, pushing a blanket aside as the sounds of Ed's footsteps got closer.

"Nobody. It's just us."

"Then who are you talking to?"

"No one."

"I heard someone else talking." Stede insisted and looked out. Ed's face was jovial despite swelling around his mouth as he made himself comfortable on the floor. He had cleaned his hair in the meantime: it was still damp and dripping.

"Just talking to myself. Come on, you need to eat something."

Ed held out a piece of grapefruit. As Stede reached for it he took a glance around the room, and they were indeed alone. I know I heard another voice. Deciding it wasn't worth an argument at the moment, he took the fruit from Ed's hand, his fingers brushing against something silky. It was a section of the black cravat tied around Ed's wrist.

"I'll get you another," Stede promised. "I'll get you ten more."

"No need." Ed's voice was barely a whisper. "It's a reminder."

"A reminder of what?" It was then that Stede noticed the grapefruit had been cut, not peeled. A knife was on the floor at the former pirate's right knee. Ed reached down and turned the knife until the handle faced Stede, then slid it over to him.

"It's the knife from the bedroom wall. The rest are on top of the bookcase where you left them," Ed said, his face cool and calm. His eyes were like the tranquil, open sea. Nothing like the fury of The Kraken's anger threatening to crash through and smash their peaceful morning into oblivion. Absently running his hand over the black silky fabric, Ed went on, "It's a reminder to keep him locked up. To stay in control. You've put up with a lot, Stede, but everyone has their limit. I don't want to find out what yours is."

Stede took the knife from the floor and gingerly placed it behind him, out of Ed's reach. The knife in his boot nudged at his ankle.

"How long have you been awake?" Stede asked, before biting into the fruit, relishing the tart taste.

"A while. I swept up the bedroom. The knife was a bitch to get out of the wall. Are you feeling okay? You look like the ass end of a shipwreck." Stede winced a little as Ed gently touched his face, his fingers ghosting over the bruises. "There's swelling and you're going to be sore for a while. It looks worse than it is. Just don't get into any more fights with lunatics and you'll be fine."

"I do have a bit of headache," Stede confessed, leaning his head into Ed's calloused hand. "But I do have the best caretaker in the world to look after me. I'll be fine."

Ed beamed. His own battered face didn't seem to be bothering him, making Stede wonder how many times the other man had taken a beating and pushed through it like it was just another inconvenience. "That's good. Get some more rest. I'll get that other chicken ready to cook. Do you want to move back to the bedroom?"

The blanket fort was comfortable and the thought of getting up and moving, even just over to another room, felt like too much of an effort. The thumping in his head went up a notch and the blankets did a good job of blocking out the light. He spent the afternoon drifting in and out of the clouds, on boat out to sea, on the narrow edge of dreams. The headache recessed into a dull, sluggish ache. Still adrift, Stede swore he heard the other voice again.

It was two more days before they folded up the blanket fort and moved back into the bedroom. For some time afterward the hole in the wall made Stede's stomach queasy whenever he looked at it. He let Ed rescue the knives from the top of the bookshelf. The next few weeks ebbed and flowed. They had a serious conversation about getting the house fixed up and how that would go about. Eventually their swollen faces and aching bodies healed. They went back to the shops, bought some new furniture and curtains, and started making serious plans. Their mutual excitement was almost palatable. They bickered about color schemes.

TRUST NO ONE

The words, along with the snake and skull, covered the smooth muscles of Ed's back. In the flickering of the lamp light the snake seemed to move, and it seemed to Stede that if he dared touch it the snake would slither across the bed and coil its way up his arm.

The tattoo was usually covered up much to Stede's relief as it was the only one tattoo of Ed's that he didn't like. But on nights like this one when the humidity was like soup Ed would sleep stark naked. Only a sheet was draped over him up to his middle now, the eagle on his chest hovering with each breath. Stede shamelessly used the quiet of the late night to admire the other man's body, the scattering of scars and ink, the dimples at the small of his back, then his eyes were drawn back to the snake and skull. They always were sooner or later.

Was he cursing me when he got that tattoo? How much did he hate me then? Stede pushed the thought aside. Focus on the future, on turning the house into an inn. Stop dwelling on the past. Leave it on the ash heap of their history. Look forward to being an innkeeper.

Stede suddenly felt restless, like he needed to be doing something besides sitting around. After one last check on Ed he padded out to the living room, where his piles of torn up books still took up space on the bookshelf. Stede took the piles of pages to the table and started sorting. He was actually making some progress with matching the pages when faint footsteps echoed their way down the hall.

"I'll come back to bed in a while," Stede said, looking up, smiling.

Ed had pulled on some breeches before coming out to the table. He smiled back, but it wasn't Ed who spoke.

"Hello, Captain Bonnet." It was that high-pitched raspy voice. That familiar voice. "It is good to see you again."

It was like a brick wall fell on him when Stede realized where he had heard that voice before. "Hello, Izzy."