Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Time passes strangely in the place between places. 

The sun sets when it wants to. The moon rises when it can be bothered. Sometimes the stars come out and twinkle in the middle of the day, just because they feel like it. Ed’s been trying to make a pattern of it, to try and figure out precisely how long he’s been here, but it’s futile. The cosmos cares very little for patterns and rhythm. It’s complete chaos up there and Ed is subjected to its every whim. 

So, he can’t be sure how long he’s been alone at the end of the world. The end of all things. If he had to guess he’d say that it’s been about a hundred billion years. It feels like more than that. Every minute is a decade and every hour is an eon. 

Time folds itself into Ed’s palm. The world turns somewhere but he’s not on it. 

Despite all the sunrises and stars and the opulence of dusk, it’s only ever been dark here. Despite the brilliant lights, he’s been fumbling like he’s blind ever since he arrived. Ed has been left alone to wonder, to agonise, to wait and count the seconds until something, anything, happens. 

And he’s going out of his fucking skull. 

Time, pathetic and limp, folds itself into Ed’s palm. So, he waits. 

Until, one day, forever shows up. 

Stede’s heart is pounding against the inside of his ribs, pleading for release, begging to get out and make a move, it’s hammering so hard that it hurts. This is it, he thinks, this is it, this is it. This is the end. He’s folding inward like a dying star, like a collapsing building, he’s shattering like glass, and every single one of his nerves screams as loud as it can — 

and then the noise just… stops. 

There’s a breeze. It kisses his cheeks but it doesn’t make a sound as it whispers past. The sun is warm on his face. It hadn’t been there a moment ago. His heart now sits completely still, like a stone in his chest. No more pounding, no more begging, no more beating. Just silence. 

Stede opens his eyes. 

He has to squint against the bright lights. The world is glowing. Sparkling. The sunset and the sunrise all at once. The shards of the sun’s diamonds bury themselves in Stede’s eyes. 

He’s standing on the deck of a great ship. The sails overhead heave with the weight of the silent breeze that’s blowing past. The bow is pointing to the horizon, to where the sun is nestling itself to sleep. 

Everything snaps into place like a rubber band returning to size. Stede stumbles backwards with the weight of it. Takes a step back, another, lifts his hands to the stone in his chest and waits for it to thump. 

“Woah, woah, hey, you’re alright,” a voice says gently. 

Stede wails like an anvil has been dropped on his foot and whips his head around to find the source. 

There’s another man here. He’s standing by the railing of the ship, just to Stede’s right. He looks about as confused as Stede feels, with brows drawn together and shoulders tense. His eyes, dark and deep, are wide with shock. 

Stede opens his mouth to take a breath and ask a whirlwind of questions, but breath doesn’t come to him. He coughs instead. 

“Take it slow,” the man says. He doesn’t move from his spot. “You’re okay. Easy.” 

“You – where am I?” Stede manages at last. 

The man just looks at him for a second, like he pities him. Stede is familiar with the expression somehow.

“You might wanna sit.” 

“I’d rather not.” 

“Look, mate, you’re not gonna like this–” 

“Please,” Stede says. “Please.” 

The man sighs. Stede isn’t sure how he does it; he can’t seem to make his own lungs work. 

“No easy way to say it, I guess.” He hesitates for a second to regard Stede’s face, trying to get a read on him. Trying to make sure he can take it. “You’re… you’re dead, mate.” 

Stede says nothing. 

“You’re in Limbo,” the man concludes. He says it like he’s almost embarrassed to do so. 

Where there should be panicked harehops inside Stede’s chest, the stone remains perfectly still. People usually pass out at news like that, right? Stede wishes he would pass out. Then he’d wake up on the couch and he’d loudly complain about having a bad dream and then it would all be over. 

But he doesn’t pass out. He can’t even breathe. “I beg your fucking pardon?” 

“Yeah, sounds nuts, right?” The man gestures to the sea. “Welcome to the afterlife.” 

“No. No, that can’t be – is this some kind of prank? A-a practical joke?” 

He snorts. “I wish. I’d love to take the credit for a prank of this scale. Nah, man. This is the real deal.” 

Stede’s knees buckle. He sits on the ground. Or – fucking hell – the planks. 

“Toldja you’d wanna sit.” 

Stede glares at him so the man lifts his hands in silent apology.

A minute passes. Or it might be a lot of minutes. Might be an hour. Stede sits as still as his heart and digests, stares at his knees and tries to think. 

He can’t be dead. No, of course not. That’s absurd. He was just alive! Not even thirty seconds ago, he was just…

What? What had he been doing? 

If this is supposed to be the afterlife, then how the fuck did he get here? 

Stede swallows. “How did I die?” he asks. 

The man, who still hasn’t moved, shrugs. “‘Dunno, man. You tell me.” 

“You don’t know? Aren’t you the–” Stede lowers his voice to a whisper, “the Grim Reaper?” 

“Oh shit, you — you think I’m Death?” He pauses to laugh. “That’s cool as fuck. Is it ‘cause of all the tattoos?” 

“You’re… you’re not the Grim Reaper?” 

“Fuck no.” 

“Then who are you?” 

Finally, the man moves. He steps in front of Stede until he’s only a few feet away and crouches down. He offers his hand with a smile that shines as bright as the sea and sky around them. “I’m Ed.” 

Stede accepts his hand and shakes it. It’s warm. Grounding. “Hey. Stede.” 

“Stede, huh? Nice to meet you,” Ed says. He’s still smiling. 

“Likewise. I’m sorry if I’m coming across as a bit rude, it’s just that – well, this is all…” 

“A shock to the system?” 

“To put it mildly.” 

“Yeah, I freaked the fuck out when I first showed up here. I paced on deck for ages. Reckon I almost wore a hole into it.” 

Stede hums like he understands the feeling. “How long have you been here?” 

Ed sits cross-legged before him. “Can’t say for sure. Time is weird here.” 

“If you had to guess?” 

His smile curls into a playful and dangerous thing. “Forever.” 

“Is that… is that even possible?” 

“Nah, I’m just fucking with you. Everyone starts somewhere. I had a life before this, just like you.” 

“You did? Then… how did you die—”

“Steady, mate.” Ed holds up a gentle hand. “That’s a taboo question around here. I just met you. Not gonna spill my guts straight away.” 

“Right.” Stede gulps. “Yes, okay. I’ll remember that. Forgive me.” 

“S’alright. You’ll get the hang of it eventually.” 

“Of — of being dead?” 

“Mm. Takes practise.” 

Stede, despite himself, chuckles. “Alright. Well, if you’re not some kind of harbinger of death, then how do you know all this stuff?” 

“Been here a long time,” Ed says with a nonchalant shrug. “Figured it out along the way.” 

Stede stares at him for a moment. It occurs to him in a rush that Ed is decisively and incredibly beautiful. Maybe it’s all the lights or maybe it’s the silent breeze, but he looks like a renaissance painting. He belongs behind glass in a museum. He’s all tattoos and brown skin and salt and pepper waves and his eyes are bright. Excited. 

“Thank you,” Stede says after a minute of silence.

Ed tilts his head. The gesture is so endearing. “For what?” 

“For being here, I suppose.” 

Another smile stretches across Ed’s face, sweet and warm. “I could say the same to you.” 

Stede doesn’t really know what to make of that, so he doesn’t say anything. 

“I’m gonna give you some space to process for a bit,” Ed says. He stands and dusts his knees, the back of his pants. “But I’ll be around. In case you have questions.” 

Stede nods his thanks and Ed walks away. His footsteps make no sound. 

The sky overhead blooms into a new colour, a peachy-pink where it had been violet only seconds ago. The sun has moved into a new spot. The moon sits beside it, like it’s just come home from a long day at work and is warming up by the fire. 

It takes a long time, but Stede eventually makes himself stand. His knees feel like twigs but he keeps himself upright by leaning against the railing. He looks out at the sea. 

And, really, calling it a ‘sea’ might be a bit of a stretch. The sky and the water spill together in an array of vibrant colours, each more brilliant than the last. The sky shivers with the wind, like the stars hanging there are a bit chilly. Thin clouds float across the surface of the ocean, wispy and careless. It looks like cotton candy sitting atop a bowl of glitter. 

Beyond the astounding sea and sky, Stede can see more ships just like this one. Hundreds, no, thousands of them. They all largely look the same, with grand white sails and sturdy oak hulls and barnacles that cling to the underside, but some of them seem to have their own little quirks. Like a ship that has a mermaid as the figurehead and another ship that’s got something painted in bold letters along the side. Some of them are flying flags. 

The nearest vessel isn’t close enough to try and communicate – shouting would achieve nothing. Stede squints to try and see if anyone is on board, but with all the lights and clouds in the way, he can’t make anything out. 

He must watch the sea, the sky and the ships for an hour, at least. His knees don’t stop shaking. 

“Do all of those ships have… people?” he dares to ask. He’s not even sure that Ed will hear him. 

But Ed’s voice replies from above. “Yup, other souls. Just like you and me.” 

Stede tears his eyes away from the sight before him and looks up. Ed is on the shrouds, watching the horizon just like he had been. He looks perfectly content up there. When their eyes meet, Ed offers Stede another smile. 

“Can we talk to them?” 

“Sure, sometimes,” Ed says. “They gotta pass by this ship, though. Close enough to shout.” 

“We can’t just swim over there?” 

“Tried that. Doesn’t work. You always end up back where you started.” 

“We can’t leave this ship?” 

“I mean, you can try,” Ed says as he swings down from the shrouds. He lands beside Stede on the deck silently. “But you’ll always come back.” 

Stede looks out to the horizon again. “Oh dear.” 

“Mm.” 

He thinks about this for a long time, then he looks to the wheel on the quarterdeck. “Can we use that?” 

Ed shakes his head. “Nope. Doesn’t do anything.” 

“So, it’s just for – what, decoration?” 

“Pretty much, yeah. Ship’s on a set course, mate. Can’t change it.” 

Stede runs his hands down his face and, much to his surprise, it certainly feels like his face. He half expected it to not be there. But he can feel his nose, his cheeks, the lines by his eyes, his brows. 

“Where would you go, anyway?” Ed asks after a long time. He leans against the railing casually. “If you could steer the ship.” 

“Well, back, I suppose.” 

Ed lifts a brow. “Back? To the life you just left?” 

The way he phrases it makes it sound like it was a choice. “Yes, I think so.” 

“You sure you’d want that?” 

Stede goes to say, yes, of course without hesitation, but something makes him stop. 

At this point in time, he can’t seem to recall much of what his life had meant, but a stone sits inside his chest and tells him, no, you don’t want to go back. You won’t miss it. 

So he stays silent. Ed hums out a low sound of understanding. 

“I’m not going to ask for details, but… do you remember your life?” Stede asks. He lets his head fall back and he watches the sails heave overhead. 

“Yeah, ‘course. Yours will come back to you eventually. I think.” 

“Why don’t I remember anything?” 

“I kinda think of it like – you know jigsaw puzzles?” 

“I know of them.” 

“When you’re alive, your mind is like a puzzle that’s been put together. It looks like the picture on the box. Dying is like taking that nice finished puzzle, tossing the pieces into a paper bag and shaking it as hard as you can. Can’t really expect the picture to come out lookin’ the same when you open the bag, right?” 

Stede nods. “I suppose that makes sense. So I have to put the pieces back together?” 

“Now you’re getting it,” Ed says with a friendly grin. He bumps his shoulder against Stede’s. “It’s a lot to take in, huh?” 

Stede closes his eyes. “Yes, it’s… very overwhelming.” 

“You want some more space for a bit?” 

“Thank you, but it’s actually rather nice to have someone to talk me through it,” Stede says. He makes himself smile despite the knots in his gut. “I hope I’m not keeping you from anything important.” 

“You kidding? I’ve been bored out of my fucking skull since I got here, man. There’s nothing to do.” 

“Well, where’s the rest of your crew?” Stede looks around. “Surely there’s someone else here to keep you company.” 

Ed’s eyes meet Stede’s and he holds his gaze like a snake constricting its prey. If Stede could hold his breath, he would. 

“There’s no one,” he says. His tone sounds like he wants to say something else but isn’t sure how. “Just me on this ship.” 

Stede’s stomach drops. “You mean… you’ve been alone all this time?” 

Ed nods once. 

“You showed up by yourself? You had to do all of this on your own?” 

Ed looks like he wages a war with himself. His eyes flick up and glance at the other ships in the distance for a second, then his gaze returns to Stede. “Yeah. Just me.” 

“That sounds…” 

“Sad?” 

“Scary,” Stede says. “And lonely.” 

Ed huffs a short chuckle through his nose. “Yeah, well.” He taps Stede’s arm. “Now you’re here.” 

There’s gratitude in Ed’s eyes when he looks at Stede then, and it makes some lost part of him positively ache. That little nagging voice inside him is screaming something in a language he doesn’t understand. It almost sounds like cheers of delight or sighs of relief. 

Stede’s mouth curls into a shy smile. 

“Well,” Ed says. He clears his throat and takes a step away. “How you feelin’? You up for a tour of the ship?” 

“There’s more?” 

“Mate, this is just the deck.” 

“How fascinating,” Stede says. He pushes his shoulders back, lifts his chin. “I suppose I should get used to the place if we’re going to be spending eternity here. Lead the way.” 

Ed smiles, then heads for the door that leads to the stairs. 

As Stede follows, he thinks, eternity, huh? With Ed? Maybe that doesn’t sound so bad. 

At least it won’t be lonely anymore. 

“There’s only one bed,” Stede says. 

They’ve come to what Ed deemed the ‘captain’s cabin’, which made Stede laugh because he hadn’t thought of them as being captains until Ed said it. 

After all, what kind of ship has two captains? Or, is it just Ed? Do they get to share? 

The room itself is remarkably bare, boasting only a long table with a single chair stationed at it and the aforementioned bed, which looks cozy enough. There are some armchairs, modest and largely untouched, which face each other on the far side of the room. The curtains are parted only a little bit. 

“Oh, yeah,” Ed says as he steps into the room and looks around. “That can be fixed, though.” 

“Does the ship come with the materials required to build another?” 

Ed snorts. “No way. You saw the stores. Empty as fuck.” 

“Then I won’t be much help, I’m afraid.” 

He gives Stede a knowing look. “You wanna see the coolest thing about this place?” 

“About the captain’s cabin? My guess is the lovely windows. Because they are very nice.” 

“Not the windows,” Ed says. “Close your eyes.” 

Stede lifts a brow, but complies anyway. Through his closed lids, he can still see the shapes of the sunlight pouring through the curtains. 

“Okay, open ‘em.” 

In Ed’s palm, bright and lush, is now a large orange. He holds it out to Stede. 

“An orange,” he says as he picks it up. “How… delicious? Were you keeping this in your pocket?” 

Ed shakes his head, then taps his forehead. “Came from here.” 

“Your mind?” 

“Yup.” 

Stede stares at him. “Pardon me?” 

“Imagined it. Now it’s here.” 

“Fuck off.” 

Ed laughs loudly. It’s a wonderful sound, as sweet as the juice inside the fruit in Stede’s palm. “I’m serious! Look, you try it.” 

“What?! I can’t do that!” 

“Sure you can. Everyone can. It’s the only thing that makes this place fucking bearable. Here.” He takes the orange and starts to peel it. “Close your eyes and imagine… I dunno, an apple in your hand. Doesn’t even have to be a good apple. Go ahead.” 

Stede draws his mouth into a thin line, then closes his eyes once more. When he does, he can still see Ed’s smile there. It’s burned into his vision like traces of the sun. 

He tries to picture an apple, thinking that it’s futile. Cool and exciting things like being able to make something of nothing don’t often happen to Stede. He’s not granted whatever gifts everyone else has, but he tries anyway because Ed asked him to, and he imagines a red apple, shining like it’s been polished with wax – 

And feels a weight in his palm. 

His eyes snap open. 

In his hand is, in fact, a bright red apple. It’s even got a little green leaf still attached to the stem at the top. It’s blemish-free and perfectly round, like it’s just been pulled from a magazine, or something. 

“Oh shit.” 

Ed, while putting a slice of his orange onto his tongue, laughs again. “You did it! Apple’s perfect, too. You’re a natural.” 

“It – where did it even come from?” 

Ed gestures around them vaguely. “Thin air.” 

“We can just will things into existence?” 

“Yup. Anything you want. You can change whole rooms if you can picture it. I turn the galley into a diner all the time.” 

“You’re kidding.” 

Ed shrugs. “I miss pancakes and milkshakes, so I just make ‘em myself. With the power of my fucking mind. Only thing you can’t imagine is people or animals. Alive stuff.” 

Stede closes his eyes again. This time, he pictures a coin on his palm and then it’s there. He tries again with a bouquet of roses, and again with a jar of honey. The thrill of seeing the item in his hand doesn’t lessen with each new thing. It’s intoxicating. Stede never wants to stop. 

“You don’t have to close your eyes, you know,” Ed says. “That’s not part of the process, I just told you to do it ‘cause I wanted to surprise you.” 

Feeling about as satisfied as a bear in a salmon-infested river, Stede pries open the lid on the honey jar. He thinks about two spoons, then hands Ed one, who takes it with quiet thanks. They help themselves. 

“I have a question,” Stede says after he swallows his mouthful. 

“Mm?” 

“We’re quite dead, right?” 

“As disco, mate.” 

“Then why on earth am I still hungry?” 

“You know, that’s the one thing I haven’t figured out,” Ed says. “My thinking is that it’s just habit. You get so used to doing all these things when you’re alive that your soul still wants them even when it’s not attached to the body anymore.” 

“Hm. Maybe if you’re here long enough, then they stop happening.” 

“I dunno, I think the cravings stay with you. It’s just part of human nature to want shit.” 

Stede hums contemplatively and takes another spoonful of honey. He looks up at the ceiling and finds a modest chandelier hanging there. He adds another beside it, just because he can. 

When he looks down, Ed’s smiling at him. 

“Sorry,” Stede says, feeling a little embarrassed. “I should ask before making changes.”

“Nah, it’s cool, man. Go nuts. Looks like we’re gonna be, uh… sharing the ship, so do whatever makes you feel more comfy.” 

Something about the way he says ‘sharing’ makes Stede’s gut turn with worry. 

He’d been under the impression that Ed was glad to have him here, but – is he intruding? You only get one shot at the afterlife, after all. Ed said that he was bored before Stede showed up, but maybe he doesn’t want to share. Maybe he wanted to be alone sometimes. 

Stede blinks and suddenly, where there hadn’t been a second ago, is now a second bed, built into another nook a few feet from the other. They’re both spacious and comfortable. 

“How’s that? Enough room?” Ed asks. 

“Looks perfect,” Stede says. He tries to make his tone even, despite the dejection that’s creeping its way through his chest. 

Ed’s brows twitch in question, but he doesn’t pry. “Anything else you wanna do in here?” 

“Oh, I don’t know. I don’t want to take over, or anything.” 

“Nah, fuck that. Do whatever you want, man.” 

Stede looks around. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Yeah, ‘course.” 

“Why haven’t you decorated? This room looks quite bare. You said you’ve been here a long time.” 

Ed nods like he expected the question and puts his hands into his pockets. He begins to aimlessly wander around the room. “I didn’t want to commit.” 

Stede only frowns. 

“It kinda felt like… if I made this place my own, then it was real. I know that probably sounds crazy.”

“No, I think I understand. A bit like admitting defeat?” 

Ed clicks his fingers. “Yeah! That.” 

It’s quiet for a little while. It seems that they both leave something unsaid. Stede isn’t brave enough to ask if he’s truly welcome, if this is a life that Ed ever truly intended to share. 

Or, well. After life. 

And Ed doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t tell Stede why admitting defeat to his own death was so hard for him. He doesn’t tell him why he’s ready to admit defeat now. And why would he? Is it because Stede’s here?

Something’s not adding up. 

Stede finds himself alone on deck again. He’s watching the passing ships with rapt fascination. It seems that there are few floating by that are becoming familiar, namely the ship that’s flying the flag with a cat emblazoned on it. Stede’s spotted that one a few times now. 

After their conversation in the captain’s cabin, which ended on a rather awkward note, Ed excused himself for a little while, muttering about giving Stede ‘some more space’, but Stede’s starting to think that Ed is the one who’s needing the space. 

Which is… well, that’s perfectly fine. He’s entitled to his space. It’s just that Stede is, admittedly, a little bit afraid. 

He just died, after all. If there’s anything in the world to be afraid of, it's dying, right? 

Stede supposes that he just doesn’t want to be alone. 

So when another ship sails close enough to be within speaking distance, Stede is thrilled. 

This one is flying a flag that’s orange with an intricate pattern weaved into it. On the other side of the approaching ship, sailing almost on top of it, is another ship. It looks as though these two vessels are moving side by side, journeying to nowhere in tandem. 

Stede’s sure his voice won’t carry to the second ship – it’s too far away. But he calls to the vessel that’s flying the orange flag. 

“Hi! Hellooo? Is anyone there?” 

After a few heavy moments, a head pops up from below the ship’s deck. The man who appears has dark skin and a round face, with the kind of sweet eyes that poets write sonnets about. 

Stede is waving an arm over his head in a large arc and grinning from ear to ear. 

The man on the ship looks… concerned. Is he worried that their ships are going to collide? 

Stede approaches the railing and shouts over the sea between them. “Well met!” 

“Who are you?” the man shouts back. 

“I’m Stede! What’s your name?” 

“Where’s Ed?” 

“Whare-Zedd?”

“No – where is Ed?” 

“Oh! Sorry, yes. He’s below deck.” 

The man stares. For a long time. “He’s what?” 

“He’s below deck,” Stede says again. 

“He’s with you?” 

“Yes! Well, I mean, not currently, as you can see.” This isn’t going how Stede thought it would. “Would you like me to get him for you? Are you two friends?” 

The man remains still for too many seconds. Stede begins to worry that he’s done something wrong, that this is another one of those taboos he should already know about. But, shit, he was alive not even a few hours ago! How is he supposed to just know all this stuff? That hardly seems fair. Dying is already a whole ordeal –

The man turns and rushes away. He calls a name in the opposite direction, a name that Stede doesn’t hear. It seems like the man is addressing the other vessel sailing beside his own. 

Stede deflates. He waits for the man to return, but he doesn’t. He’s not even visible anymore, like he was just a mirage that’s disappeared in a gust of wind. His ship slows as though it’s being moved by a different breeze, until it’s no longer within speaking distance. The other ship slows with it. 

Frustrated and feeling like a fool, Stede marches away from the railing and heads for the stairs. As he makes his way down, he loosens his teal necktie to try and make himself feel less irritated, but it doesn’t help much. 

At least he died in a nice suit. 

When he reaches the bottom of the stairs, he finds himself a little bit turned around. He’s worried that he’s going to get himself lost when he hears what sounds like a guitar being played. He frowns at the sound, then follows it. 

He finds Ed tucked away in the empty stores. He’s sitting on the ground, lounging casually against an empty crate, with a beautiful acoustic guitar balanced on his lap. He’s got his eyes closed as he plays it, like he’s lost in a trance. 

Stede stops short in the doorway. If his heart still beat, he’s sure it would skip over itself. 

Ed said that he wasn’t the grim reaper, but he never said that he wasn’t an angel. Right now, he certainly looks like one. 

He senses Stede's presence and pries open a drowsy eye. “Hey,” he says as a smile pulls at his lips. Like he’s glad to see him. “You okay?” 

Stede has to swallow to make himself think, to make his words come out. “Another ship.” 

“A ship sailed by?” Ed opens both his eyes. Slowly sets down his guitar. “You’re kidding. That doesn’t happen often.” 

“There was a man – he knew you by name.” 

Ed eyes widen. “You… wait, they came close enough to talk?” 

“Well, I certainly tried.” 

Ed sets aside his guitar on the ground, which disappears like it’s been dismissed from duty. He stands. “What – uhh. What happened?” 

“Well, it’s just that – I think maybe it would be beneficial if you told me all of the taboos, o-or some of the rules for socialising around here because I can’t quite seem to get a grasp on them myself. All I did was say hello!” 

“Shit.”

“Was that bad?”

“No, that’s– well, what did he say?” 

“He asked about you!” 

“Yeah, right, okay. Then what did you say?” 

“I told him that you were below deck, and he seemed to be shocked by that, and then he ran away. I even offered to bring you out to speak to him, but he didn’t say anything, he just left. Honestly, it was a little bit rude.” 

Ed stares. 

“You’re doing the same thing he did!” Stede says exasperatedly, gesturing to Ed’s stunned expression. “Really, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. Why does everyone keep looking at me like that?” 

Ed shakes his head to snap himself out of his daze. “Shit. Sorry, mate. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Then…?” 

Ed’s eyes dance between Stede’s for a second. He almost looks panicked. He wants to say something, but he’s trying to hold himself back. It’s quiet for a long moment before he cracks. “Ah, Stede, it’s – look, it’s not you. You’re not the problem here, okay? I swear.” 

Stede continues to say nothing, but he implores Ed with his eyes. 

“Fuck. I just… I didn’t want you to feel bad.” 

“Why on earth would I feel bad? About what? Being dead? I don’t feel amazing about it, if I’m being perfectly candid with you–” 

“No, not that.” Ed pinches the bridge of his nose and heaves a long sigh. At last, he says, “Come with me to the deck. I’ll show you what's going on.” 

Ed helps Stede climb the shrouds. It seems that he’s very practised in it because he knows exactly which ropes to pull, where to place his feet. He gives Stede step-by-step instructions to get him to the crow’s nest. 

By some sort of miracle, Stede gets there without falling. It’s not like he could die again or anything, so he’s not sure why he’s so afraid the whole journey up. By the time he reaches the top, he feels like he should be out of breath, but breath still won’t come to him. 

Ed stands with his back to the mast and his arms folded. 

“I don’t see the point of coming all the way up here,” Stede admits. He dusts his hands down the front of his suit. 

“Look,” Ed tells him, nodding his head toward the skyline. 

Stede complies. The sun has moved to a new spot now, just barely peeking beyond the horizon. The stars have gathered themselves around it, almost like a halo. The sky is a deep red and orange, and it spills into the sea like someone’s tipped a cup of paint into it. 

“We came up here to look at the sunrise?” 

“Sunset,” Ed corrects. “At least, I think. Impossible to tell. But no, that’s not what you’re meant to be looking at.” 

“It’s pretty hard not to look at it. It’s wonderful.” 

Ed gives him a look that he can’t decipher. It looks affectionate. At least, he hopes it is. 

“Look at the ocean,” Ed says with a voice that’s soft and smooth. “What do you see?” 

“Clouds. Ships,” Stede says nonchalantly. He looks as far as he can into the distance. “That’s it.” 

“Right. See all those ships?” 

“Yes?” 

“Just like you said, they’re all carrying people,”  Ed says. His back leaves the mast and he leans his weight against the rail that separates the crow’s nest from the nasty plummet below. “Every single one of them.” 

Stede’s eyes trail back to the enormous fleet on the horizon. He couldn’t count all of these ships even if he spent every day trying for a hundred years. He steps to the other side of the crow’s nest to see if it’s the same in the opposite direction and there they are, on all sides. Thousands upon thousands of boats, all sailing toward the same horizon. He hadn’t considered precisely how many souls were on the water with them when he was watching the ocean earlier, he was too busy trying to gather his bearings. Now the sheer number of them strikes him like a smack to the face. 

“Christ,” Stede says with awe. “That… seems rather inefficient.” 

“Yeah, is a bit.” 

“So, why are you showing me this? I still don’t understand.” 

Ed hesitates. He draws his mouth into a thin line and sighs, then gestures to the vast sea around them. “How many people do you think it is to a ship? Usually.” 

“Well, these are big vessels, so I imagine they probably have a lot of people on board. It would be a whole crew per ship, right? I imagine that you’re a special case – an outlier – being by yourself.” 

Ed just shakes his head. “It’s always one.” 

Stede’s mouth falls open. 

“Only ever one soul to a ship,” Ed continues. “That’s how it’s always been, ever since the first. Never more, never less.” 

“I… I don’t–” 

“The reason people might be confused about you is because… well, mate, you’re not meant to be here. Not on this ship. Not with me.” 

Stede’s gut plummets. He can feel panic beginning to swell behind his ribs but without the ability to breathe, it has nowhere to go. It just bounces around in there like a rabid animal, clawing, tearing and snarling. 

“That can’t be right,” he almost pleads. He puts a hand to his chest, begs for the stone to move. Begs for it to start hammering so he can feel the anxiety like he would if he were still alive. Back when it meant something. “No, surely there have been others.” 

“This has never happened before,” Ed says. His tone is so gentle and kind and it almost makes it worse. “You’re the first.” 

Stede’s panic makes its way into his tone. He doesn’t mean for it to squirm out of him. “How do you know?”

“I told you, I’ve been here for a thousand fucking lifetimes.” 

“And you’re – you’re certain you’re right about this, too?” Stede begins to pace in tight circles. 

Ed doesn’t say anything. He just watches Stede like he understands. Like he knows this kind of panic well enough to consider it a close friend. He reaches out and puts a hand on Stede’s shoulder, bringing his pacing to a stop. 

“Hey. Listen. It’s alright.” 

“Alright? How in the bloody hell is it alrigh–”

“You’re here, aren’tcha?” 

Stede blinks. He tosses his hands up. “I suppose!” 

Ed smiles at him. In the glow of the crimson sky, he looks like he belongs with the stars; radiant and shining beside the sun. “Then there’s nothing that we can do.”

“Aren’t you worried?” Stede asks and, embarrassingly enough, his voice breaks. It’s then that he notices Ed’s hand is still on his shoulder, warm and kind. 

“Worried about what?” 

“About what that might mean? There must be something wrong with me! I don’t have my own ship like everyone else does so I must be – broken, somehow. Was I put here by mistake? What if someone realises that I’ve been put in the wrong place and they…” he gestures to the air, “whisk me away?” 

Ed’s eyes are soft, shining in the glow of dawn or dusk or twilight. His gaze flicks across Stede’s face, like he’s memorising him. Remembering this. “Sure I am,” he admits quietly. “Yeah. ‘Course I’m worried, Stede.” 

All of Stede’s panic dissolves. It slips between the gaps in the railing and drifts away like smoke. He’s not sure why that’s so comforting. 

“But, man, what could we do? There’s no one to ask for answers.” 

“Well, there has to be someone.” 

“For some people, yeah. Not for us.” 

“Why the hell not? Why not us?” 

Ed looks away. “Nevermind. It’s just – this isn’t a heaven and hell situation, mate. There’s no higher being keeping tabs on all of us here. This is just the way things are.” 

Stede groans and runs his hands down his face. He takes a seat on the ground, resting his back against the mast. “This is all so much,” he says quietly, like his voice lacks conviction. His eyes dart between all the ships on the water and his mind runs itself ragged. One per ship. One per ship. One per ship. 

Ed sits beside him and hums. The breeze swings past again, caressing his hair and clothes. He doesn’t say anything further, just sits in Stede’s company. 

He’s letting me process, Stede realises. He’s giving me time to think. 

And think he does. He starts by closing his eyes, then he sets to work putting the pieces of his mind back where they belong. 

So, he died today. That’s a big deal and, ultimately, a bit of a bummer. But much to his chagrin, it seems that there is nothing to be done about that. It seems that he is completely and utterly stuck here in Limbo, in the place between places. As it turns out, death is a rather permanent state. 

Sure, he might be irrevocably dead and unable to leave, but at least he’s in a nice suit. At least he's got company.

And, well, so what if it’s only ever meant to be one soul to a ship? So what if Stede is breaking some sacred unspoken rule simply by existing? So what if he’s not meant to be here? That’s not his fault! He didn’t choose any of this. If he had his way, he...

If he had his way, he’d choose to stay right here. 

The realisation hits Stede like the sky caving in on his head. 

He doesn’t care so much about being in the wrong place, necessarily. He cares about the fact that someone might find him and rectify their mistake, and that would mean having to say goodbye to Ed. It would mean no more helping hands, no more company, and it would mean going back to feeling alone for the rest of time. An eternity of solitude, knowing that something better is out there. Knowing that it doesn’t have to be that lonely. 

Stede doesn’t know how Ed did it on his own for so long. 

The thought hurts him enough to leave a scar. He peels an eye open and looks at him. 

Ed’s got his eyes closed now too, with his head leaned back to meet the mast behind him. He’s breathing, slowly and calmly, and his chest moves with it. Stede wants to catch and hold it. He wants to take some of that precious breath for himself. 

While watching him, Stede comes to a conclusion. 

Yes, this might be a mess. It could very well end in catastrophe. But for right now, they can have this. Ed doesn’t have to be alone anymore. 

And Stede, for what he feels might be the first time, can have a friend. If that’s how he gets to spend his afterlife, then it will be an afterlife well spent. 

He clears his throat. At the sound, Ed opens his eyes and turns to him. 

It’s quiet for a second more while they look at each other. Stede smiles, and Ed smiles in return. It feels like a sigh of relief. 

“Feelin’ alright?” 

“Yes, thank you,” Stede says. “I think I just needed a second.” 

“Sure.” 

Then, simply because he feels like it and because he can, Stede pictures an elaborate tray of bread and preserves arranged between them. He’s thrilled when it manifests there like magic, then takes a chunk for himself and hands one to Ed. 

“How’d you know I like marmalade?” Ed asks, taking the bread and dipping it liberally. 

“You seem like the type.” 

Ed snorts. “I look like an orange guy to you?” 

“I have excellent character judgement,” Stede jokes with a shrug. He takes a bite of his portion. “You seem like you have a sweet tooth.” 

“I…” Ed blinks at him for a moment, midway through his chewing. “Yeah, I do have a sweet tooth. You weren’t kidding.” 

Stede grins, then returns his eyes to the vast ocean and the fleets surrounding them. It’s quiet for some time while they eat all of the bread on the tray. 

At last, Stede asks, “does this ever get easier?” 

“I did tell you that it takes practice.” 

“Hmm. You did say that.” 

Ed nods at him. “It’ll get easier. Promise. I think you’ll be a fast learner.” 

“Maybe. I can’t be too sure,” Stede admits. “I think it will help to remember who I am, or… well, who I was.” 

“You don’t need your life to figure that out,” Ed says. “All of that comes from here.” He points to the place where the stone is sitting perfectly still inside Stede’s chest. 

He wonders if Ed’s heart still beats. He thinks he's like to hear the sound. 

Maybe I was a rule-breaker when I was alive, Stede thinks. Because if I’m not supposed to be here, then why does this feel so right?

Chapter Text

Stede claims a seat in an empty cinema and makes himself comfortable. He feels the upholstery of the red chair beneath his palms and breathes in deep, taking in the stale popcorn smell and the lingering perfume of someone who’s no longer here. 

He waits for more people to walk in and join him for this viewing, but no one comes. He’s alone. The picture is about to begin. 

The lights dim. Stede focuses his attention on the grand screen before him and waits. 

There’s a click, a whirr. It sounds like an animal unhinging its jaw beside his ear, unfurling its tongue and wetting its maw in anticipation for its next meal. 

The screen lights up. A countdown. 

Three, two, one…

Stede wakes and bolts upright in bed, knowing of everything and everyone that he’s left behind. 

His chest feels like it’s being crushed in a vice, all viscera and cracking bone. He tries to breathe and fails, he tries to make his heart move and fails at that too. 

The room spins like it’s been put on an axis, so much so that Stede can’t even see. He tosses the blankets aside and scrambles to leave, to get away, to move. He thinks he hears his name coming from somewhere, but can’t be sure beyond the whirlwind rushing past his ears and the echo chamber of voices from a life he left behind. He doesn’t even know where he’s going, he’s just getting away from who knows what to who knows where, but he can’t escape himself so he goes in circles until the adrenaline in his veins cools enough to let him stop. 

He’s in – what had Ed called it? The rec room, maybe. It’s empty, much like every other room on this ship that’s not the captain’s cabin. It’s dark. Quiet. Here, Stede takes a seat on the stairs and furiously scrubs at his eyes. 

Behind his closed lids, he pictures a gravestone that’s been maliciously carved with his name and, beside it, three pairs of shoes. One big, two small. 

The thought makes him feel like he’s going to be sick. 

He’s shocked out of his own head by a hand on his back. Stede yelps at the touch. 

“Shit, mate, just me,” Ed says gently. He kneels beside him with a wince. “I was calling your name all the way down the hall. You didn’t hear me?” 

Stede just shivers. Ed’s touch is warm, but it doesn’t reach the parts of him where the chill hangs on the tightest. 

“Fuck. Hey, Stede, you’re okay. It’s all good,” Ed soothes. He plops down and sits beside him on the step. He doesn’t take his hand away. 

Stede has to swallow to make his throat work. “I abandoned them,” he whispers.

Ed’s brows furrow with concern. “Who?” 

It burns. It hurts like an arrow through the chest. “My family.” 

“Oh.” Ed lets it hang in the air for a second. “Shit.” 

Stede draws his knees up as far as he can, then rests his forehead on them. He tries to make himself stop shaking, but the guilt has its way with him and renders each one of his limbs inoperative. It’s coursing through him with nowhere to go. 

All he wants to do is breathe. He wants to go back, to make things right, to earn their forgiveness, to earn his chance for peace and rest, and he wants to fucking breathe. 

Ed opens his mouth to say something, then closes it. He does this a few times. Calculating. Picking the right comforting phrase, the right place to tread. 

He clears his throat. “So, you remembered?” 

Stede can only nod. 

“How much of it?” 

“Everything. All of it.” 

“Your whole fuckin’ life? In one go?” 

He nods again. 

Ed exclaims like he’s looking at a really big snake in his yard. “Kwar. That’s… shiiiit.” 

Neither of them says anything for a long time. It’s silent. The ship doesn’t even make creaking and groaning sounds as it bounces on the waves. The sea is calm, and the air is still. 

“It took a few nights for me,” Ed says after a long time. “Just – every time I went to sleep, I’d get some new memories until I had them all.” 

Stede’s crying. He’s not sure when that started. “Was it a cinema?” 

“A – a what?” 

“Like at the movies?” He sniffles. “Is that how you got your memories back?” 

“No,” Ed says quietly. He thinks about it for a second. “No, I was looking through a photo album with my mu–” 

He stops. Bites his lip, casts his eyes to the bottom of the stairs. 

It’s silent again. 

Stede thinks about taboos. He thinks about rules. He doesn’t ask. 

A few minutes pass in complete stillness. At last, Ed takes his hand away. He opens his mouth. Lets it hang open. Closes it. 

“You couldn’t help what happened,” he blurts out at last. 

With another pathetic sniffle, Stede looks at him. He doesn’t ask him to proceed. 

“I just mean… about your family,” Ed elaborates. “You didn’t – you didn’t abandon them. You couldn’t predict your own death, Stede. I’m sure you would have stayed with them if you could.” 

Oh, Stede thinks. Oh. 

He thinks that I left them behind with my untimely death. 

He thinks it wasn’t my choice. 

Stede returns his head to his knees and tries not to throw up. 

The moon remains in the sky all day. The sun doesn’t rise at all.

Ed leaves Stede alone for most of it. He tells him that he’ll be around if he needs, that he’s been through this too. That he understands. But Stede’s not sure that he does. How could anyone understand this kind of guilt? 

It only makes him feel worse to isolate himself like this. He knows that Ed is there. They’re going to spend forever together on this boat, so he may as well start trying to make that connection now, right? Be vulnerable. Open. Hold out a hand. 

Stede never learned how to reach out when he was alive, however. Everything about him that made him who he is – who he was – stayed bottled up until he died. 

So, how does he start now? Surely it’s too late for that kind of vulnerability. He’s too old and too dead to start learning new tricks. 

And, sure, he’d like to try. But where does he even begin?

He’s on the bow of the ship by the time night rolls around. Well, he thinks it’s night, anyway. The clock of his body tells him that he’s tired and that dawn is approaching. The stars overhead shimmer like they’re trying to offer him their sympathies. A desolate cloud drifting aimlessly above the seawater reaches out and caresses Stede’s shoe where it dangles through the railing. 

That’s when he decides that he can’t be on his own anymore. His chest is going to fuse to his spine if he continues to wallow in his own solitude. He needs out. 

“Ed?” 

It’s quiet for half a second, then his voice calls from below deck. “Yeah?” 

“Do you know any jokes?” 

“You kidding? I know a ton.” 

“Perfect. Stay there,” Stede tells him as he comes to a stand. “I’ll find you.” 

He walks away from the deck of a great ship, walks down some practical wooden steps. He rounds a corner, expecting to find the unassuming and humble mess hall and galley. 

Instead, he finds a diner. 

The fluorescent lights overhead make him squint. He can hear the electronic purring of neon signs and the drone of a pedestal fan, lazily oscillating on the counter. The planks have been transformed into black and white chequered linoleum, and every corner is lined with dining booths, complete with plush red leather seats. 

It’s so detailed that the tables are even a little bit sticky. There’s an empty glass abandoned at a bench seat that faces a window, through which Stede can see a street. A crosswalk. It’s raining. 

There’s a jukebox beside the door. A napkin holder on a table that’s still empty. Pictures on the wall of smiling faces and cleared plates. The air smells like burnt coffee and freshly made pancakes and a cooling pumpkin pie. 

Stede feels like crying the second he steps into the room. 

Ed is at one of the booths, sitting beside another window that faces a streetlight. He looks up at Stede’s arrival. “Hey. Lookin’ for jokes?” 

Stede is stunned like a fish on a dock. He takes a tentative step into the room and looks around slowly, as though it’s going to disappear if he moves the wrong way. “Ed, this is incredible!” 

“Awh, thanks.”

“How on earth did you do all this?” 

“Just pictured it,” Ed says with a friendly shrug. “It’s the same diner I used to visit all the time back when – when I was alive.” 

“But it’s so detailed.” 

“Yeah, I came here a lot.” A mug manifests before him. Steam rises from it and curls into the air. Stede blinks and another mug appears, sitting in front of the empty seat in the booth. “I’ve got a good memory, I guess. For unimportant shit.” 

Stede smiles, and it feels like he’s smiling for the first time. The tension in his back eases. For a perfect second, he forgets about all his misery and all his guilt. He can think only about Ed’s kind eyes, about the hot drink, about the pink neon lights. 

He takes his seat in the booth. “I’m completely blown away. You’re amazing, Ed.” 

Ed’s cheeks become warm. “Hey, you could do this, too.” 

There is nowhere I’d rather be than right here, Stede thinks. I don’t want to change a thing. 

“I can’t believe how authentic it feels,” he says instead. “It’s like I never even died at all.”

Ed’s eyes glisten. He’s got his hair back in a half-bun today. It allows Stede’s gaze access to his temples, his cheeks. 

“Yeah, well. Got a question for you,” Ed says, his face suddenly serious. 

Stede’s stomach does an anxious swoop. He takes the mug on the table before him with both hands and concentrates on the warmth it spreads over his palms. “Y-yes?” 

“Why do ghosts ride elevators?” 

Stede relaxes instantly. “Oh. I’ve no idea. Why?” 

Ed grins. “‘Cause it lifts their spirits.” 

There’s a long pause. 

“That’s terrible.” 

“You’re smiling.” 

“The point of a joke is to make someone laugh, Ed.” 

“Alright, fine.” He takes a sip from his mug, then sets it down, leans back in his seat and crosses his arms. “Why do cows wear bells?” 

“Well, I’m not sure.” 

“‘Cause their horns don’t work.” 

Stede snorts. 

“Ha! You laughed, I win,” Ed says triumphantly. 

“Please, that was hardly a laugh.” 

“It counts.” 

“Does not.” 

“Okay, wise guy,” Ed says with a smug grin. “Do your worst. Tell me a joke.” 

Stede searches his memory for a beat. “What did the hurricane say to the coconut tree?”

He hates that this is the one that his stupid brain decided to dredge up from the recesses of his mind. Couldn’t have been anything else? Something a bit more tame, perhaps? 

Oh well. Too late now. 

Ed’s already struggling to contain his laughter. “What?” 

Stede can’t look at him when he delivers the punchline, so he puts his face into his hands. “‘Hold on to your nuts, this ain’t no ordinary blowjob’.” 

Ed lets a single high-pitched giggle escape him first. The sound of it is enough to send him into a full-blown laughing fit. He tosses his head back with it and holds his gut, like he’s scared his insides are going to fall out. Stede laughs too, hard enough that it makes him feel like he’s being squeezed. He doesn’t move his hands because he knows he must be as red as a sunset. 

The gentle rain falls against the window, and onto the crosswalk outside. The streetlight flicks on to announce the dusk, and the jukebox inside their own private oasis selects a tune. They don’t hear it. 

The symphony they make together sounds nicer than anything the jukebox has to sing about, anyway. 

“I can’t believe I died in a bloody suit,” Stede grumbles. He’s getting ready for bed as the sun begins to rise. He watches it bloom in the sky through the gap in his curtains. “Now I have to sleep in this for the rest of eternity? What a crock. I think I’ll miss pyjamas the most.” 

Ed goes completely still in his nook for a second, then he pokes his head around and looks at Stede incredulously. “Mate. You can change your clothes.” 

“I…” he looks down at himself, at his perfectly pressed navy suit, teal necktie and gold pocket square. “I can?” 

“You’re on a metaphysical boat in Limbo. You can make things out of nothing with the power of your imagination. Yeah, you can change your clothes, man.” 

Stede blushes. “I feel a bit silly. I slept in this last night. I didn’t even think to take my shoes off.” 

Ed snickers. “No wonder you woke up feeling a bit shit.” 

“That was unrelated.” 

“Still couldn’t have helped much,” he says with a shrug. “Make yourself some pj’s. Might help you sleep.” 

He steps back into his nook and when he’s gone, Stede’s eyes begin to wander. He first looks at himself, at his very nice suit, and then he looks around their room. 

Ed said that he could make any changes he wanted, right? 

Well. Stede decides to get a bit crazy. 

“I have something to show you.” 

Ed, who’s lying on his back in his bed and lazily strumming a lyre, tilts his head up and lifts a brow. “Is it the pj’s you made?” 

Stede looks down at himself. He’s in a nice cotton ensemble now, striped and clean and complete with a pair of slippers. He’s got an extravagant robe over the top too, in a beautiful fuchsia that he wouldn’t have been daring enough to wear when he was alive. It’s covered in elaborate birds and flowers. 

“Not the pyjamas,” Stede says. “It’s better.” 

“Well now you’ve piqued my interest.” The lyre, midway through humming a pleasant note, disappears. Ed swings his legs over the side of his bed and stands. 

They step into the middle of the room and Stede twirls his robe around in his delight. “Alright, I may have lied.” 

Ed simply lifts a brow. 

“I have several things to show you.” 

With a snort, Ed reaches out a hand and runs it over Stede’s shoulder. It’s like he doesn’t even think about it. 

Stede goes still. 

“This is nice,” Ed says, his voice distant. “What is that?” 

“Oh. It’s — it’s velvet.” 

Ed continues to stare at it. He runs his fingers down Stede’s sleeve gently, as though caressing the surface of a still pond. “Velvet. Hm.” 

“Do you like it?” 

“Yeh.” His eyes are glassed over, like he can’t make them look away. He snaps back to himself suddenly and meets Stede’s gaze. “Is this what you wanted to show me?” 

“It’s one of the several, yes,” Stede says with a grin, then he points to the other side of the room. 

Not even twenty minutes ago, that had been a blank wall. Now, two large and opulent double doors are situated there. 

Ed’s hand drops. At last, he looks around the room. 

“Holy shit.” 

Stede’s added a library to the captain’s cabin and adorned it in some beautiful sheer curtains. The shelves are completely stacked with books. In the middle of the library is a fireplace, where a fire has been lit and now crackles away happily. 

More furniture has been added too, all grand and beautiful. A chaise lounge covered in cushions, an ornate writing desk. Some framed artworks hang on the walls, mostly landscape oil paintings. 

Except one that catches Ed’s eye. Stede follows his gaze. 

“Ah,” he says. He walks over to the frame that Ed is looking at and takes it in both his hands. “A luxury from life, I fear. One I didn’t want to let go of just yet.” 

It’s a painting of a lighthouse. The colours are deep and saturated, and the sky behind it has been severed into sharp angles. Stede runs a finger down the side of the frame. 

“You did all this?” Ed asks.

“I thought it might be fun.” He returns the lighthouse painting to its place on the mantle. “Of course, if there’s anything you want to change, please feel free! I’m not committed to any of this, so if it makes you uncomfortable—”

“Nah, this is great,” he says with a broad grin. His eyes are twinkling like stars. “What’s in there?” He points to the double doors. 

“Ah.” Stede approaches them like a ringmaster would a loving audience. “I thought — well, knowing that we can wear whatever we like here, it might be beneficial to have a wardrobe.” 

He swings open the doors and Ed steps through them slowly, marvelling at what he finds. The room he walks into is red on the walls and is positively abundant with clothes, from the floor to the ceiling, all neatly tucked away into racks and shelves. There’s a mirror at the end, though it doesn’t show a reflection. 

Ed doesn’t say anything. He’s smiling from ear to ear, though. 

“That’s not even the best bit,” Stede says, bumping their elbows together. 

“There’s more?” 

“Of course. Follow me.” 

He takes him across the room to a recently added bookshelf. He stops in front of it and stands tall. Proud. 

“Can you keep a secret?” Stede asks. 

“Take ‘em to the grave.” Ed makes a crossing motion over his heart. “Who would I tell, anyway? It’s just you and me.” 

Just you and me. 

“You could tell — people on other ships? A cloud, maybe?” 

Ed just chuckles. “Wouldn’t dream of it, mate. Want me to make an oath?” 

“It’s alright. I trust you,” Stede says. He realises that he means that with absolute sincerity. He faces the bookshelf, which has been lavishly decorated in precious trinkets and knickknacks. At the far end of the shelf stands a dummy dressed in a bright red coat. With a dramatic eyebrow wiggle, he pulls it forward. 

The wall beside them clicks open and Ed’s eyes blow wide. “Fuck off.” 

“Secret passages,” Stede explains with a delighted grin. He pushes the wall open. “I figured that if we’re going to be here for all eternity, that we may as well have a bit of fun with it.” 

He lets himself inside and Ed follows, looking around like a child in a toy store. He clicks the wall shut behind them. 

Stede’s put a secondary wardrobe here, just to accommodate any extra clothes they might make. There are more racks and shelves and mirrors, and the sunrise outside casts its warm glow onto the hardwood floors through some modest windows at the far end of the room. 

“Incredible,” Ed says. He looks at all the clothes on the racks. “Did you make all these? Just then?” 

Stede nods. “Afraid so. But there’s still plenty of space for yourself.” He gestures to half of the racking, which is vacant save for some empty coat hangers. “I can’t imagine you want to wear all that leather all the time.” 

“Never really thought about it,” Ed admits. He runs his hands over all the clothes on Stede’s side of the wardrobe. The items he finds particularly fascinating he pinches between his fingers. He’s feeling for texture. “I just wear this.” 

“What about when you sleep?” 

“I sleep naked.” 

“Oh. Yes, that makes sense,” Stede says, decidedly ignoring the way that statement makes his brain fizzle. “Well, should you ever desire to make something, there’s plenty of space. In fact — here.” He shirks off his robe and hangs it on one of the hangers on Ed’s side. 

“Wha — mate, that’s yours.” 

“It was,” he corrects with a smile. “And now it’s yours. I can always make myself another. I think I’d rather have silk, anyway.” 

Ed watches him hang up the robe with his cheeks dark and his eyes wide. His chest flutters a little with an astonished breath. 

Stede doesn’t think he’s ever felt so good giving away his things before. 

“Last thing,” he says, ushering Ed to the corner of the room. There, they come to a stop at a door that’s blending in with the opulent wallpaper. 

Ed blinks at him. Stede just smiles in return. 

“Go ahead.” 

“Where does it go?” 

“You’re going to have to open it to find out, Ed.” 

“What if it’s a room full of fuckin’ spiders?” He puts an ear against the door. 

“Why on earth would I put a room full of spiders on our ship?”

Ed’s head snaps to him. He stares for a long second. 

“What’s wrong?” Stede asks, panicked. “I promise it’s not a room of spiders. You don’t actually have to open it—”

“No, no. Sorry.” Ed puts his hand on the doorknob and smiles at the floor. “Just — ‘our ship’ threw me off. In a good way, I mean.” 

“Oh.” 

“It’s been just ‘my ship’ for-fucking-ever. I’m — ah. I’m glad you’re here, man. That’s all.” 

Stede makes a small sound that’s caught between ‘aw’ and ‘oh’. It’s such an incredibly sweet sentiment that he’s not completely sure what to say in return. 

He thinks saying something like, and I’m glad I died, might be a bit macabre. He also doesn’t think that it would be the complete truth.  

To save him from coming up with a response, Ed turns the handle and pushes open the door. He steps through and stands on the other side with his mouth agape. 

“Is this—”

“A maze,” Stede tells him, his voice high with excitement. He starts to walk down the dim hall. Small light sconces have been put on the walls, but they don’t cast enough light to be welcoming. It’s barely enough to see. 

“Holy fuck.” 

“Is it too much?” 

“This is the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Ed says. The silver whiskers in the short beard around his jaw shine in the candlelight. He steps deeper into the maze. “Where does it end?” 

“It’s a surprise,” Stede says playfully. 

“I wanna find it.” 

“You mean right now?” 

“Fuck yeah, right now. What, is your schedule full?”

They come to a stop at the end of the hall, which splits off into two directions. Ed bounces on the balls of his feet in his excitement. 

“Alright, let’s do it,” Stede says. 

“I’ll race you to the end.” 

“But – I have an advantage, don’t you think? I made the maze, after all.” 

“Doesn’t matter. I’m fuckin’ great at mazes. I’m gonna win.” 

Stede’s face cracks open into a goofy grin. “Very well, Edwa–… I just realised that I don’t know your last name.” 

Ed smiles in return. “Teach. Yours?” 

“Bonnet,” Stede supplies. He holds out his hand. “You’re on, Edward Teach.” 

“You’re on, Stede Bonnet.” Ed shakes it. “Break in three?” 

Stede nods in the affirmative, then faces the opposite direction from Ed. He steadies his footing. 

He hears Ed calm his breathing behind him. 

“Three, two, one…” 

Stede knows that he’s dead. His heart doesn’t beat anymore, and his lungs have ceased to move. He no longer has a shadow, and his footsteps make no sound. He doesn’t have to be told that he’s gone. He knows. He knows. 

But as he’s running through the halls of their ship, guided only by lonely and sparse candlelight, listening to Ed’s laughter as it seeps through the walls, feeling his own mirth leave his chest, all at once, a piece of himself that he’d long ago given up looking for slots back into place. 

Dying’s got nothing to do with it. 

He’s never felt so alive. 

Ed does, in fact, win their competition. He’s still out of breath by the time Stede arrives, though, so he must not have been far ahead. 

The maze lets out on the gun deck, which is just a whole other deck that very notably lacks cannons or weaponry of any kind. Ed is trying to casually lean against one of the walls, but it’s a hard feat when his chest is heaving. His hair has fallen out of his half-bun in his haste and now hangs in loose waves around his flushed cheeks. 

“Took ya long enough,” he says through a heavy breath.

“Oh, come off it, you just got here.” 

“Still won.” He flicks some hair away from his face. 

“I suppose you did,” Stede says with a laugh. “All you need now is a little blue ribbon.” 

As soon as he pictures it in his mind – cobalt, shining and proudly pinned to Ed’s lapel – it’s there. Ed looks down at it and runs a hand across it gently, like it’s a ladybird that’s landed on his chest. 

“There you are. Blue looks wonderful on you.” 

Ed looks up, his eyes round. He takes half a breath, but it gets caught in his throat, so he clears it instead. Stede only smiles at him, not knowing what to do under his gaze. Not knowing where to put his hands. 

“Yeah. Uhh, yep. Thanks,” Ed says, looking at the ribbon again. 

They nervously depart from the gun deck, the air between them a little bit tenuous. It’s like something’s there that wasn’t before. It’s not bad or concerning, just very distinctly there.  

The sun is still trying to rise by the time they make it to the main deck. Perhaps it’s forgotten how, Stede thinks. In the sky above, all the stars are rapidly dashing across the expanse, twinkling into nothingness as they breach the skyline. Stede stands with his face turned upward and watches as they catapult themselves into the darkness over and over again. 

Ed stands beside him and watches them too. “Means it’s gonna rain tomorrow.” 

“Oh?” 

“Shooting stars always leads to rain,” he explains with a mild shrug. He doesn’t take his eyes from the sky. “I’ve been trying to figure out what this all means. The sky stuff.”

“I suppose you’ve had enough time to do the research.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“And what have you discovered?” Stede asks. 

Ed watches the sky for a second more, then sighs softly through his nose. When his eyes swing to Stede there’s no melancholy in them. There’s acceptance. “I’ve discovered that all of this means jack shit.” 

Stede giggles, then he clicks his tongue. “That’s a shame.” 

“A bit.”

“At least it’s nice to look at.” 

“Hmm.” 

A star that’s brighter than the others hurtles forward like it’s trying to win a race. Stede smiles at it. 

“Sorry your day got off to such a shit start,” Ed says into the quiet. 

“Oh, it’s alright,” Stede says kindly. He looks at Ed the same way he looks at the stars. “It got much better.” 

Stede makes himself another robe before bed. He’s always thought that gold is a little bit too outlandish for his personal tastes, but – well, he thought that back when he was alive. He doesn’t need to worry about being too much or being outlandish here. 

Just you and me. 

That means that he can make whatever the hell he damn-well pleases. And it pleases him to make a lavish gold piece of fine silk, with delicate embroidery and soft lining and enormous sleeves. It pleases him to sit on one of the nice couches with gold embellishments and read a book which, admittedly, is mostly gibberish. 

It turns out that he can’t imagine whole books, so they don’t manifest perfectly. But something is better than nothing. And it pleases him to have anything. 

Ed spends a little bit of the evening in the auxiliary wardrobe. Stede supposes that he’s making himself some new clothes and leaves him to it. He thinks about offering help, but reconsiders quickly and bites his tongue. A man’s wardrobe is a private affair. If Ed wanted help, he’d ask. 

Though, he does poke his head into the room right before Stede is about to put his book down for the night. He’s wearing a velvet robe, just like the fuchsia one that Stede gave him. This one, however, is a deep blue. The ribbon is still pinned to his chest. 

“Whatcha readin’?” 

Stede closes the book with a snap. “Nonsense.” 

“Ah. Didn’t come out fully baked, huh?” 

“Sadly, no.” 

Ed nods as though he’s sympathetic. “I miss reading the paper a lot. Every time I try to make one for myself, it turns into crap. It’s usually just comic strips that I remember and articles about the really miserable shit.” 

Stede stands and puts the book away amongst the others on the shelf. “I think not being able to read is going to drive me crazy,” he admits. “That’s where I spent most of my time.” 

“You could always write your own,” Ed says. “I mean, if you wanted.” 

“Well, I…” Stede thinks about it. He rubs his chin while the idea weaves itself into the fabric of his mind. “That’s certainly an idea. I’ve never written a book before.” 

“Have you ever wanted to?” 

“Yes, of course. Often.” 

“Why didn’t you?” 

“I never had the time,” Stede explains. He taps his lips with his index finger while he thinks. 

“You’ve definitely got time now.” Ed gestures through the curtains to a cloud that’s drifting by the window. “Nothin’ to stop you here. I’d even proofread your book if you wanted.” 

Stede’s eyes snap to him. “But – what if it’s terrible?” 

“So what? It’s still a book. I fuckin’ miss stories. You look like you’d be a good writer, anyway.” 

He looks down at himself. Silk and gold. He’s not sure what it is about him that suggests competency, let alone efficacy. He’s never considered himself a writer before. He’s never considered himself a storyteller, either. 

Though, he’s starting to think that he’s hardly considered himself at all. 

“I’m a good judge of character,” Ed says with a playful wink. “I’m a sweet tooth, and you’re a writer.” 

Stede goes to say something, but Ed slips back into the open auxiliary wardrobe and disappears again. 

A whole book? he thinks. What would I even write about?

If it’s only made for one, then is it just a way to waste away the time?

They’ve retired to bed for the night. Or for the day. Who cares? 

Stede is lying on his back in his bed in his nook, watching the ceiling overhead. The curtains do a miserable job of keeping the sunlight out, but he finds that he can’t gather enough resistance within himself to put up more. He could. It would be so easy. He wouldn’t even have to think about it too hard. 

But, somehow, the sunlight is a more welcome guest in his bed here than it had been in life. He supposes that he’s learning to share his space with it. 

Ed is in his nook too, lying in his bed. He’s quietly strumming a guitar, playing a gentle melody to an audience of one. 

Stede closes his eyes to listen and while he does, he thinks about what his life had meant. He thinks about how all of it – all the misery and the treasured moments and the beautiful sights and the love and the horror – it all led to this. He comes up with a million questions all at once, and he holds out his hands for answers to each, but no answers come. 

The melody that Ed is playing comes to a stop suddenly. Stede peels open an eye as soon as the tune disappears. He misses the sound instantly and longs for the warmth it brought. 

Stede wants to ask an inexhaustible number of things. Were you a musician in your life? Did you love music then as much as you love it now? Have you always been this kind? Has your laugh always sounded the way it does here? 

He wants to know all that he can about Ed. He already knows that he’s great at mazes and that he has a favourite diner and that he loves sweet things, but there’s so much more to be discovered. He wants to know what his favourite foods are, his favourite colours, his favourite places and how he takes his coffee. He wants to know how his mind works.  

He supposes that he’s going to have all the time in the world to find out, but he’s feeling so incredibly greedy about it. He has to hold himself back or risk coming across as completely avid. 

This is Stede’s first friend. The last thing he wants to do is mess it up. He has to find a balance between giving and asking and taking. 

“Sorry if the noise was botherin’ you,” Ed says, just loud enough to be heard across the distance and the wall between them. 

“No, it’s alright. It was lovely,” Stede says. 

“Thanks. I think I’m still getting used to sharing the space, that’s all.” 

Stede nods, knowing damn well that Ed can’t see it. 

Did you have dreams? Ambitions? A favourite flower? Did you have a favourite mug? What smells like home to you? Were you scared of thunder? 

It’s quiet for a long time. Stede thinks that Ed’s fallen asleep, until the silence between them is disturbed. 

“Hey,” he says. 

“Hey,” Stede says back. 

Were you loved? Were you so, so loved? Were you adored?

I hope you were. 

“Why don’t leopards play hide and seek?” 

Stede bites his lip to stop the broad grin blooming there from cracking his face in two. “Why?” 

Ed snorts like he can’t keep his own laughter inside. “Because they’re always spotted.” 

Stede laughs. He can’t help it. He couldn’t stop it if he tried. 

Were you adored? 

You will be. 

Chapter Text

Just as Ed promised, the rain does come. When Stede wakes the following morning, he watches it fall outside his window for a little while before getting up for the day. It’s strange; the rain falls differently here to how it does on Earth. Some drops fall rapidly and others flit downward like snowflakes. Some change trajectories midway through their journey – just change their minds and go elsewhere. 

Stede watches it for as long as he can stand and tries to make a pattern of it until his brain can’t comprehend the word ‘rain’ anymore. He adds it to the growing list of things that don’t make sense here and moves on with his day. 

He doesn’t think he’s brave enough to get dressed just yet, so he doesn’t. Who’s going to tell him off for it, anyway? He doesn’t have to stick to arbitrary schedules anymore. Who even needs a routine? He’s his own man here, he can wear his pyjamas all day and all night if he damn-well pleases. 

Ed’s still asleep when Stede gets out of bed and slips on his new favourite golden robe. As he’s making his way past his nook to retrieve said robe, he steals half a glance through the barely parted curtains obscuring Ed’s space from view and – yep, he’s definitely naked. His hair is fanned out over his pillow, and he’s got one leg poking out from his duvet. The rest of him is, thankfully, quite covered. 

Even so, Stede’s face feels hotter than the sun that still hasn’t set outside. The rain taps away on the windows softly, like it’s trying to beckon him into it.  

Stede wanders aimlessly through the belly of their ship for some time, just looking at all the rooms. The kitchen and galley has been returned to its ordinary ship-esque state. Stede wonders if the reason Ed makes all his creations disappear has anything to do with his reluctance to admit defeat. Maybe he doesn’t want to make the changes permanent because that would mean he has to stay. 

He’s been here long enough, after all. Maybe he’s hoping to get out one day. Go somewhere else.

But – is there a ‘somewhere else’? 

What comes after this? Is there a true afterlife that they’re sailing towards? 

In fact, where the hell are all these ships even going? Are they all just destined to bounce upon the waves of an indifferent sea for the rest of time? 

Stede decides that questions like that are too large for having just woken up, and wanders some more. He’s sure that he’ll find answers soon enough. Perhaps it’s just about being patient. 

He comes to the gun deck and looks at the door with the golden handle that leads into the maze. Through the openings where cannons would typically go — Stede thinks they’re called gun ports — he can see the rain falling outside. He can hear it hitting the planks on the deck overhead. It’s serene here, though a little bit grim. A bit melancholy. 

Stede tightens the robe around his waist and looks around, thinking about how he could liven up the space a little. What had brought him the most joy when he was alive? Would it still bring him joy now, at the end of all things? 

He starts with one. Just to see how it feels. 

Only when he hears Ed gasp behind him does Stede realise what he’s done. 

The whole gun deck has been completely swallowed by flowers and bushes and plants. From daisies to roses to marigolds to chrysanthemums, all bright and full bloom and colourful enough to envy the sunrise. Where there had once been planks underfoot is now lush green grass, complete with fresh morning dew. Not a leaf bears a blemish, not a stem is bent. All pristine and gorgeous and perfect. 

It’s everything Stede had ever wanted out of a garden, everything he never got to have. 

It had been so uncomplicated at first. He didn’t mean to make such a mess, but as soon as he had one flower in his hands, he simply had to have more. It grew and grew until it became this. He turns to explain all this to Ed, to apologise for taking up so much space on the ship they’re supposed to be sharing, to promise to take care of the problem and get rid of it. 

But Ed has the most wonderful expression on his face. Stede didn’t think he’d ever see anything better than the smile he wore when he discovered the maze. The smile he’s wearing now, though. Oh, it’s something else. It’s joy and delight in its purest form, and Stede wants to hold it with both hands. 

“What the fuck?” Ed’s words are stuck somewhere between an incredulous laugh and an adoring sigh. His eyes, shining and wide and dark enough to get lost in, are darting over each of the flowers like he’s never seen a single one before. “Wow.” 

“Do you hate it? I can always change it.” Stede starts working the hem of one of his sleeves between his fingers. 

“This is beautiful,” Ed says. “Don’t change a single thing. You invented new kinds of flowers?” 

“What? No, these are all quite real.” 

“Fuck off, no they’re not.” 

“I promise they are,” Stede says through laughter. He kneels down in front of a hydrangea bush and gestures to it. “These are called hydrangeas. Those–” he points further into the greenery, “–are called peonies, and those little ones are called baby’s breath.” 

Ed crouches beside him, close enough that their shoulders almost touch. “I didn’t know there were this many kinds of flowers. How d’you know so much about ‘em?” 

“Oh, well.” He clears his throat, feeling a bit sheepish. He drops his eyes to the golden robe draping over his knees. “I love flowers. I always wanted a garden of my own like this, but I think life just got in the way. I never had more than a few potted plants to take care of. That’s all we had the space for.” 

Ed’s brows come together in question. 

Stede’s next words slip out of him before he can beg them to reconsider. “In another life, I think I’d be a florist. Or a gardener, maybe. I don’t know. Maybe that’s stupid.” 

“Nah,” Ed says. He bumps their shoulders together. “S’not stupid. If I could do life again, I’d be a baker. A patisserie chef.” 

Stede’s shyness abandons him instantly, and instead he’s flooded with wonder and delight. Another piece of the Edward Teach puzzle that he slots into place. “A baker?” 

“I know, I don’t look the type–” 

“No, you do,” Stede says gently. “You look like you’d make a mean pumpernickel.” 

Ed snorts. “Yeah, I reckon I would. It just seems like it would be a nice life, y’know? Wake up early, and instead of rotting away in an office all day you get to fill a whole building with the smell of fresh bread, decorate little cakes and shit. And then you make people happy when they come to see you. That always sounded nice to me.” 

Piece after piece after piece. Stede cradles each one in his hands like he’s never cherished anything more. “And you weren’t a baker, I take it?” 

Ed’s eyes darken. “No. Not a baker.” 

“Life got in the way for you too, then?” 

“Wasn’t even that. The baking thing wasn’t something I could...” He trails off and doesn’t finish his sentence. Stede fills in the blanks: It wasn’t something I could have. “It was just – a fantasy to pass the time.” 

“Hmm. So was my florist idea.” 

They sit in silence for a little while, simply watching the flowers sway on the silent breeze. Stede wishes he could conjure up some butterflies to flit around his new garden, but living things don’t belong here. 

Ed is the first to stand. When he does, he hisses like it hurts. “Fuckin’ knee. Bullshit that the bad joints follow you to the afterlife.” 

Stede looks up at him. 

But is this the afterlife, really? Or is this just the space between? Is this really the end? 

Is there anything more than this? 

He looks around at his flowers, at the ivy snaking up the walls and hanging from the roof. He looks at the grass and leaves underfoot, at the glorious petals and blossoms and the pollen dancing in the air, and he listens to the rain outside. 

Then he looks up at Ed, who’s dressed in the floral robe that Stede gave him, and he looks as vibrant and precious as the surrounding garden. He’s only lacking the sunlight on his cheeks. 

But he offers Stede some warmth when he looks down at him and, with his eyes shining, smiles. 

I don’t think I will ever want anything more than this. 

“Do you like tea?” 

“Can’t say I drink it much,” Ed says. He’s in his nook, getting dressed for the day. They both could very easily just imagine their clothes on themselves, but there’s something in the ritual of choosing the clothes and how they sit. Something about human nature, maybe. 

Stede looks down at the blouse he chose for himself, and the breeches that match. It’s such an unconventional choice but, well, he’s in an unconventional place. 

“How do you take it?” he asks after a minute. 

There is silence from Ed’s nook for a long time. 

Stede frowns. “Ed?” 

“Huh? Uhh. Christ. I, uhm.” 

Stede quickly tosses on his shirt and pokes his head out of his nook. He doesn’t look into Ed’s space for fear of catching him in a state of undress. Again. “Is – is that a sensitive topic for you?” 

“Well, it’s a bit fuckin’ forward, don’tcha think?” 

A billion questions all race through Stede’s head in the frame of about a millisecond. Most of which are: what the fuck? “A-… asking how you take your tea is forward?” 

Ed heaves a sigh. “Oh, fuck. You were talking about tea.” 

“What the hell else would I be talking about, Ed?” 

“Nothing, nothing,” he says quickly. He steps out of his bedroom space, shoving the curtain aside to walk into the main cabin. He’s still buckling his belt while he does. “I — uhh. I don’t really know. I don’t know how I take my tea.” 

Stede’s mouth turns up into a thin line. He gives Ed a look and returns his head to his side of the curtain to resume getting dressed. “Well. I’ll simply have to make you some, then.” 

“What if I don’t like it?”  

“As long as you try it, then you can think whatever you like of it.”  

“I don’t wanna hurt your feelings, or anything.” 

Stede chuckles a little bit. “That’s nice of you. You won’t hurt my feelings, I promise. I don’t think you could.” 

It goes quiet while Stede resumes getting dressed. The funny thing about the silences, though, is that they’re not awkward. His whole life, whenever the malicious quiet crept up on him, Stede had felt that he had to do anything he could to make it disappear. Ask another question, make another unwanted comment, share his arbitrary opinion. 

Not here. Not with Ed. The silence isn’t demanding anything from them. It’s simply sharing its space, like another lingering soul that’s just climbed aboard. It’s a comfortable kind of quiet that Stede’s never experienced before. 

He slips on his breeches, tucks in his white blouse. He finishes the ensemble with some brown leather boots, a sash belt, and a black cravat around his throat. He wishes he could look into a mirror, just to see if he hates what he finds. It had become a ritual of sorts when he was alive; try something new, admonish himself in the mirror for trying it, then take it off again. 

But now he just feels good, like himself. He’s enjoying the clothes that he’s wearing, even when it’s not one of his nicest suits. He supposes that can put one of those on again one day if he chooses. For today, he’s satisfied with what he’s put together and how it looks, even if he can’t see it. 

He steps out of his nook, expecting Ed not to care too much about the outfit, but his eyes widen the tiniest, most intoxicating amount when he sees him. It’s like he’s trying to keep it under wraps, whatever it is that’s going on in his head. 

Stede wants to ask him to let it out. Be without inhibition. He almost begs him. 

Ed clears his throat, averts his eyes to the library. “Thought any more about that book you’re gonna write?” 

Tell me what you’re thinking. Tell me every wonderful detail. “A little bit, but I don’t know what I’d write about. I don’t have many ideas.” 

“Something will come to you,” he says. “I know it.” 

All at once, the rain outside comes to a stop. It's like someone turns off a faucet. The sunlight shines through the windows. 

“Ah, perfect timing,” Stede says. He puts his hands on his hips and turns to Ed with a broad grin. “We can take tea on the deck.” 

“Not in the garden?” 

The garden. He says it like it’s always been a part of the ship, like he’s never been without the breeze and the leaves and the dewy grass. He says it like he loves it and always has. 

“Well, I do think some sunlight might do us some good. I can always put some flowers out there, if you’d like.” 

Ed blinks at him for a second, almost like he can’t quite wrap his head around the idea. 

“You know. For fun,” Stede clarifies. 

Ed’s gaze softens, becomes warm enough to crackle like a fire. “Fun. Yeah, sounds good.” 

He turns and begins to walk away. Stede goes to follow him, but an uncontrollable thought wriggles its way free from his brain and slips out of his mouth, making him stop. “Hey, Ed?” 

He turns. 

“I, um. I just had a thought.” 

“A good or a bad one?” 

“It’s a good one, I think.” 

“Uh-huh?” 

Stede looks Ed up and down, assessing his outfit. All black, very sharp, a bit jagged. It almost makes him look lethal, as though he’s trying to be imposing, or like he’s portraying himself to be. A snake in tall grass or an alligator hiding in the reeds. 

Stede’s known vile people in his life, probably more than his fair share. He’s learned their tactics and their ways, and he’s learned to adapt to them for survival. People like that, Stede knows their bite like he’s still got their teeth in his flesh.

But Ed’s not like them. Not even a little bit. He’s kind and sweet and smiles like it tastes good on his tongue to do so. He’s wearing the clothes of a wolf, but has the temperament of a lamb. 

Stede unties the cravat around his throat and holds it out to Ed before he can convince himself not to. 

Ed looks down at it, then he feels it between his fingers. He likes textures. 

Another piece. 

“S’nice,” he says. “You just wanted to show me your necktie thing?” 

“I’m giving it to you.” 

Ed’s face slowly cracks open into a soft smile. “Mate, you gotta stop giving me all your clothes.” 

“This is the last thing,” Stede promises. “It would just look nice with what you’re wearing, is all. And if you’re going to wear it all the time, you could always add to it, at least. If you want.” 

Ed’s brows twitch upward a little. He almost looks like he’s in disbelief. It’s such a sweet expression that Stede thinks he could use it in place of sugar in his tea. “You mean it?” 

“Of course. In fact, I insist.” He takes Ed’s hand and opens it up to place the cravat on his palm for him. He even seals the deal by curling his fingers toward it. 

Ed looks at it for a second, half a gasp slipping through his nose, then he reaches up to put it on himself. He gets it into place and goes to tie it, then hesitates. “I’ve never – how do I…?”

“Oh, of course. May I?” Stede gestures to it. 

Slowly, like he’s tempted to reach out instead, Ed lets his hands drop to his sides. He offers a minute nod. 

Stede fixes the ends of the cravat into place, then ties the whole ensemble together. He offers quiet instruction while he does, so that Ed can tie it on his own again later. The moment that the cravat has been successfully tied together, the realisation of their proximity hits Stede like a bus. He swallows thickly and steals a glance at his wrist, which is millimetres away from the place on Ed’s neck where his pulse would have once been. He withdraws his hands, doing his best to make it look natural. 

He smiles through the honey pooling in his belly. “Perfect,” he says. “Exactly how I’d pictured it.” 

Ed touches the cravat gently with his fingertips. “Wish I could see it,” he murmurs. 

Were you adored? 

“It looks wonderful,” Stede promises him. “It’s like it was made for you.” 

“Hmm. Another one.” 

Stede adds another cube of sugar. 

It’s quiet for several long seconds before Ed says, “okay. One more.” 

Stede adds it. “And what about milk?” 

“Fuck. I didn’t think we’d get this far.” 

“No turning back now, I’m afraid.” 

“Shit.” 

“It’s a tough question, I know.” 

“Uhh. Yeah, gimme a little bit.” 

“A little bit of milk.” 

“A tiny bit.” 

Stede pours it. Barely more than half a dollop. 

“Maybe a bit more,” Ed says, his eyes fixed on the cup and the milk jug like this some kind of lab experiment that’s about to go awry. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yep. Just the teeeeeniest, tiniest, little fly’s dick amount.” 

Stede snorts, which is enough to almost make him drop everything in his hands. He steadies his hold and pours exactly three more drops of milk into the teacup. “Verdict, captain?” 

Ed’s eyes snap up to him. “Hm. Looks good, captain.” 

Tentatively, Stede hands him his tea. Even more tentatively, Ed takes it and drinks. He lets it sit on his tongue for a moment, really savouring the flavour, then his eyes spark like fireworks. His brows lift. “Oh, shit.”  

“You like it?” 

“That’s beautiful,” Ed says as he dips his head for another sip. Stede’s eyes catch on the whiskers on his upper lip as they get caught in the tea. He’s not sure why his gaze won’t leave that particular spot. “Can’t believe I was drinking tea wrong this whole time.” 

“That’s the best part about it,” Stede says as he arranges his own cup. He has to tear his eyes away from Ed’s lips like they’re covered in glue. “You can have it any way you like. Admittedly, I’ve never seen anyone put seven sugars into it before.” 

“What’s the normal amount? Like, what, four or five?” 

Stede chuckles at him. “Most usually only have one or two.” 

“Oh. How many do you have?” 

“I don’t have any sugar.” 

Ed’s face curls into one of mild disgust. “That sounds gross, man.” 

Stede laughs at him again, then lifts his cup of tea to his lips and has a long drink. It’s delicious; perfectly steeped and hot, and the rich kind of black tea that’s not overwhelming in flavour. He smiles as it warms his chest. 

They’ve brought the tea arrangement to what Ed called the capstan. He said that this is where the anchor would be raised and lowered if the ship had one. In this case, though, it’s a suitable enough table. The planks are still wet underfoot, but they’re drying quickly in the late morning sun. There’s not a cloud left in the sky, like the rain never happened at all. 

Ed manifests a tray of baked goods to share, and Stede helps himself to a croissant. It’s a pleasant kind of morning, all things considered. It’s strange and wonderful at the same time. 

They’re still talking about hot drinks (Ed is almost exclusively a hot chocolate kind of guy, but he could be persuaded to drink coffee if it’s drowning in sugar much like his tea, and covered in all the trimmings) when another ship slowly idles up to their starboard side. 

As it makes its approach, Ed sets down the danish he’d been eating and leans closer to Stede to almost whisper. “Y’know, it’s weird for this to happen this often.”

Stede frowns. “You did say it was rare.”

“Yeah. Really rare. I used to only ever get to talk to others every couple of months, give or take. Now we’ve had two in a couple days.” 

Stede hums thoughtfully and keeps his eyes on the approaching vessel. It’s remarkably well-kept. “Do you think it has anything to do with me being here?” 

“‘Dunno. Could just be a weird coincidence.” 

“I suppose. Should I — hide?”  

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” 

“But what if this person thinks I’m—” a freak, an outcast, a vagrant, an unwanted and unloved nobody. A mistake. “An error that needs to be corrected?” 

Ed touches his arm gently. “So what if they do? What are they gonna do about it?” 

Take me away. Keep us apart. “Well. Nothing, I guess.” 

“You can go below deck if that feels safer,” Ed says as he begins to wander to the starboard rail of their ship. “But, mate, we’re gonna be here for the rest of time. I dunno if you want to spend your whole afterlife in hiding.” 

Stede worries his bottom lip for a second. He glances at the stairs that lead down. It’s dark through the door and the sun is so bright, and Ed is standing by the rail, waiting patiently for Stede. 

He takes his place beside him. When he does, Ed claps him on the shoulder with relief. 

At last, the soul on the approaching ship appears. It’s housing a blond man with long hair that’s bald on the top. He’s got some wiry facial hair and wild eyes – not crazy , necessarily, but certainly wise beyond comprehension. He tilts his nose up to look down at Ed and Stede. “Avast ye.” 

“Hey mate,” Ed says politely. “How’re you travelling?” 

His eyes dance between both of them. “There’s two of ye?” 

Ed nods. “Yup. Two of us.” 

Stede feels like he could melt into the floor. 

“Hmm. Never happened before,” the man says. “M’name is Buttons.” 

“I’m Ed.” 

“Stede,” he calls over the gap. “Nice to meet you.” 

Buttons eyes them down. Assessing. Pondering. “You’s are headed to the next life, then?” 

Stede frowns. He flicks his gaze up to Ed to see if he knows what that means, but — oh, he looks just as confused as he feels. 

“Next life?” Stede asks. He stands a little bit taller. 

“Aye. The beyond.” Buttons gestures out to the fleets surrounding their ships and the sky past them. “Next life. Reincarnation, they call it.” 

Stede’s mouth falls open. 

“I’ll be a bird in the next life. A seabird. What are ye hoping for?” 

“Wait, hold on a sec.” Ed holds up a gentle hand. Buttons stands remarkably still. “You — there’s something after this?” 

Buttons frowns. “‘Course there is. Didja think you were just gon’ta stay in the Gravy Basket forever?” 

Gravy Basket? Is this guy out of his gourd? 

“Well, yeah, I think so,” Ed admits, glossing over the term ‘Gravy Basket’ like it makes complete sense to him. “Been here for-fucking-ever. Didn’t think anything else happened.” 

“Takes some time, aye. I’ve been here for the better part of a hundred years. M’time is comin’ soon.” 

“For — reincarnation?” Stede asks. 

Buttons eyes him closely. “Aye. For me next life, where I will be resurrected as a seabird. Like I told you.” 

Stede looks up to Ed again to gauge the situation, and he looks terribly concerned. This must be a shock to his system. 

“How do you know it’s gonna happen soon?” Ed asks.

“I can feel it,” Buttons says simply. 

No one speaks for a long minute. Ed runs a hand through his hair. The ends of his cravat flap in the breeze. “Fuck.” 

“Ye seem like you’re on the right track, though,” Buttons says. It’s like he’s trying to use a soothing kind of tone usually reserved for a panicking child, but he can’t quite conjure it right. “You’ll both get to where ye need to be.” 

“But — there’s two of us here,” Stede says. “How will that work?” 

Buttons strokes his chin contemplatively. “You’re a different kind of case, true. I imagine ye will reincarnate at the same time, though. Like — soulmates, but a step further.” 

Stede’s back goes rigid. Soulmates? He looks at Ed again, who’s gone completely still. 

“Ah, you two haven’t got that far yet,” Buttons says, looking between them. “That’s alright. It’ll happen.” 

Stede feels panic swell in his chest like a balloon inflating. “Wait, I don’t — I don’t understand.” 

Buttons’s ship begins to pick up its pace and pull him away, almost like it’s punishing him for spilling some divine secret. “Oop, looks like the wind has plans for me, aye?” 

“How will we know?” Stede calls as he moves forward. “When it’s about to happen, how are we going to know?” 

Buttons grins, a bit like a genius and a bit like a maniac. “Yer heart will start to beat!” 

And then the wind gives his ship a furious push, and he’s too far. He’s gone.  

The stone in Stede’s chest remains perfectly still. 

“How do we know he was even telling the truth?” 

“We don’t,” Ed says.

They’re in the rec room now, completely devoid of anything that’s distinctly theirs, just a room on a ship with candles flickering away on the walls. Ed is in the middle of the room, pacing lines back and forth, while Stede sits on the stairs and watches him fret. 

“He could be lying?” he suggests. 

“Seems like a weird thing to lie about.” 

“Well, yes, maybe. But he also seemed a little — eccentric.” 

“Eccentrism doesn’t make you a liar, Stede.” 

“I know that. I’m just trying to take everything into consideration here.”

Ed doesn’t say anything. He paces, bites his thumbnail, thinks. 

“Hey, so what if we get reincarnated?” Stede asks after some time. “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“What, do you want to just stay here forever?” 

Ed stops pacing. He looks at Stede for a long time. Stede looks back. He doesn’t let his gaze falter. 

“I… I guess not. I’m not sure,” Ed says. 

“Talk it through with me,” Stede suggests gently. He taps the step beside him. 

Ed sighs. It’s such a beautiful and complex sound. Stede doesn’t know why he’s so fascinated by it, anyway. It’s just breathing. 

He shuffles aside to allow Ed space as he sits down. When he does, he fidgets with one of the buttons on his leather pants. “I dunno, man. I think it’s ‘cause I’ve been here so long, y’know? I’ve gotten used to it. It was so boring before and so dark all the fuckin’ time, but now…” 

He trails off. Stede bumps their sides together gently. “But now…?” 

“Stede, you just got here.” 

If he had any breath, Stede’s sure he’d be holding it. His brows turn upward instead. 

“A few days ago, I would’ve been fuckin’ stoked to know that there was something else after this,” Ed continues. “I was going crazy before you showed up. But now it’s fun. I haven’t had this much fun in years.” He thinks about it for a second. “I haven’t had fun like this since way before I fuckin’ died. Or, maybe ever.” 

Stede’s brows shoot upward. “Oh.” 

Ed’s eyes are so gentle and so sweet, shining in the low candlelight. “I don’t want that to end. And, man, I dunno about you, but my life was hard. It was fuckin’ exhausting. This, though? It’s been so… easy.”

Stede lets that sit on the step between them for some time. It feels so good to hear. A few days ago he’d been so worried that he was unwelcome here, that he was crossing some kind of unknown boundary. 

It’s so nice to know that he’s wanted. 

He almost asks the burning question that’s lingering in the air. So, we’re soulmates? He opens his mouth to say it, but closes it when he can’t find his courage. He clears his throat instead and asks, “so, your heart doesn’t beat, either?” 

Ed shakes his head. “Nah. That’s a living thing.” 

“And what about breathing?” 

He frowns. “You still can’t?” 

“Not at all. I wish I could.” 

“Oh. Weird.” 

“Why’s that weird? When did you start breathing?” 

Ed thinks about it for a second. His eyes flick over the bottom step while he ponders it, and Stede watches, admiring his lashes and the end of his nose and the way his cheeks lift when he turns and looks at him. He’s smiling. Stede smiles too. 

“When you got here,” he says at last, in a voice that sounds like silk. “I started breathing the day you showed up.” 

They end up on the deck once more as soon as Ed decides that he needs some air. It only makes sense, considering that he can actually use his lungs. 

By the time they step outside again, the sun has completely disappeared. The night sky overhead is a dense black and completely overcome with stars. It’s like the Milky Way, but more vibrant and colourful. The moon, hanging low over the sea, is in its third quarter phase; a perfect half-moon casting its pall across the clouds and sea. 

Now that the deck is dry, Ed finds a spot on the forecastle and lies down there on his back. He folds his hands together across his chest and turns his eyes up to the stars. 

Stede stands still by his side for a second. 

Ed looks up at him. “You comin’ down?” 

“I’m invited?” 

“You’re invited.” 

“Then it would be rude to decline,” Stede says, and he gets on his knees. He lies down until his body is facing the opposite direction, but his head is lying side-by-side with Ed’s. They look up together. 

The cosmos seems to be breathing, too. He listens to Ed’s lungs work and wishes with everything he has that he could join them both, that he could share this air with them. 

“So,” Ed says. 

“Hmm?” 

“What do we do now?” 

Stede laces his fingers together across his belly. “You said it yourself.” 

He can almost hear him frowning. “I did?” 

“‘What can we do?’” 

“Ah. Yeah, I did say that.” 

“A few times.” 

“Yeah. Shit.” 

Stede giggles. “I think it’ll be alright.” 

“I don’t…” Ed sighs. “I don’t know, Stede.” 

“It’s kind of exciting, isn’t it?” He tilts his head to look at Ed. “Another shot at life?” 

There’s a long and heavy pause. Ed doesn’t answer. 

“I know you don’t want to lose this just yet,” Stede continues. “Neither do I. But I think that means we ought to cherish the time that we have, right? I can’t speak for you, but I didn’t do much living in my life.” 

Ed shakes his head a little. “I didn’t either.”  

“So, there’s nothing stopping us from catching up while we’re here. All we have is time, a boat, and each other — I think that’ll be enough. And then, in the things that come next, who knows what could happen? Who knows what we’ll be, or what we’ll accomplish. We could be anything. Anyone. I think that’s exciting.” 

He turns to look at him again to find that Ed is watching him. His eyes are wide and shining with unshed tears. His breath has stopped, and the stars above have gone still with it. 

Time doesn’t pass normally here. Stede knows this. Being in Limbo is like existing in a bubble that’s suspended high above the earth. This moment, though, is like a bubble within that bubble. Stede feels like if he speaks, it’s going to burst, and they’re going to both be sent hurtling downward. 

But he wants to speak. He wants to ask an unlimited number of things. 

Were you loved? 

“What would you do differently?” Ed asks. 

“Oh, almost everything, I think,” Stede says with a half-hearted chuckle. “Wait, no, that’s not right. If I could do it again, I’d still have my kids. I’d just make more choices for me. Be a bit braver. A bit wiser, too.” He smiles at the thought. “What about you?” 

“Hmm. I think I’d do this more.” 

Stede raises a brow. “Lie on your back and look at the stars?” 

He laughs. “That too. I meant talking. I didn’t do enough of that.” 

Tell me everything, Stede thinks. Tell me the things you told no one else. Every gruesome or ugly detail, every asinine or boring half-complete thought. I want it all.

“Well, I have some good news for you,” is what he says instead. 

“Do you just?” 

“I do just.” 

Ed snorts. “Alright. Hit me with it, Mr. Good News.” 

Were you adored? 

Stede’s tempted to roll onto his side, but he resists the urge. Something tells him not to, a little voice whispering instructions to him from the dark. 

“We have all the time in the world,” he says. His voice is soft with a wonder that he hasn’t felt in all his life. “Until that day comes where we move on — if that day ever comes — we can do whatever we like. And I, for one, love to listen.” 

Ed chuckles, a gorgeous sound that rings from his chest to meet the stars above. “So you’re just gonna listen to me babble on about bullshit for the rest of time?” 

“I can think of no better way to spend the afterlife.” 

He laughs again. It sounds twice as wonderful every time. 

“You know what? Me either,” Ed says, his smile still hugging his voice. 

You will be.

Chapter Text

“Are you tired?” Ed asks. 

They’re still lying on their backs and watching the stars. Neither of them are brave enough to move. 

“Not at all.” 

“Good.” 

“That’s a good thing?” 

“Remember how I said that asking shit about your previous life was a taboo? Like how you died and stuff?” 

Stede nods despite Ed not looking at him. “I recall.” 

“Fuck that.” 

“Oh?” 

“I wanna know.” 

“You want to know about how I died?” 

“I want to know all of it,” Ed says. He sits up and his hair falls around his face. “We’re here together for the foreseeable future, mate. For a really long time, probably. Fuck the rules and protocols and shit, we started breaking the rules the second you showed up on my ship. I think we should know each other a bit better.” 

Stede sits up as well. His eyes dart to the perfect cravat that Ed’s still got tied around his throat, then back up. “I must confess that my life was rather — uninteresting.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“It’s true, miserably enough.” 

“Stede, I refuse to believe that your life was fuckin’ uninteresting.” He crosses his legs like he’s getting ready for a lesson. “Not when you have all this crazy knowledge about flowers and when you like fancy clothes and tea and nice things. Not when you’re so interesting. You’re a lunatic, mate. S’why I like you so much.” 

So much. So much. So much. The words melt on Stede’s tongue like juice from a perfectly ripe fruit. “Oh. That’s… that’s very nice, actually.” 

Ed’s mouth curls into a playful smile. “If you’re not ready to talk, though, that’s fine. We can take this slow. We have all the time in the world, just like you said.” 

“No, I’m happy to talk about my life,” Stede says. “I just don’t want it to be disappointing.” 

“It won’t. I promise.” 

The stars shimmer overhead, trembling in place, like they’re waiting for something. They’re excited, eager for hearts to be poured out and blood to be spilled. 

“Let’s make a game of it,” Ed says. 

“Ooh, alright.” 

“We can take it in turns. Talking about this stuff is hard, y’know? Maybe this will make it more fun and less… scary as fuck. I’ll tell you a fact, then you tell me one, and we go back and forth.” 

A delighted and shrill voice from the depths of Stede’s chest cries out in glee. More pieces! More pieces for me to keep!

“That does sound fun,” Stede says. “You first?” 

Ed nods, then hums while he thinks. He looks down at his hands, then points to the snake on his arm. “I got this tattoo done in a bar by some random guy. He charged me ten bucks for it, and it hurt like a bastard. It’s one of my favourite tattoos.” 

Stede grins and holds onto that piece of information with both his gentle hands. “It’s beautiful. He did a wonderful job for ten dollars.” 

“I think so. Okay, your turn.” 

Stede looks around. His eyes flick across the ship, trying to inspire something about himself. He’s not sure what makes this particular fact jump forward. “I went to boarding school.” 

“Shit, really?” 

“I did. And I hated every minute.” 

“Is that why you make your bed perfectly every time you get up?” 

He smiles. “It is. It’s a habit they really instil in you there.”

“Ah. Good to know. What was it like?” 

“It was…” Stede searches for the words. “Harsh. Strict.” He thinks about his peers, about those godforsaken Badminton boys. He thinks about flowers and rocks. “I wouldn’t send my children to boarding school, let’s put it that way.” 

Ed’s brow creases. “Hmm.” 

Stede slaps his thighs, queuing for a subject change. “Your turn.” 

“I, uhh. Um.” 

Stede waits patiently. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve talked about myself,” Ed admits at last. “I think I forgot how.” 

“It’s alright, take your time. I’m not going anywhere.” 

The little smile he receives for that comment feels like a reward. He treasures it like one. 

When Ed still can’t think of anything to say, Stede makes a suggestion. “Would it help if I asked questions instead?” 

“You have questions?” 

“I have a ridiculous amount of them.” 

“Oh. Yeah, that — that’s a good idea. Go ahead.” 

Stede beams. Finally. “Did you play music when you were alive too?” 

“Nah, that started here. I just taught myself.” 

Stede’s brows shoot up. “You taught yourself to play all these instruments?” 

“All I had was time,” Ed says with a shrug. “I didn’t have anyone to talk to or anything to fucking do. If I didn’t focus my energy on something, I was gonna lose my mind. It started with the piano, then the guitar, then I moved on to cello and violin and lyre. A bunch of things.” 

“Wow,” Stede says. “That’s incredible. I’d love to hear you play some more.” 

“Sure,” Ed says with a smile. “Yeah, I’ll play for you whenever you want.” 

All the time. Let this place be filled with music when my life was so lacking in your melody. 

“Can I ask you something?” Ed says. 

“Of course you can. Anything.” 

“It’s, uh. It’s kinda sensitive.” 

“I love sensitive.” 

He chuckles, then clears his throat. “You… the other day, you said that you abandoned your family.” 

“Ah.” Stede fidgets with the end of his sash belt, keeping his eyes low. “Yes, I did say that.” 

“I’ve been thinking about it a bit. Does that mean that you, uhm…” Ed chews his bottom lip for a second. “Does that mean you chose to come here? Y’know, punched your ticket early?” 

Stede’s gaze snaps back up. “Pardon?” 

“Ah shit, never mind, I’ll shut up. Sorry, that was a stupid question, don’t answer that—”

“You—” Stede swallows, then lowers his voice into a whisper. “You think I took my own life?” 

“You, uhh. You didn’t?” 

“Fuck no!” he says with a laugh. He doesn’t know why, it’s not even a little bit funny, but laughter spills from him anyway. “That’s what you thought I meant?” 

“Yeah, wh-… well, what the fuck else was I meant to think, man?” 

Stede’s still laughing. “No, you’re right. I was being cryptic. That’s the natural conclusion for you to come to. Oh, I should have made myself more clear. I apologise.” 

“If you didn’t kill yourself, then what the fuck did you mean?” 

Stede wants to sigh. “It’s a long story. And it’s quite sad, I’m afraid.” 

“I can do long and I can do sad. All we have is time, Stede.” 

“Quite right. Okay, I’ll spill my guts. In exchange, you spill yours. I want to know your story, Ed. Deal?” He holds out his hand. 

Ed shines. He takes Stede’s hand and shakes it firmly, then lies back down on his back. Stede does the same beside him. 

“You got a deal. Let’s introduce ourselves – properly this time.” 

My name is Stede Bonnet. 

I was forty-nine years old when I died. 

I led a privileged life. Born to a tyrant, money-hungry father and an absent mother. My father owned a big-name oil company on an international scale. A monopoly company. We were very well off. I never wanted for anything, really. I never went hungry. I didn’t have to fight for the things I had, I just had them. I suppose, as sad as it sounds, I wanted a normal life with a normal family, but that was the one thing we couldn’t have. The one thing money couldn’t buy. 

I was sent to boarding school when I was quite young. My father feared that I ‘lacked discipline’ and thought sending me away would whip me into shape, so I spent a large portion of my youth alone. I can’t recall ever having any friends – no good friends, at least. Parting acquaintances at most. 

The boys I went to school with were… unpleasant. I think they saw in me the same kind of unknown evil trait that my father did. They made sure that I knew it too, like it was their job to tell me that there was something wrong with me. And I suppose I believed them. I didn’t want to but, well, what other choice did I have?

I was made to marry as soon as I graduated. My father insisted, and with the amount of power the man had, I could do nothing but oblige. He said a whole lot of nonsense about heirs and heritage and legacy that I didn’t really care about. I wanted to get married, sure, but I wanted it to be on my terms. I thought I’d get to choose who I married, at least. I wanted to fall in love. In hindsight, I should have known that would be too great a request. 

Her name was Mary and she was absolutely wonderful. I think if I loved her, our lives would have been a lot easier. A lot happier. And I think one of my greatest regrets will always be that I couldn’t. I wanted to. I… well, I tried.

We had our daughter Alma first and oh, she was so beautiful. Just perfect. At first, I found it hard to believe that she’d even come from me, she was so perfect. But she had. I loved being a father. I don’t think I was any good at it, really. It was hard, but I loved every minute. 

Mary and I, we both tried to make the love happen between us, I think. We tried for years. For Alma, for us. We loved each other, sure, but not in the way we both needed. She was more like a very dear friend to me. But all that we could do was keep trying, so we did. 

We had our son Louis a few years later, who was also perfect. My father was long dead by that point, thank god. I inherited the company, which I’m sure would have made him sick, and the work made me completely miserable. It was just day after day of the same monotonous nonsense that meant nothing. The same pattern over and over again. 

I can’t recall the moment that Mary and I gave up on whatever it was we were trying to have. Somewhere along the way, we both just… stopped. 

Life went on, but I didn’t feel like I was really a part of it, you know? I was just watching it happen. I wasn’t participating in it. The kids started to grow, but I was never around because of work. I think they all resented me for it, and I don’t blame them. Not at all. I resented my father for the same reasons. Well, that, and he was a bastard besides. 

I don’t remember what it was that made me leave. It was right after Mary and I celebrated our anniversary. I just – in the middle of the night. I wasn’t brave enough to say goodbye or tell them that I was going. I couldn’t even tell them that I loved them to their faces, but loving them was all that I did. I think that love is what made me leave. I thought they’d be better off without me. 

That’s what I meant when I said that I abandoned them. I wasn’t being hyperbolic about it, Ed. I ran. 

I’ve always been in love with the outdoors, I think. Bugs, plants, wildlife, that sort of thing. I’d always felt very welcomed by it, so when I needed a place to run to, I could only think of going somewhere that was very green, somewhere full of life. I left my family the majority of my wealth, hired someone else for my role in my father’s company, and I disappeared. I wanted to travel the world, just to see what I’d been missing all that time. I think I just had to make a choice. I’d never been given one before. 

I never even got the chance to find whatever it was that I was looking for. I died so soon into my journey. All for a damn bird. It was beautiful, of course, but I don’t know if it was worth dying for. 

A Greater Bird-of-Paradise, I think it was. I wasn’t trained in climbing, and I was travelling on my own, and I was wearing a suit, of all things, and… you know, saying it out loud is making me realise just how embarrassing this really is. 

I fell out of a fucking tree. That’s how my ordinary life met its mediocre conclusion. I fell out of a goddamned tree while trying to get a look at a stupid bird. It’s alright, you can laugh. It’s hilarious. I must have gotten pretty high, because I can remember the fall very clearly. It felt like it took forever to make it to the jungle floor. I don’t even remember it hurting, I just remember my heart trying to beat out of my chest. I remember being scared.

But, honestly, dying wasn’t even all that bad. But this guilt, I don’t know what to do with it. I never said goodbye to my kids. I didn’t get the chance to tell them that I loved them one last time. Even if they didn’t hear me, they needed to know that they were loved. I hope they know now. 

The culmination of everything I am or ever was – this is it. That was my life. 

And then it ended. 

And then I — well, then I met you.  

My name is Edward Teach. 

I was forty-eight years old when I died. 

I grew up really poor. The poverty kind of poor, where you gotta choose between turning the heater on and eating for the week. Most of the time we went cold and hungry, ‘cause we couldn’t afford either. 

My mum worked hard to support us. She was a maid for some rich folks in town who didn’t care about who she was or where she came from. My dad was a drunk. A useless, lazy, backwash piece of shit. He was… angry. Violent. My mum did what she could to make our house a home, but all her efforts never lasted long. Not while he was around. 

I… left. Ran away. It was the only way out I could think of. I was fourteen. 

So I just picked up any odd job I could from then on. I finished school in any town I stayed long enough in, just bits and pieces at a time. In some places, I was balancing two or three jobs while still going to school during the day. You know, I don’t actually know how I pulled that off. I think I was probably doing it a lot worse than I realised it at the time. I survived it somehow. 

I started running with a bad crowd when I was about eighteen. They thought I was cool as hell, you know? ‘Cause I ran away from home, and I was doing things on my own, they thought that was tough shit. I hated it. I didn’t want to be tough shit. I wanted a family. I wanted a goddamn hug every once in a while. I dunno. 

The people I hung out with most – I don’t think they were ever really my friends. They didn’t know me at all. I started doing stupid shit ‘cause I was a stupid kid, and they all fucking worshipped me for it. It was fun at first, but it dried up so quick, and then I just started hating it.

These people never lasted too long, anyway. I kept jumping from place to place, and every time I left, I’d leave the people too. It never made much of a difference to me. 

By the time I hit my thirties, I started slowing down. I got really into cars and fixing them up, so I stopped in a place for a good couple of years. A nice little coast side town with lots of beaches and cliffs and stuff. Really pretty place. I hadn’t stayed in one spot for years since I was a kid. It was a nice change. I worked as a mechanic for a little while, I think that was the longest job I had. More friends that didn’t know who I was, but at least these guys didn’t worship the ground I walked on. They were good enough company. 

But, fuck, I was so lonely all the time. I tried reaching out, but no one understood me. Not really. I tried to make them understand me, but it never fuckin’ worked. The loneliness just got more lonely. I’d go home to my apartment every night by myself, eat at my favourite diner by myself, take my cars for long rides by myself. Every time I drove, I’d picture a handsome guy in the passenger seat and, shit, it only made things worse. 

Eventually, things just got boring. The place I was staying lost its charm, the job I was doing stopped being fun or even interesting. The people stopped looking me in the eye. 

I decided to move, find whatever it was that I was missing, but I needed more cash to do it, so I picked up another job doing night shifts. It was crappy work for shitty pay, but every cent was going toward a new start, so I just kept working. Seven days a week, morning to morning.

But, y’know, when you get older, you can’t do the same shit you used to when you were young. I didn’t have as much energy anymore. 

It was raining the day I died. I don’t remember much past that because I was so bone-tired.

I was driving to my first job from a shift at my second job. I remember driving past my favourite diner and thinking that I could stop for a coffee and that it might help, but if I did then I’d be late and… I didn’t. I just kept going. 

I don’t remember falling asleep, but I sure as shit remember waking up when my car hit the water. The thing about cars is that they’re heavy as fuck. My seatbelt was still on and the car was sinking like a fucking stone, and I was stuck inside. I can still hear the sounds that the engine was making, but I can’t remember what I was thinking. I think I was worried about the imaginary handsome man in the passenger seat. I guess I didn’t want him to die alone. Like I was. 

And then I showed up here. For the longest time, I stayed alone. I died in a cold as fuck, dark as fuck ocean, and it felt like it just stayed that way when I got to the afterlife. I couldn’t even breathe. For the first hundred years, it was just me and the sound of that stupid engine trying to push the water out of its pipes. A hundred years of drowning. 

That was my life. That’s how it ended. 

And then… 

Then you showed up. 

We know who you are. We knew you in the last life, and we will know you in the next. You’ve never been alone. We’ve always been here with you. 

You need not wonder. You’ve always been adored. 

After all, it’s what you were made for. 

Stede’s eyes are closed while he listens. He’s focused so intently in absorbing all that Ed is, all that he was, all that he’d ever hoped to be. The stars would be too distracting, so he made them disappear. 

He allows himself one quiet moment to put all those perfect pieces into place. In the stillness behind his eyes, without the stars or the wind or the noise, Stede collects all the aspects of Edward Teach that he can, and he holds onto them tightly. 

He holds on for dear life. 

When he finally opens his eyes, he looks at the sky first. Remarkably enough, it doesn’t interest him as much as it should. The boundless cosmos, breathing, shifting and shining overhead, watching them both lie underneath its expanse with its loving gaze – no. Not nearly interesting enough. 

Stede looks to his left. 

Ed has already turned. He’s looking at him too. 

The silent breeze rushes past like it’s trying to stir them into conversation. It picks up a lock of Ed’s hair and tosses it across Stede’s face, which makes him start giggling like an idiot. He bats the hair out of the way, but it’s already too late, he’s laughing with his whole chest and Ed’s laughing by his side. 

It feels like the stars have dropped from the heavens to join them on their ship to nowhere. It feels like they’re celebrating something.

When Stede can make words come out, he rolls onto his side. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Edward Teach.”

“You too, Stede Bonnet.” 

Stede just smiles. Something about his name. Something more about Ed’s voice being the sound that carries it. “Can I ask you a question?” 

“Sure,” Ed says softly. Velvet. Cream and sugar. “Fire away.” 

“You might think I’m crazy.” 

“I like you because you’re crazy.” 

“Yes, well. Crazier, then.” 

“Ask your question, you fuckin’ maniac,” Ed says through more laughter. He reaches up to give Stede’s shoulder an affectionate tap. “The crazier, the better.” 

“Alright,” Stede resigns. “Well… Do you think that Buttons was maybe right? But – not in the way he thinks? About reincarnation, I mean.” 

Ed thinks about it for half a second. “Hmm. So, you think that Buttons is maybe on the right track, but… maybe it’s not just a new life that he’s going to.” 

“It could be a whole new universe.” 

There’s a brief pause. 

“You’re right,” Ed says.

“Oh, I – shit, really?” 

“Yeah. I do think you’re crazy.” 

“Bastard,” Stede says through a laugh. He sits up at last and pushes some of his hair out of his eyes. 

Ed sits up with him. “That wasn’t your question, though.” 

“How could you tell?” 

“I dunno. Just can. Ask me what you really wanna ask me.” 

“I mean, it couldn’t hurt, seeing as you’ve already dubbed me as utterly insane.” 

“Oh yeah, mate. Completely nuts.” 

“Absolutely bonkers.” 

“Round the bend entirely,” Ed says with a bright grin. His teeth spark in the starlight, like a shark in the sea, though he’s as gentle as the waves. “C’mon. Out with it.” 

Stede looks to the sky. “If other universes are real, then… Do you think we’re friends in other lifetimes too?” 

He knows that Ed’s watching him. He knows his breath has stopped again, too. 

“I hope so,” Ed whispers. Such a beautiful sound. Stede’s sure the breeze here would sound the same if it could announce its presence. “Yeah. I hope so.” 

“I wish we’d met in the last one.” 

Ed’s eyelids flutter. “Do you think we would have gotten along like this?” 

“We get along here, don’t we?” 

“Yeah, but–” he starts fidgeting with the ends of his cravat. “I… I wasn’t a good person, Stede.” 

Stede tilts his head. “I find that hard to believe.” 

Ed’s eyes search his face. They’re imploring. Begging. For what, Stede doesn’t know, but he reaches out and takes Ed’s hand anyway. He takes it before he can think better of it. 

“You told me only days ago that we don’t need to know our lives to figure out who we are. We only need this.” He points to the place where the stone sits in his chest, and then to the place where Ed’s would be. “I knew you were a good man before I knew your life, Ed. It feels like I’ve always known.” 

Ed’s completely still now, watching him with eyes that are round and wide. A small sound slips from his chest. A gasp, almost. 

“If you didn’t make the choices that you did, and if I hadn’t made mine, then we wouldn’t be here.” 

“We’d probably still be alive,” Ed says quietly. 

“Maybe. But I didn’t make my life count. This –” Stede gestures around them, at the ships, the sea, the clouds. He gestures to Ed’s heart. “This feels like it matters.” 

Ed looks around. He still hasn’t taken his hand away. His fingers twitch like he wants to intertwine them with Stede’s, but he’s resisting the urge to do so. 

“Did you ever feel invisible?” he asks. 

Stede nods once. “Almost every day, I think.” 

“Me too,” Ed says. 

Some of the stars begin to snuff out overhead, like someone is going around and turning off all the lights in a crowded city. On the horizon, the colours begin to shift from a deep indigo to a gentle violet. 

They watch it in silence for a few minutes, waiting for something to happen. For the wind to change or the world to stop. Stede doesn’t drop Ed’s hand. He doesn’t ask if he should. 

At last, just like the dawn that’s blooming before them, Ed’s face warms into a smile. It’s as gorgeous as the sun. When his eyes swing to Stede, it makes him feel like the colour pink and cotton flowers.

“Hey,” Ed says. “I’ve got an idea.” 

This time, as they climb their way up the shrouds, Stede does his best to remember exactly where to put his feet, exactly which ropes to pull. He only has to ask for help a handful of times. He may be dressed like a pirate now, but that certainly doesn’t mean he remembers all the tricks of the trade. Not yet, at least. Perhaps that will come with time. 

They make it to the crow’s nest in one piece. The wind picks up, sending Ed’s hair flicking around him. His cheeks are warm in the pink and orange light of dawn. With a mischievous grin, Ed begins to climb on top of the railing that surrounds them. 

Stede’s mouth falls open. He holds out his hands in case Ed falls. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

Ed laughs. “You comin’?” 

“Up there?” 

“Highest spot on the ship,” Ed explains. He steadies his footing, then stands to his full height. He wobbles a little bit, spreading his arms for balance. “C’mon, you’ll be fine.” 

“What if we fall?” 

“Mate, we’re already dead.” 

“Won’t it hurt?” 

“Nothing hurts here.” 

“Not even your bad knee?” 

Ed scoffs. “That’s different. C’mon, I’ll help you.” 

He offers out his hand. Stede looks at it for a second, then peers over the railing to look at the drop. His gut turns. He didn’t know that they were this far up. 

But Ed waits for him patiently. He’s so excited. He’s like a painting. 

Stede takes his hand. 

“Fuck yeah,” Ed says in triumph. “I’ll haul you up. You trust me?” 

“With my life.” 

“Funny.” His voice is monotone. “Okay. One, two, three.” 

With a grunt, he hauls Stede onto the railing beside him. Stede makes an indignant wail as he tries to find his balance. He’s not proud of how panicked it sounds, but Ed doesn’t mock him, he doesn’t call him a coward, he doesn’t call him spineless. He just steadies his hold on him, keeps him safe. Even when Stede has both his feet on the railing, Ed doesn’t let him go. 

He keeps holding his hand. As tight as he can. He’s holding on for dear life, too.

Once they’re both up there, Ed laughs again like he’s thrilled. Stede is helpless but to laugh alongside him. The wind snakes down his throat and into his chest and tries to grant him air. 

“Follow my lead,” Ed says. 

Stede blanches. “What? Are we jumping? From here?” 

Ed just shakes his head. The smile won’t drop from his face. He turns towards the sun that’s creeping over the sea, towards the countless ships that disappear into the nothingness, to the clouds that swirl above and below and to the moon that refuses to sink for the day. 

He sucks in the biggest lungful of air that he can possibly manage. Stede watches his chest, watches his throat. 

Then, with all the power he has inside him, Ed screams as loud as he can to the sunrise. 

“I EXIIIIST!” 

Stede’s eyes fill with tears. The wind tugs at his clothes, and Ed’s cravat flails in the breeze. 

As soon as Ed’s done, he looks expectantly at Stede. 

He wants to do the same, to fill his chest with air and expel his promise to the world, but the air still won’t come. He doesn’t expand his lungs, but he screams as loud as he can anyway. 

He still tries. 

“I EXIST!” he calls over the land of the dead. 

Ed holds his hand tighter. He screams it again. Stede does the same. Back and forth, they announce their lives and who they were and who they will always be to nothing and no one in particular. They scream it until their voices are hoarse, until they’re no longer taking it in turns and instead shouting in tandem. 

As loud as they can. As loud, as honest, as assured as they can. 

Somewhere far below, farther down than can be seen, the sun begins to rise over a flourishing earth. 

All the way down there, at the crest of a new dawn and at the beginning of the world, two birds begin to sing. 

When they’ve had their fill, Ed watches the sunrise with his chest heaving and a broad smile on his face. 

Stede can’t look away from him. He wouldn’t dare. He’d rather die than miss that smile. 

When Ed turns to him, the sky bursts into new colours, like ink being dropped in water. Blues and purples and pinks and greens, each one blinding in its radiance and demanding attention. 

Stede still doesn’t look away from Ed. Ed doesn’t look away, either. 

He wobbles a little bit as the wind rushes past, so Ed finally drops from the railing and lands in the crow’s nest once more. Stede follows him, still holding his hand. 

The silent breeze swells around them, like it’s trying to pick them up and take them away. Trying to lift them to somewhere higher than this. 

There are so many grand and hopeful things wriggling for space in Stede’s chest that he’s not sure which idea he ought to be giving the spotlight. Once the first thought slots into place, more and more follow it until they’re coming in waves, until they’re unrelenting and demanding, until they can’t be ignored anymore. 

This is meant to be. This is by someone’s design. 

We’re supposed to find each other.

Realisation after realisation falls into place, each one more blissful and terrifying than the last. It starts as a whisper and swells into a crescendo loud enough to leave his ears ringing, but it’s singing a song he wants to play over and over again and the chorus sounds like his heart screaming the words: 

I’m in love with him. 

I fell in love before I even knew his name. 

“Ed?” 

He’s like morning dew and dappled sunlight. “Stede.” 

Stede squeezes his hand. He wants to give him all his thoughts, wants to open his chest and pour forth an ocean, wants to tell him that time ought to bend and twist to their will just to give them more of this, more of these boundless and perfect moments that belong to no one else.

But he keeps his vows behind his teeth instead. 

This is not a place for living things, after all. 

And this love that Stede’s got blooming like a forest inside him – it’s alive. It’s got a pulse and a heartbeat and hands that want to reach out and hold, and a smile with corners that deserve to be kissed. 

Two voices rise above the noise. The first comes from the stone in Stede’s chest, and in a patient whisper it says, love survives here, even at the end of all things. Love persists. It always will. 

The other comes from his head. This time, it’s a command. Wait and see. Let it be for a moment more. Give it time. 

Stede decides to offer Ed the closest thing he can to the truth. He thinks about rocks. He thinks about flowers. 

“I am so glad I showed up on your ship,” he says, meaning something else entirely. 

Ed’s smile is the most wonderful gift he could possibly receive in return. It’s better than treasure or adventure. He thinks he’d navigate any and every universe just to find it. 

“Me too, mate,” Ed says. “Yeah. I’m really glad you’re here.”

Chapter Text

Something in the air changes that night. When they retire for the evening – or well into morning by then – their room is still the same and their beds are still made and still separated by walls and curtains, but there’s something wildly different between them. 

It’s embers. Not yet a flame, but enough to leave a mark. 

There’s playful banter and gentle laughter between them as they get dressed and climb into their beds. It should be distracting enough, but all the while Stede aches to close the distance and climb into Ed’s bed alongside him. Just to hold him while he laughs and feel it with his hands, just to absorb the warmth on his skin. 

Instead, he lies on his back in his bed alone, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Even when the giggling finally stops, he stays awake and listens to the sound of Ed’s breathing. He waits for it to become gentle snoring like it has every night prior. 

But the snoring doesn’t come. It’s remarkably quiet. 

In the silence, Stede wrestles with his feelings like they’re trying to take bites of his flesh, like he can tame them if he tries hard enough. Maybe he just needs to be stronger to keep them in check. 

It’s Ed that whispers first. “Stede? You still awake?” 

“I am,” Stede whispers back. He’s not sure why they both feel the urge to be quiet when no one else is here with them.

“Can’t sleep?” 

“I’m having some trouble. You?” 

“Yeah, same here,” Ed says. 

Are you fighting with your feelings, too? Stede wonders. Because I feel like I’m throwing pebbles at giants on this side of the wall. 

He hums instead of vocalising his thoughts. He can hear Ed’s sheets rustling, like he’s rolling over. 

“I’ve been–” Ed starts, then cuts himself off. He pauses for a long time. “Never mind.” 

“I want to hear what you’re thinking.” 

“I’m not sure you do, man.” 

“I do. I promise,” Stede swears. He crosses over the stone in his chest, even knowing that Ed can’t see it. 

Ed goes quiet again, like he’s daring himself. “I’ve been thinking.” 

“Dangerous. About what?” 

Selfishly enough, Stede wants him to say that he’s thinking about him. 

“You,” Ed answers.

Oh, shit. 

Stede’s chest immediately feels like it’s about to collapse. He balls his blanket into his fists and draws it up over his pristine cotton pyjamas. “O-oh?” 

“I mean – your life,” he clarifies. “About everything that came before this.” 

“I see. Is there anything you want to know?” 

“I do have a question.” 

“Of course. Go ahead.” 

More rustling from Ed’s side, as though he can’t sit still. Like he wants to get up and move. “I know you and Mary didn’t love each other. Not like – not romantically, right?” 

“No,” Stede answers. “I think she was in love with someone else.” 

“Shit. Sorry.” 

“It’s alright. She deserves to have all the love in the world, even if it didn’t end up being with me. Was that your question?” 

“No, I just…” he sighs. “I wanted to know what it felt like.” 

Stede frowns. “Marriage?” 

“Love,” Ed corrects. His voice is small, but Stede still catches the perfect word like it’s tangible. 

“Ah. I see.” 

“So you never…?” 

I never found love because I never found you, Stede thinks. 

“No,” he answers gently instead. “And you didn’t either, I suppose?” 

More rustling. He’s shaking his head against the pillow. Stede wants so badly to get out of bed and join Ed on his side of the room, just to watch his face. To watch the way his mouth curls around the word ‘love’, to admire his jaw and his eyes for a little while longer. 

“That sucks,” Ed says at last. 

“It does.” 

It goes so quiet and so still that Stede thinks Ed’s fallen asleep. He waits for the snoring to start and, again, it doesn’t come. 

Stede speaks up before he can tell himself not to. “Well, there’s always next time.” 

He can hear Ed frowning. “‘Next time’?” 

“If Buttons is right after all, if there are more lives or worlds after this, then maybe we’ll find love in the next one.” 

More silence. Stede’s hope hangs in the air like the smoke from an extinguished candle. 

“What if I come back as – I dunno, a caterpillar, or something?” 

“Caterpillars fall in love too.” 

Ed giggles. “Do they?” 

“Of course they do. That’s why they turn into butterflies.”

“Ah, makes sense. ‘Cause love makes you colourful, right? Is that what you’re getting at?” 

Love makes you colourful. If that’s true, then Stede must be as radiant as the sky at dawn. He’s rain when it’s kissed by sunlight. “I think it’s more because love changes you,” he says at last. “It makes you braver.” 

Ed’s sheets move once more. It sounds like he’s sitting up, but Stede can’t be sure because he’s stuck on his bed, glued in place like a fly in a trap. He’d give anything to stand and round that corner, to look love in the face and tell him he’s braver now. Tell him he’s better than he’s ever been before. 

Small breaths come from Ed’s side of the room, a little bit rushed like his heart is going fast, though Stede knows it doesn’t move. “You, uh– you seem to know a lot about it for someone that never fell in love.” 

“I could say the same for you,” Stede says softly. 

“Guess so. Maybe I just thought about it a lot.” 

“So did I,” Stede says. “Yeah. Every day.” 

Ed sighs. It’s a loving sound. He lies back down, his sheets wrapping him in a kind embrace that Stede wishes was his own. “Well. Next time, then.” 

“Next time,” Stede agrees. 

The snoring never comes. 

It seems they’re both too busy fighting their way through the embers to find sleep. 

Stede opens his eyes.

It’s gotten dark out since he last had them open. Which, by his estimation, couldn’t have been more than a few minutes ago. He still hasn’t fallen asleep, but he’s been making a mockery of trying by squeezing his eyes shut and begging his mind to be quiet. 

It feels like a whole new month now that the moon is up again. A new year or a different era. 

He sits up, feeling completely unrested, but simultaneously like he never even needed sleep in the first place. The room is dark, but some lively candles flicker away in sconces on the walls. It’s homely in a very strange sense. It makes him feel like a ghost and a part of the ship itself at the same time. Grounded, yet displaced. 

He decides that sleeping is hopeless and shoves his blankets aside. He gets dressed in the moonlight, in more breeches and a flowy blouse and a nice vest to pair with it. It’s dark enough in the room that he can’t really tell if all the colours match. 

He hopes it’s colourful enough anyway. 

He tiptoes from his nook and glances through the curtains to Ed’s side, expecting to find him sleeping soundly. It’s gotten late – he thinks – so surely he’s drifted off by now. 

But Ed’s not in his bed at all. In fact, it’s been perfectly made. He must have already gotten up. Stede’s not sure how he did it so silently. He’s like a cat. 

Something catches Stede’s eye in Ed’s nook that makes him stop before he turns away. He takes a single step closer to inspect. 

It’s the ribbon that Stede gave him for winning the maze. It sits on the nightstand like it’s glad to do so. Right beside it, laid out lovingly, is a square of bright red silk. A collection of Ed’s favourite things, it seems. It looks like he’s finally ready to start making this space his own, one small piece at a time. 

Stede runs his hands down his front to smooth any creases in his clothes, then makes his way out of the captain’s cabin. 

He wanders through the ship aimlessly, as he often does. It’s become a morning routine of sorts. He doesn’t think he’s got enough courage to head to the deck just yet. Ed might be out there, and as much as he longs to see his smile, hear his voice, Stede’s still very much combatting all the feelings that are fighting for dominance inside him. He wants space to clear his head, get his thoughts in line. 

He wanders to what Ed called ‘the jam room’, expecting it to be empty. He thinks about putting some furniture in it, some lounges and some foot stools or something, but he stops short when he steps inside. 

A whole collection of instruments has been arranged here. There’s a tall grand piano in the middle of the room. Surrounding it, arranged on stands of their own, is an army of guitars, harps and lyres. Only when Stede is looking at them does he realise that they’re all string instruments. There’s a violin, a cello, a bass guitar, a banjo, a mandolin. There are instruments here that Stede doesn’t know the names of. 

Ed set up this room for himself. Another little piece slots into place. Stede makes only one change; he puts an opulent armchair in the corner. It’s got a tall back and has been laid with luxurious cushions. This one's for him, so that he can sit and listen. 

Before he leaves the room, he steps inside and runs his fingers over the piano keys gently. He doesn’t play any notes, just presses the places where Ed’s hands have once been. He thinks he does it because he wants to see if any of his warmth is still lingering there. 

He heads to the galley next and, much to his surprise, it’s been returned to its very ship-like state, complete with a dining area composed of wooden furniture, and a kitchen with cast-iron equipment. It smells remarkable here, like fresh bread and warm butter and sprigs of rosemary. Stede frowns, then peers through the window that looks into the kitchen. 

The flame beneath the stove has been extinguished, but the embers are still glowing, which means that Ed must have used it. This strikes Stede as rather odd – why not just imagine fresh bread? 

One of the delightful little pieces of the Ed Teach puzzle chimes like it’s been struck. 

He said that he always wanted to be a baker. 

Perhaps he’s using this time to indulge in a fantasy he thought he couldn’t have when he was alive. 

Stede feels like someone’s wringing him out. He’s nothing more than a wet towel. He swallows thickly, straightens his spine, then leaves the kitchen. 

His musings around the rest of the ship provide him no more thrilling information, and it makes his thoughts feel no less in order. He feels just as turned-around and sickly sweet as he did before, like honeysuckle flowers trying to look toward the sun and finding only clouds. 

He knows he’s in love, at least. Which is all well and good, but what the shitting hell does he do about it? 

He finds himself in the stores, pacing a large circle into the floorboards, biting his lip as he moves. He keeps his eyes fixed on his leather boots and he tries to make sense of everything – tries to make sense of anything – but there is only one certainty here and it’s this: 

He is dreadfully, wonderfully, totally and cataclysmically in love. The kind of love that keeps lives and the kind that takes them, too. 

And, yes, though he may not have ever found it when his heart still moved, he knows that this is it. The stone in his chest told him so. Love persists, it had said. It always will. Even Ed had said that they didn’t need to know about their lives to know about certainties. Who they are, that comes from somewhere deeper down. This love comes from that same knowing place. Stede didn’t need to know it in his past iteration or any iteration before that one, he knows it now, and that’s what matters. It’s just been lying dormant all this time, waiting for the perfect moment to erupt. 

Great. The molten rock is spilling down the face of the hill and plumes of smoke are spiralling into a blackening sky. It’s love. Perfect.

Now what?

Does he tell him? They have to spend forever together on this ship. Or, well, he thinks . It’s an indefinite tenure. Either way, the quarters are as close as they can get, and what if Ed doesn’t feel the same? Stede can imagine nothing worse. In fact, that particular scenario sounds like a nightmare. For a moment, he entertains the idea that maybe he slipped into hell when he died after all, and this is the devil’s delightfully evil concoction of a punishment for him – eternity on a beautiful boat on a beautiful sea with the most beautiful man that Stede’s ever seen, the man who could quite potentially be his soulmate, but said beautiful-potential-soulmate doesn’t feel the same way. 

He has to stop thinking about it rather quickly because the idea makes him feel a little bit nauseous. 

Well, that’s fine, then. He simply won’t tell him. 

It’s easier to love from the grand distance of two feet away than it is to open his ribs and bare his guts. Loving silently, wordlessly – he can do that. He’s sure that he can. 

If it means that he gets to stay here, then he’ll do whatever it takes. 

Stede thinks about the vow they made to the sky only yesterday. 

I exist. 

“Oh. Shit,” he says to himself aloud. He stops pacing abruptly. “Oh, shit.” 

How could he possibly make an oath to himself to keep quiet when he promised to Ed, to the sea and the clouds and the stars, that he was real? How could he possibly go back on his vow to honestly and brazenly exist? 

Just when he thinks he has all his ducks in a row, one of the stupid creatures goes and gets shot. 

Frustrated and hot under the collar, he leaves the stores. 

“There you are,” Ed says happily. “I made us some bread.” 

He’s in the garden. 

Stede falls in love with him so hard that it feels like being crushed. It’s agony, pure and blinding and brutal, but it keeps him so warm. 

Ed’s in a simple white apron, which he’s cinched around his waist. His hair is up in a delightful bun and he’s not wearing his leather jacket, leaving both his arms exposed from his t-shirt. He’s got smudges of flour on his cheeks and nose that Stede wants so badly to kiss off him, and his black cravat is hanging over his chest. 

Stede can’t even speak. If he does, he’s going to say something astounding and saccharine and it’s going to burn them both. 

“I hope you like rosemary,” Ed continues when Stede says nothing. “I put it on top ‘cause I like the crunch when it’s baked. I’ve also got some butter for – y’know, for buttering.” 

“For buttering,” Stede echoes. 

“Yeah. I wanted to eat it in the garden, and I thought you might already be here. I heard you get up.” 

“I see.” 

On a small lawn table that Stede placed in here the other day, Ed sets down his tray of fresh bread. His brow creases like he’s worried. “You okay?” 

Stede looks around at the garden. There’s something about it that he can’t quite place at the moment, a nagging feeling that’s trying to say more than it currently can. “Yes, I’m alright. Just… thinking.” 

“Ah. Sounds bad.” 

“No, it—” his eyes flick up and search Ed’s face. He loves every line. “No, it’s bad and good. I’m not sure how to explain it.” 

Ed nods solemnly, but doesn’t pry. Stede’s grateful that he doesn’t ask anything further. “Would bread help?” 

“I think it would,” Stede says. He takes a seat on one of the iron lawn chairs, lets his tension drop from his spine. “It looks wonderful. Smells amazing, too. I hope the galley smells like this bread forever.” 

Ed beams. “Yeah? Are you just sweet-talking me into making more for you?” 

“There are two more things you ought to know about me, Edward Teach,” Stede says playfully. “The first is that I love bread. The second is that I’m a selfish prick.” 

Ed laughs. “Ah, shit. That would have been good to know before.” 

“Before what?” 

“Before I fell—” he cuts himself off abruptly, then quickly retries his statement. “Before I fell... back into baking.” 

Stede’s brow creases. “You fell out of it?” 

“This is the first time I’ve made anything since I got here,” Ed says. His cheeks have grown dark. “I didn’t really think there was a point, y’know?” 

“Well. It seems that you’re going to have to make up for lost time,” Stede says. He takes a slice of the bread loaf before him and tears off a piece. “You could always teach me, if you felt so inclined.”

Another excuse to be close. To spend time. Another plea to be heard. I want to be with you always, please allow me this and nothing else. Stede puts the piece into his mouth to stop himself from spilling his feelings onto the table between them. 

The bread is perfect. Still warm, as soft as a cloud with a perfect crunch on the crust. It’s sweet and savoury and warms him like a hug. He closes his eyes to savour the taste. 

“You — you’d wanna learn?” Ed asks. His voice is soft. 

Stede takes another bite. “I want to learn how to make this immediately . Ed, this is incredible! Oh, it’s so fluffy. I’ve never had bread this good in my life. Or afterlife. Both.” 

Ed butters his piece before taking a bite. His teeth sink into the slice in a way that makes Stede feel like wood chips. He nods happily at it. “Yeah, s’good. Thank fuck. I was worried I’d forgotten how to make it.” 

“Once a baker has the recipe, it never leaves them,” Stede says with a grin. “A bit like a magician with secrets.” 

Ed takes another mouthful with a giggle. “But I was never actually a baker, mate. Just a guy with an oven and too much time on his hands.” 

Stede stops chewing midway through his mouthful. His eyes dart around the garden. 

He looks at Ed. 

He deserves every wonderful thing he’s ever hoped for and more.  

“I think we could make that happen,” he says. “Come with me. I have an idea.” 

Stede walks into the rec room, stands in the centre, spreads his arms and turns dramatically. “Ta-dah!” 

Ed steps in after him, still wearing his apron. He’s got most of his slice of bread in his hand, which he munches on absently. He raises a brow as he walks into the room, which remains entirely unchanged. “The rec room?” 

“Oh, you’ll have to forgive the state of things,” Stede says as he looks around. “We’re currently undergoing some renovations.” 

Ed stares at him for a second. “You wanna renovate this room?” he asks. He puts the last of his bread into his mouth, then dusts his hands on his apron. “Sure, whatever you want, man. Hey, you mentioned the movies the other day, you could turn it into a cinema—”

Stede loves him. Oh, how he loves him. It hurts. “Not for me. I’ve had my fill. It’s your turn.” 

“Huh? But I've got the diner sometimes, and I even put some instruments in the jam room a few hours ago.” 

“I did see those.” 

“See? I’ve got heaps of space. All that I need.” 

“But you’ve never had your own bakery, have you? Just like you wanted?” 

Ed stands perfectly still, his eyes wide. His chest flutters. 

“You can make it exactly how you’d always pictured it,” Stede continues. “You can have those glass display cases and nice seating areas — you could even put those delightful little bells behind the door that chime when it opens! What do you think? I’ll even be your first customer.” 

His eyes snap to him at that, like he’s said some secret and ancient waking phrase. “Really?” 

“Yes! I’d be delighted.” 

Ed shakes his hands out, as though all his excitement has collected in his fingers and he has to set it free. His face cracks open into a perfect smile. “Okay. Yeah.” 

“Yes?” 

“Yeah. Yes, let me just—” he looks around rapidly, assessing the space, then his eyes return to Stede. “I wanna surprise you with it.” 

“Oh! You want me to—” he gestures to the stairway out. 

“I’ll call you when I’m done,” Ed promises. “Gimme twenty minutes. Half an hour, tops.” 

“You got it,” Stede says as he takes his leave. “I’m going to indulge in more rosemary bread until you’re done.” 

“We’re open for business!” Ed’s voice calls from deeper within the ship.

“Okay! I’ll find you in a moment,” Stede calls back. 

He wishes there was a mirror he could look into. He supposes that he will simply have to make do without. 

To fit in with Ed’s setting, Stede decided to dress appropriately. He thought he’d feel out of place in such a pirate-esque ensemble. What kind of pirate walks into a bakery? Not a good one, that’s for damn sure. 

He’s decided to opt for something a bit more ordinary, something he would have worn when he was alive. A smart, clean pressed suit in a deep navy, complete with a red pocket square. He chooses a purple tie to complete it, a large black overcoat, and a bold plaid scarf to tie everything together. His shoes are polished and clean. 

Maybe it’s too much, but it also seems like it’s too late to change his mind now. He wishes he could check his hair, at least. 

He reminds himself that this is for Ed, not for him. This outfit is just set dressing. 

He rushes from the captain’s cabin and hurries down the hall, following the sound of Ed’s summon, and comes to a stop at a wooden door that hadn’t been there twenty minutes ago. It’s a dark oak wood, with a lively handwritten sign on the front that reads ‘Open’ in perfect cursive. It’s got flowers engraved into it. 

Stede pushes the door open and is rewarded with little bells singing for joy at his arrival. He feels loved the second he steps in. 

Were you adored?  

The lighting in here is warm. There’s a window behind the modest white counter, through which the rain is pouring, but Stede knows that the night sky is clear today. Another piece of the Edward Teach puzzle. It always seems to be raining for him. 

Surrounding the counter, upon which is one of those vintage looking tills with the big buttons that hasn’t been around since the twenties, are well-lit and pristine glass display cabinets, full of pastries and breads and cakes. There are things that Stede recognises, like danishes and cinnamon scrolls, and things he’s never seen before. Little cakes that look like butterflies, and muffins that still look warm. 

There are tables and chairs and mugs that are waiting to be filled with coffee or tea. Behind the counter and high on the wall, another wooden sign reads, ‘Jeff’s Bakery and Delights.’

Stede wants to break down immediately. He wants to take this place in both his hands and never let it go, he wants to live inside the walls, to sleep beside the donuts and loaves of bread in the display cabinets. He’s never felt so at home. 

He thinks this might be as close to home as he’s ever going to get. 

But he maintains character. This is for Ed. The love in his chest — that can be set dressing too. 

He turns to the counter to find that Ed isn’t here. There is, however, a bell by the register. Stede smiles, tosses one end of his scarf over his shoulder, and rings it. 

Ed speaks from somewhere behind a cabinet. “I’ll be just a sec.” 

“Oh, take your time,” Stede says. “I’ll browse while I wait.” 

Ed slides a tray of bread into one of the cabinets, closes the door, then stands tall with a big smile. His eyes widen at Stede’s clothes, but only briefly. 

He’s wearing the same thing he had been before, but now his apron has ‘Jeff’s Bakery and Delights’ embroidered into the front. He’s got a pen tucked into the pocket, too. 

“Good morning, sir,” he says. He blows a small wisp of his hair away from his face. “What can I get for you?” 

“This is such a marvellous selection,” Stede says. “You must be… Jeff?” 

“That’s me. Jeff the Baker.” 

“Lovely name.” 

“Thank you. Anything catching your eye?” 

“There are so many to choose from,” Stede says, stroking his chin. When he looks up at Ed, he finds that his eyes are stuck on that spot. It takes him a second to meet his gaze. “What do you recommend?” 

“Uh, well. What are you in the mood for?” 

You. “Something sweet, I think.” 

“Good choice. How about a sugar kiss?” 

Stede feels his cheeks go bright red. They shouldn’t do that, seeing as his blood doesn’t move anymore, but Ed tends to make him blush often. “A — pardon?”  

“A sugar kiss,” Ed says again. He looks into a cabinet and withdraws a biscuit with a chocolate drop in the middle. “It’s a sugar cookie with a chocolate centre. They’re good as fuck.” 

“Oh!” Stede laughs nervously. “A biscuit.” 

“Yeah, a biscuit.” 

“That sounds great. I’ll take some of those and a… hm, a loaf of that rye bread.” 

“Coming right up, sir,” Ed says happily. His eyes are shining like stars, and he’s still got flour on his nose that Stede is desperate to kiss off his face and his arms are shifting in that perfect purple shirt and oh, Jesus, his hair —

“I like your scarf,” he says quietly as he puts Stede’s selection into paper bags. “Did you make it?” 

Stede looks down at it. “Oh, this old thing? Thank you. I actually bought it from a market many years ago.” 

“Looks warm.” 

“It is.” 

There’s a moment of comfortable silence, occupied only by a ticking clock. Stede looks around the room and finds it high on the wall. The numbers are in the right places and it ticks like it should, but the hands don’t move. 

“How long have you been a baker?” he asks, not taking his eyes away from the unmoving second hand. 

“Years,” Ed says. “Yeah. I always knew that it’s what I wanted to do. But this bakery is my own.” 

“It’s just you that works here?” 

“Yup. Just me.” 

“Doesn’t that get lonely?” 

Ed finishes bagging everything up. He sets the goods onto the counter beside the register, then slides them closer to Stede. “Not really. Not when I get people like you coming in.” 

Stede’s head spins. He remains still for a long moment, unable to move. All the love in the world, across this one and the next one, has collected in his chest and is weighing him down like an anchor. 

Finally, his head snaps back into the right place. “Oh, yes, money. Of course.” 

“Nah, don’t worry about it. It’s on the house.” 

“What? No, please let me pay you,” Stede says, fishing around in his pockets like he’s going to find his old wallet. “This looks wonderful. You deserve to be paid for your hard work.” 

Ed's smile is soft. His brows come together a little. “I didn’t work that hard.” 

“Of course you did,” Stede says, gesturing around. “Look at all the love you’ve put into this place.” 

“Stede.” 

He stops. His name, that voice. It’s like a weakness he didn’t know he had. 

Ed looks like he wants to say something. He opens his mouth, so Stede remains perfectly still. 

“Hold on.” 

Stede does. He holds on as tight as he can. 

Ed steps around the counter and approaches the big oak door. The opens it, then flips the sign out front until it reads ‘closed’. He turns back into the room and takes a tentative step closer to Stede. 

“Didn’t want any more customers coming in.”

Stede, despite feeling as though he’s about to burst into flames, giggles. “Of course.” 

Ed crosses his arms. He looks calm, collected and panicked all at once. A house of cards, one gentle breeze away from collapsing. “I keep thinking.” 

“About what?” 

He looks around, his deep eyes taking in the bakery. He doesn’t say anything. 

Stede lifts a brow, then prompts him along gently. “You’re thinking about your baker—”

“I always felt like there was something missing,” Ed says suddenly. He drops his eyes to Stede, his gaze heavy. “When I was alive. There was just — something wrong. I always thought it was because I never had this.” 

“I see. And… it’s not?” 

“I thought it was.” 

Stede says nothing. He waits, just like his head told him to. 

Wait and see. 

Ed’s gaze doesn’t drop. He doesn’t look away. He can’t. 

“Now I’m not so sure,” he says. “I thought it would fix this – this, whatever I was missing. But it hasn’t. It didn’t.” 

“What would?” Stede asks at last. He doesn’t know where the courage to speak comes from. “Is there something that would make you feel more complete?” 

Ed’s face is so hopeful. His eyes are perfect and kind and sweet and he’s trying so hard to say what he wants to say, but he doesn’t know how. 

Stede isn’t sure how to help. 

“Didn’t you ever feel like this?” Ed asks. “When you were alive, did you ever feel like there was some piece of you missing?” 

“Yes, of course. My whole life.” 

“Did you ever figure out what it was?” 

“No, I didn’t,” Stede says. “I thought I was just missing a choice. That’s why I ran, after all. But I disappeared, and it still didn’t fix the problem, and then — well. You know what happened after.” 

Ed nods thoughtfully and carefully. He looks like he’s planning each and every move he makes. He’s perfectly at ease and tense all at once. “Right. Yeah.” 

In the quiet that follows, Stede glances around some more. He looks at the empty tables and unoccupied chairs, and the mugs that lack coffee. His brows lift. “Oh. Maybe I’ve figured it out.” 

Ed tilts his head. “You reckon?” 

“Is it… people ? Maybe that’s the thing that’s missing.” He turns to Ed with a shy smile. “After all, what’s the point of putting all this love into all these wonderful things you make if you’ve got no one to share it with? That’s just love with nowhere to go.” 

Ed goes completely still. 

Stede feels like he might have said the wrong thing, might have overstepped, might have slipped up, but he keeps speaking anyway. He doesn’t know what commands him to do it. He gestures to the baked goods in the cases, perfect and sweet. “It looks like you have a lot of love to give, Ed.” 

It’s such a shame that it has to be hidden here, at the end of all things. It’s a shame that I’m the only one here to see it. 

And then he remembers thinking, if it’s only made for one, then is it just a way to waste away the time?

Oh. 

It’s like someone claps their hands over his ears to make them ring, to make him think. Stede’s worldview shifts one place to the right. The cotton gets yanked away from his eyes. 

Of course, it’s not a waste of time. It’s love.  

It’s the only thing worth spending time on at all. Even here. Especially here. 

Stede suddenly becomes overwhelmed. He puts a hand to his chest, expecting to feel it hammering beneath his palm, finding it still as ever. He feels rigid and gelatinous at the same time. 

Stede fumbles over his words, so he makes himself stop, swallow, and try again. “I think I – I just need some air for a moment.” 

Ed takes a soft step back. His brows tilt upwards with worry. He knows that Stede doesn’t technically need air, but he doesn’t say anything. 

With his throat tight and his heart stubborn and unmoving, Stede leaves the bakery. 

He doesn’t realise that he’s walking toward the garden until he’s there, until he’s sitting down in the grass with his knees to his chest and his hands shaking. He puts himself in a pool of moonlight, which is spilling through one of the gun ports and into his lap. His hands are on his shins, his thumbs stroking his knees gently. Just trying to find comfort anywhere, he supposes. When it becomes too much, he shrugs off his overcoat and tosses away his scarf.

He’s surrounded by flowers, by plants and air that he’s sure would be fresh and clean if he could breathe it. As he sits there, he tries to come to grips with the things roiling freely within him. He tries to become strong enough to wrestle them down. 

Stede tries to think up a plan. 

Because, all at once, it becomes far too much to keep locked up. This has to be liberated. It wouldn’t be right or fair to keep it hidden. And things don’t make sense, not even a little bit, but Stede feels like it doesn’t have to, really. 

The chances of them finding each other were already so slim that it didn’t even happen when they drew breath. They had to wait until the end of their lives to find this – whatever this is. 

Stede didn’t know love when he was alive, but that sure as hell isn’t going to stop him from trying while he’s here.

So he’s going to tell him. 

But how on earth does he put something as beautiful and as grand as this into the air? He’s just one man. He doesn’t even have a reflection anymore. His heart doesn’t even move. 

What if he ruins everything? 

He sits in flawless silence, watching the clouds slink by outside and watching the stars shimmer in place, and watching the moon as it casts its pall upon him. He watches the end of the world and the dawn of a new one at the same time. And when he tires of that, he looks at his flowers. 

That nagging feeling that was pestering him earlier, it returns in full force. It grabs him by the shoulders and shakes him and demands his attention, so he listens. 

Something about the garden. Something about the flowers. Something about the petals and the leaves and the snaking vines, about the grass underfoot and the silent breeze that drifts through it all.

It hits Stede very suddenly. 

Living things shouldn’t survive here. These flowers, they shouldn’t be thriving the way that they are. There are new blooms sprouting in the rose bushes and new leaves stemming from the long branches that stretch up to the ceiling. It’s not just existing – it’s growing. It’s alive, sustaining on who knows what from who knows where, without water or sunlight or even soil. 

And while his eyes are darting around, while his heart unfurls much like the flowers here come dawn, his heart whispers to him once more. 

Love survives here, even at the end of all things. 

“Hey.” 

Stede looks away from a patch of daisies with his eyes burning like they’re about to spill tears. Ed is standing in the doorway, no longer wearing his apron, with his posture deliberately casual. He takes a step into the garden. 

He’s the most beautiful thing that Stede’s ever seen.

Love persists. 

Ed takes a seat beside him on the grass with a soft groan. He crosses his legs, and offers Stede a sidelong smile. 

“Came to check on you,” he says. “Thought you’d be here.” 

Stede just nods. He wants to look at the flowers some more, at the whole garden that’s alive and thriving all because he has the love to make it bloom, but he can’t take his eyes away from Ed. 

Ed plays with some blades of grass before him on the ground and sighs. 

“I’m sorry that the bakery didn’t make you feel better,” Stede says after a moment. “I thought it would help. It was a stupid idea.” 

“Oh, shut up,” Ed says fondly. Kindly. Like a dear friend that’s never needed to learn to hold his tongue. “Wasn’t a stupid idea. It did help.”

Stede smiles warmly at him. I’d give you my heart if you asked, he thinks. I wish you would. I want you to. 

“Well. Maybe one day you can have the real thing, with real people.” 

Ed chuckles quietly, almost to himself. His eyes are still cast downward. “You know, it’s funny, before I got here, all I ever wanted was that fuckin’ bakery. Just a place to call my own, doing something that I love, making people happy. I could have it as soon as I got here, and I just never thought to – actually do it.” 

Stede nods. “I wish people could come from everywhere to experience your bakery,” he says. “Feels wrong that it’s only me.” 

Finally, Ed looks up. His eyes are warm enough that Stede feels like he’s going to melt into him. All sugar and honey and caramel. “Mate, I’m glad it’s just you.” 

Stede’s brows shoot up. He turns a little bit to look Ed in the face easier. “Ed… I can’t fill all those empty seats.” 

“That’s not–” he sighs and turns a little in place as well. “I don’t need those seats filled, man. I thought I did. I thought that was the missing thing, and it fuckin’ killed me to think that I would never get to have it, and then…” he stops. He puts his hands in his lap. “It wouldn’t make me feel complete, like you said.” 

“I see.” Stede bumps their shoulders together in a friendly sort of way. “Then what would? We can try anything that comes to mind.” 

“The truth is…” Ed begins. He takes a deep breath. “The truth is, Stede, that I haven’t felt incomplete since – since I met… you.” 

Oh.

That’s it. That absolutely does it. If Ed is going to go around saying beautiful, wonderful, incredible things like that, then Stede has to tell him. He has to tell him now, or he’s going to make a complete fool of himself if he does it later. No more waiting and seeing. Fuck that. 

His heart whispers. Now or never. 

“Oh,” he says. He smiles around the word. “Oh, well that’s–”

And then, all at once, he’s being kissed. All at once, Ed’s hand is on his cheek, and his mouth is warm and perfect on his, and he sighs like it’s bringing him comfort, like he’s been dying to do exactly this. All at once, Stede is kissing him back, with as much love and promise as he possibly can. All at once, every missing piece of him fits perfectly back into place, like they were never missing at all. 

This is his something missing. It’s always been Edward, and they found each other here, in the unlikeliest of places. 

Ed moves closer, twists a little to kiss Stede deeper, moves his hand from his face to his neck, to his chest. Cradling him. Holding him close like he’s never wanted anything more. Stede tilts his head to accept more of him, runs his hands up his arms and over his shoulders, just to take the warmth he’s so willing to give away. 

All at once, while he’s kissing and being kissed, loving and being loved, Stede realises that he’d do it all a thousand times over for this. Everything, from the agony to the misery, from the joy to the heartbreak. Each and every hurdle life threw at him all amounted to this. And he’s never giving this up again. 

Now that he has it, the world and the afterlife and the place between places couldn’t pry this love from him if they tried. 

Love persists.  

Stede is going to make sure that it does. 

Ed withdraws slowly, and Stede makes a little sound of awe as their lips part. He’s not sure where it comes from, but it’s so sincere that he loves it anyway. Ed doesn’t pull away, and his thumb strokes gently across Stede’s jaw. 

Stede doesn’t open his eyes for one blissful second, for fear of everything disappearing like a perfect dream when he does. He holds onto hope that it will last, that this moment, too, will persist. He hangs onto it. For dear life. 

All at once, everything makes complete and perfect sense. 

Then, like an engine roaring to life, Stede finally remembers how to breathe. He remembers like he’d never forgotten in the first place. His lungs accept that first glorious inhale like they're grateful, and it feels like stepping into a home he’s been away from for far too long.

It's the closest thing he has to a heartbeat, so he offers his first miraculous and adoring breath to Ed. Stede cracks apart his perfect stone, lets the ocean within spill forth, and sighs, “I’ve felt complete since I met you, too.”

Chapter Text

Every other smile in the world dims in comparison to the one that Ed gives him then. No other smile, in this lifetime or the next, matters as much as this one does. Simply because he wants to, because he can, Stede gently takes Ed’s face in both his hands just to hold the joy in his cheeks, just to let it warm his palms. 

He receives another kiss for this. And then another. Each one feels like the beginning of the world that gets better and better with each try. Greener grass, bluer skies, cleaner air. 

When they finally part, Stede heaves a loving sigh, just to remind his chest how to do it. At the sound, Ed’s brows twitch up. He looks at Stede with eyes as dark and sweet as molasses. 

“You’re breathing,” he whispers. 

“Seems you’ve shown me how,” Stede whispers back. 

He’s rewarded with another kiss as soft as the clouds floating by outside. They’re practising to get it right, but each kiss has been as flawless as the first. The garden around them dances with delight, cheering and celebrating their union. His heart shouts in triumph. 

At last. After all this time. We’ve kept our promises. 

Finally, Ed sits back. He has a dreamy and content look on his face, like he’s finally found serenity after a lifetime of searching. He looks warm. Safe. 

Stede still feels as though he’s living in a dream. It’s all so surreal and wonderful, and he’s not used to surreal and wonderful things happening to him. He’s tempted to ask Ed to pinch him, but he doesn’t risk it because he doesn’t want this to end. Not in a million years. 

He breathes in and out slowly for some time, just feeling the sweet air as it drops down his throat and into his lungs. Everything is as it should be. He closes his eyes just to let the moment sweep over him like a wave, to let it wash him clean of a life he’s left behind, cleanse him of the mistakes he’s made. 

From his side, Ed gently takes his hands and holds them. He runs a thumb over his knuckles, a gesture which makes Stede’s insides feel like they’re being scooped out. 

“You alright?” he asks. 

“I’m wonderful,” Stede says truthfully. Honestly. “Thank god you kissed me because I was about to make a complete idiot of myself by trying to give you a long-winded confession speech.” 

Ed laughs. “Ah shit, but I wanna hear it.” 

“Too late now, I’m afraid. I think it’s gone.” 

“Not even a snippet?” 

Stede beams. “I’m sure it was going to be something about how wonderful you are. How beautiful you are. Something about how happy you make me. It was along those lines, I’m sure.” 

Ed’s eyes shine with unshed tears. He looks down at their joined hands, runs his thumb wherever it can reach Stede’s skin. “That’s lovely.” 

“And it’s what you deserve. I’ll think up a full confession speech for you. Something with structure.” 

Ed can only look up and smile. A minute passes in a gentle stillness, where Ed languidly moves his thumb over Stede’s skin. 

Stede finally moves his eyes away from Ed and looks through the gun port to get a gauge on the time of day, but the moon is still watching them. “How long has it been, do you think? Since I got here?” he asks. 

“Can’t say,” Ed says. “Could be hours, days. Could be months or years.” 

“I see.” 

“Why d’you ask?” 

“I’ve been trying to figure it out, I suppose. You know, I just — I feel like I’ve always known you. Somewhere deep down. It doesn’t feel like it’s only been a few days or a few weeks. It feels like forever.” 

“Yeah.” Ed nods like he understands completely. “Yeah, I feel like that too. So that missing thing we were looking for was just us, huh?” 

“Yes, it appears so.” 

“Hm.” It’s a happy little sound that Ed makes, something between a giggle and a hum. 

“It also looks like Buttons was right about at least one thing.” 

Ed frowns at him. “You reckon he’s really gonna turn into a seagull? I hope he does, that sounds like a nice life—”

Stede chuckles. “I was talking about the…” he becomes nervous very suddenly. He swallows, then drops the tone of his voice a little and looks at their hands. “I was talking about the soulmate thing.” 

Ed’s brows shoot up. His eyes widen like he’s surprised. 

Does that mean he doesn’t think they are? Or is he shocked that Stede does? Stede’s gut drops from a great height, and his chest begins to rise with the start of a panicked breath. 

But Ed smiles. “You think we’re soulmates?” 

“You—” Stede clears his throat. “I guess you don’t believe in that sort of thing?” 

“Huh? ‘Course I do.” 

“Oh.” 

“Soulmates are… they’re not usually like this,” Ed explains, gesturing to their clasped hands. “This is a weird case.” 

“Yes, but everything about us is a bit strange,” Stede says, his head swimming from the nervous comedown. 

Ed smiles at him. “I guess I haven’t shown you how soulmates work here, have I?” 

“There’s a system?” 

“Uh-huh.” He brings himself to a stand, pulling Stede up with him gently. He doesn’t drop his hand. “Wanna see?” 

Ed leads him out to the main deck, their hands still locked softly together. Every so often Stede will steal a glance at it, just to remind himself that it’s real and that he didn’t just make it up in his mind. 

When they’re standing by the railing, Ed gestures out to the boats on the ocean, so Stede squints his eyes to see the vessels in the distance a bit better. “What am I looking at?” 

“Can you see ‘em?” 

“See what?” 

“The soulmate ships.” 

Stede purses his lips. “Someone should come up with a better name for them, don’t you think?” 

Ed scoffs affectionately. “Yeah, we can think of a better name later. Look.” 

He leans forward on the railing a little and hums in thought. All he sees is ships, some with unique traits and most without. Just more boats sailing to an unknown destination, dragged there by an uncaring wind, but he watches them for some time, trying to notice anything out of the ordinary. He spots a ship that’s familiar, the one flying the orange flag with a pattern. That same ship that was sailing beside it when Stede last saw it is still there, floating closely by. 

“Oh, there,” Stede says, pointing. “Are those ships soulmates? The ones sailing next to each other?” 

“Yup, that’s them. Because it’s only one person to a ship usually, soulmates have to stay bound some other way, so they sail together like that.” 

“I… I see.” 

Ed turns to him, his face worried. “You sound disappointed.” 

“Well, I suppose I am. A little bit.” 

Ed touches his arm softly, asking him to continue without saying the words. 

In his life, Stede had never been one for talking – not about himself, anyway. He had kept everything trapped within and beaten into submission. He carried his desires and his hopes and dreams inside him until he died. Here though, he finds that he lacks the need for that hesitation. 

Here, Ed is watching him, kind and patient and wanting to hold. Wanting to cherish. 

“I suppose I had gotten it in my head that we were soulmates,” Stede explains. “It’s such a wonderful idea. I wanted it to be true, but I guess it’s not.” He gestures out to the two ships nearby to illustrate his point. 

Ed’s mouth quirks up into a small and playful smile. “Stede. It is true. We are.” 

“Wh—” his brows furrow tightly together with confusion. “But… there’s a system.” 

“Yeah mate, fuck the system,” Ed says through laughter. “We’ve been breaking the rules since you got here, you don’t think we can break this one too?” 

Stede grins. Relief and delight seizes his lungs and makes him sigh. “Oh.” 

“‘Course we’re soulmates.” Ed touches Stede’s cheek lovingly, his fingertips warm and his palm soft. “We’re just a step further than that, like Buttons said.” 

“A step further?” he asks incredulously. “What’s further than soulmates?” 

“Us,” Ed answers simply. He won’t stop smiling, like he’s relieved too. “This — what we are —  has never happened before. We gotta think of a new term for this. ‘Soulmates’ doesn’t cut it.” 

Stede looks around, trying his best to conjure the perfect word for them. Ed’s right, ‘soulmate’ isn’t enough. It doesn’t go as far down as they do, as far through. 

Of course, they’re soulmates. That’s a given. It feels like been intertwined since the stars learned to give light, since the sun offered to share its warmth, since the moon started pulling the tides. This has always been and it always will be. 

The sails heave overhead in the silent breeze. Stede looks up at them and smiles. 

“Shipmates,” he says at last. 

When he returns his eyes to Ed, it feels like everything in the universe heaves a collective sigh at once. 

“Shipmates,” Ed echoes with a grin. 

“Mm-hmm.” 

“Fuck yeah. Shipmates.” 

With a happy giggle, Stede takes a step closer. “You like it?” 

“Love it,” Ed says. He leans in and gives Stede’s temple a delighted kiss. “It’s exactly what we are. No one else has ever had a shipmate here. Maybe no one will again. But that’s what we are. That’s fuckin’ gorgeous.” 

Stede can only smile at him. He hopes that his heart is cheering loud enough to be heard, because it’s saying a hundred wonderful and loving things that ought to be shared, but Stede can’t make the words come out. 

I’ve spent my life looking for you, he wants to say, and now that I’ve found you, I will never let you go again. This is by design. 

If this is made to end, I will find you. Call it fate if you wish. I will call it love. 

And I’ve been told that love persists.

Ed smiles in return. He hears the words. Catches them, holds them, because he knows. He feels it too. 

“So,” he says at last, his voice light and thin. 

“So,” Stede says back. He takes Ed’s hand and holds it. 

“What now?” 

Stede looks out at the moon-swathed sky. “You’re going to think I’m trying to be funny.”

“Promise I won’t laugh.” 

But Stede’s already giggling before he even begins talking. “No, you can laugh. It’s ridiculous.” 

Ed pulls him close, grins like his laughter is hiding behind his teeth. “C’mon, tell me.” 

“It’s just that –” Stede pauses to snort out a giggle and takes a deep breath. “Isn’t it funny that we had to die to start living?” 

And they laugh and laugh and watch the moon sink behind the sea, and they hold each other close while they do. Hold each other tight. Dear life, dear life, dear life.  

So that’s where their forevers begin – at the end. That’s where it all starts. 

The first night of their lives begins the same way the others before it had done: free of loneliness and abundant in warmth. Only this time, as they make their way to the captain’s cabin for the evening, they get to hold hands. 

They make one pit stop on the way at Ed’s bakery. The sign on the door still reads ‘Closed’. Ed excuses himself for a moment to step in front of it, and he takes his hand from Stede’s only to pull a ring of keys from the pocket of his leather pants. He finds the right key, slots it into the lock, and turns it with a smile. 

When he turns back to Stede, he must see the inquisitive look on his face because his cheeks go dark, and he grows a little sheepish. “I, uhh. I like the idea of locking up. I just wanted a ring of keys, I guess.” 

Stede is devoted. In whatever he lacks in body, he makes up for in soul, so he offers that instead. “I see. Of course.” 

“Is that stupid?” 

“It’s wonderful. You’re wonderful. We can put a lock on every door if that pleases you.” 

Ed chuckles. “Nah, s’alright. One is enough. Just so I can open up whenever I feel like it.” 

“Mm-hmm. Sound business model.” 

Ed laughs again. “I don’t think I’m gonna piss off any customers with my irregular hours.” 

He feigns offence. “Am I not a customer to you?” 

“You’re more than a customer to me, Stede. Shipmates, remember?” 

Stede’s head spins. “Ah, yes. Shipmates.” 

With a smile, Ed takes his hand again and leads him down the hall toward the captain’s cabin. It seems now they know that they can touch, that they can hold, they’re both hesitant to be apart for even a moment. 

Stede doesn’t want to admit exactly how much anxiety he’s contributing on his part. He supposes that he’s clinging because, after all, isn’t he still technically in the wrong place? Should he be removed from this vessel and put on another, doomed to sail alongside Ed for the rest of time? Doomed to be forever just out of reach, just beyond warmth? 

He holds on for now because he wants to cherish whatever time they might have. He will take what he can get so that he might carry it forward, wherever that may lead. 

He wonders if Ed is thinking about that, too. He said he was worried back then, however long ago that might have been. Is he worried still? 

They come to the captain’s cabin and Ed swings the door open. The second he sets foot inside, he pictures a fire in the hearth and flames on the candles, so they ignite like magic. More warmth, more light, like neither of them have ever gone without it. 

Ed stretches his arms over his head when the room is aglow, and Stede closes the door behind them. He sighs, taking in the wonderful book smell and listening to the logs crack apart in the fireplace. Now that he can breathe, he plans on enjoying all the delightful details that he couldn’t before.

Then he looks at his bed. 

Ed turns to look at him, then follows his gaze. He looks at his own bed, tucked away in his nook. “Hm.”

“Do we… change it?” Stede wonders. 

Ed’s eyes swing to him once more. His cheeks are dark. 

Stede instantly begins to backpedal. “I’m not suggesting anything! I mean, it’s not that –” he stops, tries again. “I’d like to – fuck. Oh fuck, that’s not what I’m trying to say. I don’t… hm.” 

Ed bites his lip. 

“Don’t laugh,” Stede says. 

“Wasn’t gonna.” 

“I can see it in your face.” 

“Can’t see shit, mate.” 

“Ed!”

And then Ed giggles, a high and lilting kind of laugh that sounds like bells. He shakes his head, some of his hair spilling into his face. “It’s alright. I’m not laughing at you.” 

Stede’s cheeks go up in flames. He’s as warm as the fire. “I’m just trying to be a gentleman, that’s all. It’s not going well.” 

“Nah, you’re doing great,” Ed says. His tone is so kind and affectionate that Stede isn’t sure what to do with it. He doesn’t know where to put his hands. “You seem nervous.”

“Not nervous, necessarily. I think I just… I want to get this right.” 

“Yeah. Me too.” 

It goes quiet for a second. They both stand in the middle of the room, warmed by the firelight and the candlelight, and they each look at their separate beds wishing that they were combined. 

“Let’s keep ‘em apart. Just for now,” Ed decides at last. 

Stede nods vehemently. “Yes, great plan.” 

“I'm a blanket hog, anyway, so you don't wanna... Look, all we have is time, right?”

“Oh, yes, so much time. We can take this slow.” 

“Yup. Slow is good. Real good.” 

“Wonderful. Great.” There's a beat before Stede adds, "I'm a bed hog, by the way. Just so you know. I suppose that makes us even."

Ed gives him a sidelong glance, a look caught between yearning and desire and adoration. Stede wants to buckle under his gaze immediately, but he holds himself up and instead walks toward his nook. He stands beside his bed and looks at it miserably. Ed does the same on his side. 

They get ready for bed in relative silence, the distance between them occupied only by the crackling fire. Stede adorns his cotton pyjamas with his heart feeling as though it’s trying to crawl out of him, with his palms itching to reach out and hold. 

He pulls back his neatly tucked sheets and climbs into his empty bed, wishing it were already warmed. He lies on his back and watches the ceiling for a long time. 

“Well,” he says. “Goodnight, Ed.” 

Ed doesn’t say it back, so Stede assumes he’s already fallen asleep. That’s fine, he doesn’t need to hear him say goodnight or anything, he doesn’t instantly miss him as though they’re on opposite sides of the world—

“Hey,” Ed says. 

“Hey,” Stede says back, his reverence slipping liberally into his tone. 

“What do you call it when two boats fall in love?” 

Stede snorts. “I’m not sure. What do you call it?” 

“Oh, you’re gonna love this.” 

“Am I?” 

“Uh-huh. It’s a really good punchline.”

Stede starts giggling like a maniac. “Well, come on. Hit me with it.” 

“Can’t,” Ed says simply. “You’re too far away.” 

“I see. This is your best material, I suppose?” 

“Yup, and I don’t wanna have to repeat myself, that would ruin the joke. Maybe you should…” 

“Should I come over to your side, then?” 

“Might be a good move,” Ed agrees. 

Stede tosses away his covers with reckless abandon. He doesn’t even stop to make it before he leaves the room like he’s always done, he leaves his sheets in the way that they fall. He rounds the wall between them and steps through Ed’s curtains, then stands beside his bed and neatly tucks his hands in front of him. 

“Well?” 

Ed is lying on his side with his elbow propped up and his hair cascading behind him. His blanket sits around his waist, revealing a beautiful tattoo on his chest depicting a ship, much like the one they’re on together. He’s smirking like he’s having a wonderful time causing mischief. 

He looks Stede up and down. His gaze is intentional. Heavy. Deliberate. 

“Hmm,” he hums. His voice rumbles like distant thunder. “You’re still too far away.” 

Stede takes a step closer. “And now?” 

“Still too far.” He shuffles back in his bed, creating space. He pulls back the covers and pats the empty spot. “Here would be good.” 

Stede swallows, his breathing starting to quicken. “Are you sure?”

“Mate, it’s a really good joke.” 

Stede can only smile. He slips into his bed slowly and carefully, taking his place beside Ed like it’s always been reserved for him. Once he’s comfortable, he sighs and looks at him with a content smile. “Close enough?”

Ed puts a hand on his bicep. “Yep, this is good.” 

“Wonderful. I’m terribly excited to hear this joke.” 

“Should be. It’s a good one.” 

“It would want to be, seeing that I journeyed halfway across the world just to hear it.” 

And I’d do it again to find you, Stede thinks. I’d do it a million times over. A hundred million. Whatever it takes. 

“You ready for it?” 

“I am,” Stede says. 

Ed snorts. “I gotta start it again.” 

“Go ahead.”

“What—” Ed pauses to toss his head back and laugh. While he does, Stede thinks about kissing the lines and dips on his neck. 

He laments, for one split second, that he will never be able to kiss the place where Ed’s pulse should be. He’ll never know the sound of his heartbeat, or learn the pattern of his footsteps. All these fine, delicate and distinctly living things, he mourns them for a fraction of a moment, just long enough to let the thought establish roots somewhere within him. 

“What do you call it when two boats fall in love?” Ed finally manages to ask. 

You are so adored. 

“I don’t know. What do you call it?”

Ed giggles before delivering the punchline, as though simply knowing the answer is enough to make him laugh. “A row-mance.”

The joke isn’t all that funny, but Ed’s delivery is enough to send them both into a laughing fit, where they’re each gasping for air with tears in their eyes. Ed puts a hand in the middle of Stede’s chest just to keep himself together, and it feels sacred. His palm there feels like prayer. 

“How long have you been waiting to use that joke?” Stede asks when he can complete a breath. 

“Fuckin’ forever,” Ed says as he wipes away a tear. “Since you got here, maybe. The timing had to be right, y’know?”

“Oh, yes, I can see why.” 

“I’m just glad to finally have it out of me.” 

Stede hums, then inches the tiniest bit closer. He looks down to gauge their proximity — they’re almost touching on all sides now. Ed must have put on some boxer briefs before Stede climbed in with him, because he’s most certainly not naked at the moment. 

“Is this okay?” Stede asks. He rolls over until he’s on his side too, with his head propped up on his hand to face Ed and smile at him. 

“Mm-hmm. S’good.” 

“I can always head back to my side if you prefer.” 

“No. Stay,” Ed says quietly. “I like being close to you. You’re warm.” 

Stede’s never been called warm before. He never wants to be called anything else. He doesn’t need to be clever or bold or brave, he can be warm. And as long as Ed is within arm’s reach to receive it, then it will be enough. 

“Alright,” Stede whispers. He settles in, makes himself more comfortable. “If my space-hogging becomes too much, just wake me up and banish me to my side.” 

Ed’s eyes are glimmering. “I get the feeling that it’s not going to bother me so much.” 

“Me too,” Stede says. “About the blanket-hogging, I mean.” 

Ed nods. His eyes flick down over Stede’s pyjamas, over the miniscule gap that remains between them. He looks as though he’s calculating the distance there in his mind, working through the numbers to justify making the jump. 

It goes quiet again. Even the fire seems to still itself to allow them this moment of calm. They lie on their sides and watch each other for some time, looking and loving until their breathing falls into a rhythm, until they’re sharing their breath. 

“Can I tell you something?” Ed whispers at last. The stars shimmering in the sky outside begin to plummet toward the skyline, as though they’re dangling there by strings that are being severed. 

“Of course you can. Anything,” Stede whispers back. He tucks a lock of Ed’s hair behind his ear and plays the tiny gasp he makes on a loop in his head. 

“It’s gonna sound crazy.” 

“Good. I love crazy.” 

Ed’s eyelids flutter. “You remember that guy I told you about?” 

Stede’s brows come together while he dives into his memory. Guy? What guy? He thinks for a little while, until it finally clicks. “Oh, the handsome man in your passenger seat?” 

“Yeah, him.” 

“Mm-hmm, I remember.” 

“You know, I always pictured him to look just like you.” 

Stede’s brows shoot up. “Really?” 

“Mm. Same nose, same smile, same eyes. He even wore one of those cravat things, like the one you gave me, except his was always red,” Ed says. He looks down at the sheets between them while his cheeks grow dark. “I guess you’ve always been with me, somewhere deep down. Just – not in the flesh.” 

Stede sighs. “I wish we could have done life together,” he admits. “Not even like this, necessarily. Just as friends or coworkers, or even just neighbours. Having you in my life at all would have made it richer, I think. I’m sorry I didn’t find you in time, Ed.” 

Ed stares for a moment, as though he’s completely stricken. He moves in like he can’t resist anymore and tucks himself against Stede’s front, then gingerly puts an arm around his waist. “You don’t have to be sorry. That’s not your fault. It’s alright, Stede. We have this.” 

Stede doesn’t think he’s ever been held like this before. Now that he’s got it, he’s never letting it go. He’s never depriving himself of a love like this ever again. He brings Ed as close as he can, wraps his arms around him, and gives his head a gentle kiss. 

“We have this,” he says in return. “And we’ll make the most of it.” 

Ed nods against his chest, and his breathing begins to slow. Within minutes, he’s sound asleep. He snores softly away, like he’s perfectly tailoring a lullaby designed only for Stede. 

Before he drifts off, he thinks about all the love in the world that he cradles against his ribs, and he thinks about what forever might mean. He watches the stars drop and wonders if love truly, sincerely, does persist. 

This love certainly feels potent and vibrant enough to outlast the dawn. 

He presses his cheek to Ed’s hair, sighs, and disappears into the simplicity of sleep. 

They wake in much the same way they fell asleep – perfectly intertwined. Ed doesn’t hog the blanket, he’s warm enough in Stede’s arms. Stede doesn’t occupy too much space, he’s got whatever he was looking for against his chest. It’s uncomplicated. It’s like they were made to sleep side by side. 

The two beds wordlessly become one before they’ve even gotten dressed for the day. As soon as Ed makes the change, Stede pulls him into his arms and kisses his temple by way of saying thank you. He kisses him instead of telling him that he never wants to spend another night apart. 

When Stede makes it to deck at last, he finds that another ship has met theirs and is sailing closely by. This one has no outward identifying features until Stede steps closer to the railing and has a proper look at it, then he can see that the deck has been decorated with art, painted directly onto the wood. Portraits and landscape paintings and abstract works, left like love letters all across the planks and the mast and the railing. It’s like very beautiful graffiti. 

Poised on said railing, with his legs dangling over the sea, sits a man. He’s got short brown hair, a short beard around his jaw, and a bright smile. He’s young. When he spots Stede, he offers a polite wave. “Morning!” 

“Good morning,” Stede says back. He leans forward on the railing a little. “I’m Stede.” 

“Lucius,” he says. He jabs his thumb behind him, where a soul-bound ship is sailing in tandem with his own. “And on that ship back there is my husband, Pete.” 

Stede’s brows lift. “Husband?” 

It’s at that moment that Ed emerges through the door to the deck, carrying a tray of tea and pastries. He’s got a bagel in his mouth. When he spots Lucius, his brows shoot up, and he lets out a muffled, “oh, shit.” He sets down the tray quickly. 

Lucius’s mouth falls open, wide enough to catch flies if there were any to catch. “There are two of you?” 

Ed dusts his hands down his front, then takes the bagel from his mouth. “Morning! I’m Ed.” 

“Why the hell are there two of you?” 

Ed shrugs. “Just happened that way.” 

“You’re joking.” 

“Nope.” 

“That’s never happened before.” 

“We know,” Ed and Stede say in unison. When they do, they share a knowing and adoring look with each other. 

Lucius catches this. “Oh no, you guys are cute, too. This isn’t–” he swings his legs back over the railing and runs to the port side of his ship to face his husband. “Pete! These guys are on the same boat!” 

They can’t hear what the voice calls back. 

“That’s what I said!” Lucius calls. “Does that make them more soulmates than us?” 

Silence again. Ed and Stede watch this exchange and don’t say anything. Ed munches on his bagel, then breaks off a piece and wordlessly hands it to Stede, who takes it. He bumps their sides together to say thank you. 

“Okay!” Lucius calls, then returns to the starboard railing to address Ed and Stede once more. His cheeks are flushed. “My husband wants to know if you two are married.” 

Stede, still midway through chewing his food, shakes his head. 

Ed answers for him. “Not yet,” he says, which is enough to make Stede gasp and draw crumbs of his bagel into his windpipe. He braces himself against the railing and coughs it out, all the while feeling as hot as the sun. Ed rubs his back. 

“Oh, you’re going to kill him for a second time,” Lucius says. “News to him, I guess.” 

Stede takes a deep breath as soon as his coughing has eased. He swallows. “Why do you ask?” 

“Well, ‘cause if you are, then that would make you way more soulmates than us, but if you’re not then it makes us even,” Lucius explains. 

“Didn’t realise it was a competition,” Ed says. 

“Yeah, that’s Pete for you. I’m not really fussed either way, but he asked me to ask you, and I like to make the guy happy. I can’t exactly give him a handy anymore, so asking silly questions does the job.” 

Ed chuckles, then folds his arms. “You guys arrived at the same time, then?” 

“Yep. Car accident. It would be kind of poetic if it didn’t fucking suck.” 

Ed nods like he knows the feeling all too well. 

“You’re… very open to discussing the circumstances of your death,” Stede says. It’s not a criticism, but his wary tone almost makes it sound like one. 

“Yeah, that’s because the rules here are stupid,” Lucius says with an eye roll. “Can’t talk about how you died, can’t talk about the life you lived, can’t even be on the same boat as your soulmate. Well, for most of us.” He gestures to Ed and Stede. “I don’t see why I wouldn’t talk about this kind of thing. It’s important to remember it and embrace it. Otherwise, what was it all for?” 

Stede smiles. He likes this young man a lot. It’s a shame that he has to be trapped here. He should be living a full and complete life with his husband somewhere. 

“Besides, no one’s gonna reprimand me for breaking the rules,” Lucius continues. He gestures to the sunny skies. “No one’s watching us out here. I’ve never been punished for it before, so there’s really nothing to stop me.” 

“I agree with you,” Stede says with a nod. “It serves no purpose to remain silent about ourselves.” 

“Exactly what you said,” Lucius agrees. He’s midway through nodding when he stops suddenly and his eyes grow wide. He leans forward on the railing, like he’s trying to move in and whisper to them. “Oh my god, you guys have got to tell me what the sex here is like.” 

Stede inhales fast enough to send him into another coughing fit. 

Ed blanches. “Wh— Christ, is that any of your business?” 

“I’ve always wanted to have soul sex, but as you can see, my husband is all the way over there.” Lucius points miserably to Pete’s ship. “I can’t even kiss the man anymore. But you guys can have mind-blowing soul sex. You’ll have to do it on my behalf.” 

“What the fuck is soul sex?” Ed asks with his brows furrowed and his voice light. Stede is still coughing and spluttering beside him. 

“You… haven’t tried it?” 

“We just…” Ed clears his throat. His ears are red. 

“Our union is a recent one,” Stede explains around his blocked windpipe. 

“Oh, you guys are like new- new. Got it. Still, I expect updates.” 

“If we, uhh. If we come across you again, we’ll be sure to share what we’ve found,” Ed says. “It’s… it’s supposed to be good?” 

Stede whips his head to him, his face in disbelief. Ed, very pointedly, does not look back at him. 

“It’s supposed to be life-changing,” Lucius says. “Well, not life – you get what I mean. It’s, like, deeper than sex, or something. People try to do it while they’re alive, but having a body gets in the way of it, apparently. I suppose no one’s ever had the chance to achieve it here, not until you two showed up. I’d love to give you details from experience, but, again, my husband is over there, so we’re not having sex of any variety at the moment.” 

“Hmm. Reckon that would make me go crazy after a while.” 

“Uh-huh. Why do you think I’ve painted everything? Lust-fuelled fits, the lot of it.” 

Stede can’t help but snort at this. He clears his throat and stands up a bit taller, pushing some of his hair away from his face. 

“So, how’d you guys die?” Lucius asks. He resumes his place on his railing and dangles his legs back over the water, kicking them back and forth absently. 

“I… I fell out of a tree?” Stede says. 

“Why was that a question?” 

“I don’t like saying it out loud.” 

“Because it’s embarrassing as hell?” 

“Might have something to do with it, yes.” 

“Got it. And what about you, gorgeous?” he nods towards Ed. 

“Drowned.” 

“Oh, that one’s grim.” 

Ed only hums in response. 

“So, you guys must have died at the same time too, then?” Lucius wonders. 

“Oh, we – actually, we haven’t discussed that,” Stede says, his brows dropping in thought. “I’ve only been here for a little while. Or, well, it feels like forever–” 

Lucius is tilting his head. “But… Ed, how long were you here without Stede?” 

Ed’s features darken. His eyes move down until he’s looking at the sea beneath their moving ships, like he’s trying to listen to the waves that make no sound. “I dunno. A really long time.” 

“Like – what, a few months?” 

“No, years. Must have been a hundred, at least.” 

Lucius’s eyes dance between them. His face is calculative, like he’s trying to put the pieces together. “I don’t think that’s right. Those numbers don’t add up.” 

Ed lifts his eyes to him, then flicks his gaze toward Stede. He looks lost. Honestly, Stede is, too. He’s not sure what this means or why it matters. 

Stede recalls the day he showed up. Ed had said that he’d been here forever, or that it had felt that way. Beyond that, he hadn’t really wondered so much about the precise timing of it all. 

But this idea seems to be making Ed feel panicked. Stede takes his hand. 

“You know, I think that’s something you two ought to discuss,” Lucius says when he spots the tension in Ed’s posture. “I’ll leave you both to it.” 

He turns and walks away, leaving Ed and Stede with more questions and even fewer answers.

Chapter Text

Lucius’s ship sails closely by for some time, even after they’ve all gone their separate ways. Ed and Stede head for the quarterdeck to have a conversation in private, and Lucius returns to the railing of his ship that’s closest to his husband. He has a little seating arrangement established there, so that he can be as close as possible, as often as possible. It makes Stede’s chest ache. He squeezes Ed’s hand because he can, because it’s within his reach. Ed squeezes back. They take a seat on the quarterdeck stairs together. 

“You’re worried,” Stede says. 

Ed takes a deep breath, slowly in and slowly out. “I was here for a really long time before you, Stede. It was dark and cold and… sad. I hated every fucking minute.” 

“And you don’t like thinking about it?” 

“No,” Ed answers. “And I don’t like thinking that it might not have been as long as I thought it was.” 

Stede’s brows furrow. “I’m not sure that I follow.” 

“It’s just –” Ed runs his hands down his face with a quiet groan. “I think I’m scared of the answer.” 

“Answer to what?” 

A brief pause stretches out between them. Ed asks his question like it burns his tongue to do so. “Stede, what year did you die?” 

“Oh,” he says simply. He holds onto Ed’s hand while he flicks back through his memories. “I was born in nineteen-o-seven, which means I must have died in… fifty-six? Yes, that's right. Sixth of October, fifty-six.” 

Ed stands from his place on the stairs like he’s been electrocuted. He gently takes his hand from Stede’s. “No, that—” 

“Is there… something wrong with that?” 

“Stede, mate, are you sure?” Ed’s voice is fragile. Pleading. 

“Yes, I’m sure. That’s certainly the year I was born, and I lived to be forty-nine, so.” 

Ed runs both hands through his hair and pushes it back, then descends the stairs and begins to pace back and forth in lines. “Fuck. Fuck.”  

Stede swallows. “Was that… a bad year, or something?” 

Ed’s breathing is mildly panicked. “Sixth of October, fifty-five.” 

“Pardon me?” 

“That’s the day I died.” 

“Oh! We were only a year apart.” 

“Exactly.” He won’t stop pacing. 

Stede blinks and tucks his hands into his lap. Now that they’re deprived of Ed’s warmth, he’s not entirely sure what to do with them. 

He lets Ed pace for a little while longer. It’s clear that he thinks physically, so to work through whatever problem he’s got inside his head, the rest of his body has to move as well. Stede allows him some time to breathe, to walk it out, just as Ed had done for him in the crow’s nest only a few days ago. 

It feels like it’s been a lifetime since then. Who knows? Maybe it has. 

When Ed’s pacing begins to slow just a touch, it’s then that Stede takes the opportunity to offer his help. “Talk it through with me?” He pats the space beside him on the step. 

Ed glances at him, his brow creased and his eyes dark. His breathing is still quite rapid. After a second more to think, he abandons the main deck and joins Stede on the steps once more, in the perfect spot where he was invited to sit. 

He takes another second to just breathe, to make sense of things in his head. This is another one of those moments where Stede wishes that he could hear his thoughts, wishes he could peer into his beautiful mind and watch the mechanisms there turn perpetually. 

Stede bumps their knees together. “Talk to me, Ed.” 

He swallows before straightening his back and taking a deep breath. He releases a torrent of his feelings in one go, like ripping off a band-aid. “I was only here for a year before you showed up. Only one whole year. It felt like a fuckin’ eternity, Stede. I started forgetting myself when I was here alone. So much time had passed that I was forgetting things and people and places I’d been. I was forgetting faces. I don’t – I can’t even remember what my mum looks like anymore.” 

His voice becomes tight, like this particular fact brings him a lot of guilt, and he doesn’t know what to do with it. Stede wants, more than anything, to take that guilt away for him. He wants to give him the chance to rest, carefree and without regret. 

He listens instead. It’s all he can do for now. 

“It was just me and my fading memories for-fucking-ever. It felt like a hundred lifetimes that I could have been living somewhere, but I wasn’t. I was stuck here, waiting for something to happen to me. Just – unable to move forward and unable to go back.” 

Stede stares, the stone in his chest weighing a ton. “And it scares you to think that it was only a year?” 

“Fuck yes, it does.” 

“Why is that?” 

Ed looks at him, his eyes earnest and heavy. “We still don’t know how long we have here. There’s no certainty about any of this shit. We don’t know if you’re going to stay, or if there even is a life to move on to after this, or what will happen to us when – or if – we get there. We don’t know anything.” 

Stede’s brows shoot up with understanding. “You’re worried that we’re going to be separated again.” 

Ed just nods. His chest flutters, like sobs are trying to eke out of him. 

“Oh, Edward,” Stede says softly. He shuffles closer and puts a hand on his back; a calming tactic he learned from him. 

“Stede, if I was only on my own here for a fucking year, then what the hell would two years feel like?” Ed sniffles. He’s got tears in his eyes, but they refuse to spill down his face. “What would five years feel like? How the fuck would I even get through that?” 

“I don’t know. If our roles were reversed – I don’t know how I’d survive it, either.” 

They let that sit between them for some time. What Stede would give to listen to the waves, to the air. Everything is eerily still and frighteningly quiet. He craves the noise and the complexities that the world had once brought him. 

Ed hiccups. He’s trying so hard not to cry that it’s getting caught inside him. 

Stede starts rubbing circles into his back, and that’s when the tears start to flow, free of inhibition. That’s when Ed leans over and puts his head on Stede’s shoulder. 

“Would you like some advice?” Stede asks. 

Again, Ed can only nod. His tears fall into the fabric of Stede’s blouse. 

“It’s going to sound familiar.” 

He can feel Ed frown against his side. There’s a beat, then Ed sighs. “You’re gonna say, ‘what can we do,’ right?” 

“Best advice I’ve ever gotten.” 

Ed chuckles quietly. It only comes out half-complete through the tightness in his throat. “But, Stede, aren’t you scared?” 

Stede decides to be honest. It worked on him when they were in opposite places a few days ago. He turns and gives Ed’s forehead a soft kiss, then whispers, “I’m terrified.” 

Ed looks up at him, his eyes shining. Stede wants to pry each one of his worries away from him like fruit from a tree, and he wants to toss them away like they’re rotten. 

“Of course I am. I don’t want to lose you again. I already spent one life without you in it, I don’t want to do it another time. But Ed, miserably enough, we are rather powerless here. In fact, I can only think of one thing that can be done.” 

“Mm?” 

“We can cherish every second,” Stede says with a smile. “Until we have answers, we do all that we can with the time that we have. That’s what we can do.” 

Ed sighs deeply, watches Stede for a moment like he’s the very night sky. He openly and unabashedly adores him, and Stede does the same in return. It’s all he knows now; it’s all he’s ever known. 

Slowly, Ed wraps his arms around Stede’s middle and pulls him close. They sit on the stairs and hold each other for a little while, listening to one another’s breathing and the surrounding silence. 

“Besides, we don’t even know if it really was only a year,” Stede says softly at last. “We could have come from completely separate worlds, Ed. It could have been a hundred years, really.” 

“Hmm,” Ed hums. “Y’know, that idea kinda scares me, too.” 

“It does?” 

“Well, if we came from completely separate worlds, then that means I spent my whole life looking for you, and you weren’t even there to be found.” 

By the time they’ve finished talking things through, Lucius and Pete’s ships have truly moved on. Stede can’t spot either of them anymore, even looking as hard as he can. They’ve been lost in the throng of other souls and listless clouds. 

The sun is starting to set. It can’t be any later than mid-morning, but the sky has given up for the day, it seems. It must be exhausted. There’s a part of Stede that doesn’t blame it. 

“I think I need to clear my head a bit,” Ed says from Stede’s side suddenly. They’re both watching the horizon in silence. 

“I see,” Stede says. “Take as much time as you need. Just call me when you’re ready, I’ll come find you–” 

“Hold on,” he says softly. “I don’t want you to go anywhere.” 

“Oh.” Stede’s shoulders ease. He tries to recall a time when he’s been told that someone wants him around before this, and nothing comes to mind. It’s such a wonderful feeling. 

“Stay with me for a bit?” 

Stede smiles at him. “Of course I will. So, what do you usually do to clear your head?” 

“Well, before I died, I’d go on long drives. Can’t do that anymore.” 

“Ah. When you think about it, really, what is a ship if not a car that drives on the water?” 

Ed chuckles and looks around. “Yeah, but it doesn’t have an engine for me to fix.” 

“No, I suppose not. And what would you like to do to clear your head now? Seeing as our car doesn’t have an engine.” 

Ed takes his hand. “I’ll show you.” 

He leads him through the dimmest hallways of the ship until they reach the stairs to the jam room. Ed’s assortment of instruments still remains assembled in the middle of the room, perfectly still and untouched. The lush armchair that Stede prepared is here, too, waiting for the show to begin. 

As soon as Stede sets his eyes on the instruments, his face cracks open into a broad grin. “I get to hear you play some more?” 

“Sure,” Ed says with a nonchalant shrug. “I’m not forcing you to listen, or anything. I just – I want you close right now.” 

Stede puts an assuring hand on Ed’s forearm. “I understand. I’ll stay as close as you like. And I love to hear you play, so this arrangement is mutually beneficial.” 

Ed giggles at him, then leans in and gives his cheek a soft kiss. Where his lips touch feels like lightning and summer rain. When he draws back, he steps towards the piano. 

Stede remains stuck in place for a second, like that small kiss was enough to render him a worm in frozen soil. When he can move, he claims his armchair. 

Ed glances at him when he’s comfortable. “You put that in here?” 

“I sure did. For this exact reason.” 

“To watch me play?” 

“To sit and watch you play, yes.” 

Ed shakes his head affectionately, a soft smile on his lips. He takes a seat at the piano, then stretches out his neck. Stede watches him with rapt fascination, his desire sitting plain on his face. 

Before he starts playing, Ed pulls his hair back into a bun and shirks off his leather jacket, which he places on the stool beside him. 

On that first day, Ed had said that it’s just human nature to want, that cravings for nice things linger even after death. That’s why they still hunger, it’s why they still laugh, still sleep, still touch. Right now, Stede is completely and totally consumed by it. That want, that desire, it grabs him by the waist and pulls him into its body heat. He can feel it pulsing somewhere within like it's alive, like it’s a fire that’s demanding fuel to continue burning. He's never wanted for anything this intensely in his life. He feels utterly ravenous with it. 

Ed clears his throat, levels out his breathing, closes his eyes. Slowly, as though taming a wild animal, he presses his fingers to the keys. A choir of strings begins to hum in unison in response to his touch. Stede, all the way over on the chair, feels like he’s about to do the same. 

Ed’s eyes are cast downward, focused intently on the ivory before him. He frowns in his concentration, and a tiny little perfect crease blooms between his brows. He plays a delicate and refined melody – the tune conjures the image of a moonlit stream or a field of dandelions come nightfall. It’s melancholy and serene all at once, like the bottom of the ocean where light cannot reach. 

To force himself to focus on the music instead of the visual feast he’s been presented with, Stede closes his eyes, too. He sighs into the music, lets it transport him to somewhere else. 

In his mind, he sees the two of them walking down an empty street, hand in hand. It’s nighttime and it’s raining. They’re both wearing big coats and scarves, but their clothes don’t seem to be doing their job well enough because they’re both leaning into each other in search of warmth. A set of traffic lights, further down the street and aglow in the darkness, shifts from red to green. In the boughs of the trees lining the path that leads them home, birds sing happily from their nests and huddle closer to keep away from the rain. There’s traffic in the distance – Ed can tell what kind of cars they are by the sound of their engines alone. Stede listens to him list them off with a happy smile, then asks what he’d like to do for dinner. Their breaths leave them as clouds that rise into the air. 

The song is drawn to a close. Stede opens his eyes. 

Ed turns to look at him, his face warm. He looks proud. As soon as their eyes meet, Ed rises from his seat. “Stede, hey, what’s wrong?” 

“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong. Ed, That was beautiful.” 

“Then –” he steps around the stool and approaches Stede on the armchair, then kneels beside it to meet him at eye-level. He reaches out a soft hand and cups his face. “Stede, why're you crying?” 

It isn’t until then that Stede realises tears are, in fact, streaming in torrents down his cheeks. As soon as it’s brought to his attention, more tears follow and a sob wracks his chest. He doesn’t understand where the crying comes from or why it violently shakes him so. 

Ed strokes a thumb over Stede’s cheekbone, trying to wipe away what he can of his tears, and it just makes the feeling so much more intense. Stede feels like a bone caught in the jaws of an emaciated hound. 

He lets out a sob, then leans in and gives Ed a soft kiss. When he pulls back, he smiles around his tears. 

“I’m sorry for getting emotional,” Stede says through a trembling breath. “I think it’s only just now hitting me that we’re really… dead. And that’s fine, I suppose, It’s just that — oh, I wish we had lived our lives together. I want to do the mundane and the extraordinary with you. The bad and the good. We shouldn’t be here, Ed.” 

Ed’s got tears in his eyes now, too. He inches forward a little, holds Stede with both hands. “I know. Yeah, I know.” 

Stede sniffles, then wipes at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I wish we had this before it was too late.” 

Ed draws him into a tight hug, and Stede buries his face in his shoulder. Together, they grieve the loss of two lives that were intended to be shared. 

“It’s not too late, y’know.” 

“No, you’re right. I know.” 

They’re in the diner now, which Ed lovingly refers to as “Spanish Jackie’z.” They’re at one of the plush red booths, watching the rain fall strangely onto the crosswalk outside. 

After they both cried enough to leave them feeling exhausted and dried up, Ed said that the only thing that can fix a person after that many tears is a fat stack of pancakes and a bowl of ice cream. They walked all the way to the diner with their hands joined and their eyes puffy. 

Ed cuts out another chunk from his pancakes and stabs it with his fork. He swirls it around in the syrup for a moment. “We gotta cherish this, just like you said.” 

“And I meant it.” 

“Good. You know we can’t go back.” 

“I know,” Stede says with a forlorn sigh. He takes a long drink from his tea. “It’s not that I want to go back. I just...” he stops, swallows. 

A long silence sits on the table between them while he thinks about what he means. Stede pokes at his ice cream, and Ed waits patiently for him to continue speaking — he doesn’t prod or pry, simply sets down his cutlery and offers his full attention. 

“I just wish we could have experienced the world together, is all,” Stede makes himself say at last. He’s still not used to talking about his feelings. It’s a skill he’s yet to master. “I know we can’t go back, I’m not saying that we should, I just wish we had the … well, the world. I wish we had more than this ship and the occasional passer-by. And, yes, I will cherish every second I get with you, Ed. I guess it’s just like you said — it’s just human nature to want shit.” 

Ed nods. “Uh-huh. And you want the world.” 

“I want us to have the world. I want to share it with you.” 

He leans forward on the table with a kind smile. “You want us to have the world. I want us to have forever.” He shrugs. “Seems like reasonable enough stuff to ask for.” 

Stede chuckles, then takes a spoonful of his dessert. “Yes, I think those are both perfectly reasonable requests.” 

Ed nods. “Okay. So, now we need a plan.” 

“A plan?” 

“A plan." 

Stede blinks. “For… what, exactly?” 

“For the things we want, Stede. Gotta find a way to make them happen.” 

“The world and forever, you mean?” 

“Yup.” 

“Ed, I was being sarcastic.” 

“I wasn’t,” Ed says with a happy grin. He leans back in his seat. “We have all this time here, why not make good use of it?” 

“I don’t think I understand,” Stede says slowly. “The world and forever – those aren’t attainable things.” 

“Sure they are. We just gotta be smart about it.” Ed taps his forehead with the blunt end of his fork in emphasis. 

Stede says nothing, simply lets the cogs inside his mind try to catch up. 

“We don’t have to find the answers now,” Ed explains. The prospect of formulating and executing a plan seems to excite him. “We should have enough time. But we should have something to work towards, y’know? An end goal.” 

Stede considers this. He sets down his cutlery and watches Ed, thinking about how he’d spent his whole life looking for the second half of his soul, and now he’s sharing a meal with him. Thinking about how what they want is the world and forever, thinking about how they already found it in each other. 

Thinking about how their end goal always has been and always will be simply being in the same world, living at the same time. Breathing the same air. 

He smiles. “Okay,” he says. “We’ll make a plan.” 

“That’s the spirit,” Ed says. “We can get started whenever.” 

“Yes, let’s take it slow. Be meticulous about it.” 

“Uh-huh. It’s gotta be perfect.” 

“Agreed.” 

The smile Ed gives him looks like relief. His shoulders ease, and his posture becomes more lax. It looks like he’d been worried about something, and this conversation has eased him some. 

Stede doesn’t think he has all the pieces yet – he’s not entirely sure how this image is coming together. For now, they have the time, they have each other, and they can make a plan. 

The world and forever, huh? 

Stede thinks they deserve that. 

Once they’ve finished eating, Stede says that he’d love to hear Ed play some more, and he promises that he won’t start crying again, but Ed offers him an affectionate giggle and tells him that he has something else in mind instead, then leads him to the galley. There, he begins prepping the kitchen and manifesting ingredients like flour and yeast and salt. Stede watches with fascination, and when he doesn’t move, Ed tells him that he’s going to show him how to make bread. He says that it’s a task they can do together with a reward that they can share at the end, which seems like the perfect way to stay close right now. Stede smiles at him, then begins helping with preparation. 

While the oven warms, Ed teaches Stede how to make dough. He gives him step-by-step instructions, lets him get his hands dirty. He tells him that it won’t come out perfect the first time, but the best part about it is that they can always try again. Ed also explains the science behind everything that they’re doing, like how the yeast creates carbon dioxide in the dough to make it rise, and that it’s a species of fungi that’s been around for millions of years. After this information, there’s a brief pause, and then he says, “they also reproduce asexually. Yeast, I mean. Just in case you wanted to know the sex habits of fungi.” Stede lets out a giggle that’s terribly embarrassing, but he somehow finds it within himself to love the way it sounds. 

Ed manifests aprons for them both. One for himself that has his signature ‘Jeff’s Bakery and Delights’ embroidered into the front, and another for Stede, which says the same with an additional ‘apprentice chef’ embroidered beneath. Then, Ed ties it around his waist for him. When he does, Stede feels like a cloud that’s one shiver away from cracking into a storm. He’s extremely conscious of Ed’s knuckles, his arms, his fingers.

He wants Ed’s palms tight on his waist and his lips hot on his neck. But now isn’t the time to think about that. Right now, there’s dough that’s infested with asexually-reproducing fungi. 

Ed makes the task near-impossible to focus on, however. Stede is trying to knead it out, though he’s entirely unpractised, so his movements aren’t as fluid as Ed’s demonstration had been. He fumbles a few times, so Ed assures him, presses himself against Stede’s back, takes his hands and guides him. He’s right by Stede’s ear, using this voice that sounds like it would taste like honey if it could be spread, and he’s purring kind assurances and praise. “See? Just like that. That’s it. You’re a natural.” 

Stede can feel his body heat, can feel his tummy and his chest against his back, can’t think past his arms circling him and his voice by his ear. He’s never been so turned on in all his stupid life. His breathing comes out shaky and heavy. It’s a miracle that he manages to get the bread into the pan, and a wonder that he can focus enough to even get the damn thing into the oven without burning himself or setting their ship on fire. Smooth sailing on the bread front. 

But on the lust front? Stede’s a goner. 

He goes quiet while the bread is baking. He watches it rise for some time, thinking about hands and mouths and tongues, thinking about Ed’s hair and the sound he might make if it was tugged – 

He has to take a deep breath to divert that line of thought. Ed is reaching behind himself to untie his apron, and a wispy lock of his hair has fallen out of his bun and is kissing his cheek. Stede envies it enough to make him burn. 

 “Bread rising okay?” 

Stede glances at it through the oven window. “Yes, looks good.” 

“Perfect,” Ed says. He successfully unties his own apron, then sets it down on the counter. 

Stede wishes it was all his clothes. He flicks his eyes back to the bread because he can’t look at Ed without his desire gnawing at his limbs and making his head spin. 

Maybe he just needs to calm himself down. He’s worked himself up like a spring that’s tightly-wound and horny as sin. He takes a deep breath. As he does, a thought occurs to him in a flash and makes him frown. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Ed asks. He takes a step closer. “You started looking real intense all of a sudden.” 

In any other world, Stede thinks he’d be embarrassed to ask. Not with Ed, though. With Ed, he can be as embarrassing and as authentic and as sincere as he likes. He knows, beyond doubt and with certainty, that Ed will only ever treat him gently, which is such a nice thought to have before Stede’s question erupts from his mouth. 

“How the hell does masturbation work here?” 

Ed’s brows shoot up. He offers him a kind smile. “Same as it did before.” 

“Oh,” Stede says. 

“Did you think it would be different?” 

Stede’s cheeks go dark. He watches the bread. If he looks at Ed, he’ll pounce like a tiger that’s been left in a cage too long. “I assumed it would be… worse.” 

“It doesn’t feel the same, exactly,” Ed explains. “It’s not as intense.” 

“Lucius made it out to be so much better.” 

“Yeah, but he was talking about sex. That would be better.” 

It goes quiet for a very long time. Both of them watch the bread in complete silence. The air becomes sweet as it bakes. 

“How long is this going to take?” Stede asks, nodding his head to it. 

Ed sucks his teeth in thought. “Can’t really say. You know how time is here.” 

“Mm. So we just have to… watch it?” 

“Yeah, kinda.” 

More silence. Stede shifts his weight between his feet, crosses his arms, uncrosses them, balls his hands into fists, puts them behind his back. Ed watches the oven. 

“Is that… is that something you’d want?” Stede asks at last. 

Ed gives him a sidelong glance. “You talking about the bread?” 

“I’m… I’m not talking about the bread.” 

He heaves a sigh. “Thank fuck.” 

Stede turns to him with a brow raised. 

“I’ve been trying to seduce you for fucking ages,” Ed explains.

“You – you were doing that on purpose?” 

“Oh yeah. Did it work?” 

“Of course it did! I’m going out of my fucking mind,” Stede answers urgently. “On purpose, Ed? Jesus!” 

Ed tilts his head back with a hearty laugh, then steps closer. He puts a palm against the edge of the counter top, then leans his weight into it. He’s close enough once more that Stede can feel his warmth, and he wants to bend into it like a flower into sunlight. “Yeah, that’s something I’d want, Stede.” 

He glances at the oven. “You’re not talking about the bread either, right?” 

“Fuck no.” 

“Thank god,” Stede says on a loving sigh. He takes Ed by the waist and draws him close, pressing their bodies flush and kissing him as hard as he can. Ed responds in kind, melting into the embrace like butter, his hands running up Stede’s arms and over his shoulders. 

Stede kisses him like he might find the key to life on his lips, kisses him like he’s chasing his gasp downward. He turns them both until Ed’s back is against the counter, until he can crowd in between his parted legs, accepts his pleasured groan on his tongue. Stede’s hands, soft and gentle and unpractised, hold Ed’s sides like they were moulded by the very stars to do so. 

He parts from Ed’s mouth briefly to kiss down his neck, a gesture which makes Ed shiver. Stede can feel him trembling, and it’s like a star of delight implodes behind his eyes. He doesn’t withdraw his lips, but while kissing the place where his pulse should be, Stede says, “we can’t leave the bread unattended, right?” 

“Not unless you want it to burn,” Ed says, his voice low and thin. His eyes are closed, as though he’s so lost in his shivers that he dares not open them. “Doesn’t mean we can’t make out in front of it.” 

Stede giggles and presses his cheek against Ed’s jaw, hoping to share the joy on his face through touch. He wants to give him every part of him, including the things that reside within, like all his reverence and his joy and every ounce of his love. “What if the bread’s a prude?” 

Ed, with his eyes still closed, chuckles. “Then it’s gonna have to suffer, ‘cause I’m fucking loving this.” 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stop?” 

“Stede, if you stop, I’ll burn this fucking ship down.” 

“Well, since you put it like that, darling,” Stede says through a playful giggle, then he puts another kiss to his skin. 

At last, Ed’s eyes snap open. He draws back from Stede only a touch, just enough to give him a bewildered look. “‘Darling’?” 

Stede’s gut drops. “Shit, I’m sorry, do you not like–” 

Ed takes his face with both hands and kisses him with fervour, draws himself closer like they’ll melt into one person if they’re entwined enough. He withdraws for only a second to press his forehead to Stede’s and whisper, “I’ve been waiting for a hundred fucking years to hear you call me that.” 

So Stede kisses him some more, presses as close as he can, tangles his hands in Ed’s hair and whispers the word “darling” whenever they part to breathe, says it time and time again because he’s never had the chance to before, because he has to make up for lost time. Ed trembles every time it’s said, like it’s a magic phrase that’s summoning up an ancient part of him and whenever his voice is given the space, he says Stede’s name in return. They get lost in the push and the pull of it, not daring to part or slow or stop. 

Ed shirks off his jacket without severing their lips, tosses it away anywhere. As soon as Stede has access to his waist, he puts his hands there just to hold him. The tips of his fingers lift the hem of his shirt and feel the fuzz on his belly, his palms collect his warmth like they’re thawing in the first light of spring. Ed’s tongue meets Stede’s bottom lip — velvet and nectar and honey. 

Stede’s mouth tingles from the friction of Ed’s beard, his shoulders are rigid from trying to keep them standing when they could both so easily buckle to the floor, but he feels like he’s soaring. Ed’s breathing becomes heaved, desperate and wanting, and Stede’s lungs begin to work overtime with his, as though they’re bound together by the same hungry machine. Stede thinks he could spend the rest of his afterlife kissing Ed, without wanting for food or air or sunlight. He could sustain on this for eternity.

But Ed gently puts his hands in the middle of Stede’s chest and gives him the smallest push — a kind signal to stop. Stede pulls back instantly. “Everything alright?” 

“With me? Fuck yeah. The bread’s not looking so good, though.” He gestures to the oven. 

Stede whips his head around. Only when he sees the smoke seeping through the door does he smell it, and then he’s instantly in action. “Oh, Christ!”

Ed starts laughing so hard that he has to hold his stomach. 

“This isn’t possible,” Stede says as he adorns his oven mitts and pulls open the door, setting the smoke free from its cage. “We were only distracted for a minute!”

Still laughing, Ed wipes a tear from his eye. “Yeah, a minute for us. Probably about a hundred minutes for the poor bread.” 

Stede pulls the tray out of the oven, being extra cautious not to burn himself, despite not knowing if he even can. He sets it down on top, and it sits there, ashen and smoking and fizzling. 

It makes a miserable popping sound that sends Ed into another laughing fit. This time, Stede joins him, laughing so hard that his knees feel like they’re going to cave. He braces himself against the counter. 

“It sounds like it’s crying,” he says between breaths, which only makes Ed snort through his wheezing. His face is scrunched up, and his chest is heaving, and gorgeous strands of hair have fallen across his temples. 

Stede thinks that he’s going to cherish this moment for the rest of forever, here on this boat. He wants to hold onto it for this lifetime and into whatever comes after. Time can have his soul, his being, his heart. It can take everything else. 

Please, he begs to whoever or whatever will heed his call, I’ve never asked for anything before now. Take all that makes me, but let me keep this.

With his lungs heaving, his hands reaching and desperate to hold and keep, Stede thinks, let me keep the love I’ve spent my life searching for.

Chapter Text

It takes only a moment to clean up the mess made by their attempt at bread. There’s no trouble with putting away flour or salt or butter, everything simply vanishes like it never existed to begin with because, really, it didn’t. They leave the ashen bread in its sad little tin as a monument of sorts, so they might gaze upon its blackened remains and think of themselves, of their love that allowed it to burn. 

Ed takes Stede by the waist the second the kitchen has been cleaned up, kisses him some more, holds his face in both his palms. He parts from him to ask, “should we take this to our quarters?” To which Stede can only make an affirmative sound at the back of his throat. Ed smiles into their kiss, takes his hand, and leads him to their room. 

They’re all excitement and giggling and touching through the halls of the ship, but they come to a standstill as soon as the door to their room swings open. They stand in the threshold together for a second, out of breath and staring at their bed with their hands intertwined. 

Stede swallows, then speaks up. “So, um. How does… how is this going to work, exactly?” 

“Which part?” Ed asks, not taking his eyes away from their sheets. 

“The sex.” 

Ed’s eyes snap to him. “You’ve never–?” 

“No, no, I’ve had sex,” Stede explains in a rush. “I’m not completely lost in that regard — only a little bit lost.” 

“Ah. The soul stuff, then?” 

“Yes, that.” 

“I uh,” Ed clears his throat, then rubs the back of his neck with his free hand. “I don’t have much experience with it.” 

Stede steps further into their room. It’s dim now that the sun has set, but he doesn’t light any candles just yet. Ed doesn’t either. 

“And I guess there’s no one to ask for advice,” Stede says thoughtfully. 

“Nope. Just us.” Ed pulls him a bit closer. “Which means we’re gonna have to figure it out together.” 

“Ooh, I love doing that.” 

Ed grins. “C’mere,” he says gently, giving Stede’s hands a little tug to draw him in. 

Stede follows his pull as nothing more than water in a current. He falls into his shape and succumbs to his warmth, accepts his kiss with glory and reverence. He sighs into his embrace, adores the feeling of Ed’s arms snaking around his waist, savours the taste of his lips and the sigh that slips from his throat. 

“You sure this is what you want, Stede?” Ed asks when he pulls back, his voice golden and tender. 

“Of course it is,” Stede assures, pulling back enough to fix the ends of Ed’s cravat into their correct places. “As long as this is what you want, too.” 

Ed hums out an affirmative sound which closely resembles, “mm-hmm,” but his tone is so low and saccharine that it comes out like syrup. He runs his fingers through Stede’s hair to push it away from his eyes. “If it becomes too much, we can stop.” 

“Yes, absolutely.” Stede tosses a glance at their now combined bed. 

Ed follows his gaze, then lifts a brow. 

“I want to make this special for you,” Stede clarifies after a moment. “You deserve to have the nicest sex in the world, Ed.” 

He giggles, his cheeks growing dark. “If it’s with you, then it is going to be the nicest sex in the world, Stede.” 

“Oh, you’re so sweet. I’d just like to…” he looks around, glancing at the unlit candles and the moonlight through the window and the barely serviceable bedsheets that they share. Then he looks at Ed, and he smiles earnestly. “Would you give me a moment, darling?” 

“‘Course.” Ed takes a slow step away, like he’s fighting the urge to fall back into Stede’s embrace. “I’ll go, uh, slip into something more comfortable, yeah?” He gestures to the auxiliary wardrobe by way of explanation. 

Stede watches as he walks away, loving every single bend and curve, every line, every dot, every mark. He watches him, his chest feeling like iron that’s being consumed by rust; eating away at all the locked up parts of him to leave his imperfect heart bare and vulnerable. It’s release in the kindest sense. 

Ed gives him an adoring look before he slips into the wardrobe – a look that Stede hopes he returns. 

The door clicks shut and Stede rolls up his sleeves. 

For some reason, Stede insists on putting the finishing touches in place with his hands, rather than just picturing everything where he wants it to be. It would be so much easier – a pillow here, a flower there, a candle there. He thinks that maybe it’s more rewarding to put things precisely where they should be with his touch. Maybe it means more. It means he tried as best as he could. 

While he’s making everything perfect, he tries to not let his anxieties get the best of him. After all, he’s had sex before, yes, but never with another man. He’s certainly fantasised about it, and he’s done pornographic research, but he never had the opportunity to put all his enthusiasm into practice when he was alive. He was married, of course, and then he died rather quickly into his adventure outside of that. 

Performance anxiety aside, the soul aspect of the whole thing is rather daunting. What does the soul stuff entail, exactly? That’s entirely beyond the realm of Stede’s comprehension right now. How do they even get to that point? Would there be lasting effects if they mess anything up? Can it be messed up?

What if this leaves permanent marks on them both? What if this is something they can’t come back from? 

He’s trying so desperately to push those thoughts aside as he pulls off his boots, as he unbuttons his vest. He tries to think about all the love inside him, thinks of its potency, and tries to disregard everything else. 

The auxiliary wardrobe door opens with a click. In the glow of the candlelight, Ed emerges, wearing the floral fuchsia robe that Stede gave him. He turns, and a pearl necklace shimmers around his neck. 

Stede’s knees grow weak. He has to sit down on the edge of their bed because the sheer weight of his desire renders his legs completely useless. 

Ed draws the robe together around his waist with a gentle hand, then lifts his eyes to their nook, where Stede now sits gaping like a stunned fish. As he looks around, Ed’s eyes blow wide. “Holy fuck.” 

Stede’s decorated their nook with the intention of romance, but as he looks around too, he worries that he might have gone a touch overboard. Their sheets have been replaced with luxurious red satin, their bed is abundant with fluffed cushions and pillows. The curtains across the window have been pulled apart to allow the moonlight access and through them, shooting stars make their ventures across the night sky. 

Where there had once been plain hardwood flooring beneath their bed, there is now a modest glade of flowers that are all in full bloom, rife with pollen that dances in the air. Petals of pinks and reds and oranges reach out as though intending to caress, growing out from the floor below the mattress and spreading out a few feet, until the sheer curtains that obscure their nook from view can kiss the flowers when they sway. The fire sings them a melody from its place in the hearth. 

Stede’s finishing touches include – perhaps a dangerous amount of – candles, which flicker away amongst the flowers now surrounding their bed, and an array of petals that have been strewn across the pillows and sheets. He’s also arranged a vase full of lavender on their nightstand, complete with dewdrops, as though they’ve just been collected from the garden. 

They look at it together in silence for some time, Stede becoming increasingly embarrassed when Ed doesn’t speak. When he can bear the quiet no longer, he clears his throat and opens his mouth to offer an explanation, but Ed rushes over to him wordlessly, stands in front of where he sits on the bed, takes his face with both hands and kisses him hard. Stede makes a soft sound of surprise into it, then kisses him back because he’d be a damned fool not to, because he’s been deprived of kisses like this one for lifetimes too long. 

He inches back on the bed a little, and Ed follows, refusing to part from his lips. Stede’s hands find his sides, his fingertips tingle as they trace the velvet robe. They move until Stede is sitting up on his elbows, until Ed is crouching over him with his hair cascading around his face. 

Ed severs their kiss to wipe at his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I thought you were just gonna take your clothes off.” 

Stede grins, then wipes one of Ed’s tears away with his thumb. “I was too busy thinking about candles to get that far, I’m afraid.” 

He offers him a wide smile, the kind that makes the corners of his eyes turn up. Because he can, Stede leans up and kisses the lines there, a small peck on each side. 

“You did all this… for me?” Ed wonders as he looks around some more. 

“Of course I did.” 

“You know, I’d have sex with you anywhere, Stede.” 

“As would I,” Stede says, tucking a lock of Ed’s hair behind his ear gently. “But you deserve fine things. I wanted this place to be as beautiful as you are. If it’s too much, I can change it. Just say the word.” 

“Don’t change anything,” Ed whispers, leaning down to kiss Stede’s temple and cheek. His hair tickles his collarbone, his throat. It feels like butterfly kisses. “Don’t change a thing about this room, about you. It’s all perfect.” 

Stede hums happily, accepts Ed’s kisses on his face. “Alright. As long as you’re happy.” 

“I am,” he says. He sounds like he means it with sincerity, with absolute conviction. It makes Stede feel like he might cry. “I am happy.” 

“Good.” Stede presses a longing kiss against his cheek. “I am, too.” 

Ed sighs against him, then pulls back. He straddles Stede's waist, shifting in place until he’s comfortable. “Okay. Okay.” 

Stede tilts his head at him, his hands aimlessly moving up Ed’s thighs. He holds him gently, keeps him warm. 

“I think that this is… this is going to be intense,” Ed says, his eyelids fluttering a little at Stede’s touch. 

“Do you think so?” 

“Mm. Soul stuff can be fucking crazy.” 

Stede puts his palms flat on Ed’s thighs, strokes his thumbs gently across his skin. “Have you ever tried it before? On your own?” 

“I only tried once,” Ed says softly. “I didn’t get very far. It’s hard to do by yourself, and it can be kinda confronting.” 

“I see. Is there anything I should be aware of?”

“Just that…” Ed pauses to shiver when Stede’s hands move up just a fraction. “Just that we’re going to feel everything at maximum capacity. Full volume.” 

Stede nods in understanding. “Got it. And you’ll tell me if you need to stop?” 

“I will,” Ed says. “If you get overwhelmed, you gotta tell me too, okay?” 

“I promise.” 

“Perfect.” Ed leans down a little. “You nervous?” 

“I was at first,” Stede says, letting his heavy and wanting gaze trace every corner of Ed’s body. “But as soon as I looked at you, every one of those nerves disappeared.” 

“Hmm,” he hums with a warm smile. “Yeah, me too.” 

Stede smiles in return, then turns his head just so to accept Ed’s mouth with another kiss. This one is knowing, it’s progressive. They’re moving this forward – a kiss with a destination. 

“One problem, though,” Ed says, barely parting from Stede’s lips. 

“Hm? Is something not to your liking?” 

“I mean, as much as I fucking love your clothes when they’re on you, I’d prefer if they were on the ground right now.” 

“Oh!” Stede giggles. “Yes, of course. Make yourself comfortable, darling.” He taps the free space beside him on the bed, occupied only by petals and candlelight. 

Ed rolls over and lies amongst their sheets, his hair fanning out around him and the robe parting over his chest. His eyes, dark in the soft light, shine like every sunrise that has ever been or ever will be is hiding there. 

Stede kneels beside him and shirks off his unbuttoned vest, pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it aside. As he begins to untie the laces at the back of his breeches, Ed reaches out an astonished hand and runs it over the fuzz on his belly softly, as though lost in wonder. As soon as he makes contact, it’s like static shocks are sent across every inch of Stede’s skin, tingling in the most delightful way. 

They both have the potential to be lightning if they so chose it, but they’re allowing themselves to be soft, quiet sparks instead. Only tenderness, only butterfly kisses. 

Stede tosses away what’s left of his clothes, being extra careful to avoid the candles on the ground – knowing full well that the ship couldn’t burn down even if they wanted it to – then he turns to Ed with his cheeks flushed. His eyes are heavy, half-lidded, looking Stede up and down like he’s never seen a sight so breathtaking. 

It makes Stede feel incredible. Wanted. He feels loved and, beyond that, he feels adored. He feels so adored that he doesn’t recall ever needing to wonder if he was. He knows that he always has been, and that he always will be. 

Ed is on his back, his delicate hands light on his chest. Stede shuffles until he’s between his thighs, where he moves in close and leans over him. When he can see his face, he puts his palm on his cheek. “Are you ready?” 

He nods. “Ready.” 

With his touch as soft as he can make it, Stede opens the front of Ed’s robe to reveal the masterpiece hiding beneath. He draws in a small gasp when his gaze is allowed access to his chest, his stomach, his waist. He doesn’t remove the robe from him, simply dismisses it of its duty and lets it fall open. Ed is framed by it; salt and pepper, fuchsia velvet, stationary birds of paradise. 

Stede would die a thousand times over for this. A hundred thousand. If birds of paradise shall always lead him to his doom, then may Ed be adorned in their likeness always. 

He makes a sound of awe, a low and sensual noise, then brings himself down to press an adoring kiss on the nape of Ed’s neck, on his collarbone. He makes a special stop to kiss the delicate string of pearls on his chest, just to let them know that they’re loved, too. Then he makes his way down Ed’s body, kissing and loving every corner of him that he can reach. 

It’s so warm, so soft. It’s melting glass and cashmere. Ed tangles his hands in Stede’s hair, his arms still lovingly wrapped in the robe’s sleeves. He looks at Stede through his lashes as he makes his journey downward. 

Stede comes to a stop at Ed’s belly, where he finds a cluster of scars. He touches them gently, looking up at Ed with a question in his face that he need not ask aloud. 

“Remember that bad crowd I told you about?” Ed asks, his voice light. 

Stede nods, kisses the place next to the scars longingly. “Yes, I remember.” 

“Gift from them,” he explains, tilting his head towards his scars. “You’ll probably find more, too.” 

You have so much pain in your body, Stede thinks, I want nothing more than to take it away from you. Please let me shoulder the weight of it in your stead. 

“Then I’ll have to kiss every one I find,” he says. “I think that’s what I was made for.” 

Ed smiles down at him. “Kissing scars?” 

“Just yours.” 

Ed’s chest flutters, his fingers in Stede’s hair tighten the most beautiful amount. He sighs and tilts his head back, exposing the perfect line of his neck. Stede makes himself comfortable in the place between Ed’s legs, hunched forward like a man deep in prayer, and he plants loving kisses over his crotch, the inside of his thighs. Ed’s breathing becomes more rapid with each reverent smooch. 

At last, Stede takes Ed’s waist with one hand and takes hold of his cock with the other, withdrawing a deep groan from him. He’s incredibly hard and eager, hot and heavy in Stede’s palm. He hasn’t even started moving yet, but Ed is lost in a bliss so dense that he won’t open his eyes. His touch, in any capacity, seems to be enough to make him see stars. Stede feels powerful. He feels wanted and able and oh, so loved. 

He slowly begins to work Ed’s cock, planting kisses on the shaft whenever he feels the urge to do so. His other hand he places on Ed’s belly, just to feel his breathing, to touch the life that lingers there. When he does, Ed’s back arches off the sheets. “Ah, fuck!” 

Stede pulls back a little. “Shit, I’m sorr–” 

“No, please don’t move,” Ed pleads, his voice strained. “It feels so fucking good, Stede.” 

“I thought I hurt you.” 

Ed shakes his head, then has to blow away a lock of hair that spills into his eyes. “Your hand right there,” he nods to Stede’s palm, flat on his belly, “that feels fucking incredible.” 

Stede’s brows shoot up. “Oh. It does?” 

“Uh-huh. Must be soul stuff.” 

“I see,” Stede says thoughtfully. “Shall I keep going? Do you need a break?” 

“You’re so fucking cute,” Ed says with an enamoured grin. “Keep going, babe. It feels so good. Don’t stop.” 

Stede can feel his cheeks become hot at Ed’s term of endearment, but he ignores the heat and obliges anyway. He doesn’t move his hand from the perfect place on Ed’s stomach, and he works his cock with the other. He picks up his pace, savouring every sigh and every heaved breath. Ed moans, drops one hand from Stede’s hair to grip their satin sheets. 

Stede drops some saliva onto Ed’s cock to lubricate it, then begins to pump faster. He feels Ed’s loud groan rumble from his chest, collects the vibrations with his palm. 

“Fuck, Stede,” Ed whispers on a loving sigh. “I wanna – ah, I wanna hold you. Please. Come here.” 

He goes to him without a hint of hesitation, knowing only devotion and knowing only want, and he presses as close as he can to meet Ed’s summon with a hungry kiss. Ed wraps his arms around him, covering them both in the fuchsia robe, draws him close enough that their chests make contact, close enough that their skin meets at every possible turn. Their legs tangle together, and Ed’s tongue sweeps over Stede’s bottom lip, which he meets in kind. They’re completely lost in one another’s embrace, neither of them daring to discover where one man ends and the other begins. 

It’s like their insides are trying to venture out of them to swap places. Stede wants to carve the stone out of his chest and hand it over, he wants to give Ed a promise and a vow and the world and forever, but now is not the time. Right now, their silken bodies kiss as often as their mouths do. Right now, they can touch and hold and cherish every glorious second. 

Ed lets out a groan, then gently moves Stede over until he rolls onto his back, and he arranges himself on top. He’s got some petals lost in the waves of his hair. He’s a velvet, pearlescent and shining marvel, and Stede does not have eyes that are equipped for looking at someone so beautiful. He feels deserving and unworthy all at once. 

Panting, Ed lowers himself down until Stede’s hard cock meets the curve of his ass, and he begins to rock in place, searching for bliss in the friction. Stede’s hands find his waist and hold him tight as his head falls back, and his throat gives passage to a low moan, a noise that’s never come from him before. He didn’t know he had the capacity to make sounds like this, so unbridled and honest. 

As Ed ruts in place, Stede takes his cock into his hand and strokes him some more, and Ed sighs his name at the touch. There’s barely even thought between them now, they’re communicating more with their bodies and their heaving breaths than they are with words. Language almost feels futile here; they know each other deeply enough without the need for it. 

It’s electric, it’s so incredibly alive. Stede’s hips buck upwards, seeking more of the fire, more of Ed, more of that friction. They’re grinding against one another in a way that’s primal and desperate and delicious. 

Ed’s movements stutter, and he slows to a stop. Through panting breaths, he says, “still okay?” 

“I’m wonderful,” Stede says, his own breaths leaving him heaved. He moves some of Ed’s hair out of his eyes. “You’re alright?” 

“I’m so fucking good,” he says with a grin. “Just, uh. You’ve never had sex with a guy before now, right?” 

Stede shakes his head. “I never had the chance.” 

“Two firsts for us tonight, then.” 

He tilts his head. “Two?” 

“Your first time having sex with a guy, and it’s the first time anyone’s ever had sex in the afterlife.” 

Stede laughs, earnestly and openly. He’s never learned to love his own laugh. It sounds so beautiful here, especially in Ed’s company. “And no one will ever have sex in the afterlife again. We’d best make each occasion count.” 

“Oh yeah. Gotta have sex on behalf of all the souls out there who can’t,” Ed agrees with a chuckle. 

They share a tender kiss for a moment, each smiling as he leans into it, then Ed climbs out of Stede’s lap for only a moment to retrieve a bottle from the drawer of his nightstand. He returns and brandishes it proudly, then pops open the cap. 

Stede bites his lip. “I must admit, it’s strange seeing such a modern bottle of lube in a ship that looks like it was built two hundred years ago.” 

“Yeah, total mindfuck, right?” Ed pours a generous helping of the lube onto his palm. “But I don’t go anywhere without it. Not even the realm of the dead. Lube’s comin’ with.” 

Stede tosses his head back with a loud laugh, lets it ring from his chest like a church bell. “You’re a wise man, Edward Teach.” 

“Wise and horny,” he agrees. “I’m gonna get myself ready, okay?” 

He leans back until he’s comfortable. “Alright.”

Once he’s in place, Ed takes Stede’s cock into his lubricated hand and strokes him for a moment, his touch devastatingly warm and soft. Stede couldn’t wrangle the groan that escapes him if he had rope and a giant’s strength, it slips from him so freely. Ed grins at the sound, takes his touch away from Stede’s cock, then puts his hand there for him. 

“Watch me,” he says. “Don’t look away. Keep touching yourself, alright?” 

Stede wets his lips and nods, strokes himself languidly and diligently. Ed seems pleased with his work because he smiles at him, then pours another helping of lube onto his palm, which he warms for a moment. When he’s satisfied, he reaches behind himself and prepares his hole, being slow and attentive. He carefully avoids getting any of the lubricant onto the robe, a tiny detail that Stede adores wholeheartedly. 

He watches as though he’s witnessing the pearly gates of heaven part and beckon him inside. Ed is magnetic and intoxicating as he works, sighing gently and letting out soft moans from time to time. His eyes are half-lidded and shining, and he watches Stede stroke himself like simply observing him is enough. They keep their eyes fixed on each other, their gazes coming together as a thread that they dare not cut. 

They pick up the pace in tandem, their breaths collect as one amorphous cloud, until Ed can take no more. He swallows thickly, asks silently for Stede’s go ahead, which he gives to him in the form of a nod. Moving slowly and carefully, Ed arranges himself on Stede’s cock and gingerly, steadily, sinks down. He closes his eyes as he descends, his breathing leaving him in uneven shapes. 

Stede’s eyes roll into the back of his head, each one of his muscles tenses as though he’s about to start running, his grip on Ed’s sides grows tighter. He makes a sound that he has no control over, a combination of a sigh and a groan that comes out remarkably wavy, but it feels so good to set it free. As Ed arranges himself in place, sinks further onto Stede’s cock, he leans forward and takes Stede’s jaw with his thumb and forefinger. 

“You okay?” he asks breathlessly. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes are radiant. 

“Oh, yes,” Stede answers through a heaved breath. “Yes, I’m better than I’ve ever been in my life.” 

Ed giggles, seats himself completely, then stays in place for a moment. The air is alive with anticipation. They sigh and breathe together for a moment more, before Ed begins to move, just in barely more than half-thrusts but, god, it’s divine. Stede holds onto him, cradling every piece, loving every perfect inch of him. 

He doesn’t even realise he’s started talking, but he starts to pour forth the infatuation that’s been hiding within him all this time. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, putting his palm to Ed’s cheek. “You’re beautiful, Ed. Just incredible. I’m so lucky I found you.” 

Ed lets out a heavy fluttering breath which sounds like he’s trying not to cry. Stede draws their eyes together to find that Ed’s are misty, shining like the cosmos outside. He kisses him, sighs against his lips, and Ed starts to move a fraction faster. 

Feeling like there’s too much space between them, even now when they’re closer than they’ve ever been, Stede slowly sits up. He wraps his arms around Ed’s middle to keep him in place and ensure he doesn’t lose his balance, then continues to hold him like that once they’re both safely upright. Like this, with Ed straddling and Stede comfortably locked beneath, their bodies are more flush, their mouths are closer. 

Ed releases a pleasured groan due to the new angle, and lets his head fall forward a little. Stede immediately begins planting loving kisses wherever he can – his cheek, his temple, his shoulder, his collarbone. Stede’s hands, wrapped around his middle, travel the length of Ed’s body, completely lost in wonder. He thrusts into him as his palms explore, and he savours every perfect noise that Ed makes in his lap. 

They rock together like that for a perfect sliver of time that simultaneously feels like half a second and a hundred years. It’s glorious, it’s holy, it’s got a heartbeat and a pulse. Stede’s hands come to Ed’s front and trace his stomach, which causes him to let out another loud and desperate, “unngh — fuck, Stede!” 

Stede hushes him gently, reassuringly. “I’ve got you, darling,” he whispers against his collarbone. “I’m going to take care of you.” 

Ed nods, whispers a breathless, “I know you will, Stede.” His nails drag across Stede’s back, and it feels entirely unique in the sense that it doesn’t hurt, not even a little bit, but it makes his skin feel like it’s being dropped with hot wax. 

“I won’t hurt you,” Stede promises. 

“I know,” Ed says again. Because he does. He’s always known. 

And then, like a door being pushed open by a warm breeze, everything in regard to handling their souls just makes full and complete sense. 

It’s about finding the most vulnerable parts of another person and loving them anyway. It’s about seeing the bad bits, the ugly or the selfish or the unsightly, and remaining devoted despite them. It’s about knowing that it will be hard and choosing to stay, choosing to give away those pieces of yourself in return. 

So Stede’s hands search for those parts. He looks for the shards of Ed that he dare not share aloud, the deepest corners of who he is as a person, the darkest places where light has never been before. It’s about intent and purpose. 

His palm comes to a stop in the middle of Ed’s chest, right above the perfect place where his stone now resides, and he warms it with his touch. Ed moans loud enough that it’s almost a shout, his whole body begins to violently tremble, his breathing is hard enough to sound panicked, but Stede’s knows he’s not afraid. 

Ed trusts him, even when his hands are clumsy. He trusts Stede with his heart, even if it doesn’t beat anymore. 

It’s not something they see, so much as feel. 

Stede finds him. He finds Ed, those exposed and fragile and vulnerable parts of who he is. He finds him and he holds him tight. 

Ed isn’t moving anymore, he’s just trembling in place, breathing and moaning and whispering Stede’s name. 

As soon as Stede’s got his touch on Ed’s soul, they both start crying. They couldn’t stop it if they tried.

There is so much love here. It’s unfathomable, so large and bright, and it goes all the way down. It’s so beautiful, so perfect and kind and utterly divine. Everything that makes him is here, resting calmly and lovingly in the palm of Stede’s hand. It feels like it’s glad to be there, like it’s been looking for him, too. It’s so relieved to see him. 

From the moment I saw you, I knew, it tells him. I’ve always known you. 

Tears are spilling down Stede’s cheeks, flowing in torrents that can’t be slowed. He runs his thumb over Ed’s sternum, relishes the way that Ed’s soul reacts to the touch, the way that he moans loudly with it. 

“I’ve got you,” Stede tells him, his throat tight. “I’ve got you, Ed. You’re safe. You’re so beautiful.” 

Ed’s crying softly against his shoulder, his chest rising and falling rapidly around the sobs leaving him. He pulls back enough to look Stede in the eye, but not far enough to move his palm from his heart. 

“I love you,” he vows with all sincerity, with all the truth he can gather in his voice. He moves Stede’s hair away from his face. “I love you. I love you.” 

“I know,” Stede says in return, “oh, darling, I know.” Because he does, he’s always known. It’s been true since love was created with the intent to be shared. He knows because he can feel it. All that love, eternal and cosmic, is sitting in his palm. They’ve never needed to say it; words are insufficient for what this is. 

This is more than love. This is forever. 

Ed kisses him, trembles in his lap. His hands leave Stede’s back and journey to his front, where they come to a stop at his chest and there, Ed finds him in return. All those parts that Stede had kept hidden, every secret he’d always been too ashamed to share with anyone else, everything that he’d ever hoped for, all the love in the world that’s been kept secret all this time – he finds it, too. 

It feels like being dropped into a warm bath, like sunlight builds itself a home on his cheeks. It feels like a fireplace, a long hug, a kiss on the forehead, a soft hand. It feels like he’s looking up at a storm in defiance and catching it on his tongue. 

Two perfect stones, unmoving and humming the same tune that sounds like a beckoning call. 

I’m here. I’ve always been here. 

The world outside dissolves, nothing more than sugar in water. The walls of their cabin ignite into a sea of colours, shifting and blending together. The candlelight becomes limp, the fire slows to a complete standstill. Their ship is feeling at maximum capacity with them, as though tethered to the parts of themselves that shine the brightest. 

Through his tears, Stede smiles. He leans in and kisses Ed’s cheek, which is wet too. “You’re so gentle,” he whispers. “You’re so gentle and kind. There’s so much love here, Ed.” 

Ed smiles in return. “And you’re brave,” he says. “I can feel it – all your courage. Your bravery is in everything you do.” 

So they hold one another completely, in the purest and most honest sense, and they fear nothing. Their world becomes mellow and listless, but they pay it no heed and hold on as tight as they can. 

When they’re feeling brave enough, they shift their holds on one another’s souls, which feels like sending their nervous systems up in flames. It’s total and all-encompassing. Each brush of the fingertips or shift of the thumb renders them completely speechless, makes them shiver and shake. 

Tentatively, Ed begins to thrust again, as though the physical aspect of this whole thing is simply an afterthought. Stede assists by thrusting in tandem, just in slow and shallow movements. It’s completely volcanic, one tiny bump away from rumbling into an eruption. 

“I’m close,” Ed whispers by his ear, with his hand still on Stede’s heart. “I’m so close, Stede.” 

Stede presses them as flush as possible with their hands still trapped in the middle, grinds their bodies together, kisses Ed’s neck softly and strokes his thumb across his heart. “Let go, Ed. I’ll hold you. I love you. Let go.” 

Ed’s release follows immediately after, blinding in its intensity. Stede comes with him, and it’s so overwhelming that it’s as though he leaves his body. It’s more than just an orgasm, it’s like every galaxy in the universe surges into his veins for a few perfect seconds. It’s like the stars race through his nerves and ignite everything in their wake. He whines Ed’s name again and again, and Ed says his name in return: a reminder to come back home because someone’s waiting on the other side. 

Stede is the first to remove his palm from Ed’s heart. He puts everything that he is back where it belongs, but leaves a love note on it that promises to return soon. Ed does the same, and when Stede’s soul slips back behind his ribs, it feels changed. It’s not that the shape is different, or even the texture of it. 

It just feels brighter now. After all, what does love do if not make one more colourful? 

They’re both panting as though they’ve run a marathon, with tears still streaming down their cheeks. Ed’s robe has slipped off one of his shoulders, leaving it exposed. A curl of Stede’s hair has fallen into his eyes, which he tries to blow away. It remains steadfast in place. 

Ed giggles, then moves it out of the way for him with his thumb. “Fucking hell,” he says through a heavy breath and a broad grin. “You still with me?” 

Stede nods. “Barely, darling. I think I might have transcended a little bit.” 

Ed laughs this time, his face scrunching up with it. “Only a little bit? Man, I’ve gotta try harder.” 

“My love, if you try any harder, I’m afraid I won’t come down,” Stede says with a bright smile. He runs his hands gently up and down Ed’s sides. 

Ed kisses his cheek, his temple. “Looks like Lucius was right, huh?” 

“About soul sex being life-changing? It definitely looks like he was telling the truth.” 

“So, I guess we’re gonna have to give him updates if we ever see him again.” 

“I suppose we will. We might have to do more exploration before then, however. You know, just so that our findings are completely accurate.” 

“Oh, yeah. Can’t let anything get lost in translation. This is important data we’re gathering.” 

“I dare say that what we’re doing is beneficial to everyone,” Stede says with a soft giggle. 

“Everyone should thank us,” Ed says through more laughter. “Maybe they’ll hold a parade in our honour.” 

And then they kiss some more and laugh enough to dispel any misery that might have been holding onto what remained of their lives, and they love each other. They love like it’s finite, and there’s an urgent need to let it out before they expire. 

But it’s not finite. It’s everlasting. It persists. 

It always will. 

Chapter Text

Time passes strangely in the place between places. Somewhere far down below, the earth continues to turn. For Ed and Stede, aeons and minutes pass simultaneously. It’s forever and an instant rolled into one.

It’s so much and so little time that they share together on that boat to nowhere, that their lives begin to pass only in glimpses. 

They’re on the deck of their ship together one sunny day, trying to keep their minds occupied by imagining all the working pieces of a car’s engine and rebuilding it from scratch. Stede, knowing next to nothing about cars or their engines, is paying close attention to what each thing does, and assists Ed with putting them in place. They decide to build only the engine, because having a whole car on their ship with nowhere to go would be dreadfully impractical. 

They’re hardly paying attention to anything beside the task at hand, so they both look up in surprise when a voice calls out to them. “Oi! Well met and all that, then?” 

Another ship has sidled up beside theirs once more, allowing for speech. This vessel is somewhat familiar to Stede. He recalls seeing it on the day he died; it’s flying a flag that’s emblazoned with a cat that has its claws bared. 

They both come to a stand at once and dust down their fronts, making their way over to the port side railing with smiles on their faces. 

“Well met,” Stede says. “I’m Stede, and this is my shipmate, Ed.” 

“Frenchie,” the stranger says. He’s got fluffy hair and eyes as bright and sharp as gemstones. He’s remarkably handsome. “So, uh. Two of you?” 

Stede resists the urge to sigh. He supposes that they’re doomed to an eternity of answering the same question over and over again. 

“Yup, two of us,” Ed supplies. 

“Cool,” is all Frenchie says. He points to a ship sailing beside his own, which Stede hadn’t noticed until it was brought to his attention. That ship has a beautiful, curvaceous bearded woman as the figurehead. “That’s my best friend over there, Wee John. He’s gonna get a real kick out of this.” 

“Oh?” Stede asks. 

“Yeah, he’s super into the soulmate thing going on in this place. Reckons it’s fascinating.” 

“And you don’t?” Ed asks. 

“Well, sure I do, but he’s, like… invested. He’s writing a book about the whole thing. Actually, now that I think about it, I’m sure he’d love to ask you guys some questions. Do you mind if I pass some along for him?” 

Stede offers a wordless glance to Ed, checking to make sure that it’s okay with him, but he seems thrilled by the chance. 

“Fuck yeah! Go ahead,” he says with an excited nod. “I love talking about our undying love for each other.” 

“Right-io then,” Frenchie says, rubbing his hands together. He turns and walks to the other side of his deck, then shouts for his best friend across the gap. 

While he’s over there gathering a list of questions to ask, Stede thinks about the term ‘undying’, and about how, in Ed and Stede’s case, it’s absolutely true, and how they may very well be the only sincere case of ‘undying’ in all of love’s history. He looks at him, lets every ounce of his fondness sit plain on his face. 

“You enjoy talking about us?” he asks. 

Ed pulls him closer by the waist and kisses his temple. “‘Course I do. I’m gonna talk about us every chance I get.” 

“Really?” 

“Uh-huh. We don’t come across many people, so I’m gonna tell anyone who’ll listen. We defied the odds to find each other, Stede. That’s worth talking about.” 

Stede stares at him, shocked completely still. He loves Ed so much that it feels like he’s immobilised by it. It shakes him with its intensity. 

He’s going to marry him. Ed knew it before Stede did.

There isn’t a single act in the world that could possibly convey all this love he has for him, so marriage will have to suffice. It’s simply an inevitability. 

When Frenchie returns, he excitedly gives them a bunch of questions. Ed is delighted to provide answers for each one, going into as much detail as he can. He doesn’t even hesitate to discuss the circumstances of their deaths anymore, it no longer seems to bother him. He’s open and honest about all of it. 

Stede doesn’t say a word. He watches Ed gush about their love to a perfect stranger, and he cherishes every second, every minute, every infinite gap between. 

He’s brought back into the conversation by Frenchie calling his name. His ship is moving on now, pulled away by an indifferent wind. “Stede! Hey, you with us?”

“Oh, I – yes, that’s me. Sorry, I was lost in thought.” 

“I gotta tell you guys, this is the real deal,” Frenchie says, gesturing between the two of them. “Wee John and me, we’ve come across a ton of soulmates, but nothing compares to you guys.” 

“That’s because we’re not soulmates,” Ed says. 

“We’re shipmates,” Stede finishes for him, looking at Frenchie with a grin. “We’ve been told it’s like soulmates, just a step further.” 

In the final moment before Frenchie is too far away to be heard, he smiles at the both of them and calls out, “I really think you guys are gonna make it!” 

Stede isn’t sure what he means, but he looks at Ed and, oh, how he hopes. He hopes with everything left inside him that it’s the truth. 

The next time Ed offers to play music for him, Stede heartily accepts, and promises that it won’t make him cry. 

“It’s alright, Stede. You can cry if you want,” Ed says as he stands amongst all his instruments. “You know I’m not gonna judge you if you do.” 

“I know. I don’t want it to be discouraging, is all,” he explains as he takes his seat. “I just don’t want you to think that you can’t play for me because it’s going to make me cry.” 

“Hmm.” Ed picks up an electric guitar and tosses the strap over his shoulder. “What about it made you cry last time?” 

“Well, for one, it was incredibly beautiful. That, and it also just sort of… put something into my brain.” 

“It – huh?” Ed, midway through tuning the guitar, stops and looks at him with a brow raised. 

“It was almost like a peek into another life,” Stede explains. “It was so vivid. I could even feel how cold it was. We were just walking down the street together, and I asked what you wanted to do for dinner. I could hear the traffic in the distance. It was so… simple. And then the song ended, and we were still stuck here, still on this ship.” 

“Ohh. Yeah, I get it. That would make me cry, too.” 

“It was lovely.” 

“So, that’s why you said all that stuff about ‘being too late’.” 

“Ah. Yes, it was.” 

Ed nods knowingly, then strikes a chord on his guitar. His fingers are poised on the frets perfectly, and his forearm tenses as he strums. Stede isn’t quite sure what it is about Ed playing music specifically that gets him going to such a degree, but he doesn’t question it. 

“Well, if it happens again, let me know and I’ll stop.” 

“Alright.” 

Ed begins to absently pluck at the strings of his guitar, not quite forming a melody, but halfway into one. He’s building it in his head and trying to find the pieces to make it sound the way he wants. He’s focused solely on the task at hand. 

Stede has to make a conscious effort not to stare at Ed’s arms, his hands, his fingers. He takes his leather jacket off whenever he plays, which makes sense on a practical front, but it leaves Stede feeling like chopped liver. He can’t get enough of staring at him. 

Finally, Ed finds his tune and begins to play it with fervour. It’s a joyous kind of song this time; it sounds like soft celebration. It’s a smile and a kiss goodnight. It’s slow swaying in an empty living room, dancing among furniture that’s been left in boxes. 

Only because he feels compelled to do so, Stede closes his eyes once more. He lets the music take him to another world, another life. 

He finds them again with ease. He doesn’t even have to try. This time, they’re living in a remote cabin in a dense forest, and the sun is beginning to set through the trees, casting rays of golden sunlight onto their browning lawn. It’s autumn. Stede is outside cutting wood; he can smell the surrounding pine needles and wilted leaves. He stops for a moment to wipe his brow and looks through one of the cabin windows to wave happily at Ed, who’s standing inside with a feather duster, which he uses to wave in return. Some dust falls from it and makes him sneeze. Stede calls out, “bless you!” loud enough to be heard across the distance between them. 

Stede opens his eyes again and that life disappears. He’s not crying this time, at least. He’s simply sitting in his armchair, watching the love of his eternal life play a tune fit for angels, and he’s aching enough to make his bones feel stiff. 

The music plays on, however, so Stede closes his eyes once more and tries to find another of their iterations. 

He finds them in a diner this time. A real diner. They’re sitting together in a booth, leaning forward on the table to share a milkshake that’s boasting two straws. Through the window beside them, Stede can see another rainy crosswalk, but this one is complete with real people that are using it to cross the street. A waitress sidles up to their table and happily hands them each a tall plate of pancakes. They laugh and joke with one another as they take up their cutlery and dig in. 

He finds them, time and time again, whenever he closes his eyes. He finds them in a world where they’re both painters, a world where they’re fishermen, a world where they’re having a picnic at midnight. He finds them in a world where they’re cowboys, then one where they’re pirates, and another where they’re knights. Sometimes they’re flowers or the bees that pollinate them. 

Stede can’t be sure if these visions are telling him the truth, or if they’re simply his imagination running wild, but he cherishes them all the same. He loves these versions of them so much that it aches. He almost wants to be jealous. After all, why should they get to live their perfect lives in a wonderful world, while these versions of them are fixed to an eternity on a ship that’s going nowhere? 

But that sickening envy dissolves the second Stede thinks about how happy those versions of them looked. He thinks about Ed’s smile, about the laughter they’re still sharing somewhere down below, about the casual touches, the gentle kisses. 

The world and forever. 

Stede so desperately wishes that they could have both. 

Ed brings the song to a slow stop, then turns to Stede with a happy flourish. When he looks at his face, he beams. “Hey, no tears this time!” 

Stede, feeling like he’s collapsing inward, says, “no, my love. No tears this time.” 

One night, as they’re lying on their backs and watching the stars, Stede suddenly asks, “do you think they miss us?” 

Ed turns to him with a frown. “Who?” 

“The people from our old lives.” 

Ed thinks about it for a second. “Of course they miss you, Stede.” 

“You sound so certain,” he says, turning. “How can you be sure?” 

“You think your kids don’t miss you?” 

“Well…”

“Stede, I was missing you before I even knew you were real and living out there somewhere,” Ed says. “Your kids love you. They’re down there on earth, and I’m sure they miss you every day.” 

He sighs. “Thank you, Ed. I just…” 

“You still feel guilty.” 

Stede nods, then places his hands on his chest. “I’ll always feel guilty, I’m afraid.” 

Ed gives him an understanding look. “I know. You didn’t get the chance to fix things. I get it.” 

It goes quiet for a very long time. 

“You’re missed too, you know,” Stede says. 

Ed shuffles in place as though he’s uncomfortable. “No one there to miss me.”

“What about your mother? And all your friends?” 

“Mum died a few years before I did,” Ed says, his voice sombre. “Got real sick with pneumonia. I went home for the funeral, but I — I hadn’t seen her for years before that. I sent her mail and packages and money all the time, but I hardly ever actually… paid her a visit.” 

“Oh, my love,” Stede says softly. “I’m so sorry, Ed.” 

He shrugs. “Just one of those things I’ll never be able to fix, too. If I could do life again, I’d be better to her. I’d see her more.”

Stede takes his hand and squeezes it. “I suppose we have a lot of things that we regret, hmm?” 

“Oh yeah. ‘Course. Can’t get through life without regrets, babe. If you come out clean on the other side, you did something wrong.” 

“I think you’re right,” Stede says as he sits up. He casts his eyes to the sea, to the clouds and the thousands of ships that are sailing alongside them on their eternal journey. 

Ed sits up beside him. “You’re thinking.” 

“Stop knowing me so well.” 

“Sorry, can’t. You always go quiet like that when you’re thinking about something. What’re you plotting, Stede?” 

He doesn’t say anything for a moment. He plans his next question thoughtfully because he wants to be delicate about it. “Have you ever found her?” he asks, not taking his eyes from the ships surrounding their own. 

Ed follows his gaze, frowning toward the horizon. “My mum?” 

Stede nods. “She must be here somewhere, right?” 

“Awh, maybe. But, babe, there are hundreds of thousands of ships out there.” He gestures to the horizon to emphasise his point. “Even if she is, I doubt we’ll ever see her.” 

“I know that the odds are terribly slim, but the odds of us ever finding each other were also infinitesimal. Maybe it’s about luck, maybe it’s about love. They are small chances, but there’s no certainty about any of this. Anything could happen.” 

Ed’s eyes are still fixed on the other ships. “You think so?” 

“I do,” Stede says, squeezing Ed’s hand tighter. “I hope we find her one day, Ed.” 

“Yeah, me too. I remember that she had the best laugh. I’d love to hear it again. And I want her to meet you.” 

Stede beams. “You know, I think our odds are pretty good. After all, I didn’t even know you existed and I still found you. She’s got a leg up on me.” 

Finally, Ed turns to him with a relieved grin, then leans in close and puts his head on his shoulder. They watch the stars until the sun rises. 

Over time, they both teach each other the intricacies of their hobbies, and they learn how to enjoy them together. 

Stede teaches Ed everything he knows about plants and gardening. He teaches him the names of all his flowers, tells him what times of the year they’d typically thrive, and teaches him how best to maintain each species of plant to ensure their survival. Ed is completely fascinated and picks it up instantly. He comes to love gardening as much as Stede does. 

The garden on the gun deck is still growing, still thriving. They maintain and care for it together. The love that keeps it in bloom only becomes more and more potent with every passing minute. 

In exchange, Ed teaches Stede everything he knows about baking and cooking. Stede was a little apprehensive after their first attempt at making bread, but Ed reassured him by saying, “babe, we were horny enough that it would have killed us if we were still alive. That bread didn’t stand a fuckin’ chance.” 

Stede learns to make dough from scratch, and he learns how to knead it. He makes icing and glazes and all different sorts of fillings. They start to make games out of it. Each time they bake a batch of cupcakes, they distribute them evenly and have a contest of who can decorate them the nicest. 

Ed, of course, wins every time. And Stede, of course, always lets him. Just to see the smile on his face. Just to hear the pride in his voice. 

Their hobby sharing is so successful, in fact, that they almost completely trade places. Stede becomes enraptured with baking and is entirely devoted to making the perfect macaroons. Ed has a pond that he’s established in their garden, beside which is a lily plant that he loves like it’s his own flesh and blood. 

They might not have the world. And even if it’s not true, it certainly feels, for now, like they have forever. 

One day, after they’ve each spent a whole afternoon apart engaging in their newfound interests, Ed brings Stede a modest maiden’s hair plant in a wonky tin can, and tells him that he grew it for him to keep. He positively beams when Stede proudly displays it on his nightstand.

Every time Stede looks at it, the devotion in his heart only grows stronger by tenfold. He looks at its delicate little leaves and loves so much that it’s dizzying.

And that’s all he does. He bakes, he loves as hard as he can, and he hopes. 

The ships that pass by their own become less and less frequent. They go days without a visitor, and then weeks, and then it feels like at least a month passes. Stede doesn’t bring attention to it in conversation, but he can tell that Ed is mildly deflated by it. 

He seems more excited at the prospect of visitors ever since they had the conversation about his mum. It’s almost like he’s sitting in the driveway, waiting for her to come home. Waiting to hear her laugh. Every time his eyes find the skyline, he seems to be searching, and it makes Stede’s heart positively shatter. 

He’d give anything to go out there and find her for him, even if it’s just for a moment. Just for a second, so she can look at his face and smile and be so, so proud of him. Stede thinks he deserves that. He deserves the chance to tell her that he loves her, and to hear it said back to him. 

So when a ship slowly creeps its way up to their starboard side one day, Ed is excited instantly. 

They’re on the shrouds together when it shows up. The second that Ed sees that the ship is close enough to speak, he taps Stede’s knee and points. “Hey, finally! It’s been fuckin’ forever since we got to talk to someone.” 

Stede swings from his place on the ropes to meet Ed at his level. “I wonder who we’ll meet this time.” 

“I hope they like to listen, ‘cause I’ve been wanting to talk about us for forever.” 

Stede giggles, then soundlessly jumps from the shrouds and lands on the deck. Ed follows, wincing when his knee meets the ground. He limps only a little bit as he makes his way to the starboard railing. 

The approaching ship is incredibly slow, however. It takes much longer to reach the correct distance than every other soul that Ed and Stede have ever spoken to. It’s as though it’s apprehensive. 

Ed frowns at it. “Hm.” 

The flag flits into view. It’s got a swallow emblazoned on it, stark and bright against a black background. When Ed spots it, his frown deepens.  

Stede sees the look on his face, then tilts his head. “Is something wrong, love?” 

“Looks familiar,” Ed explains, nodding toward the flag. “I feel like I know it from somewhere.” 

Stede doesn’t completely understand, but he supposes that they’ll have the chance to ask questions when they meet whoever might be sailing on it. 

At last, the ship finally lines up with theirs. Stede spots the man on board. He’s shorter than himself and Ed, with a salt and pepper goatee and greying hair that’s swept back. He’s wearing a lot of leather. He’s got a tattoo on his neck, but Stede can’t quite decipher what it is at this distance. 

Ed doesn’t say anything, and the man is completely still on his deck, watching them both with his mouth open and his eyes wide. 

Ah, surprised that there are two of us , Stede thinks. I’ll have to be extra friendly, I suppose.  

“Well met, friend!” Stede calls with a polite wave. “My name is—”

“Edward?” the man asks incredulously. 

Stede blinks. “Oh, I’m Stede, actually. This is—”

“Izzy?” Ed calls over the gap. 

Stede’s eyes dart back and forth between them for a long second. “Iggy?” he wonders quietly. “What the hell kind of name is ‘Iggy?’”

The man – Iggy – ignores Stede entirely. “What the fuck are you doing here?” 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Ed asks back, gesturing up and down at him. “I thought you were gonna live forever.” 

Something clicks in Stede’s head at last. He looks between them with a smile. “Oh! You two knew each other in your last lives, did you?” 

Ed turns to him. “Yeah, this is an old mate of mine. We worked together for fuckin’ years. Izzy, this is my shipmate, Stede. Stede, this is Izzy.” 

“Pleasure to meet you,” Stede says politely. 

Iggy – no, Izzy, is scowling at him. His stare is downright poisonous. He gives Stede a nasty passing glance, then swings his attention back to Ed. “So, you drove off a cliff, did you?” 

Stede dislikes him instantly. 

Ed shrugs. “Fell asleep at the wheel.” 

“I knew working two jobs was going to fucking kill you,” Izzy says, with a liberal dosage of self-righteousness tossed in. “I told you it fucking would.” 

“Come off it, Iz. Not sure if you’ve been told, but you’re dead, too.” 

Izzy crosses his arms. “Yeah, suppose so.” 

“So, how’d you die? Were you eaten by a shark like you always wanted?” 

He stares for a second. It’s like he knows that he’s not supposed to answer, but chooses to do so anyway, just this once. “Got shot.” 

Ed’s brows shoot up. “Fuck.” 

“Mmh.” 

“Sorry, man. Shit way to go.” 

Izzy shrugs this time. “Happens.” 

“How long have you been here?” Ed asks, leaning his forearms on the railing. 

“A while. I died not long after you did. A few months, maybe.” 

Ed nods. He opens his mouth to ask another question, perhaps about the precise timeline of it all, but he lets it die in his throat instead. Stede watches his face carefully. He looks like he decides that it’s unimportant – time doesn’t work the same here, anyway. 

A long silence follows, wherein Izzy watches Ed, not saying a word. At last, his eyes swing from him and drop to Stede. His face is stone, but Stede can see the hidden resentment buried beneath. He’s spent a lifetime searching for those same signs in others – the tense jaw, the dark eyes, the hard-line mouth. 

“So,” Izzy says, drawing attention to the elephant in the room. “Stede, was it?” He says the name with barely contained disdain. 

Stede turns his nose up a little. “That’s right.” 

“You didn’t get a boat of your own?” 

“It didn’t turn out that way, no.” 

“Have you been trying to fix that?” 

Stede frowns. “What is there to fix?” 

“It’s a little odd, don’t you think?” Izzy takes a step forward, like he’s trying to get into Stede’s space and challenge him, despite the watery gap between. “Everyone else has a ship of their own. Why not you?” 

Ed straightens his back, his shoulders grow rigid. “Iz, it’s alright. Stede’s been with me for a while now. He doesn’t need his own ship. We’re happy here.” He puts a hand on Stede’s back, right between his shoulder blades. His palm is warm. 

Izzy’s eyes snap to Ed like he’s inciting a curse at the use of the word ‘we’, then he looks at his hand flat on Stede’s back, and something clicks in his face. Stede knows that look. He endured a lifetime of looks just like that one. 

“I just don’t buy it,” Izzy says, deliberately making his voice even. “If I didn’t have my own ship, I’d be worried, is all. Things can change, you know.”

Venom boils inside Stede’s chest. He knows that this man is likely just trying to get a reaction out of him, so Stede won’t give him the satisfaction. He seems defensive of Ed, for some reason. Perhaps they got along really well when they were both alive. It makes Stede wonder if Izzy has always been like this. Or is it just because of Stede’s presence? 

Stede maintains his composure. “I’m not worried,” he lies.

He’s always worried about that exact thing. His biggest fear is being pried from Ed’s loving arms. 

Izzy assesses him for a long moment more, then drags his eyes back to Ed. “At least you’ve got company now,” he says to him. “You never seemed to want it back then.” 

Ed sneers at him. “Jesus, man. Why’re you being a dick? Are you upset ‘cause Stede’s here?” 

“I couldn’t give a shit if there’s another twat on your boat or not.” 

Slowly, Ed’s face cracks into a knowing smile. He leans forward on the railing. It seems he’s used to shitty behaviour like this from his dear friend, Izzy. It makes Stede feel a little better about the situation; a little bit less tempted to jump across the gap and kill him for a second time. 

“Ohh, I get it. You’re jealous,” Ed says, his grin growing larger. “Didn’t take you for being the jealous type, Iz.” 

Izzy stammers something out indignantly, then crosses his arms over his chest in a huff. “Fucking ridiculous. Jealous, my ass.” 

“Awh, come on–”

“You know what?” Izzy holds his hands up in resignation. “I think it’s great that you get to be stuck with this ponce forever.” 

Stede’s faces scrunches up into one of mild disgust. “Hey.” 

Izzy’s eyes snap back to him. “I’m delighted for you fucking both. I’m just saying that you should watch your step, because you two–” he gestures between them, “won’t last. Call it whatever you fucking want. Shipmates, soulmates, playmates, I don’t give a shit, it won’t matter when you’re put somewhere else.” 

Ed and Stede watch in stillness for a moment, not saying a thing.

“It’s always one soul to a ship,” Izzy says as he turns from them. “Someone’s gonna have to fix this mistake eventually.” 

He marches away and slinks out of sight without a parting word.

In the wake of his leave, Stede silently lets every one of his anxieties take up shovels and dig graves in his bones. They establish plots down in the deep and dark, and plant themselves in the dirt. 

A freak. An outcast. A vagrant. 

He looks at Ed. His face is pinched together, like he’s so disappointed that he doesn’t know what to do with it all. He’s watching Izzy’s flag flap in the silent breeze. 

Stede decides to swallow down every single one of his insecurities. He muzzles all the voices inside him that are shrieking warnings, then puts on a brave face. 

“Was he always like that?” he asks Ed softly. “When he was alive?” 

“Yeah, guess he was,” Ed says, his eyes still far away. “I just didn’t realise how much of a fuckin’ nightmare he was until I was away from him for a bit. We worked together for a really long time – fifteen years, maybe. I guess I got used to his bullshit.” 

“He seemed… nice?” Stede chances. 

Ed snorts. “You don’t have to be polite about it, babe.” 

“Thank god. Okay, I didn’t like him.” 

That makes Ed laugh, so he puts his hand in Stede’s and pulls him closer. “And I was so excited to talk about us some more.” 

“You can always talk to me about us, if you’d like.” 

“You wanna hear more about how our love is eternal and how we’re destined to be together?” 

“Yes, actually, that sounds wonderful.” 

Ed kisses his cheek. “I tell you all the fuckin’ time.” 

All those anxieties, buried under six feet of grave dirt, shiver like they’re cold. Stede wants nothing more than to forget about them, but he supposes that they will always be there. They can’t be dug up now. 

An error that needs to be corrected. 

“And I’ll listen every time,” Stede says, leading Ed away from the deck and towards the garden. “In fact, I highly encourage it.” 

Izzy’s ship lingers by theirs for a few hours more, even after they’ve all parted and gone their separate ways. When Stede sees the ship again later that same day, Izzy still hasn’t come up from below deck. It seems he’s hiding until he’s moved on. He eventually catches a weaker wind and slows until he’s out of reach. 

After that day, they don’t talk about Izzy again. Weeks pass without another visitor, but Ed still watches the skyline from time to time. Waiting for the chance to tell the tale of their love to a fresh audience. 

It doesn’t seem to bother him that he has to tell Stede over and over again, though. 

And Stede certainly doesn’t mind hearing it. 

Stede is startled awake in the middle of the night to the sound of Ed gasping for air. 

He’s immediately alert, so he reaches out a hand in the darkness. “Ed, darling, are you alrigh—”

Ed’s weight folds into his chest, and he begins to sob there. Stede holds him tight, presses him as close as he can. He lets him cry as loud as he needs, lets him shiver and shake until the fear leaves his body. Stede manifests some candles while he’s holding him to allow them some light, to ensure that the darkness from Ed’s dream stays where it belongs. 

He’s only crying at first, but Ed’s breathing quickly spirals into that of sheer panic. Stede rubs his hands up and down his arms gently to keep him tethered, kisses his hair and soothes him. “I’ve got you, Ed. You’re safe. I love you. Breathe, darling.” 

Ed sobs some more, lets it completely wrack his chest. He clings to Stede, tugs lightly at his clothes like he’s scared he’s going to be torn away from him. Clings like he’s worried Stede will disappear. 

Stede continues to gently soothe him until the crying eventually slows, until Ed can breathe in and out successfully. He’s still trembling. 

“You’re alright, darling,” Stede whispers. “I’m here.” 

Ed’s throat is tight when he speaks, so he sits up to allow his lungs the space they need to work right. “I — oh, thank fuck. Stede, I thought you were gone.” 

Stede sits up with him, and puts a hand on his back. “Gone?” 

He swallows before speaking again. “I dreamed that I woke up, and you were just — not here. Fuckin’ disappeared.” He pauses to wipe at his eyes, to try and make his words come out through gentle sobs. “You weren’t fucking here and I was alone again and I was gonna be alone forever. Even the fucking ships outside weren’t there anymore. It was so dark, Stede. I – ah, fuck.”

“Oh, Ed…” 

“I don’t know what I’d do, Stede. If you ever—”

“Hey, come now. Don’t think like that.” 

“I don’t want to be alone,” Ed almost pleads. “I don’t want to go back to the fucking dark. I don’t — I can’t. It was one year that felt like a hundred, I couldn’t get through it again. What the fuck would we do? If you ever left, how the fuck would we fix that?”  

Stede takes his hands. “I’d find you.” 

Ed sniffles, then tilts his head up to look at Stede with his eyes flooded. 

Stede thumbs away a tear for him. “If we’re ever parted, I will find you. I will always find you, Ed. Time and time again, no matter what it takes. Oh, darling, you have to know that I’d find you.”

Ed shakes his head minutely. “Stede, you can’t—”

“I will,” Stede reassures, locking his eyes with Ed’s. He gives him a vow, a promise. “Of course I will, Ed. In any world, any universe, no matter what it takes. In any life.” 

Ed begins to cry again, so he leans forward and rests his forehead in the middle of Stede’s chest, where he lets his tears fall freely. Stede rubs circles into his back and kisses his hair. 

“I promise,” he whispers to him. “I’m never going to leave you alone again. I will always find you.” 

“You can’t make that promise,” Ed says, his voice breaking. “You can’t fucking keep it.” 

“I can, and I will. In fact, we’re making a plan, aren’t we?” 

Ed looks up and wipes his cheeks with his forearm. “Yeah, we don’t actually have a fuckin’ plan, though.” 

“We’re going to formulate it, here and now,” Stede tells him with a grin. He gives the corner of Ed’s eye a soft kiss. “The world and forever, remember? We deserve those things, Ed. You deserve them. So, how do we get them?” 

“I don’t… I don’t know, Stede.” 

“I’ll tell you the first step.” 

Slowly, Ed begins to perk up. He sniffles, then adjusts his sitting position to be a bit more comfortable. “Okay?”

“You know that I’ll find you. That’s a promise I’m making, and I intend to keep it.” He tucks a lock of Ed’s hair behind his ear. “But we should have a signal too, so we know that we’re looking at the right person. After all, we could come back as anything, or anyone.” 

Stede says this, knowing that he wouldn’t need a signal. Not really. He’d know Ed in any of his iterations, from the crease of his smile alone. He’d know him by the warmth of his palms and the way his breaths leave his chest. 

He’d know his heartbeat, despite having never heard it before. 

Stede is certain. He’s been certain from the moment he saw him, but that doesn’t mean that they shouldn’t also be careful. And if it makes Ed feel safer, then Stede will make a thousand promises.

Ed thinks about this for a moment. “If we’re reincarnated, you mean?” 

“I’m going off Buttons’s theory for now, because we have nothing else to form a plan around.” 

“Okay,” Ed says, his brows coming together in thought. “How about — your favourite flowers are carnations. The pink ones, right?” 

If Stede’s heart could still beat, he thinks it would burst. “Yes, those are my favourites. You remembered?” 

“‘Course I did. I’ll-… when we meet again, I’ll have a whole bunch of those. A bouquet. That’s how you’ll know it’s me.” 

“Pink carnations. Yes, I’ll remember,” Stede says with a bright smile and a nod. “And I’ll be carrying a whole dozen cupcakes. Red velvet ones, those are your favourites.” 

A smile, small at first but honest, begins to swallow Ed’s face. He nods. “Okay. But it… It still doesn’t feel like enough. What if someone else walks up to me with red velvet cupcakes and I start making out with them, and it’s not you? That would be complete shit.” 

Stede giggles. “Darling, that brings us to phase two of the plan.” 

Ed positively beams. “Fuck yeah! There's a phase two?” 

“There are three phases total.” 

“You’re so hot when you strategize. Okay, second phase. Hit me with it, captain.” 

In the half a second and the eternity before Stede speaks again, he casts upward a silent prayer. He sends it to the heavens, knowing that there is no one there to grant his wish, but willing it into existence anyway. 

Let me keep my vow, he pleads. Let me be greedy. Let me love him with everything I have, in any and every universe. Whether it takes blood and smoke and sacrifice, allow me to pay my debts as often as I must, just to get to this. 

“Come here,” Stede says, gesturing for Ed to move closer with his forefinger. 

Ed does without hesitation. As soon as he’s close enough, Stede leans in and plants a loving and adoring kiss on the nape of his neck. His favourite place on Ed — which is a hard thing to pick because he loves every place on Ed — the place where his pulse would have once been. The place where he would have been able to feel his heartbeat with his kiss. 

He lingers in that place for a minute, then pulls back. “In your next life,” he explains, “my kiss will be there, permanently fixed in that spot.” 

Ed’s brows knit together, like he’s overwhelmed and doesn’t have the words to share. He looks down at Stede’s arms, gently picks up the left one, and kisses him as well. He kisses his wrist, in that delicate spot where his pulse should be, too.

“And my kiss will be here,” he says when he pulls away. “This is my favourite spot on you. Aside from — y’know, the other obvious choice.” 

Stede giggles. “Yes, well. Best not kiss that spot right now.” 

“Nah, we have a third phase to discuss first.” 

“You read my mind.” 

“So, we’ll have carnations and cupcakes and kisses,” Ed says, counting each thing on his fingers. “What do we do for the third phase?” 

“We keep our promises,” Stede says, taking Ed’s hands in his own once more. “I promise to find you, as long as you promise to be there for me to find.” 

Ed smiles, broad and true. He takes one hand from Stede’s to gesture over the stone in his chest. “I cross my heart, Stede.” 

“Promise?”

“I promise. I’ll always be there, and you’ll always find me. In any life, right?” 

Stede crosses over his heart too, then takes Ed’s hand and gives his knuckles gentle kisses. “In any life, my love,” he promises. “No matter what it takes.” 

He begins to trace kisses up Ed’s wrist, his forearm, causing his breath to stutter. He clears his throat, then asks, “what happens after that?”

“After that? Well, we get the world.” Stede kisses him again. “We get forever.” Another kiss. “We’ll live so many beautiful lives down there. We’ll be happy and love each other time and time again.” Another. Another. “We can call that the fourth phase of the plan.” 

Ed’s eyelids flutter. “The rinse and repeat phase.” 

“Mm-hmm.” 

“Perfect,” Ed says. “Perfect plan. Flawless.” 

“I think so.” 

“I love you.” 

“And I love you.” 

“You know you’re driving me fuckin’ crazy with this.” He nods to Stede still giving his arm gentle butterfly kisses. 

“Yes, that was my intention,” Stede says with a low chuckle. He kisses Ed’s bicep. “I do plan to make you as crazy as me over time.” 

“Too late, babe,” Ed says, drawing Stede up to give his face an adoring kiss. “I’m crazy about you already. I’ve been insane about you since we met. And I’ll be crazy about you every fucking time.” 

So they start saying it in place of a vow. They start saying it, knowing that it means they’re making a promise that they intend to keep. 

“In any life?” Ed asks. 

“In any life,” Stede swears back. 

And then they kiss like they’ve been desperate to for a hundred lifetimes or more, and fall back amongst their pillows to dance around the idea of sleep. 

Chapter Text

“Soap!” Ed exclaims. 

“Oh my god, soap,” Stede says, putting a hand to his forehead. “I miss soap so much.” 

“We can have a bath whenever we want, you know, we just gotta picture it. We can have soap, but—” 

“It wouldn’t be the same,” Stede finishes a bit miserably. “A hot bath on earth was the closest thing we had to heaven, I think.” 

“See, this is how I know we’re the real-deal soulmates. You say things that I’ve been thinking my whole life.” 

“The whole ‘being on the same ship for all eternity’ situation wasn’t enough evidence for you, my love?” Stede asks through a giggle. 

“Awh, sure it was, but sometimes you say shit, and it’s like you’re looking inside my head.” 

He laughs again. “Alright, my turn?” 

“Yup.” 

It’s become a ritual of sorts between them, to tell each other what they miss most about the world, and what they’re looking forward to sharing when they meet again. After their forever vow, they decided to simply work with the whole ‘reincarnation’ theory. When there is no one to provide you with answers, sometimes it’s easier to make conclusions on your own. This one, at least, is a nice conclusion. And even if it doesn’t turn out to be true, then they’ll always have forever on this boat. 

Stede thinks for a long moment. “Ooh, I know. I miss the smell of rain.” 

“Fuck. I forgot about that one.” 

“Mm-hmm. The rain here is strange, too. It seems to have a mind of its own. It doesn’t smell right, and it doesn’t fall right. Truly bizarre.” 

They’re lost somewhere in the maze tonight. The sun didn’t rise all day, as though it’s grown bored with their company. Ed and Stede decided to spend the day in a darkness of their own making, lost inside a wooden labyrinth. They’ve been working together to improve the maze and make it more difficult now that they both know its twists and turns by heart. 

They’ve done all that they can to the maze for today, so they’re sitting in a corridor somewhere at its centre, facing one another with their backs against the wall. Between them sits a plate of sliced fruits that they’re picking at while they talk. Apples, figs, grapes, oranges and strawberries, complete with powdered sugar and chocolate for dipping. 

“Guess it doesn’t have to worry about rules,” Ed says with a shrug as he picks up a strawberry and liberally dips it in chocolate. “Who’s the rain gotta answer to here?” 

“Quite right. Your turn, darling.” 

Ed thinks about his answer for a while. He turns his strawberry between his fingers and keeps his eyes fixed on it. The candle that’s flickering away between them pops. 

“I miss orgasms,” he says at last. 

Stede blinks. “But I gave you one earlier today—”

“No, you did,” Ed reassures, popping his food into his mouth and licking his fingers. Stede’s eyes catch there. “And don’t worry, babe, it was fucking mind-blowing.” 

“If I’m ever not satisfying you in the bedroom, you only need to tell m—”

Ed laughs, then puts a hand on Stede’s knee. “Stede, I’m extremely satisfied. I don’t mean it like that. The sex on earth is just… different. You know what I’m getting at, right?” 

Stede mulls over it for a second. “I think so. It felt more… alive.” 

“Alive! Yeah, that’s it,” Ed says with a click of his fingers. “It was hot and sticky and sweaty. I guess it’s kinda weird to miss sweating, but I do.” 

Stede chuckles. “I understand. Hot, sweaty sex.” 

Ed nods in the affirmative, then hands Stede a slice of apple. “Your turn, babe.” 

He takes a bite of his slice, then chews while he thinks. The candle flickers. “I miss noise.” 

“Like – loud noises?” 

“Not necessarily. I miss when things had sounds of their own,” Stede explains. “I miss birds and people talking in the distance and – oh, the wind. I miss the sound of the breeze. I miss doors latching and kettles boiling and the sound dried leaves make when you step on them.” 

“Yeah, the crunch.” 

“The crunch! Ed, my love, I so miss the crunch.” 

Ed laughs, then tosses a grape into his mouth. As he bites down on it, he leans his head back until it meets the wall behind him. “I’d rake up a whole big pile of leaves if it meant you got to crunch around in them.” 

“Aww.” Stede puts a hand on his forearm. “And I’d have hot, sweaty sex with you every day if it meant you got to have an orgasm.” 

Ed laughs so hard that he almost chokes on his grape. 

“Christ, I miss reflections, too,” Stede says. 

They navigated their way backwards through the maze to reemerge in the auxiliary wardrobe. There, Stede began sorting through his clothes to select something for the following day. He’s now holding a bright teal vest against his front and looking at Ed in dismay. 

“See? Does this make me look washed out?” 

Ed shakes his head. “Nah. Brings out your eyes, actually.” 

“Oh. It does?” 

“Yup. Blues and greens are your colours, babe.” 

“Thank you,” Stede says softly. He puts the teal vest aside, then begins to rifle through his blouse selection to find something to pair with it. He thinks he wants ruffles and lace. “Still, a reflection would make this process much easier.” 

Ed simply hums his agreement. He’s looking through his own rack of clothing, his eyes cast downward. He seems deflated. 

Stede sets aside his clothes. “What’s wrong, darling?” 

“Huh? Nothin’.” 

“Ed. Shipmates,” Stede says gently, gesturing between them both. 

They look at each other for a moment, waiting for the first person to take the leap and speak. Ed is the one to draw in a long breath, then he turns his eyes away. 

“I didn’t mess around with clothes much when I was alive,” he says, his voice quiet. “I wanted to, but I just – I didn’t have anyone to share it with.” 

“I see.” 

“And you always wear such nice stuff.” 

“What you’re wearing is nice too, Ed.” 

Ed looks down at himself. “Sure, I like it, but it doesn’t make me feel…” 

When he doesn’t continue, Stede takes a small step closer to him, then tilts his head. “Doesn’t make you feel…?” 

“Pretty,” Ed answers at last, his eyes round and shining and hopeful. He looks at Stede like even just saying the word makes him feel more beautiful. 

Stede nods, understanding completely. He strokes his chin with his forefinger in thought, looking Ed up and down. “Well, then that simply won’t do.” 

Ed blinks, his eyes wide. He tries to clear his throat and speak at the same time, so it all comes out a bit jumbled. “Youwha– huh?” 

“I won’t stand for it,” Stede says. He steps around Ed, keeping his eyes fixed on his outfit. He looks at his leather pants, his boots, his belts, his jacket and the cropped shirt beneath. In his eyes, Ed is completely and resoundingly perfect in every way, but he deserves to feel astounding, too. He deserves to feel like the heavens crafted him with their gentle fingers, like pearls that are still lovingly coated in sea foam and sand.

“It looks like we’re going to have an evening of fashion,” Stede says, clapping his hands together once in excitement. He moves before Ed, stands at attention like a waiter. “I want to help you feel as beautiful as you are, Ed. Whatever it takes.” 

“I, uh – I’d have no fuckin’ idea where to start,” Ed confesses, his voice small. 

“Just say anything that springs to mind!” 

“Anything?” 

“Mm-hmm!” Stede gives him an encouraging nod. 

Ed heaves a heavy exhale, then frowns while he thinks. “Uhh. Lace. Silk. Those – the ruffles you have on your sleeves sometimes.” 

“Wonderful! That’s an excellent list, we can certainly make something for you that fills those criteria–” 

“What about a dress?” 

Stede beams. “Oh, Ed, that’s a great idea! Do you have a colour in mind?” 

Ed opens his mouth, then closes it. He looks like he wants to ask an infinite number of things. 

Stede wants to tell him that he’s only ever going to encourage the things that make him feel exquisite. He’s only ever going to look at him and see the most beautiful person that’s ever existed, in the afterlife or any of the worlds beyond. 

Ed can be whoever or whatever he wants to be with him. He can be soft, and he can be sweet, and he can be taken care of. Right now, he wants to be beautiful. 

“How about… blue?” Ed asks. He seems to hear it all, despite Stede not saying anything out loud. 

“Blue. That’s perfect,” Stede says, his tone soft. “It’s already coming together in my mind. What kind of cut would you like? And sleeves? You said that you want lace, maybe you can have some on the cuffs. I’m going to need a pen and paper to sketch this out, I think. Ooh, maybe a corseted–” he stops abruptly. 

“Fuck,” Ed mutters, looking frightened. “Jesus, what?” 

“Edward, please let me do your hair for you. I’ll be gentle! I’ve gotten rather good at it.” 

The panic falls away from Ed’s shoulders, then he giggles. 

It takes them what feels like fifteen minutes to come up with the perfect design. They manifest most of the pieces and put them together by hand, rather than just manifesting the whole thing in its finished state. It makes the final product feel more authentic when their warmth has been put into all the parts. Human nature, and all that. 

Once the dress is complete, Ed puts it on a hanger and sets it aside while Stede puts his hair up for him, which he does as gently as possible. He’s had plenty of practice with Alma, though she complained about it a lot more than Ed does. 

While he’s putting Ed’s hair into a bun and pinning some baby’s breath flowers into it, he wonders about the lives of his children down on earth. How old are they now? Are they leading happy lives? Stede thinks about them every day, of course, but it’s not until he’s putting Ed’s hair up for him that he wonders about the intricacies of it all. Like, did Alma find love? Did she get married? Did she put her hair up like this, too? Did Louis have to walk her down the aisle? 

Stede would expect a train of thought like that one to make him completely miserable, but there’s something about it tonight that just excites him. Maybe it’s the possibility of it all. Stede, as he’s coming to understand about himself, is a creature of hope and wonder. And oh, how he hopes that they’re happy down there. He hopes that they’ve led fulfilling lives, abundant with love and joy and the things that make living worthwhile.

And he hopes that he has the chance to see them again one day. 

Stede finishes putting Ed’s hair into place and gives the nape of his neck a soft kiss to signal its completion. He’s then ushered out of the auxiliary wardrobe while Ed gets himself dressed. He offers his help, but Ed insists that he can do it on his own, saying that he wants the final product to be a surprise. 

So Stede waits in one of their golden armchairs. He lights a fire in the hearth and ignites the chandeliers. On one of the side tables, he pictures a bottle of fine brandy and two crystal drinking glasses, then pours a serving for each of them. 

Ed finally knocks on the door to the auxiliary wardrobe from the inside and calls out to Stede through it. “Okay! You gotta close your eyes.” 

Stede chuckles, then puts down his drink and puts his hands over his eyes. “Done!” 

“And you gotta turn around.” 

Stede stands from the armchair and turns. 

“You’re not peeking?” Ed calls. 

“Not peeking, my love.” 

“Promise?” 

“Cross my heart.” He does that too. 

At last, he hears the door click open behind him. He fights the temptation to turn, despite his excitement. He remains patient and keeps his palms fixed over his eyes. 

It’s quiet for a second. He can hear the fabric of Ed’s clothes shuffling as he moves into place. Then, into the silence, Ed says, “‘Kay. You can turn around now.” 

Slowly, Stede does. He turns and takes his hands away from his eyes and looks up. 

Ed is standing by the fireplace, and he is absolutely radiant. He’s grinning from ear to ear, his hands are gathered in the skirts of his powder-blue dress. He’s put on his string of pearls to complete the ensemble, and they flash like tears against his throat. The square cut of his dress opens up across his chest to expose the tattoo there, and the laces that cap off the elaborate sleeves float as Ed moves. He bounces on the balls of his feet a little. He’s giddy. The silk moves like rivers and valleys around him. “What d’you think? You like it?” 

Stede tries to speak, but his throat feels like a tidal wave and his words feel like a straw hut. There is nothing he could possibly say that truly captures his brilliance. Language is insufficient and fallible. 

“Check out the spin action on this thing,” Ed says when Stede doesn’t speak. He demonstrates said spin action with a twirl, which makes his skirts plume outward like flames. He’s a vision, a masterpiece. He faces Stede again and laughs as though he’s having the time of his life. “This shit is fun! And people just wear this everyday? How do they get anything done?” He twirls again for good measure.  

Stede swallows thickly, forces his mind and the stone in his chest to cooperate with him. “Ed, my god.” 

He beams. “This blue you picked is nice.” 

“You’re absolutely breathtaking,” Stede tells him. He walks over and takes his hands in his, where he lifts them up and kisses one of the rings on his delicate fingers. “You’re heavenly. I knew you’d be gorgeous, Ed, but this is something else.” 

Ed stares at him, his eyes glistening in the firelight. “You think so?”

“I know so,” Stede whispers, giving another one of his rings a kiss. “But it doesn’t matter what I think. How do you feel?” 

“I feel good. Yeah, real good.” 

Stede pulls him close, then takes one of Ed’s hands and holds it over his head, allowing for a full dainty turn. The flowers in his hair, the pearls on his neck, the flush on his cheeks — he’s perfect. 

Stede thinks that this is what the world looks like.

When he’s facing Stede once more, Ed giggles. “You didn’t tell me you were such a gentleman, babe.” 

Stede laughs, so completely lost in his awe and his reverence that he doesn’t think he could conjure more words if he tried. He puts his hands on Ed’s waist and begins to sway with him, and adores the way that Ed’s arms snake over his shoulders, then they’re dancing together in front of the fireplace without a song to keep them in time. They’re swaying to the melody of the crackling fire and the sound of their own enamoured laughter. 

A lock of Ed’s silver hair falls out of place, so Stede tucks it behind his ear for him. “You know, when I first showed up here, I thought you were an angel,” he says.

Ed snorts. “You thought I was the grim reaper, man.” 

“Oh yes, well – after that, I thought you were an angel.” 

“Really?” 

Stede leans in close and presses their cheeks together, continues to sway with his hands carefully poised on Ed’s sides. “I found you in the stores, just playing your guitar, and I thought to myself, ‘oh, he may truly be an angel. He definitely looks like one.’” 

He’s rewarded with a soft giggle by his ear. Birdsong and breeze through canopies. “I thought the same thing about you. Without the grim reaper thing first, though.” 

Stede pulls back to look at his face. “You did?” 

“Yeah, the second you showed up. I was watching,” Ed explains. “You were all – glittery. Orange and gold. You know how goldfish look when they’re in the sun? You looked like that for half a second, and your face was all scrunched up, and you were all tense. Thought you had come to collect me to take me somewhere else.” 

“I see. Do you wish I had?” 

“Fuck no. You got here, and then this place started being fun , and then we made a life for ourselves. Shit, I mean – not a life. You know what I’m saying.”

Stede grins, then draws Ed back into him and kisses the corner of his smile, moves his hands until they’re on the small of his back. “Of course I do.” 

It’s quiet for some time as they turn and sway in place before the fire. Ed presses a tiny bit closer, the silk of his dress kissing Stede’s front like a whisper. He feels magnetic and sugar sweet. “Y’know, I really do feel pretty in this.” 

“Good. You should feel pretty all the time, darling.” 

Ed shivers against him. That wonderful phrase has never lost its power. “I usually only feel good like this when you kiss me,” he says softly. 

So Stede puts a palm on his cheek and kisses him, makes him feel as beautiful as possible, makes him feel like a deity fit for devotion and offerings. Kisses his lips, his cheek, his jaw, and trails it down his neck and chest. Kisses him while Ed sighs his name, while he presses closer and tangles his hands in Stede’s hair and pleads for more of it – more beauty, more love, more worship. 

They kiss until it becomes feverish, until Stede can feel Ed’s hard cock beneath his skirt, until they’re both panting with want and need. They move until Ed’s back meets a bookshelf, where the impact sends some of the hardcovers tumbling from their places on the shelves, but they leave them on the floor where they lie. 

Stede kisses his way down Ed’s body, adoring every ruffle and fold of his perfect silk dress, loving every miniscule detail of who he is. He sinks to his knees before him, lifts Ed’s skirt slowly, then politely asks him to hold it up for him. Ed does, nodding furiously and blushing hot enough to envy the sun, and he holds it in place as Stede takes his hard cock into his mouth. 

Ed can’t help but rut into him, can’t suppress each breathless moan and uneven sigh that escapes his throat. He becomes lax at the warmth of Stede’s mouth, the wetness of his tongue. He holds the skirt up with one hand and tangles the other into Stede’s hair, drawing him further down his length, and god , does Stede adore it. He relishes this feeling, from the openness of his throat, to the stinging in his eyes, to the saliva on his tongue. While he’s sucking hard and deep, he looks up at Ed and traces his eyelashes with his gaze, the salt and pepper beard around his jaw, the shocks of silver hair that have fallen across his temples. 

Loving one another – it makes them both feel beautiful. Here, in the perfect place between Ed’s thighs, Stede feels holy. He feels like fluttering wings and angel choir and golden rays of sunlight. 

Ed sighs Stede’s name again and again, and each time he does it sounds closer and closer to release. Stede pushes himself to his limit, takes Ed’s cock as far down his throat as he possibly can, swallows along his length. Ed tugs at his hair, thrusts into his mouth, writhes like every inch of his body is lost in an all-consuming bliss. His pleasure is bone-deep and thriving. 

Stede turns his head just so, grips Ed’s thighs, and accepts his orgasm down the back of his throat. Ed is so lost with it that his hands make more books tumble from their shelves, but these, too, remain discarded and forgotten on the floor. Ed lets out a long and loud moan as his climax seizes him completely. He trembles and Stede holds him in place until it’s over, until Ed’s breathing evens out. 

Stede pulls himself free, wipes his saliva from his chin. 

“Fucking hell, Stede,” Ed says, his voice thin. “Looks like I’m gonna have to wear this thing more often.” 

Stede giggles, then pushes some hair out of his eyes. “We could make you a whole wardrobe of dresses. One in every colour.” 

Ed lowers himself down until he’s kneeling with Stede on the ground, then gently pushes his shoulders back. Stede follows his direction wordlessly, moving backward until he’s lying on his elbows in the place in front of the fire. Ed parts his knees with a careful touch, then puts himself between them. 

“Only if you promise to take ‘em all off me,” he says with a playful smirk. 

In the firelight, Stede’s smile feels warmer than it usually would. “I promise, my love. Cross my heart.” 

Before they drift off that night, Stede whispers into the dark. “Do you ever wonder if this is really Limbo?” 

Ed’s voice is thick with fatigue. “Mm. Used to. You thinkin’ this is all a hallucination, or something?” 

“No, no. More like… do you ever wonder if we’ve maybe been in heaven all this time?” 

Ed thinks about it for a second. “Before you got here, I used to think that this place was hell.” 

“And now?” 

“I don’t think it’s heaven, either.” 

“No?” 

Ed snuggles against his side, sighs out a long breath. It sounds as though he’s barely conscious when he says, “Nah, I realised a long time ago that heaven couldn’t make up something as nice as this. This is the kind of love that heaven envies, Stede. That’s what makes it real.” 

He yawns, and then he’s asleep. Stede stays awake, holding him with arms that were made to do so, and loving him enough to make the heavens avert its green and poisonous gaze. 

Stede is awoken in the early hours of morning by something heavy climbing on top of him. Barely conscious and thinking that he’s having a nightmare, he begins to panic and shout, but Ed’s voice soothes him. 

“Hey, hey, just me,” he says, smiling brightly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” 

“Ed?” Stede sits up on his elbows a little, blinking the sleep from his eyes. “Oh, good god, I thought I was dying. Well, again.” 

“Sorry, babe,” Ed says again with a giggle. “I had to wake you up.” 

“Are you alright? Did you have a bad dream?” 

“I’ve figured it out,” he whispers urgently, his eyes wide. 

Stede blinks. “Figured what out, darling?” 

“Everything! You showing up on my ship, why we’re so good for each other, why we love each other so much. I’ve worked it all out.” 

“You have?” Stede rubs at his eyes. Ed is still beaming, his excitement radiating from his skin. “Well, don’t leave me in suspense, Ed.” 

“I’ve been thinking about it since you got here,” Ed explains, now gesturing excitedly with his hands. “There’s never been two souls on a ship before. Never. And then you show up here magically, and we just so happen to be soulmates, too? That’s such a crazy fuckin’ coincidence. The chances are slim to none. Practically nonexistent.” 

“They are astronomical,” Stede agrees, thinking about the hundreds of thousands of ships that are sailing to nowhere alongside them on the sea outside. 

“Exactly. And then we just – fit. I’ve known that I was in love with you from the second I saw you. It was like the world just made complete sense, you know?” 

Stede is so overwhelmed with his infatuation that he can’t say anything in return, so he just nods like he understands completely and takes one of Ed’s hands and holds it tight. 

“And then after we made our plan together and made all those promises, that missing piece of the puzzle just fit into place. There’s only one possible explanation for all this.” 

“And that is?” 

“This,” Ed gestures to each of them, “this is by design. You were put here on purpose, Stede.” 

He frowns. “But you said that there’s no one watching over all this, didn’t you? Isn’t this all just organised chaos?” 

“Yeah, nah, that’s still true.” 

“Then who could have possibly put me here?” 

“Stede,” Ed says his name with a broad grin. “You did.” 

He simply stares for a long time. He must look completely bewildered, because Ed starts to laugh. 

“I beg your pardon?” Stede asks, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“Yeah, babe. It was you. Who else could it have been?” 

“But – I don’t have any kind of power over this sort of thing,” he almost pleads. 

“We didn’t find each other in our last lives, right? Not even for a second, not even as a passer-by?” Ed asks. “You don’t remember ever seeing me, do you?”

“No, never. I’d remember if I ever saw you because you’re the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” 

“I never saw you either,” Ed continues, his cheeks dark. “Not once. See? We’re supposed to be together, but we didn’t cross paths in our last life.” 

Stede doesn’t say anything for a few seconds. He’s trying to put all the pieces together in his mind. “But – I have no control here,” he whispers. “How could I possibly unite us if we’ve never met before?” 

Ed is so excited by this question that he leans in and kisses Stede’s cheek before giving his answer. “In any life, remember?” 

“Yes, of course–” 

“Don’t you see? We’ve made that same promise before.” 

Stede’s brows rise. 

“Yeah!” Ed says, watching as things start to make sense on Stede’s face. “We’ve done this before, Stede. We’ve met and led lives and fallen in love in them, and then we promised to find each other every time. I guess something went wrong, we didn’t meet last time, so–” 

“So I found you here instead,” Stede completes, his voice soft with awe. 

Ed bites his lip and nods, his eyes positively alight. “Ya-huh.” 

“That’s why we knew straight away,” Stede says. “Because it’s happened so many times before.” 

“Yup. Who knows how many times we’ve met? It could be hundreds. It could be fuckin’ thousands.” 

“Oh my god.” Stede falls back amongst the pillows, then hides behind his hands because he feels like he’s about to cry. Ed, who’s still straddling his waist, giggles and leans forward to put his head on his chest. 

“You were never too late,” he says, letting his voice rumble across Stede’s bones like a landslide. “You’ve always shown up, one way or another.” 

And then Stede does cry. He presses his palms into his eyes to try and make the tears stop, but they won’t. “I was so worried that I’d let you down,” he confesses, his voice strained. “I was so scared that I showed up too late and that we were stuck here because of me—”

Ed sits up a little, then moves Stede’s hands away from his face gently. “Stede.” 

He looks at him. He lets his tears fall down his face. 

“All you’ve ever done is keep your promise. You kept your promise so hard that you followed me to the fuckin’ afterlife.” Ed laughs as though he’s in disbelief. “You were so determined that you cheated the rules of death just to get here.” 

Stede sniffles. “And I’ll do it again.” 

“I know you will,” Ed says with a nod. His own eyes are misty now. He returns his head to its place on Stede’s chest, right above his stone. It’s like he’s listening for a heartbeat. “You’ve never let me down before.” 

So Stede wraps his arms around him, holds him as tightly as he possibly can, kisses his head and lets tears slip from his eyes and run down his cheeks. He cries, and he holds him, and he loves him, knowing that they have done this in countless lifetimes before, and they will continue to do so in countless lifetimes after. 

They will fall for each other in any world where there is love to be shared, which means that they’re destined to find one another in all of them. Every single one. The universe can take their bodies and their hearts and their noise, but it cannot strip them of their vow. 

In any life. 

“Will you still love me if I come back as a… bird?” 

“Of course,” Stede answers without hesitation. “You’d be the most beautiful bird of them all.” 

Ed chuckles. “And what if I come back as a snail?” 

“That would be fine with me. I love snails.” 

“Fuck off, don’t lie.” 

“I’m not lying!” 

“Stede, snails are fucking gross.” 

“They’re sweet,” Stede defends through a high giggle. “Completely harmless little creatures.” 

“Fuckin’ maniac,” Ed says affectionately. He swings his legs back and forth as they dangle through the railing in the crow’s nest. They’re watching the dawn. “Okay, a spider? C’mon, you wouldn’t love me if I was a spider.” 

“I would,” Stede says, his voice steady and assured. “I’d love you and your too-many-eyes and your eight fuzzy legs. I’d even make four pairs of miniature shoes for you to wear.” 

Ed laughs again, then leans his head on Stede’s shoulder and takes a deep breath. “Complete lunatic.” 

Stede gives his forehead a gentle kiss. “I’d love you because you’d still be you, Ed. The real question here is, would you still love me if I came back as a spider?” 

There’s a soft moment of pause. 

“Hmm,” Ed hums. “Can I think about it?” 

Stede tosses his head back with a laugh. “You’re kidding! I’d hand-make you little spider sneakers, and you’re telling me you’d have to think about it?” 

“You know I don’t like spiders, babe.” 

“Yes, I know, but still–” 

“Hold on, lemme get a good look at you,” Ed says. He sits up and regards Stede’s face, his eyes shining and golden-brown in the morning light. His gaze flicks over Stede’s features for some time. He openly adores him, and Stede openly adores him back. “Okay. I can make an exception. You’d be a cute spider.” 

“Are you sure? Perhaps you should think about it some more,” Stede says playfully, bumping their sides together. 

“Nah, I’ve made up my mind.” His voice is soft and certain. “As long as you’re still you, I’m gonna love you. Even if it’s scary.” 

The dawn is easy and pink. Stede kisses him in a way that would make the sunrise proud. 

Eternity ceaselessly rolls on. Time, or what remains of it, becomes nothing more than an echo to them – forever is bouncing off the walls and coming back to them second hand. In the hours and the minutes and the decades between, they live their afterlives to the fullest and cherish every moment. What they’re lacking in certainty for the future, they make up for in devotion and hope.

In the time that they share, they love each other as hard as they can, with intent and with purpose. After all, it’s what they were made for. 

Another ship doesn’t cross paths with theirs for a few months, at least. When it does, Stede recognises it instantly. It’s the ship flying the orange flag. The man on board, who introduces himself as Oluwande, apologises for the last time they met. He tells him that it was just a lot, to see the rules broken like that. Stede understands, and he tells him that there’s nothing to be forgiven. 

Oluwande, unlike their previous meeting, is now sailing with two other boats, for a grand total of four vessels that are all soul-tethered and moving as one. Olu points to the ship that was here the first time he and Stede met. “That’s my partner, Jim.” He points to the ship sailing behind Jim’s. “That’s Jim’s girlfriend, Archie. And over here,” he points behind his own vessel, “that’s my girlfriend, Zheng.” 

Ed and Stede only get the chance to introduce themselves formally to Oluwande and Zheng as she passes by, the others are too far away to speak with. In the very brief moment before the quadruple-soulmate-fleet is pulled away, Ed asks Zheng if she’d like to hear their story sometime, to which she says, “it seems like you and Oluwande cross paths often. The next time we meet, I want to know the details. You guys seem sweet.” 

At this, Ed positively beams. The four ships are drawn away by the apathetic and uncaring wind, and while they silently depart, Ed takes Stede’s hands and says, “hey, it’s kinda nice to have friends, right?” 

And Stede hadn’t thought of it like that before, but the idea makes his insides swell. He smiles and kisses him because he simply must. 

It’s only a few days later that they cross paths with another familiar vessel. This one belongs to Pete, Lucius’s husband. Stede recognises it because it’s flying a very pirate-esque flag, complete with several daggers and a Jolly Roger. It’s like it’s trying to out-pirate all the other flags here. Pete’s ship has somehow managed to swap places with Lucius’s, meaning that he’s the one who gets to address Ed and Stede this time. It’s raining on the day that they cross paths, but they stand outside and endure it because the chance for a conversation is worth getting wet. 

“Oh my god,” Pete says when he recognises who he’s addressing. “You guys are the–”

“We’re the shipmates, yeah,” Ed says, his voice so proud that it makes Stede’s spine feel like jelly. “We’ve already met your husband. I’m Ed, this is Stede.” 

“Lucius has been dying to see you guys again,” Pete says, his eyes darting between their ship and Lucius’s. “He won’t stop telling me about the soul sex thing.”

“He almost sounds a bit jealous,” Stede jokes kindly. 

 “No, yeah, he absolutely is. Just – stay there for, like, one second.” Pete rushes to the other side of his ship to address his husband. Ed and Stede can hear a loud and enraged “WHAT?” coming from Lucius’s ship. Pete speaks to him for only a few minutes more, then returns. “Yeah, he’s pissed.” 

Ed chuckles. “We did research for him and everything.” 

Pete only sighs. “Okay, you’re gonna have to give me all the details so that I can pass them along to him.” 

So they give him as many details as they can, sharing the incredibly visceral and vulnerable experience of being completely known, without having the language to accurately describe it. They do their best, though, and Pete seems satisfied enough with their answers. When the wind pushes him out of reach, he promises to share their findings with Lucius, and makes an oath to spread the good word that soul sex – in his words – is, “get-all-the-way-fucked kind of good.” 

Stede is bright red throughout this whole conversation. When they’re finally alone once more, they move into the captain’s cabin and Stede barely makes an attempt at flirting by saying, “shall I get these wet clothes off you?” before Ed is pouncing on him, wrenching his clothes off and kissing him stupid. 

They make love time and time again to make up for lost chances, for all the nights in their lives where they couldn’t. Every time, they lovingly call it research and sing one another’s praises for being so altruistic and giving, and they laugh about it until their faces tingle from smiling. 

On another dreary and rainy day, they briefly transform the auxiliary wardrobe into a lush psychic medium’s carnival tent, complete with an abundance of red silk curtains and colourful cushions and incense burning in the corner. They sit across from one another at a table, taking turns reading the lines on each other’s palms. 

“This one,” Ed points to a line, choosing it at random from the selection on Stede’s right palm, “this one. I’m getting a lot from it.” 

“Tell me about it, mystic one.” 

“Yes, I see.” Ed closes his eyes in thought, grinning from ear to ear. “This line here tells me that you were a painter in another life.” 

Stede giggles. “A painter?” 

“Yeah, I can see it so clearly.” He makes a magic-esque gesture by wiggling his fingers. “You made your career by painting portraits of weird-looking horses.” 

Stede laughs hard enough to make him wheeze. “Weird-looking horses? Are you sure?” 

“The lines don’t lie, sir.” 

“That’s troubling.” 

“I reckon. Okay, your turn.” 

They swap hands. Now, Stede holds Ed’s palm gently and selects a line. “Oh, yes. I can see your past life right here. See this line?” 

Ed leans in to inspect it. “Yup, that’s a line, alright.” 

“It tells me secrets.” 

“Say more, wise one.” 

Stede has to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing more. “In this life, which I can see very clearly, you were a pirate. A famous one.” 

Ed’s brows lift like he’s impressed. “No shit?” 

“No shit.” 

“Did I look cool?” 

“Extremely. Sexy, too.” 

“Did I have an eye patch?” 

Stede looks at the line closer. “No,” he decides. “But that’s because you were simply too good at being a pirate. No one had ever gotten close enough to take one of your eyes.” 

Ed giggles, then gestures for them to swap hands again. Stede gives his palm like his heart is sitting in it. 

“This line here,” Ed says, running a finger languidly across it, “this line tells me that you were a pirate, too.” 

Stede’s brows lift in surprise. “Really?” 

“Yep. In fact, you were the only pirate that’d ever gotten close enough to take one of my eyes out.” He lifts Stede’s hand and kisses his palm softly. “You just chose not to.” 

“I see. And did we fall in love in that lifetime, too?” 

“You fuckin’ bet we did.” 

Stede stands from his plush red velvet stool to lean in and kiss him, and Ed stands to meet him in the middle. The incense smoke makes the air musky and sweet, and Ed smiles into their kiss. Without parting from Stede’s lips, he says, “I did almost try to kill you, though. Sorry about that.” 

“Oh, that’s alright. I’m sure I forgave you a very long time ago,” Stede says as they part. 

“You did. And when you broke my heart, I forgave you for that, too.” 

“You said it yourself, my love. ‘If you come out clean on the other side, then you’ve done something wrong’. I’m sure we’ve hurt each other plenty over all these lives we’ve lived.” 

“That’s the best bit,” Ed says with a soft smile. “We keep trying.”

“And we always choose it, even if it hurts sometimes.” 

“‘Cause it’s always worth it,” he agrees. “In any life.” 

“In any life.” 

“I miss hot days,” Ed says one night, when they’re sitting together in the bakery and sipping hot chocolates. “Y’know, when your back starts to sweat, and you can feel your forehead burning in the sun. I miss that.” 

“Oh yes. It’s only ever pleasantly warm here. I miss the blistering heat, too. And the snow,” Stede says. “Building snowmen and snowball fights.” 

“Mm. Icicles on pine needles.” 

“Yes! Oh, and you remember how the air above the roads used to get all wavy in the heat? You’d look down a highway and the horizon would wiggle.” 

“Yeah. Like magic.” 

Stede nods. “I think it was all magic, really.” 

The list continues. Cicadas humming a constant tune into the summer air. Frogs croaking a symphony and crickets chirping a melody. Waterfalls and moss on rocks and dense branches that have been waterlogged by the sea. Green hills silhouetted against an evening sky, sand underfoot, the crunch and snap of twigs in a forest. Dappled sunlight through treetops, the sound of distant thunder, the static of many human hands clapping together in ceremony, people speaking and laughing softly in another room. 

All of it. The world. Every beautiful and terrifying part of it – that’s what they miss most. 

The magic had been there all along. They just hadn’t known to look for it. 

Next time, they say. Next time, we’ll know where to find it. 

“And this one?” 

“Got this one done in the middle of a party.” 

“Ah, yes, that’s right. How about… this one? The crow.” 

“Got that one done in a parlour.” 

“Mm. The crow’s special, I suppose?” 

“Awh, nah. I just liked it. Saw it on the wall, so I got it.” 

“Makes sense. How about the mermaid?” 

“Stede. You know how I got that one.” 

“The bad game of blackjack, right?” 

Ed laughs. “So you do remember.” 

“I remember everything about you, my love.” 

“If your memory’s so good, then why d’you keep asking to hear the stories behind all my tattoos?” 

Stede smiles. “Because I love the way you tell them.” 

Times continues endlessly forward, and though the flow of it may trample them and oft leave them bruised, they hold on tight to one another. They move forward, and they hope, because it is all that can be done. 

The strange thing about hoping relentlessly, however, is that you can lose sight of what’s coming at you full force because you’re too busy trying to look beyond it. 

All things must come to an end. The good and the bad, the remarkable and the ordinary, the wonderful and the excruciating. Eventually, everything stops. 

For Stede, the end arrives, and it looks like the sky encompassing the heavens cracks apart and tumbles downward, eviscerating everything in its wake. It looks like blood and gold and dust. 

Just like he predicted a thousand years ago, it feels like catastrophe.

Chapter Text

Armageddon comes in the quiet hours of another perfect evening. 

Ed and Stede, over their hours and centuries together, have come up with their own little rituals to pass the time. They share what they miss most about the world as often as they can, they promise to share those things with one another should they ever leave this place. They make fresh bagels together and eat them for breakfast, but only on the mornings when the sun has not risen. They share dinner in Spanish Jackie’z diner on the days when Ed feels like playing music. And whenever they make too many pastries together, they restock every display case in Jeff’s Bakery and Delights, then share them over tea. 

This particular ritual is Stede’s favourite. Whenever it rains, they stay undercover while it pours and as soon as the sky clears, they set out a picnic blanket and a wicker basket, arrange an assortment of their favourite meals and snacks, then feast until they think they might explode and lie on their backs to watch the sky. Stede always makes sure to manifest a dense patch of grass beneath the blanket, complete with a lovely glade of daisies and dandelions to set the scene. Sometimes they’ll make love there, sometimes they’ll tell one another stories, sometimes they’ll simply hold each other until they fall asleep. But only ever after it rains. 

The majority of this day was spent indoors, so as soon as the sky cleared, they ran for the deck like the sunlight was a finite resource, and set everything up as quickly as possible. They laughed and shared sandwiches and tea and strawberries until they had their fill. Then Ed lay down with his head in Stede’s lap, and fell asleep almost instantly. 

Now, Stede is watching the sunset, with the love of his eternal life resting comfortably in his lap, snoring gently and breathing steadily. He’s wearing a beautiful navy blouse that makes his shoulders look sculpted, and frames the silver in his hair and beard. He’s perfect in every way. Stede runs his fingers through his hair and watches the clouds slink past. 

And then something just… changes. 

Stede doesn’t know what it is at first. He very suddenly just feels strange. He’s never felt like this in all his time in Limbo. He feels a bit like air. He’s watching the sky when the sensation overtakes him, and he thinks, I feel a little bit like that orange colour in that cloud just there. 

He sits in place for a while longer, feeling content and strange and light all at the same time, running his hand up and down Ed’s back.  He thinks about everything else until the feeling within can’t be ignored anymore, because it starts to hurt. 

And the thing about The Gravy Basket is that nothing hurts here. Ed had said so a thousand years ago, and it’s been true since. Even his bad knee, he describes it not so much as ‘hurting’, but more like he knows that an ache should be there, and he anticipates it always. It’s more like he’s waiting for the pain and getting only a mild tingling instead, which is just as uncomfortable. He’s only ever ready for it. 

The pain in Stede’s chest – nothing could prepare him for this. It feels like a boulder is rolling down a cliff face behind his ribs, bringing a landslide with it. It feels like broken bones and blistered skin and scraped knees. It’s nostalgic in a grim kind of way. 

He sits there with his eyes turned to the sky, waiting for the aching to stop, but it only becomes worse and worse. He tries not to panic, he really does, but when the pain turns into agony, he can’t suppress his shakes anymore, and he spirals. 

As gently as he possibly can, he moves Ed out of his lap. He goes slowly to ensure he doesn’t wake him. By some miracle, Ed remains asleep, and makes himself comfortable on the red plaid picnic blanket once he’s out of Stede’s embrace. Before he gets up to leave, Stede watches Ed carefully for a moment, admiring his cheeks in the setting sunlight. He’s framed by daisy petals and pollen and gold, and he’s so unbelievably and devastatingly beautiful. It only makes the pain in Stede’s chest worse to look at him, but he lingers because he’d endure the pain for hundreds of thousands of years if it meant he got the chance to admire him for only a minute more. 

He gets up and quietly steps away at last, leaving Ed snoozing alone on the deck, but Stede doesn’t have a choice. He needs some room to breathe, and he doesn’t want to wake Ed and worry him about what he’s sure is absolutely nothing, so he just excuses himself and heads for the garden. It’s the quietest spot on the ship. He can think there. As he makes his way down, the searing pain and the panic only worsens. He holds his breath until he reaches his destination. 

In the garden, Stede takes a seat on one of the iron lawn chairs, keeps his back straight, and makes himself breathe. In and out, in and out, slowly and methodically. It burns, it flares and crackles like an angry fire in his chest. He closes his eyes to focus himself, and he pleads for the panic to recede, begs for the pain to stop, but it surges inside him like it’s doing so out of spite, and it becomes so potent that it feels like it’s thrashing and flailing , it feels like it wants to be tamed, but Stede lacks the strength to control it. He doubles over in his chair, both hands clutched over his chest, groaning like his insides are trying to climb up and out of him, and he must provide them passage.

The end comes in the form of a miracle, as it often does. 

A soft knock comes from somewhere within. 

No, Stede thinks. Surely not. There’s no way. It can’t be. But it comes again and again and again. It shouldn’t be possible, and it’s certainly not right, but there’s no denying it. 

It’s life. It’s politely asking to be let inside. 

It feels like it takes hours for the pain to subside. It goes away as slowly as the tide turning. When it finally dwindles, Stede is left alone. It’s just him, sitting in the garden that he and Ed have helped thrive, and a heartbeat. A heartbeat that is insisting it belongs to him. 

Finally, when the moon is high in the sky and the air is cool, Stede can think. He’s no longer doubled over in blinding agony, no. But the panic has well and truly set in, because – well, what the fuck does he do?

Is it just him? Is Ed’s heart beating now, too? Is he battling his way through pain of his own out on the deck? Did he have to go through it by himself? 

Has Stede abandoned him already? 

He stands and begins to pace, his heart not going fast or slow – it’s just steady. It should be racing. The evenness of it makes him feel sick. 

What does he do? How much time does he have left? Will he simply live here with a heartbeat for the rest of time? He’s defied the rules of death and fate to get here once before, perhaps he can defy them again to stay.  

He runs his hands through his hair in distress. The biggest question of all circles around him like a shark circling its prey. 

Does he tell Ed? 

The last thing he wants is to make whatever’s left of their time together miserable. It’s only ever been joy and love between them, ever since he showed up. That’s the way it’s always supposed to be. There isn’t room for anguish when there is so much glory here. 

He can just picture it all so vividly in his head. If Ed knows that Stede is going to move on, then he’s going to panic. He’s going to be completely and totally bereft. It doesn’t matter how many vows or promises they make. If their roles were reversed, Stede would panic too. He’d plea and bargain and beg, and he’d cling onto Ed for dear life. He’d hold on tight enough that the world would simply have to come and take them both. 

So. What to do about all that, then. 

Stede doesn’t know. With every new question comes another question, and none of which he has answers for. He stands from his garden chair and begins to pace, worrying his thumbnail as he walks. He feels rigid and terrified and uneasy. The worst of it all, though, is the heart beating constantly in his chest. 

He doesn’t recall it ever feeling this heavy before. When he was alive, was the weight of his life such a burden to bear? 

Stede turns and gasps when he sees Ed in the doorway to the garden, looking sleepy. He’s got a daisy petal stuck to his cheek. “Stede? You alright?” 

“Fuck! Oh, Ed, it’s you.” 

He blinks. “Who else would it be, babe?” 

“Quite right. Yes. Sorry.” Stede clears his throat to rid his voice of the panic in it. 

Ed frowns, then steps further into the garden. The fatigue in his eyes has taken its leave. “What’s wrong?” 

“No, I – nothing’s wrong.” 

“Stede, you’re panicking. What’s going on?” 

Stede meets his gaze. His voice is almost pleading. He’s so kind and his presence is so calming. Stede looks at him and he wants to crumble. I’m going to live, he wants to say. I’m so scared. I don’t know how I’m going to do it without you. 

“I’m not panicking, really, ” he says carefully instead. 

In that fraction of a moment where their eyes meet, Stede finds a single answer to one of the million questions he currently has. 

He can’t tell Ed. He simply isn’t strong enough. He’s been told that he’s brave, but – no one in the world is strong enough to deliver that kind of news, especially not when he thought they’d have an eternity more together, at least. Not when he knows how dark it was for Ed before he arrived. Not when he knows precisely the kind of damage his departure is going to cause. 

One look. That’s all it takes. He’s not brave enough to look Ed in the eye and tell him that he’s leaving him. 

He’s not brave enough to admit defeat. 

“I’m just nervous,” Stede says at last. It’s halfway to the truth. 

“Nervous? What for?” 

“I… can’t tell you.” 

Ed’s frown only deepens. 

“It’s a surprise,” Stede lies. It burns him to do so. He feels like a demon and a monster and a bad omen. “I – I don’t want to spoil it.” 

Ed watches him intently for a long moment more, until the tension in his face eases, and he smiles. When he does, the daisy petal on his cheek falls into his beard. Stede gestures for him to move closer, and Ed does without hesitation. Stede pulls the petal away and holds it up. 

“You had a wish in your beard,” he says gently while guilt eats him alive. 

Ed giggles. “Isn’t that dandelions?” 

“You can wish on petals, too.” 

“Huh. Didn’t know that.” 

“That’s because I just made it up.” 

And Ed laughs. He shakes his head with affection, regards the petal for half a second, then blows on it to send it into the air. 

Stede decides to shoulder the burden for both of them. The guilt, the anxiety, the sadness. He will bear the weight of it so that whatever time they have left can be as soft and serene as every moment before it. 

It’s a selfish act. A desperate act. 

But he simply cannot be deprived of Ed’s smile. 

“What did you wish for?” he asks quietly. 

“Nothin’,” Ed says with a proud grin. “I’ve got everything I’ve ever wanted right here.” 

Stede thinks that fire would hurt less. 

The thing about having a heartbeat is that Stede can now, technically, tell the time. 

He can recall learning that the heart beats about eighty times a minute from somewhere. He must have read it in a book a long time ago. 

It’s hard to keep track of, but if he pays close attention, he can keep count. So far, it’s beat nearly fifteen thousand times. Which means that it’s been a few hours, at most. 

It feels like it’s been no more than ten minutes. 

They’re on the shrouds now, admiring the cosmos above and getting ready for their nightly ritual. After this, they’ll return to the deck, retire to their quarters, put on their pyjamas, and go to bed. For now, they’re admiring the constellations that are on display tonight. They spend some time trying to make shapes from nothing, trying to connect the dots. The sky is clear, and the lights are glittering across the sea below. It’s marvellous, but it’s always marvellous. 

Stede thinks that maybe it’s grand and beautiful on purpose, to distract the souls here from the fact that they can’t leave. It’s like buying off a vicious dog with a bone. 

Ed, who’s balancing on the ropes in a way that is casual and comfortable, sighs and folds his arms. “Alright,” he says. “Whose turn is it?” 

“Yours, my love,” Stede says from his place at his side. “Have you thought of anything new?” 

“Yup, I’ve got one. I miss this one spot in my old town.” 

“Hmm. Tell me about it.” Stede closes his eyes. 

“Awh, it was great. Gorgeous place,” Ed says excitedly. “They called it Nosedive Point, ‘cause it was right at the top of a cliff. You had to drive up this abandoned forest road to get there. It had a turn that was easy to miss, so you had to be really looking for it to find it. But this mountain, it overlooked the sea, and you could see the whole town from up there. People used to go up there to make out and smoke weed. Y’know, typical teen shit.” 

Stede huffs a soft giggle through his nose. “Sounds like a nice evening.” 

Ed chuckles. “Yeah, it does. I’m gonna take you there. We’ll watch the sunset and fuck in the backseat and drink hot chocolate out of a thermos. I can’t wait.” 

Stede bites his lip to stop himself from crying. His heart thumps like a war drum in his chest. “I’m looking forward to it,” he whispers when he can make himself talk.

“Mm, me too. Alright, babe, your turn. What do you miss?” 

And Stede, like an idiot, tells the truth. He doesn’t mean to. 

“I’m going to miss you the most.” 

Ed looks at him with a shallow frown. “Babe, I’m right here.” He reaches out and puts a hand on Stede’s forearm, his touch calming and grounding. He moves his thumbs in perfect little strokes that positively break Stede’s heart. 

What the hell is he going to do without this? 

He swallows. “No, of course you are. When we go back, is what I mean. In our next life, before I find you again. I’ll miss you then.” 

“I’m gonna miss you, too,” Ed says softly. “Do you think it’ll feel the same as last time?” 

“Feeling like we were missing a part of ourselves?” 

“Yeah. Do you think it’ll feel like that again? Maybe it’ll be different.” 

Stede thinks about it for a second. “I think it’ll feel the same every time. I’m always going to feel like I’m missing something terribly important when you’re not there.” 

Ed’s thumb strokes his forearm some more. “Mm. That incomplete feeling.” 

“The very same.” 

He smiles at him. “In any life.” 

“In any life,” Stede says back. 

They watch the stars for some time more, thinking about who they are now and who they could become, and thinking about how they might cope with feeling incomplete until they meet again. 

When Stede wakes the following morning, he’s immediately overcome with gratitude to find that he’s still in their bed, still holding Ed close. He breathes a long sigh of relief when he sees Ed’s bedside, where the blue ribbon and his square of red silk are still sitting proudly. 

He insisted on being the big spoon to avoid the possibility of Ed leaning his head on his chest and hearing his traitorous heartbeat, even if it meant getting strands of Ed’s hair in his mouth all night. It was a worthwhile sacrifice.

He lies there and holds Ed for some time while he snoozes away. He holds him as close as he can, relishing his warmth and his weight against his front and the perfect rhythm of his breathing. He cherishes every moment he gets to share in his light, even knowing that it will all have to come to an end soon. 

While laying there, he looks at the square of red silk on Ed’s nightstand. He recalls the night when he asked what it was. 

“This is lovely,” he’d said, gesturing to it. 

Ed had glanced at it, thought for half a second, then picked it up and put it in Stede’s hands. “Here. Feels better than it looks. It’s kinda old and tatty now.” 

“Sometimes the old things are the best things,” Stede said. He’d felt it between his fingers gently, admiring the way it shone in the candlelight. “It feels important to you.” 

Ed hummed, then echoed something Stede had said a long time ago. “A luxury from life. One I didn’t want to let go of just yet.” 

Stede had giggled. “I see. Like my lighthouse painting from Mary?” 

“Yeah. This one’s from my mum. It’s funny the things we hold onto, huh?” 

Now, Stede looks at that little red square like it’s Ed’s very heart, and he wonders what part of Ed he will cling to in the next life, when he’s been deprived of everything that’s very distinctly his. 

He wonders if he will still be colourful then. 

An idea strikes Stede like lightning later that day. 

Ed is practising a new piece on his harp, an instrument he’s taken a particular liking to lately. Stede does his best to ignore the fact that the tempo of the song falls into perfect rhythm with his heartbeat, despite Ed not being able to hear it. 

Stede, who’s sitting in his armchair as he always does while listening to Ed play, stands very suddenly. Ed stops plucking at the strings and faces him. “Stede? You alright?” 

“I’ve –” Stede stops and smiles at him. “Do you remember that book I was going to write?” 

“Yeh, ‘course.”  

“I’ve finally had an idea for the damned thing.” 

Ed’s face lights up. “That’s great, babe! You gonna start it now?” 

Stede considers the devotion inside him, and how if his soul had a shape, it would take the form of his hands, reaching out to touch and hold. He considers every promise he’s ever made and every vow he intends to keep. 

He considers leaving a light on. 

“Yes, I think I will. While the idea is still fresh,” Stede says, bouncing on the balls of his feet a little in his excitement. 

“Fuck yeah. I’m gonna be here if you need anything, ‘kay? I can’t wait to read it.” 

Before he leaves, Stede stops by Ed’s side where he’s sitting in front of his harp, leans down and gives him a loving and adoring kiss. Ed makes a soft sound of surprise into it, the kind of sound that Stede’s heard countless times before, but this time, it makes his heart skip so hard it feels like it’s going to fall out of his chest. 

He smiles, tells him he loves him, and rushes from the jam room. 

Stede isn’t sure how much time passes. He loses count of his heartbeats somewhere after the twenty thousand mark. He decides that he can’t spend so much of whatever precious time he’s got left with Ed focusing on counting along with the ticking clock inside his chest. He ignores it, and he writes. 

It’s a complete success. Ed had been right. All this time, somewhere deep down, Stede has been a writer — not in the sense that he’s particularly skilled with it, more that he writes earnestly and truthfully. He doesn’t lament the fact that he never had the chance to put this unknown skill to good use before. It doesn’t matter. He can use it now. 

Once he’s satisfied with his work, Stede sets it aside and makes his way to the deck. He’s become so accustomed to the beauty of the sea and sky in Limbo that it very rarely takes his breath away anymore. It’s almost routine to be greeted by a phenomenal sight every time he steps outside. 

On this particular occasion, though, it does make him gasp. Today, the sea and the sky and the clouds look precisely the same as they did on the day that Stede arrived. It’s identical, right down to the smallest star. Even the surrounding ships look to be in their same places. It makes Stede believe, for just one blissful second, that the beating of his heart had all been a dream. He thinks that he will wake up soon, find himself in bed with Ed lying on his chest as he always does, and he’ll tell him all about it. 

I had the strangest dream, he’ll say. I dreamt that I was leaving you. And then they’ll laugh because it’s completely ridiculous, because that would never happen. Not in a million years. 

The thought makes Stede feel ill. He has to lean on the railing and look out at the sea for some time to collect himself. 

It’s so incredibly nostalgic. He’s been here before, in this very spot, leaning his weight against the wooden rail and trying to feel like a human being. It’s strange – time passes abnormally here, but it always loops back around. In every world, time is still a damn circle. 

While he stands there, he thinks about their plan. He’s memorised it down to the letter. Cupcakes and carnations, kisses that are permanently fixed in place, promises to find and be found, rinse and repeat. He knows the plan that they share so well that he recites the steps to himself sometimes, just to hammer it home. He has to make sure that it’s affixed to his very soul so that he can carry it with him into whatever life he may lead next. 

Their plan, he knows it. A part of him has always known it. But planning for his own departure is so much harder. He can’t get all the steps right. 

He’s about to start a new life somewhere, but he feels like he’s writing his own eulogy and choosing his own funeral flowers. The irony leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. 

Regardless, plan is what he does. He thinks about all the pieces of the Edward Teach puzzle that he’s been collecting over their millennia together, and he recalls each one like they’re a gift that’s been lovingly pressed into his hands. 

Edward Teach, the man that takes seven sugars in his tea and has the sweetest tooth out of anyone in this world or the next. The man who loves to bake and rebuild engines and make shapes out of clouds and stars. The man who has an affinity for the name ‘Jeff’ for reasons that are entirely unknown. The man who led a life that was challenging and demanding and didn’t let it take away all the goodness inside him. His life gave him every reason to be callous and cruel, but that’s simply not who he is. He’s only ever been kind and brave. He’s incredibly brilliant, silly and fun. 

Ed is all that’s good about the world. 

So how the hell is Stede supposed to leave all that goodness behind? How the hell is he supposed to make it hurt less? 

Stede must stand there for an eternity or more, letting his thoughts run rampant and letting his dread creep its way up his spine. He’s only withdrawn from the echo chamber of his mind by Ed finally stepping out onto the deck, stretching his arms over his head and groaning as the stiffness leaves his joints. 

“Oh, you’ve finished writing already?” He frowns in thought. “How long was I playing that fuckin’ harp for?” 

Stede watches him, perfectly still. 

Ed moves until he’s leaning beside Stede on the rail, and he stretches out his back a little. The sunlight turns the silver in his beard and hair to gold, his teeth glimmer like stars, his brown skin is caramelised in the glow. He’s wearing the black cravat, which dances softly in the breeze. He’s worn it every day since Stede gave it to him. When he smiles, his eyes fold at their corners. 

“You’ll marry me, won’t you?” Stede says.

He doesn’t even think about it. It’s a natural response, like breathing or blinking. The question is as normal and as steady as the heart thumping away in his chest. 

Ed’s brows lift slightly. He’s not shocked, only mildly surprised. “‘Course I will, Stede.” He gives his answer without hesitation. It’s steady, too. 

“You will?” 

Ed moves a little closer, and he chuckles softly. “You’re talking about our next lives, right? When we find each other again?” 

Stede meets his gaze and keeps it. “I’m talking about right now.” 

This makes Ed’s brows shoot up. “But – I mean, aren’t we already married?”  

“Well, I suppose we are. In just about every sense, we’ve been married for a thousand years already. I suppose I just wanted to make it… official. As official as possible without a crowd or a church.” 

There is a long moment of silence. Ed watches Stede’s face carefully. His eyes are darting across all his features, searching for answers. Stede swallows. 

“You know I’ll marry you,” he says softly at last. “But I gotta ask you something first.” 

Stede forces himself to remain calm. “Anything.” 

“Why now?” Ed takes his hands. “We’ve been on this ship together for a long time. It’s gotta be a few hundred years by now, right? So, what changed?” 

Stede’s not strong enough to lie to him, but he’s not strong enough to tell him the truth, either. He keeps his voice steady and sweet when he says, “I’ve always wanted to marry you, Ed. I suppose part of me wanted to wait until we were in our next lives, but death shouldn’t be stopping us from being wed here, too. Really, I just think it’s… it’s about time.” 

Ed is still watching him closely, reading him like a book. They know one another deeply enough that, surely, Ed knows that Stede is withholding something from him. He must know that something is amiss. If he does, he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at the sea for some time, then he takes a deep breath. He’s thinking about Stede’s answer carefully. 

When he returns his gaze to Stede’s, he locks their eyes and keeps them locked. He’s crying. “You want to get married here? Now?” 

Stede starts crying, too. He can only hope that they’re sharing happy tears. “If you’ll have me.” 

“You know I will.” 

Stede positively beams. He tangles their fingers together, then sighs deeply through his nose in an attempt to keep his breathing even. “Alright. You’re happy with this spot?”

He smiles, which makes the tears in his eyes spill down his cheeks. “Anywhere, Stede. I’d marry you anywhere.” 

Stede wants to collapse. He wants to break down and shrivel up and dissolve. He wants to fold into Ed’s chest and stay there for the rest of eternity, and he wants to swipe at any hands that dare to try and take him away. 

His heart swells and breaks all at once. 

Marriage is a time for celebration, however, and Stede’s never wanted anything more than to love the man before him as sincerely as he possibly can. It’s his purpose. He’s sure that he’s traversed universes and timelines that he can no longer remember, just find Ed’s smile, just to love him as he deserves. So now, standing with their hands clasped and tears spilling down their faces, he decides that this is no time for heartbreak. 

The stars, shining bright in the orange and pink sunset skies, can testify that they were there. They bore witness to their matrimony. It’s not a crowd of friends and family, it’s not a church they’re standing in, but it will be enough. Stede will begin his next life already loved, so long as they have this. 

Stede pulls their hands apart for only a second to hold out his palm, where two perfectly circular and golden wedding bands now sit. He takes one and slides it onto Ed’s finger, and Ed does the same for him. When the rings are in place, they join hands once more. 

Their eyes meet, and as their tears continue to fall, they smile bright. There’s no need for vows here – they’ve shared them so many times already. They make a vow to each other every single day. 

Instead, Stede says, “I’ve loved you forever, you know.” 

Ed bites his lip to stifle a sob. He wipes his tears on the sleeve of his silk blouse. “I know. And I’ve loved you just as long. Any life.” 

“Any life, my love,” he says back. “No matter what it takes.” 

Ed takes his face with both hands and kisses him, his cheeks wet. Stede kisses him back as lovingly as he can, because he has to kiss him as much as possible before their time is up. He can’t be sure when he’ll next have the chance. 

Neither of them is brave enough to admit that this feels like a goodbye, so Stede cherishes the way Ed’s lips meet his, adores the scratching of his beard, loves the tears and the sighing and the way Ed’s hands hold him so gently and so lovingly. It’s kindness, it’s warmth, and it’s what eternity feels like. 

Stede wraps his arms around Ed’s middle and lifts him, then spins him around in his delight, and they don’t stop kissing all the while. Stede can still see the sunset behind his closed eyes, can feel the warmth of the sun on his cheeks, and he can feel Ed smile against his mouth. 

Ed giggles when his feet return to the deck, and he finally severs their kiss to wipe at his eyes. Stede tucks a lock of his hair behind his ear. 

“You’ll have to tell me which you prefer,” he says, letting his fingertips linger by Ed’s temple. “I think both are nice, but I’d love to know what you think.” 

Ed grins. “Alright. Hit me.” 

“‘Husbands’ or ‘shipmates’?” Stede asks. 

Ed chuckles, then pulls Stede close and draws him into a hug. Beside his ear, he says, “both are nice. I’m just happy to be yours.” 

And that’s what they are. It’s what they’ve been since Stede showed up, on the day that looked just like this one. It may not have ever been perfect, but it’s always been right because it’s been them, and they’ve always been so happy. They’ve adored every second, and they’ll do so until it ends. They’ve loved endlessly, religiously. Tirelessly. There hasn’t been a moment in the land of the dead when this ship has not been positively alive with their love for one another. 

They’ve brought light to the end of all things. 

That’s the piece of Ed that Stede will cling to in his next life. Before they meet again, Stede will hold all this light and hope and love inside him. It is heavy, but he will brazenly carry its weight forward. 

They lie on the floor of their quarters that night, drinking rum straight from the bottle and making each other laugh. 

“How many tentacles does it take to make an octopus laugh?” Ed asks as he hands Stede the bottle. 

“How many?” 

“Ten-tickles.” 

And Stede does laugh, because he has a feeling that he’s going to miss the sound of it soon. “Okay, how about… what did the pirate say when he turned eighty?” 

Ed lolls his head to the side to give Stede the most loving look in the world. His eyes twinkle. “What did he say, babe?” 

Stede takes a long drink of the rum, then hands back the bottle. “Aye matey!” 

Ed laughs too. Stede hopes that he will find a reason to laugh even after he’s gone. This place wouldn’t feel the same without the sound. Without Ed’s laughter, it would feel haunted. 

“That’s a good one,” Ed says, wiping a tear from his eye. 

“I think so.” 

“You know, I think I’ve finally told you all of my jokes.” He ponders this for a moment, racking his brain in search of more. “I can’t believe it. I know a hundred stupid fuckin’ jokes, but I can’t think of any more.” 

Stede smiles at him. “If only we had a joke book in the library, then you could find some new material.” 

Ed’s brows lift. “Hey, is that the book you’re writing? You can tell me, I’ll keep it a secret.” He crosses his heart in emphasis. 

“I simply can’t tell you,” Stede says with a deceitful giggle. “It’ll ruin the surprise.” 

“So it is a joke book,” Ed says with a nod of understanding and a broad grin. “Well, I can’t wait to read it. I bet the owls will love it.” 

Stede looks at him and tilts his head. “Owls?”

Ed snorts, then says, “yeah, ‘cause it’s gonna be a hoot.” 

That sends them both into a laughing fit, where they’re lying on their sides and holding their stomachs and gasping for air. 

It’s the perfect honeymoon, but it’s a night that’s no different from any that have come before it. 

While they’re making love later that night, tangled and breathless, Stede takes Ed’s soul in his palm and listens for its voice. As always, as soon as he makes contact with him, his soul cheers in celebration. It eases into his touch like candle wax eases in the light of the flame. 

Stede touches Ed everywhere he can with one hand; his arms, his belly, his thighs, his shoulders. He lovingly addresses every part of him and attributes all his beautiful lines and angles to memory. 

All the while, beneath the palm of the hand that he keeps fixed to Ed’s chest, his soul hums and sighs a single word over and over again: 

Yours. Yours. Yours. 

Stede doesn’t sleep that night. He holds Ed as tight as he possibly can, cradles all the love in the world to his chest, and loves him silently. He wants to cause an uproar, he wants to scream at the top of his lungs, he wants to tear worlds in half with his hands, but he doesn’t dare to disturb Ed’s sleep. 

He snores gently, and Stede bites his tongue and reigns in his fury, and he holds on tight. As tight as he can. 

For dear life. 

The sun goes down. When it does, something changes. 

Stede just knows. He doesn’t cry out at the injustice, he doesn’t plead and beg for more time, he doesn’t take up arms. 

His time has come. There is nothing that can be done about it. Stede simply has to move forward. 

He loves Ed as hard as he possibly can with the seconds he has left. He cradles him close to his chest, lets his tears fall into the fabric of his pillow, and through his blurred vision, he memorises every perfect line on Ed’s face. He wishes he could see the brown of his eyes, wishes he could see him smile one more time, wishes he could hear his laugh, but it wouldn’t be fair to wake him now. Not when the sky is falling. Not when their world is coming to an end. 

Stede’s heart, writhing a steady and sickening beat inside his chest, feels like it’s screaming Ed’s name. Its arms are reaching out to him and pleading for only a second more. Just one. 

He leans in and kisses Ed’s cheek for the last time. He pulls the blanket up to make sure he’s warm, brushes a lock of hair out of his face, then slowly and carefully gets out of bed. He moves like a glacier to ensure that he doesn’t wake him. 

Stede wants their last night together to have been one of laughter and love and celebration. He’d completely crumble if he woke now, if he blearily and sleepily asked, “where are you going?” 

What on earth would Stede tell him? 

So he bids him a silent and loving farewell. He recites his promises like a hymn. 

You made me brave, he says voicelessly, you made me colourful. Thank you. 

I’ll find you. 

He collects that bravery, every ounce of it that he can muster, and he quietly slips into the auxiliary wardrobe. 

He walks through the maze to make his exit. He moves through the dark, unable to see past the torrents pouring from his eyes. 

His heart thrashes like it’s begging him to turn around and go back. 

Stede says goodbye to his and Ed’s garden, then heads for the main deck. He almost collapses on the stairs on the way up, but he makes himself move. He forces himself to be brave, despite the ease with which he could slip into cowardice. 

Once he’s on the deck, he turns his eyes to the stars. The cosmos above is shining like it’s offering him its sympathies. It’s breathing like it, too, is shedding mournful tears. Stede doesn’t want to hear a word of it. 

He finds the moon, which is barely more than a silver outline against the blackness above. A new moon. How unsubtle. 

Stede closes his eyes, his face turned upward. He stands there, casts up a wish to the moon that is barely there to guide his way: 

Be kind to him in my absence. 

His heart thumps into overdrive, kicks into gear at last, hops and jumps inside his chest like it’s demanding release, and as it causes an uproar behind his ribs, the breeze rolls past and the ocean sings below and for the first time since he arrived, Stede hears it. The silence dissolves like a sugar cube in a teacup. 

The land of the dead is bidding him farewell. 

It’s over as quickly as it begun. 

Stede is plunged back into stillness, so he opens his eyes. 

He’s not sure what he was expecting, exactly. It certainly wasn’t this. 

He’s standing in a warm glade, surrounded by tall golden grass that bends and sways in the wind. In the distance, he can see a single oak tree atop a modest hill, overlooking the place in which he stands. The sky is orange and fuchsia, completely devoid of clouds or stars. Stede can’t even find the sun. 

The grass stretches on for eternity. It whispers and hisses as it dances around his waist.

He looks down at himself – he’s still wearing the pyjamas he wore to bed that night. He can still feel Ed’s warmth lingering in their cotton, right on his chest. He puts a hand there just to keep it close. 

As he’s looking around, he says, “well, you’ve gone and done it now, Bonnet. How the hell are you getting out of this one?” 

A voice talks back from below. 

“Don’t worry, this is just the waiting room.”

Stede jumps, then takes a large step back. It sounds as though every blade of grass has spoken at once. “Jesus!” 

“Not quite,” the voice responds. Strangely enough, it sounds familiar. 

Once the initial shock passes, Stede leans down to get a closer look at the golden blades as they bend in the wind. In every way, they’re very unassuming. 

“You’ll be moving on soon,” the voice tells him. “I wanted to take this opportunity to wish you good luck.”

Stede raises a brow. “That must make you God, I suppose?” 

“To some. You know me simply as your heart. I’ve been with you for a very long time. We’ve shared countless lifetimes together now.”

It hits Stede then precisely why the voice is so familiar. It’s his own. It’s been whispering guidance and hope and prayer to him from the dark for as long as he can remember. 

“Oh,” he says. His hand still hasn’t moved from its spot on his chest. “You’ve been with me this whole time?” 

“Always. Since the first. I will be with you forever more.”

“How many times have we met here?” 

“Too many to count. Thousands.”

“Then, can I ask you something?” 

“If you have questions, now is the time for them. I will answer honestly. I cannot lie to you.”

Stede takes a deep breath, drawing in the smell of the damp earth and the whispering grass and the clean air. He keeps his eyes fixed on the skyline. “What we just came from… that was real, wasn’t it?” 

“You still have doubts?” 

“Sometimes.” 

His heart stops for a beat to consider this. 

“I am hurting right now,” it says at last.“You can feel it, can’t you?”

Stede lets himself assess the ache behind his ribs. It feels like a dozen knives have taken residence in his flesh. “Yes, I can feel it. It’s all that I can feel.” 

“Right now, I am being torn to pieces. Leaving him – it hurts us like this every single time. Heartbreak like this is only ever sincere. It cannot be feigned. And still, we always choose it.”

“Is it supposed to hurt this much?” Stede wonders, his voice fragile. 

“Whatever love you give, you will receive hurt tenfold. In every life, you have loved, and will love to the best of your ability.”

“And it feels like this every time?” 

“It does. Every single time.”

Stede braces himself. He straightens his spine, moves his shoulders back, lifts his chin. He looks at the sky like he’s challenging whatever’s behind it to cross him. He’s brave enough to face it now. 

“Can I ask you another question?”

“Of course.” 

“Have we ever failed? Have we ever not found him?” 

His heart sounds like it’s smiling when it tells him, “not even once.” 

Stede lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank god.” 

“We always keep our promises, no matter the cost. I have broken and you have burned many times to uphold our vow.”

“And we keep doing it?” 

“Without hesitation.”

Stede smiles at the sky. His heart thumps a steady rhythm in his chest and for the first time since it started beating, he falls in love with the sound. It’s been the two of them tirelessly and ceaselessly working together since the start. He and his heart are a united front, battling against the wars of every world they’ve ever stepped into. 

He holds his palm to his chest, adoring the warmth, the love, the hope that resides beneath it. 

“Our time is almost up. Are you ready?” 

“Have I ever been ready before?” 

His heart sounds like it laughs. “You’ve never been ready for life, no. No one ever is.”

“Is it going to keep hurting?” 

“In life, everything hurts. It’s supposed to. That’s the point.”

Stede hesitates for one picturesque second, then asks, “is it worth it?” 

“Absolutely, ” his heart answers with unwavering certainty. Stede can feel it in his chest. “You already knew the answer. All this pain is made worthwhile by the simple and the mundane.”

Stede thinks about the snort that would escape Ed’s throat whenever he was laughing hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He thinks about his lashes in the sunlight, about the sound of his breathing. 

He thinks about getting the chance to kiss the place where his pulse should be. 

“Ask me again,” he tells his heart. 

It feels as though it cheers for joy. “Are you ready?” 

“Fuck no.” 

His heart laughs some more. “Perfect. Neither am I.”

“I’m excited to do it all over again with you.”

“Me too,” his heart whispers. “Hold tight. I’ll see you on the other side.” 

The sun rises. 

“Three, two, one…”

Chapter Text

For the first time in a thousand years or more, Ed wakes up alone. He rolls over and finds that half of their bed has gone cold, and he knows what’s happened instantly. There’s no begging to be done or deals to be made. No going back.

Stede’s gone. 

Ed folds inward like a wilting flower, and wails loud enough that the stars outside recoil in pity. 

He stays in bed. He doesn’t know for how long. The curtains stay closed, and the air remains still. 

It’s dark. It’s quiet, and it’s cold. 

Ed is lost in a grief so dense that he couldn’t get up even if he tried. He doesn’t move from his spot, lost amongst the sheets and pillows that were intended to be shared, and the pain leaves him feeling like an open wound, raw and bleeding. He’s always believed that nothing hurts here in the Gravy Basket, but he’s been proven fucking wrong. He’s never hurt this bad – in life or otherwise. Nothing in the world could compare to this. 

The worst part of it all is that he’d known this was coming. He knew that something was wrong from the moment he found Stede panicking in the garden. Something had rattled him to his core, and the one thing he feared the most was being pulled away before their time was up. Ed knew then that his heart had probably started beating. It really wasn’t hard to figure out. 

And when Stede proposed, it just confirmed all of his suspicions. So Ed knew, he’d just thought that they’d get more time. He thought that maybe Stede would stay for another year yet, and by then maybe Ed’s heart would start beating, too. Maybe they’d still have the chance to move on together like they were supposed to. 

Two days. He got two more days with Stede when he was expecting another lifetime. Even a just week would have been enough. 

He supposes that he just wants more than what they got. 

Worse still, Ed – in a bare-bones kind of sense – also understands why Stede didn’t tell him. He understands how much it would have hurt him to deliver that news, and he understands that Stede probably didn’t want their last days together to be spent in a sadness so deep that all the light in the world was snuffed inside it. 

Ed gets it. He really does. That doesn’t make it sting any less, though. 

He tucks himself beneath their blankets and sees his gold wedding band shimmering in the darkness like a star, wonders where its other half has gone, and he cries enough to feel like a cocoon that’s long been abandoned by the creature that built it. 

When he’s finally brave enough to leave bed, the sun still has not risen. It’s been night for fucking ages. It’s not unusual for the Gravy Basket to go for long stretches without sunlight, but this feels different, somehow. This almost feels sinister. 

Before leaving their bed nook, Ed glances at the blue ribbon on his nightstand. He can still feel Stede’s eyes on his chest, can still hear him saying, “blue looks wonderful on you.” Each memory that resurfaces feels like a knife in the back, like a blade is making itself at home in his flesh. His eyes flick to the plant on Stede’s bedside, the one in the tin can that Ed gave him a hundred years ago, and finds that it’s grown so large that it’s spilling across the top and down to the floor. It’s bright green and thriving, but Ed feels like he’s miserable enough that even looking at it might be enough to turn it to dust, so he looks away. 

He puts on his leathers. He can’t stand the thought of wearing anything else. Silk and velvet and satin and ruffles would feel too much like home right now. He doesn’t even go into the auxiliary wardrobe to retrieve his outfit, he simply imagines his leathers on his body. 

For the first time in a thousand years, he doesn’t wear his cravat. He’s not brave enough for it. 

Once dressed, he walks. He knows that it’s fucking stupid, he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that Stede isn’t here anymore, but he supposes that he’s hoping against hope anyway. He thinks about walking into their garden and finding Stede’s golden curls and smiling face amongst the flowers, and he thinks about hearing his voice saying, “good morning, my love. Did you sleep well?” 

Another knife, another gash in his back. He walks. 

First, he goes to the jam room, where his instruments sit in waiting. He doesn’t acknowledge them, and moves on. He goes to the stores, to the galley. Just looking for a light, he supposes. Anything. He’s looking for even a whisper of Stede to keep him company. 

He looks everywhere, but there are three places he’s simply not strong enough to venture into. The first is the garden. Ed can’t stand the thought of all those loving flowers turning their faces towards him, looking for the sun. He doesn’t want to have to tell them, “sorry, he’s not here anymore.” Worse yet, he worries that the garden’s wilted and died. 

If it’s gone, then it’s just another piece of Stede that’s been fucked off to the stupid wind. All these perfect pieces and little luxuries that Ed’s spent an eternity collecting, he’s not willing to give them up. And the garden is his favourite piece. 

The next place he can’t go into is his bakery. He tries to. He pulls the ring of keys from his pocket and everything, but he can’t fit it into the lock. He stands under the stare of the little wooden sign that reads ‘Closed’ and simply lets it mock him, until he turns and walks away. 

The last place is the auxiliary wardrobe. He can’t stand the thought of all Stede’s clothes still hanging there, never to be worn again. Can’t think about the golden handle on the door that leads into their maze, can’t bear the memories coming back to him like a tidal wave. How many times had they shared their stories or told each other secrets in there? How many times had they kissed or fucked on the floor? How many times had Ed tried on something new, only for Stede to tell him how beautiful he was, time and time again? No. Ed can’t stand it. 

Aside from those three, there is only one other place he’s yet to go. He saved the deck for last because, despite all reason, that seems the place where Stede is likeliest to be. If he’s nowhere else, then he has to be on the deck. 

So, Ed braces himself for the grand finale. He hesitates for a second before going out. Readies himself for disappointment. Tells his broken heart to behave for once. 

He opens the door and, just as he expected, doesn’t find Stede on the main deck. Ed already knew the truth, but the disappointment doesn’t sting any less for having readied himself for it. 

What Ed finds instead is a reminder. Stede might not be here anymore, but his love always will be. 

The deck is completely overcome with carnations – an explosion of pink petals and pollen and green leaves. They’re here in abundance, so much so that Ed can’t even see the planks beneath them anymore. They creep up the mast, across the railing, cover the capstan and the wheel that does not turn. 

It’s a fucking parting gift. Stede knew that he was going, he knew that their time was up, and had to give Ed one final goodbye. 

It’s a deck that’s keeping one half of their shared promise. An echo of a reminder to come home because someone is waiting for him on the other side. 

The tears return as soon as Ed sees it. He sits in the middle, tries to blend in with the petals and leaves, and sobs hard enough to make his chest rattle. He sits amongst the flowers, alone in the dark. 

Ed returns to what he was living before the day forever showed up. 

He goes back to his one hundred years of drowning. This time, he’s sinking with a bouquet of flowers clutched tightly in his fist. 

Ed must sit among those carnations for a few days, at least. The moon changes while he waits. All he does is watch it transform, and he remembers. 

He recalls the day that Stede arrived, and remembers the way his lungs had sucked down that first breath of air like they were gearing up to cheer about his arrival. He remembers looking at him and thinking, I’ve been waiting for you for a thousand years. 

Now, a voice from the stillness within him whispers, and you will wait again. As long as it takes. 

First, he has to wait for it to hurt less. 

All he has is time, a deck full of carnations, and a solitary ship that is no longer occupied by the sound of laughter. 

When the moon is full, Ed finally makes himself stand. His bad knee shivers like it wants to hurt, but doesn’t remember how. 

He recalls the way Stede’s brows would come together with worry every time Ed complained about his knee. He remembers the time he said, “I’d grow you a new one if I could. Maybe I’ll be a doctor in the next life. Or a mad scientist. Do you think a lab coat would suit me?”  

Despite Ed being as close as can be to a ghost, the memories that are creeping in through the seams of his mind are doing all the haunting here. It’s almost funny enough to make him laugh. 

He thinks it would just be easier to forget it all, but how is he supposed to forget a thousand lifetimes of shared moments? It feels like he’s made only of memories and love with nowhere to go. The weight of it is so heavy – all this love he’s got, it weighs a fucking ton, but where the hell is he supposed to put it down? He has no choice but to carry it. 

He leaves the deck with no real plan. The idea is just to move, to feel human. There’s nothing else that can be done. His heart is hardly speaking to him like it did before. It only whispers occasionally. Ed guesses that it’s hard to talk with a mouth that’s been left in pieces. He wonders if it’s still even there. Without it moving or making noise, it’s impossible to tell. 

Then, he thinks about how Stede’s soul had felt in his hands. He thinks about finding who he is, time and time again, and thinking about what his heart had whispered to Ed from the dark. 

You are so adored, it had told him. So completely and unconditionally adored. 

Ed wonders what his heart had whispered back. He hopes it was something pretty like that, too. Ed doesn’t have a way with words like Stede does, but he hopes his heart did some talking for him. 

It strikes him like a smack to the face, the fact that he has to start thinking about Stede in past tense. It feels like a year has passed without him already, but it also feels like he’s still here, somehow. 

It’s weird to grieve the fact that someone is leaving their death and moving on to life, but grieve is what Ed does. He doesn’t know what stage he’s at, and he couldn’t give a shit if he tried. All he knows is that he wants Stede back. He wants him to come home. Because, as strange as it is, this is their home. It has been for hundreds of years. 

Now, it feels like a graveyard. And Ed feels like the only corpse left sleeping in it.

It takes him a month to go into his bakery again. 

He stands in it for only a minute. As soon as he’s inside, he recalls the outfit that Stede had worn to set the scene; that gorgeous overcoat and that colourful scarf that Ed had taken a liking to instantly. He can still see him in the place where he’d stood, can still see the pink that Stede’s cheeks had turned to when Ed had offered him a sugar kiss. 

“It looks like you have a lot of love to give, Ed.” 

Ed storms out, and he locks the door shut in his wake. 

Time passes strangely in the place between places. It doesn’t pass at all when the sun refuses to rise. 

Ed spends most of his nights on the deck amongst the flowers, watching the moon as it moves in and out of phases. He feels the safest there, somehow. The flowers kiss his cheeks sometimes. The moon keeps him company. It can’t smile at him, it can’t hold his heart in its hands, but at least it’s there. 

“You wanna know what I miss the most?” Ed asks the sky one night. “The crease he got between his brows whenever he was thinking hard about something. I loved that stupid fuckin’ crease. I’d give anything to kiss it one more time.” 

And it’s like the ritual they shared together swings back around and stabs him in the back. He forgets all the things he’d once missed about the world, and can only think of things he misses about Stede. 

But telling the moon about it makes him feel a bit better, almost. It’s like it’s keeping his memory alive. Or the memory of a memory. Whatever. Ed starts telling the moon all his favourite parts of Stede every chance he gets – which is always. 

All this energy he’d been saving for telling passer-by’s the story of their undying love, at least he gets to put it somewhere. No one likes a story with a sad ending, anyway. 

“I miss his laugh,” Ed tells the moon. “I miss the way he talked with his hands. I miss all the colours he wore. I miss the way his back muscles moved whenever he stretched. I miss the way he’d say my name.” 

There’s no reply. 

The moon listens, but it offers him no guidance, and little relief. 

Ed wishes he could sleep to make forever pass faster. He doesn’t need to maintain his stupid fucking body when it’s not even alive, so surely he can just sleep the time away, right? 

But the problem with sleeping is that every night he dreams of Stede. Every time he closes his eyes, he finds his smile and his heart and his voice and the way he whispered, “I’ve felt complete since I met you, too.” He’s being haunted by memories everywhere he goes. Damned if he sleeps, damned if he doesn’t. 

Sometimes the dreams turn to nightmares. Sometimes, Stede will turn to him and tell him that he’s changed his mind. He’ll tell him that he doesn’t want to be with someone as broken as him. 

When Ed wakes from nightmares, he used to be immediately met with warm arms and soft hands. He used to feel safe the second it was over. 

Now, he wakes up, and it’s still dark. 

The first person he sees after Stede’s departure is Lucius. 

It takes months for another soul to show up. It’s gotta be four, at least. When he spots another ship making its approach, Ed feels an excitement he’d almost forgotten about. He didn’t think he still had it in him. 

Lucius is leaning forward on his railing, and his eyes light up when he spots Ed. “I was hoping I’d see you again! Hi, Ed.” 

Ed almost collapses at the sound of his name coming from the voice of another. “Lucius. S’good to see you.” 

“Likewise. You’re looking…” he lets his sentence trail off. After glancing around for a moment, he frowns. “Where’s Stede?” 

Ten knives. A hundred. They all bury themselves in Ed’s back like they’re trying to get the job done. 

When Ed doesn’t answer, Lucius stands upright and puts a hand over his mouth. “Oh, god. Ed, I’m so sorry. He… he’s gone?” 

Ed bites his lip. He can feel the tears coming, and he doesn’t know what to do to stop them. He nods while his eyes sting. 

“Jesus,” Lucius says. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Ed.” 

“I know. Thanks,” he makes himself say through a throat that feels like it’s being choked. 

“Was he put on another ship?” 

Ed shakes his head. “He moved on.” 

Lucius’s brows shoot up. “From you? Not fucking likely.” 

“Not – not me,” Ed clarifies. The corner of his mouth quirks up, though. It’s the closest thing he’s had to a proper smile in a millennium. “He moved on from this place. Limbo. He’s alive, down on earth somewhere.” 

“That’s… that’s not possible, is it?” 

“Has to be."

“Is that going to happen to all of us?” Lucius wonders, gesturing to all the other ships surrounding them. “Are we all going to – move on at some point?” 

Ed looks at them too. “I hope so,” he says. “Yeah. I really fucking hope so.” 

A long silence stretches out between them. Ed watches the sea, passing easily beneath the hull of his ship. 

“You’ll see him again,” Lucius says at last. “I’m sure of it.” 

“Thanks, man.” 

“Until then, you really look like you could use some sleep. You look super tired. Sorry.” 

Ed nods. “Yeah. Probably could.” 

Lucius gives him a sympathetic look, and it’s almost enough to make Ed collapse in a heap. He tries to stay brave. 

“Did you guys ever end up getting married?” Lucius asks. 

Ed holds up his left hand, proudly showing off the gold ring that sits there. It feels like showing off a frame without the painting — only half of the job. Lucius seems pleased by this anyway, and he smiles. “That’s sweet. I suppose that settles it, then.” 

“Settles what?” 

“You guys are definitely more soulmates than us.” 

Ed chuckles softly. It feels awful and wonderful at the same time.

He doesn’t say anything more, so Lucius looks up at the sky. “I wonder when the sun is going to come out,” he wonders aloud. “It’s been dark for forever.” 

Ed wants to tell him that it’s going to stay that way now that Stede is gone, but he holds his tongue and simply nods. 

“I miss the way he told stories. I miss the way he’d touch my elbow when I was worried about something. I miss how his nose would scrunch up when he smiled, or how he’d toss his head back when something was really funny. He’d do it when it wasn’t funny, too. I think he just liked to laugh.” 

The moon, unblinking and stoic, offers him its empty condolences, as it always does. 

Ed tells it his deepest fears. “I’m scared that all our promises weren’t enough. I’m scared he’s not gonna find me. I’m scared I’m gonna end up in the wrong place so he can’t. I’m scared he’ll change his mind.” 

The moon offers him nothing in return. 

“I’m scared I’m never gonna be loved like that again.” 

There’s no reply. 

Only stillness. Only silence. 

The next time Ed tries to sleep, he lies awake in bed with the curtains parted to let the moonlight in. He tries counting sheep, singing himself lullabies. He even drinks a warm cup of milk, like a fuckin’ toddler or something, and that doesn’t help either. Nothing works. He lies awake while his mind runs around in circles. 

He thinks about music. He thinks about the song that he was writing for Stede, and how he moved on before he got the chance to play it for him. He thinks about the half-complete sheet music that’s been left alone down in the jam room, with the words ‘Stede’s Melody’ scrawled hastily at the top. 

When that thought makes him feel terrible, Ed puts his hands over his eyes and groans. “Stupid fuckin’ brain. Shut the hell up for a minute.” As he pulls his hands back, his eyes catch on his palms, and he stops. 

He looks at the lines there, and wonders which life he’s going to step into next. Maybe the one where Stede said they were pirates, or the one where they’re sharks, or the one where they’re stars up in space. Ed looks at all those beautiful lives that he’s lived, all the lives he’s yet to see. 

He chooses a line at random. “It’s gonna be this one,” he says to the moon. “We’re gonna live this life next.” 

And in that life, it’s going to be cozy and easy and kind. They’re going to wake up on autumn mornings and share hot drinks and scarves. They’re going to go for long walks through a quiet and peaceful town to meet friends at their favourite café, and they’re going to take the scenic route home through the local park. They’ll have soft weekends and they’ll dance in the living room and they’ll watch the fireworks together every new years. 

It’ll be perfect. It’ll be gentle and full of rest. 

The world and forever. That’s what it’ll be. 

Ed wonders how long it’s going to take to get there. 

It takes what feels like six months for Ed to find his courage to go into the garden. He’s sure that, by now – if it’s still there – it’s in a state of total disrepair. He’s going to have a lot of work to do if there’s anything left. There’s going to be a lot of branches to prune and leaves to rake. The thought of all that work makes Ed feel sick to his stomach. The fact that he’s let it get into such a state makes him feel even worse, but he hasn’t had the guts to tackle it until now. 

He doesn’t know what it is that stirs him into action on this particular day. Night. They’re the same thing at this point. But as soon as he makes the choice to go into their favourite place, his heart feels like it cheers. 

So, he collects all his courage and decides to kill two birds with one stone. 

He’ll go through the maze to get there. Which means going through the auxiliary wardrobe first, which means facing the memories that are hiding inside like long-forgotten scarves that have been begging for the chance to keep him warm. 

He stands in front of the dummy on the shelf and looks at the line in the wall for a long time. If his heart could beat, it would be going a thousand miles a second. It feels like there’s a monster hiding behind the door, instead of clothes that haven’t been worn for too long. 

A room full of spiders, waiting in the dark and weaving sickly webs. Ed has to take several long and slow breaths. 

“Why on earth would I put a room full of spiders on our ship?”

At last, he makes himself move, pulls down the dummy that’s dressed in Stede’s likeness, and slips inside the wardrobe. 

There’s no sunlight pouring through the windows but, strangely enough, something is aglow in the darkness. Ed frowns, then moves closer to inspect. 

It’s a candle. Just one. It’s standing proud in an ornate and golden candleholder, and its happy little flame dances gently in greeting. It almost looks like it’s smiling. None of the wax has melted. It’s perfect and sturdy, like it’s just been lit. The ensemble is sitting atop a modest oak side table, which stands beside the door into the maze.

There’s something beneath it. Ed rushes for it as soon as he spots it, his hands shaking and his throat tight. He has to be careful not to knock the damn candle over in the process of snatching it up. 

It’s an envelope. A letter. It’s got his name on it, written in a flowery and extravagant cursive. 

Ed’s knees sink to the floor. He sits inside the glow of the happy little flame, his heart feeling like it’s screaming, like it’s trying to get out of his chest and crawl into the envelope to live beside Stede’s parting words. He trembles in place for a long time, looking at his name and remembering how it sounded coming from Stede’s throat, thinking about how it almost looks different now it’s been written in his hand. 

With shaking fingers, Ed cracks apart the red wax seal on the back and opens it up. It feels like prying open a treasure chest with all the wonders of the world hidden inside. 

The letter, written on thick parchment, unfolds eagerly. Open arms, warm embrace. 

Ed reads the first three words:

‘My darling Ed,’  

And then he’s a sobbing mess on the floor. He moves until his back meets the wall, then he draws his knees up to become small, clutching Stede’s letter to his chest like he might come home if he squeezes it tight enough. The useless rock in his chest rolls around his hollow insides, and he sits in the dark, kept company only by a single friendly little candle. 

When Ed can move at last, he feels like he shivers a layer of dust off his shoulders. He lifts his eyes from the shield of his arms, feeling bleary and disoriented. He’s sure that he’s cried enough to flood a ravine at this point. He’s cried himself to exhaustion more times than he can count. If he could still feel pain, he thinks that his head would feel like a fucking anvil. 

He looks up. The candle is still sitting beside him, wiggling a little like it’s thrilled to be alive. Ed can practically see its grinning teeth, can almost hear it saying, “I’ve waited a long time to see you.” It makes Ed’s gut sink when he realises that he’s left it alone in here all this time. Alone and in the dark, just like him. 

With a long sigh, Ed looks down at the letter in his hands. He’s clutched it hard enough to leave some wrinkles, which he gently tries to smooth out. He doesn’t look at the words because he doesn’t think he’s brave enough to. 

His heart speaks up. For the first time in forever, it whispers to him a kind reassurance from the cavern of his chest. It’s like it’s learning how to talk again after being shattered beyond repair. 

You’re braver than you think, it tells him. This will be hard, but you’ve done hard things before. 

You were brave enough to survive a hundred years without him once. You can do it again. 

Ed swallows thickly, scrubs at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Okay,” he says aloud, his voice fragile. “Okay. You can do this.” 

He has tears in his eyes again before he’s even finished reading the first word. 

     ‘My darling Ed, 

      A very long time ago, I told you that I’d give you my confession speech, I just had to perfect it first. Here it is. It’s not perfect, but no words could do this love justice. 

      Let me begin this by saying this: I’m so sorry, my love. I’m sorry that I couldn’t tell you, and I’m sorry for withholding the truth. I’m sorry that what you’re holding in your hands is a goodbye and not a book of love poems and sonnets written just for you. I’m sorry to have broken your heart. I’d crawl through the desert repenting if that’s what it took to make this right, but I fear that I don’t have the time. My words will have to be enough, but please know that I mean them with everything I have. 

      I’m sure you’ve already figured it out, because you’re the brightest person I’ve ever known, and you know me better than I know myself. I don’t have to tell you what’s happened because you already know, but you should also know that the moment my heart started moving, I dedicated its rhythm to you. I’d tear it out and hand it over if I could, but I worry that would put a bit of a roadblock in our plan. You need your heart, and I will need mine to love you with in the next life, even if it is acting as a time bomb right now. This beating stone in my chest means that our forever here must be drawn to a close. 

      And what a beautiful forever it’s been. I’ve loved every minute I’ve spent with you, Ed. We’ve done all that we could and cherished it. We defied the odds to make these memories of ours, we’ve broken every rule ever written down because we love each other enough to break them. I will go into the next life knowing that I am already loved, and I will hold my head high until we meet again. I hope that you will do the same. 

      So, I suppose this letter does not truly serve as a proper goodbye, because saying goodbye would be like admitting defeat, and it seems we both have trouble doing that. We’re going to see each other again soon. That is the promise that we made, and it is one that we will keep, even if it costs us everything. Even if it’s hard and scary and cruel. We will get to this again, no matter what it takes. There is nothing that is worth more to me in the world than seeing you smile again. 

     I never really believed in purposes when I was alive. Then I met you, and realised that I’ve always had one, it’s just been out of reach. I’ve found it now, and if my purpose is to love you for the rest of time, then I will do so to the best of my ability. I will do so in every universe. 

      Don’t despair, darling. I will spend every minute of my life loving and missing you until I find you again. I will try to make it quick. You spent a hundred years waiting for me here, so I won’t keep you waiting for long while we’re on earth. 

      You’ll never be alone again, Ed. In fact, you were never alone to begin with. I’ve always been with you, in one way or another. I think my heart has your name on it. Maybe yours has mine. They say that everything is temporary, but I cannot wait to prove them wrong. This love we share is as permanent as it gets. 

      You are so adored, my love. You’ve been adored all this time, across every universe and every life and every galaxy between. Thank you for showing me how to breathe. Thank you for making me colourful. 

      I cannot wait to see what our next lives have in store for us. I cannot wait to love you with the heart that I am given. Just a little bit longer. I’ve left a light on for you in my absence, just in case you need it. I know it’s not enough, but maybe it will keep you warm until then. 

      I’ve been told that love persists. I will find you, Ed. In any life. 

With all the love in the world, 

Your shipmate, Stede. 

P.S. Don’t forget the carnations. 

P.P.S. How did the gods kindle the flame of love between two soulmates? (Please turn over for the punchline!)’ 

Ed’s grinning like a maniac by the end. He pushes the tears out of his eyes before turning the parchment over. At the very bottom of the page, sitting next to a crudely drawn heart, is the single worst punchline he’s ever read: 

‘With a match made in heaven!’ 

As soon as he reads it, he laughs for the first time in a million years. 

And it feels like home. 

Ed puts the candle on his nightstand, then displays the letter beside it. He sits it in such a way that the words, ‘my darling Ed,’ will greet him every time he opens his eyes. His little collection of wonders shines up at him: a square of red silk with tattered edges, a blue ribbon with a gold ‘first place’ written on the front, a candle and a letter addressed to him. It makes him feel more human, somehow, having these things to hold on to. Reminds him that there’s more than just him, more than just Stede. There’s a world out there somewhere, and Ed’s going to see it one day. He hopes it’s soon. 

Feeling braver now than he did before, Ed returns to the auxiliary wardrobe, marches to the door that leads into the maze, and pulls it open. He doesn’t think about the dark, and he doesn’t think about spiders. He ventures forward knowing that he’s safe and knowing that he’s loved. 

He knows the maze like the back of his hand, so he finds the exit almost immediately. Before he turns the door handle that leads out, he takes a deep breath. 

You’ve done hard things before, his heart whispers to him again. Whatever damage has been done here, you’re brave enough to face it.

So Ed steps into their garden. 

It’s incredibly overgrown. Without someone coming in here to maintain it, every flower, bush and sprout has stretched out as far as it can. Much to Ed’s relief, it’s still bright and in full bloom. Nothing has wilted and died in his and Stede’s absences. 

Ed sighs as he looks around, then sheds his leather jacket and sets it down on the iron lawn table. As he’s putting his hair up, he says to the garden, “sorry for leaving you alone in here. Wasn’t fair. It’s not your fault he’s gone.” 

The garden doesn’t say anything back, but the quiet in here doesn’t feel as lonely as it does everywhere else. It’s like the flowers have already forgiven him. The eternal breeze rushes past and slips between his fingers, like it’s trying to take his hand and give it a comforting squeeze. 

Ed gets to work. He prunes the branches that have overgrown, untangles plants that have mingled together. He talks out loud while he works, because the garden seems to enjoy his company. It only strikes him as odd when he’s moving a hydrangea bush from one place to another, and he says to it, “s’alright, little friend. I’ve got you. Gonna put you in a nice new spot with a view of the sky.” And though, yeah, it is kinda weird that he’s talking to plants, he can’t seem to make himself feel embarrassed about it. 

The work gets done, but it’s harder by himself, so it takes a lot longer than it usually would. His chest is heaving by the time he’s finished, but he’s proud as punch with the result. In fact, he feels good. He challenged himself and did something he knew would be hard, overcame that fear, and now the garden looks all the better for it. He stands in the middle and puts his hands on his hips, looking around at his efforts with a grin. 

“Stede! Come check this out! I did a whole bunch of—…”

Oh. Right.  

As always, there’s no reply.

Ed stands in place, letting the silence ring outward.

That’s what grief is, he supposes. It’s waking up in the morning, rolling over to share the details of the dream you had, only to find the other half of the bed empty. It’s pulling two mugs out of the cupboard when the table has only been set for one. It’s calling a name and expecting to hear a voice back. 

This pain in Ed’s chest, it’s something close to fury, but closer still to disappointment. He’s just come from a hundred lifetimes of feeling love in every corner of his life. He’s always expecting laughter and soft sighs and gentle whispers and instead, he’s only getting silence. 

He’s holding out his hands, waiting for something to fall into them. Nothing more than a beggar pleading at the feet of something that’s never been charitable before. 

Into the resounding quiet, the flowers turn their faces to the moon. 

Exhausted by the amount of work he’s done in the garden, and exhausted further still by the stupid amount of crying that Ed’s done in a day, he decides to attempt sleeping. He climbs into bed, hating how incredibly cold the sheets are, and closes his eyes. 

He keeps the curtains parted because it feels less lonely to let the moonlight into his bed, somehow. He used to do the same thing in his empty apartment when he was alive. It’s nothing more than a desperate attempt at company, but it’s better than being alone in the dark. 

With a long sigh, Ed turns his gaze to the candle on his nightstand. As soon as he looks at it, the flame dances like it delights in his gaze, flicking and swaying as though pushed by the gentlest breeze. 

And, yes, it’s not as good as the real thing. It’s nowhere close to Stede’s embrace. But the candle does, in its own strange way, keep Ed warm. 

He closes his eyes and, all at once, he’s asleep. 

He’s come to expect nightmares or memories every time he closes his eyes now. Tonight, it’s different. He’s not immediately plunged into an ice-bath of terror the moment he drifts off. The cavern of his chest doesn’t rattle in fear. Tonight, it’s quiet, and the dark is permeated by one measly little flame, barely enough to guide his way. 

And the candle, with a mouth made of things that shouldn’t be, asks, “How did the gods kindle the flame of love between two soulmates?” 

Ed knows the answer, but he doesn’t say it. He doesn’t want to ruin the joke. 

He wakes before the light can tell him the punchline.

Chapter Text

For Ed, Limbo and everything trapped within it comes to a complete standstill. Time and all its playthings stuck in the place between places cease to move and become stagnant.

Somewhere far below, the world is turning like a dancer in a perfect pirouette. Ed feels like he’s tied to a chair in the audience simply watching it spin, wishing more than anything that he could get up and dance, too. 

Time, pathetic and limp, folds itself into his palm. 

The years roll by. Every minute that Ed spends alone feels hollow and crooked, broken in a way that can’t be fixed. The Gravy Basket had once been as close to heaven as he was ever going to get. When the light was still here, when the sun still shone, it felt like it most days. Maybe heaven’s a person, maybe it’s the feeling of home, maybe it’s what you make it. Either way, that feeling is well and truly gone. 

But it doesn’t feel like hell, either. At least things happen in hell – you get poked by sharp shit and burned by fire, or something. Here, Ed’s just stuck between two places, just living through his memories on a loop, waiting for the day when his heart relearns its purpose and remembers how to move. He’s caught in a world where the sun won’t even rise anymore, watching the weeks and months roll by in a long and eternal night, wishing that he could find the light at the end of the stupid tunnel. 

A lot of Ed’s energy goes into maintaining the garden. Now that he’s the only pair of loving hands taking care of it, he has to put twice the amount of effort into it. He feels safe there. He talks to the plants, and it doesn’t sting him so bad when they don’t talk back. The silence in the garden isn’t as loud as it is everywhere else. 

Ed still plays music as often as he can. He taught himself everything he could about string instruments, so he moved on to brass and wind instruments. There are hundreds of half-complete songs scrawled onto parchment in the jam room now, crammed between pages of notebooks and left on stands. He can’t bring himself to finish any of them. Every time he thinks he’s close to it, he looks at the empty armchair in the corner, and a big fuckin’ brick wall builds itself in front of him.  

Every time, he thinks, if it’s only made for me, then this is just a way to waste all my time. 

He still bakes sometimes, only when he can stand the thought of taking the finished products down to the bakery. Ed isn’t sure what it is about that particular place that gets to him so bad. It’s not like it’s the place where he and Stede got married, or the place where they fucked for the first time, or even where they had their first kiss. It isn’t even the place where he fell in love with Stede. He thinks he fell in love with him for the first time a hundred million years ago, when they were both single-cell organisms at the bottom of some dank swamp. 

It might be because it was Stede that gave him the courage to actually make the damn thing. It might be because he stood in the middle of that empty rec room, turned to Ed with a grin and, in all seriousness, said, “ta-dah!” about it. It might be because he looked at the edge of a cliff, pointed at the decline and said, “it’s alright, you can jump. I’ll be there to catch you before you hit the water.”  

Something about being brave. Caterpillars and butterflies. 

Largely, Ed spends his eternity thinking about the things that once were, and the things that could be one day. An eternity of missing his love and a forever of waiting until something changes. He lies with the carnations on the deck, lost among the petals like a wish, and he watches the moon. He talks to it as often as he talks to the garden. 

Now, at least, he can sleep. It’s not always restful, and he still has nightmares sometimes, but the glow of the candle helps him to fall asleep at all. Every night, the light asks him, “how did the gods kindle the flame of love between two soulmates?” and every single time, Ed wakes before he hears the punchline. 

It’s another two years before he crosses paths with a ship again. He’s so excited to see someone sneaking up to his starboard side that he almost trips in his haste to get to the railing and greet them. He’s even more excited to find Frenchie’s flag is the one that flits into view. 

“It’s Eddie!” Frenchie calls with an overhead wave. “Good to see you.” 

Ed feels like he could fucking cry, he’s so excited. He nods at him with a bright grin. “Hey, Frenchie. How’re things?” 

“Oh, y’know.” He shrugs. “Same as always, eh? How are you travelling?” 

Ed almost considers telling him the truth. “Yeah, s’going alright.” 

Frenchie nods. “Where’s Stede? Is he asleep, or something?” 

And then Ed realises he’s got an eternity of exactly this. Of having to look these people in the face and tell them that Stede’s not here anymore, that their love story turned out to have a sad ending. He doesn’t want to do it, the same way he couldn’t stand the thought of telling the flowers in the garden. He doesn’t know how to tell all the souls here that he doesn’t know where the sun’s gone. 

Frenchie seems to pick up the answer that Ed doesn’t even give. “Oh, shit. I’m so sorry, man.” 

“Yeah, me too.” 

“Do you know where he went?” 

“No idea,” Ed says. “I just know that he’s alive somewhere.” 

Frenchie nods like he understands. “Reincarnated, then?” 

“You know about it?” 

“Yeah, we ran into a guy named Buttons, like, a hundred years ago,” he explains. “He told us all about it. Said he was coming back as–” 

“As a seabird, yeah,” Ed finishes with a smile. “I hope he got to be that seabird in the end.” 

“Yeah, me too. Hey, what do you wanna come back as?” 

Ed stares at him for a second. 

Before he met Stede, he thinks he probably would have answered this question very differently. He might have said that he wanted to be a bird, too, destined to float in the skies forever and never meet the ground. He might have said that he wants to come back as a stone at the bottom of a nice, gentle creek, or as a stretch of highway that leads to the sea. 

Now, he can’t imagine being anything else. How’s he supposed to hold all the love in the world if he doesn’t have hands? 

“I just wanna be me,” he says. His voice is assured and even. “How about you?” 

Frenchie thinks about it. His eyes flick to Wee John’s ship, then back to Ed. “I dunno. We can be anything. As long as we get to be happy, I suppose.” 

Ed smiles at him. “That sounds nice.” 

“Yeah. You know, I reckon this place would be a lot happier if the stupid fucking sun would come out,” Frenchie says, shaking his fist at the sky. 

For some reason, Ed has to resist the urge to apologise. 

Another year later, he crosses paths with a familiar ship again. This time, It’s Oluwande. When he’s told that Stede is no longer on Ed’s vessel, he passes along the information to everyone in his polycule. There is silence for a few minutes while Jim, Zheng and Archie are informed. Ed can’t help but snort at the loud and horrified, “NO FUCKING WAY!” that comes from Archie’s ship. 

They all offer him their condolences, and Ed thanks them for it, but it hurts him so terribly to have to tell them that Stede isn’t here at all. The last time he crossed paths with this group, he promised Zheng that he would tell them the story of their undying love. Now, when she offers to hear it, he tells her, “I dunno. It feels kinda wrong to tell the story when Stede’s not here anymore.” He doesn’t tell her that it almost feels like a lie now. 

Zheng gives him a sympathetic look and says, “Ed, how did you die?” 

His brows shoot up. He’s still not used to being asked. It feels like people have only started talking about their lives and their deaths since Stede showed up and asked them, ‘why shouldn’t we?’

“I drowned,” he answers. 

“And who were you in your last life?” 

“I was…” he thinks about it for a long time. “I was just me, I guess.” 

“We hold onto these things, no matter how fleeting they might be,” Zheng says. She crosses her arms, but it’s not in an unfriendly way. “I died in a fire. In my last life, I was ambitious. I was dedicated, and I was smart. My favourite fruit was apricots. Do you see what I’m getting at?” 

Ed sits with it for a second. “Just because it’s over, doesn’t mean it has to disappear.” 

Zheng smiles at him. “So you are as smart as you look. Are you going to tell me your story, or what?” 

Ed smiles, then leans against his railing. “You know, I hope we’re friends in the next life.” 

“Me too,” she says with a tempered and even smile. She strikes Ed as the kind of person who is very careful with her emotions and her vulnerability. “So, he just… appeared?” 

For the first time in what feels like a hundred years or more, Ed tells the story of the day that all the light in the world shimmered to life on the deck of his ship going nowhere, and the story of how that light will fall into his lap time and time again. 

He tells Zheng all about how that light will find him always. In any life. 

Ed pulls his ring of keys from his pocket, and holds it tight for a second. He looks up at the door to his bakery, and tries not to feel intimidated by its gaze. He looks at the flowers on the sign beside the word, ‘Closed,’ and with a long sigh, he fits the key into the lock and steps inside. 

It’s still raining through the window, the same as always. The counter has been left undisturbed, and the display cases remain empty. The lights are off. Ed switches them on, then looks around with the rock in his chest feeling heavy and uncertain. 

He looks at the space where Stede had stood and asked him, “doesn’t that get lonely?”  

Fuck yeah, it does. It’s so fucking lonely. It feels the same as his apartment did a long time ago, except there’s now a happy little candle that keeps him company in the nights. 

“Look at all the love you’ve put into this place.” 

Ed doesn’t know why he even came in here. It burns like fire. He’s become nothing more than a vessel for these memories to thrive in, and this room is a speaker that amplifies them to full volume. It makes his ears ring. 

But it’s not fair to hold himself back from the things he used to enjoy. It’s like Zheng said, just because it’s over doesn’t mean it has to disappear. Ed has to learn to share his space with the memories, has to learn to live with all the love that’s been fixed to the walls like a coat of paint. 

So, he makes himself a cup of tea, his first one since Stede left. He does it all by hand, as much as is possible without walking to the shop or milking the cow himself. He boils the water on the stove, the proper way that Stede showed him. He lets the tea steep for the perfect amount of time, and he arranges his favourite porcelain tea cup like it’s a work of art. He likes this one best because the decorated rim is the same kind of pink as Stede’s cheeks whenever he was flustered. 

Ed drops in his dollop of milk, his seven sugars, then he takes his tea and a danish and seats himself at one of the tables. He fixes his eyes to the window, and he thinks. 

While watching the rain, a thought occurs to him, and his face slowly cracks open into a smile. Then, like bells announcing the morning, he begins to laugh. He starts to laugh so hard that he doubles over in his seat, and he has to hold his stomach. It feels like blowing a dense layer of dust off a well-loved book, like he’s turning all the lights on at the same time. He almost forgot that he was capable of it. As the sound peels from his chest, he promises to do it more until he’s chewed up and spat out into his next life. 

When he can breathe again, Ed says to the bakery, “can’t believe I forgot to tell him that one. Fuck, that’s good.” He picks up his tea. “Guess I’ll have to save it for when we find each other again.” 

Ed will hold onto this joke until he gets to deliver the punchline to the audience that will appreciate it the most. 

He supposes that all the best jokes have an element of truth to them. This one, in a miserable kind of way, came true. Ed can only hope that Stede finds it as funny as he does. 

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy,” he tells the moon, lost among the carnations. “Sometimes, I almost miss the time before I knew who he was. It’s weird. It’s easier and harder to get through this shit now.” 

The moon, full and fixed in place, doesn’t avert its gaze. 

“I dunno. I didn’t care what happened to me before I met him. Didn’t matter how long I was gonna be stuck here in the Gravy Basket, or what I did to pass the time. I was just… waiting.” 

A hundred years of drowning, his heart whispers. 

“It’s better and worse that he was here.” 

Ed imagines the moon saying, tell me why that is. 

“Worse because now I know how good it can be,” Ed explains. “Worse because it hurts so much more now that I don’t have it. Worse because this stupid fucking ship feels empty, and I don’t know when my time is gonna come to get the hell out of here, and worse because there’s gotta be something wrong with me, right? Why the fuck am I still here?”

He takes a deep breath to keep himself calm. He plucks a petal from one of the carnations around him and worries it between his fingers gently, feeling its texture. It’s so soft that it barely even feels like it’s there. 

“And I guess it’s so much better now because I have something to hold on to,” Ed says. “I have a promise to keep.” 

He returns his eyes to the moon. The moon looks back. Only stillness. Only silence. 

There’s no reply. 

“It’s better now that I have something to look forward to.”

Ten years pass. Might be twenty. 

Every night, the candle on Ed’s bedside tells him the first half of a joke he already knows the answer to. 

Every morning, he turns over and finds that half of his bed is still empty. 

Ed is so excited to see another soul move alongside his ship that he doesn’t even care about the fact that it’s Izzy. He spots the hull through one of the portholes when he’s in the garden, and he runs up to the deck as fast as he can. He greets Izzy with a bright grin. “Izzy!” 

Izzy is on his deck, his arms folded. He’s got a toothpick between his teeth, which he idly munches on. When he sees Ed’s smile, his eyes widen just a touch. He wasn’t expecting a reception like that. “Edward.” 

“It’s been a while, man. How’ve you been?” 

Izzy shrugs. “Same as always. Nothing’s changed.” 

Yes it has, Ed thinks. Everything’s different now. It’s all gold and it’s all hollow. 

Izzy’s eyes dart across Ed’s ship. “Where’s the other twat?” 

“He’s… he’s gone.” 

There’s a soft moment of pause. “Huh,” is all Izzy says. He spits his toothpick into the sea, then adds, “right.” 

“You don’t have to sound so fuckin’ smug about it, man.” 

“Not trying to.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“I mean it,” Izzy defends, though his tone barely changes. “Not trying to be smug. I’m… I’m sorry.”  

Ed’s brows shoot up. 

“Christ, don’t look at me like that. I’m capable of saying sorry, you complete ass.” 

“Didn’t think you had it in you, that’s all,” Ed says. “Thanks, Iz. I appreciate it.” 

There’s another long pause. Then, Izzy says, “I did try to warn you, though.” 

Ed rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on, man.” 

“I’m just saying. Two souls on one ship is against the rules.” 

“Yeah, Izzy, fuck the rules,” Ed says urgently, leaning forward on his railing. “The rules are all fucking stupid! Can’t be on the same ship as your soulmate, can’t talk about how you died, can’t talk about the life you lived, can’t leave your ship, can’t change course. It’s all complete bullshit, man. You know it’s bullshit. There’s no one here to make sure we follow the rules, anyway. Why do you care so much if we broke a few? What do you have to gain by following them?” 

Izzy stares for a long time, processing. “I don’t know,” he says. “But – take a look at what breaking the rules got you. He’s not here anymore, Edward. And working those two jobs did end up killing you, just like I said it would. You broke the rules, and now you’re stuck on a ship going nowhere for forever while your – soulmate –”

“Shipmate.” 

“–or whatever the fuck he is, is out there somewhere without you.” The term ‘soulmate’ seems to cause Izzy distress to say, but he gets it out for the sake of argument. “You might not like them, but have you ever considered that maybe there are warnings about all this shit for a fucking reason?” 

Ed sighs and hangs his head. He argued with Izzy like this often when they were alive, too. In some miserable way, it’s almost comforting to know that some things don’t change. 

Then, Izzy sighs too. “For what it’s worth, which I suppose isn’t much, I am sorry, Edward. I mean it.” 

Ed gives him a tight nod. “Yeah. I know. Thanks.” 

Izzy seems to juggle what he wants to say next like an artist on a tightrope. He argues silently with himself for a long time. “You looked… happier when he was here.” 

“Hmm,” Ed hums. “Yeah, I was. But I’m not… I’m not unhappy now. ”

Izzy simply frowns, his eyes squinting a little in question. His jaw is tense, so much so that Ed can see it even across the gap. 

“I mean, I miss him,” Ed clarifies. “Every stupid minute of every fucking day, I miss him. Kinda feels like a gunshot to the ches– oh, shit, sorry.” 

Izzy scoffs. “It’s fine.” 

“It sucks, is what I mean. But it’s still not as bad as it was before.” 

“Hm. Must be nice knowing there’s someone for you, at least.” 

“Yeah, it is.” 

Izzy sits down, and sticks his legs through the railing so they’re dangling off the side of the ship. Ed does the same, so they’re facing one another with only a small distance of sea between them. 

“How do you think Fang and Ivan are doing now?” Izzy asks. “You haven’t seen them, have you?” 

“Nah, not here. I hope they got to grow old. Fang would make an awesome grandpa.” 

“Mm. He had the face for it.” 

“Exactly. Big goofy grin.” 

“Yeah. Ivan moved away not long after you died,” Izzy explains. “Fucked off to see his family, or something.” 

“So it was just you and Fang running the shop?” Ed asks with a frown.

“Just me by the end. Fang retired after Ivan moved…” 

They reminisce for a little while longer. It’s not the company that Ed wants, but it’s company regardless. At least he can talk to someone and get something back for a little while. It’s better than the silence. And even if he and Izzy haven’t always gotten along or seen eye to eye, they were close to being friends once. That has to count for something. 

While they’re talking, Ed thinks about what he’d give to tell Stede about how his day went. I played music and worked in the garden and then I saw Izzy, he’d say. But mostly I just spent my day missing you. 

Eventually, Izzy’s ship moves on. Ed braces himself for the looming silence that will shortly be returning to his lap. He and Izzy bid each other farewell when they begin to drift apart, and over the growing gap between them, Ed calls, “you’d better be nicer to Stede the next time you meet him!” 

Izzy chortles, shakes his head with a grin and calls back, “not a fucking chance!” 

The last ship that Ed ever comes in across in Limbo floats by in the middle of the night. He’s asleep when it arrives, dreaming of the flame atop the candle again. This time, though, the candle isn’t telling him cheesy jokes that remain incomplete. It’s the only time that the loving glow has ever made him feel uneasy. That happy little flame, steady and kind on its wick, demands that Ed gets up. 

You have to get up! Go! This is what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? This is your chance! Get up while you still can! 

Ed wakes with a start. As always, he anticipates warm arms circling him and finds the cold air instead. As always, another knife embeds itself in his back. Feeling rattled and restless, he gets out of bed, and decides to talk to the moon to calm himself down. It’s fucking crazy, but it does seem to help, somehow. He dons his blue robe, the one that he made a thousand years ago because Stede said that blue suited him, and he heads for the deck. 

Once there, he scans the horizon on the starboard side. Nothing out of the ordinary, just countless ships sailing alongside him for eternity. He sighs, swings his eyes to the port side, and finds a ship there. It looks like it’s slowly drifting away now, but it had been sailing alongside him for a little while. It’s almost out of reach, but Ed rushes through the carnations to get to the port side railing to speak with whoever’s on board before it’s too late. He opens his mouth to call out, then stops short when he sees their flag. 

It’s bright red, like blood spilled upon snow in the moon’s pall. Crimson silk, flailing happily in the wind. 

And Ed just knows. He calls out as loud as he can, praying that the fates will allow him this. Just this. They took away everything else. “Mum!” 

It’s hard to see in the dark, but there comes movement from her ship. She appears by her railing, looking old and frail and so beautiful. She’s got her hair pulled back into a bun, but silver shocks of it sit around her temples and dance in the breeze. Her face cracks into a bright smile the second she spots Ed, and she leans closer like she might close the gap between them. “Edward! Is that you, honey?”

Ed’s sobbing, so his voice feels like it’s being crushed by stones, but he calls back anyway. “It’s me, mum! I’ve missed you!” 

“I’ve missed you too!” 

Ed wipes at his eyes with the sleeve of his robe. “I’m sorry! I should have–” 

“Don’t you dare start apologising for anything, young man,” she calls back. She pulls a handkerchief from a pocket on her skirt and gingerly dabs at her eyes with it. She looks like a queen, gracious and gentle. “We don’t have time for nonsense like that.” 

Ed chuckles to himself. “Okay. But I’m making it up to you next time!” 

“Fine!” She says with a giggle. “I love you!” 

The rock in Ed’s chest feels like nothing more than sand and grave dirt. He takes a deep breath to make sure his voice maintains its composure when he calls back, “I love you, too!” as loud as he can. 

His mum’s ship is being ushered away now, gently and slowly. Ed silently thanks the relentless breeze for being kind to her. In the last moments before she’s drawn away for good, she calls, “I can’t wait to be your mother again!” 

Ed wants to say something back, he wants to promise that he’s going to be better next time, he wants to tell her how much her love has always meant to him, he wants to tell her that he’s so grateful to remember what her face looks like again, but he’s too choked up and can’t make anything but sobs rise from his chest. He can only nod, wipe at his eyes, and smile at her. He hopes that she knows what it means. 

Her voice is carried only by the wind, and as she bids him a loving farewell, she says, “hold tight, honey. It’s going to happen soon!” 

“How can you tell?” Ed calls back. 

“The strangest thing happened today,” she says with a grin. “My heart started beating!” 

And then she’s too far from him once more. He watches her drift away, as much as he can through the tears ceaselessly pouring down his face, and he keeps his eyes fixed on the red silk flag as it’s kept high by the wind. 

She moves until she’s out of sight, and though Ed should feel dread, he doesn’t. Though he should be terrified, he’s not. 

He’s fucking thrilled. 

He lets out an unbridled and sincere laugh from the deepest reaches of his chest, and turns his eyes up to the moon. 

“Well, old friend,” he says to it, “looks like our journey here is coming to an end, huh?” 

The moon is still and silent as always, but Ed almost swears that he sees it smile. 

More tireless years without the sun roll past. Ed does what he can to keep his mind afloat, but there is one thing that keeps him from spiralling, one thing that keeps him from falling into a state of complete disrepair. Before he can let any hopeless thoughts consume him, his heart whispers a single word: 

Soon. 

It’s not a definite timeline, he doesn’t know the exact moment that it will happen, but knowing that it will end soon, that’s enough. It makes the time pass faster. 

He thinks he learns every single instrument, and he writes a hundred songs on each one. He plays them for the moon sometimes, knowing that it won’t be able to give him a standing ovation like Stede used to. It won’t be able to beam at him like the stars, take his face in its hands and tell him, “you’re just incredible. I can feel the love in the music you make.” He plays for it anyway, just because he thinks it’s as close as he’s going to get. 

Ed bakes, he gardens, he writes songs and builds engines from scratch. He sits in Spanish Jackie’z alone, sits in Jeff’s Bakery and Delights alone, wanders the maze alone, waiting for something to happen. Waiting for anything to happen. 

When he’s feeling the loneliest, he opens Stede’s letter in the glow of the candle and traces over his favourite lines. “I think my heart has your name on it. Maybe yours has mine.” 

“It does,” Ed says to the letter, knowing that no more words will manifest on its parchment. “Yeah, it does.” 

Enough time passes that Ed begins to feel like nothing but a shadow that’s clinging onto something it never even had, but he does his best to stop himself from falling apart. He keeps his head high, just as Stede had hoped he would, and he waits. 

Soon, his heart promises to him time and time again. Soon. Soon. Soon. 

He’s lying among the carnations and looking up at the sky when the moon disappears. 

It’s like it just blinks out of existence. The switch that’s been kept on for all eternity gets flipped, and it snaps out of sight completely. Ed frowns at its absence, but doesn’t think too much of it. After all, weird shit happens in the Gravy Basket every fucking day. They haven’t seen the sun in what has to be a thousand years by now. The moon disappearing isn’t anything to kick up too much of a stink about. 

So Ed remains in place for some time more, his eyes fixed on the sky, and he watches as things slowly start to tumble downward. It’s the stars first. They begin to dwindle and die out, like the bulbs in them need to be changed. It’s only a few of them at first, just a couple here and there, and then a large number of them go out at once. A great bucket of black paint gets spilled across the canvas of the night sky and smothers everything in its wake. 

When that many stars go out at once, Ed finally sits up. Something about this isn’t right. It feels like the world is fighting against him, or fighting with him, maybe. Ed can’t tell, he can only sense its bared teeth and its white knuckles. He feels the ocean begin to vibrate. 

The stars go out completely. It’s never been so dark here before. It must be a trick of Ed’s eyes, but it almost looks like the blackness is breathing in and out slowly. Ed looks across the sea, wondering if the other souls here are as tense about this as he is. 

The ships are gone. Every single one of them. The hundreds of thousands of souls that have been here for fuck-knows how long, have all completely disappeared. 

Seeing the black and vast ocean devoid of ships and the sky without the moon or stars is enough to make Ed panic. He tries to rationalise it in his head, tries to tell himself that all the ships are still there and that he just can’t see them anymore because all the lights have gone out, but he knows, somehow, that it’s not the truth. 

He just knows that he’s completely alone. 

It’s his worst fucking fear come to life. As soon as he realises precisely how alone he is, his breathing comes to a complete standstill. His eyes swing around, looking for a light or a way out, and finding nothing. He comes up completely empty, stifled by the dark and the silence. 

Ed’s chest starts to feel like someone’s stepping on it. He’s losing his grip, he knows it, so he tries to steady his breathing. He tries to make himself calm down, despite the way the world is caving inward. He manifests a lantern in his hand and holds it high, hoping against hope that it will guide his way. 

When even the light doesn’t help, Ed’s chest feels like it starts to splinter apart. And, for the first time since he showed up in this place a hundred million years ago, it hurts him. He doesn’t even have time to think about what that might mean, can’t even focus long enough on the pain to gauge the severity of it, because all the noises of the world rise to a crescendo at once. It’s like someone takes their hands away from his ears and allows for noise, and it’s fucking deafening. 

All at once, he can hear the wind that’s whipping around him and the sea as it passes beneath the hull, he can hear the sails heaving overhead and the creaking wood of his ship. Even the sky sounds like it’s making noise – some kind of mournful humming that doesn’t slow or quiet for even a second. It’s like the stars that were once there are singing each other their eulogies. 

It’s too much. It’s dark and loud, and there’s no one around to ask for help. It’s just Ed, facing it all on his own with only the glow of a single measly lantern to light his way. He doesn’t know what to do, he doesn’t know where to go or how to make it stop. He turns his eyes to the sky to ask the moon and finds only a stifling, inky blackness above, with tendrils that look like they’re reaching down in search of him. 

Another sound rises above the noise. Ed hones his hearing, a skill he hasn’t had to use for an eternity or more, and he tries to decipher what it is and where it’s coming from. 

It sounds like rushing water. Not like a faucet or a rain cloud. 

Like a waterfall. 

With his chest feeling like it’s about to burst apart, Ed moves for the bow of the ship. He rushes up the steps to the quarterdeck in a futile attempt to see what’s coming. As soon as he climbs the stairs, he can feel a thin mist of cool water against his cheeks, and the sound rises. The oncoming plummet is chanting a warning, and at the same time his heart is chanting a promise. They come together as a single word, sung over and over again in his head: 

Soon. Soon. Soon. 

Ed knows that it’s completely useless, he knows that there’s nothing he can do to make the noise and the terror stop, but he fights anyway because Stede had been right. 

They both have trouble admitting defeat. 

And Ed doesn’t want to let this place get the best of him. He doesn’t want to go out in a fashion that’s gruesome or violent. He just wants quiet and he wants caring hands and he wants to be fucking loved. 

If he falls down this waterfall, who knows where he’s going to end up? And his heart hasn’t started beating yet. He’s not moving on. 

Ed’s not giving up on his life before it’s even fucking started. He’s not giving up on Stede or forever or the world. He refuses. 

So, he fights. 

He ties down the sails, knowing that they will be unfurled again the next time he blinks. He turns the wheel as hard as he can, knowing that it will not make the ship turn or change course. He turns the capstan, knowing damn well that it lacks the anchor to drop into the sea. 

He fights as hard as he can, while the world and his heart scream for his attention, but he pays them no heed. He moves his body and works his lungs to their absolute fucking limit because he’s not simply going to succumb to this– 

Then the ship suddenly comes to a complete halt. It’s been in motion for so long that Ed has to lean his weight against the capstan to remain standing. His bad knee shivers in anticipation, waiting for an ache that does not come. 

The rest of the world’s noise bubbles to a low simmer, until it’s only the waterfall that’s shouting as loud as it can. Ed remains in place, his lungs heaving and his chest burning like it’s housing a riot. The pain there becomes so intense that Ed can’t ignore it anymore, and he doubles over while it burns him, while it thrashes at his insides and sets everything aflame. 

Ed almost misses it over the wailing waterfall before him, but he just barely catches a sliver of sound and thinks, wait, what was that? He pounds at his chest, willing for the sound to return, begging for it to feel the fear that’s surging through his veins for him. It comes again and again and even through the noise, there’s no mistaking it. 

It’s his heartbeat. It’s come at last. 

The first thing Ed thinks is, I remember it feeling so much lighter last time. Why’s it so heavy now? 

The bow of the ship tips forward, cresting over the edge of the waterfall like it’s falling into a loving embrace. As his vessel begins to plummet, as the world of Limbo and every light in it is snuffed out completely, Ed sends up a message to a moon that is no longer there: 

See you on the other side. 

And then he’s falling. 

It feels as though he’s falling for an eternity, simply plummeting downwards with his eyes squeezed shut. He is lost in a noise so dense that it feels alive – howling wind, splintering wood, rushing water. It all makes him feel like a grain of sand slipping through the thin neck inside an hourglass. Small. Insignificant. 

The noise is so rich that when it simmers down and becomes something gentle, it takes some time for Ed’s senses to adjust. When he realises that he’s no longer falling, that he’s now lying flat on his back somewhere warm, his brow creases with confusion. He readies himself for the worst, then slowly opens his eyes. 

He’s on a beach. Ed hears the crash and hiss of the waves before he sees them. The sky overhead is blue and bright and cloud-free. It’s been so long since Ed’s seen the sun that he can’t help but let out a sigh of relief when he spots it. He lets himself enjoy its love and its warmth for a little while, then he sits up. 

The ocean is crystalline and sparkling in the sunlight, the sands are white and soft. The island that Ed is on is miniature, small enough that he can see the opposite side of it from where he sits on the shore. Behind him is a single palm tree, though it does not cast a shadow. The ocean stretches out for eternity in all directions, broad and blue and deep. 

Ed looks down to assess himself and, much to his surprise, he’s uninjured and sits together in one piece. Which is just fine-and-fucking-dandy, but what the fuck is he supposed to do now? 

He makes himself stand, dusting the sand out of his clothes and hair as he does. Once he’s upright, he scans the sea for a sign of his ship anywhere in the water, and he finds absolutely nothing. Not a splinter of the mast, not a shred of the sails, not a petal of a carnation. It completely crushes him when he thinks of all his stuff, his ribbon and his square of red silk, his robes and his bakery and their garden, the letter and candle left by Stede – he thinks of all his treasures sinking to the seafloor, and it makes him feel fucking sick. He has to breathe in and out slowly for a little while to stop himself from crying about it. 

All those perfect pieces of Stede, all those parts of himself that he’s spent thousands of years lovingly collecting, now nothing more than litter at the bottom of the ocean. What a waste. What a waste. 

Then, another thought occurs to him, and it’s just as worrying and nauseating as all the thoughts before it: 

What if none of it was real? 

His heart and the machine of his mind kick into overdrive in tandem. While his pulse skyrockets - a sensation that's been absent for so long that it feels almost alien now - Ed frantically looks around and begins to wonder about the validity of everything that he’s just been through, all this love he has, everything he found out there. If the ship’s gone, if all his stuff and all those perfect pieces have now been swallowed by the sea, then what’s he got to show for it? He’s got these memories that are so alive and so potent, but – did he make it all up? 

Was the Gravy Basket real? Was Stede real? Did they really spend an eternity together on that ship going nowhere? Did Ed’s heart ever stop beating, did he ever go over that cliff? He scans the water for his car, looking for a wink of its side mirrors or a glimpse of its glossy black paint. 

Maybe he went over that cliff and made up a whole world in his mind in the spaces between his final breaths. Maybe he thought he was going to die, so he invented a man to sink with him and fabricated a love worth dying for. 

Ed keeps looking, for his ship or his car or the life that he’s just lived, looking for a way out or a blinking light or a path that leads him home, until the ocean speaks. 

“Relax,” it says. “Breathe, man. You’re giving me a real workout here.” 

Ed comes to a complete standstill. He watches the way the surface of the sea twinkles in the sunlight and thinks of the stars back home. 

So, this must mean he’s not quite out of the Gravy Basket just yet. Or, maybe this is heaven. Or hell. He makes himself swallow, despite his throat feeling as dry as the sand underfoot. 

“It’s okay, you don’t have to talk if you’re not feeling it,” the ocean says with a fluid mouth. “We’ve got a little bit of time here before you move on, so I wanted to pass along my well wishes. I have a message for you, too.” 

Ed’s brows furrow together. “A message? From who?” 

“From you. Or, well, it’s from me, but I am you, so. Y’know. Apples and oranges.”

“What the fuck?” 

“I know. Confusing, right?”

“Where the fucking shit am I?” Ed demands, turning in a circle and looking around desperately. “Who the fuck are you? You’re me? Am I hallucinating?”

“Nah, I’m just your heart. We’ve met thousands of times before, but you forget who I am every time we get to this point, so I have to keep introducing myself. Nice to meet you. You’re not hallucinating, this is the step after the place between places. Think of it like the elevator down.”

Ed takes a seat on the warm sand and feels it beneath his palms, then focuses his eyes on the sparkling blue sea that’s whispering to him like it’s an old friend. He takes a deep breath to steady the hammering in his chest, and only feels a little weird when the ocean thanks him for it. 

After a few soft moments filled by the white noise of the breeze and the waves, Ed finally speaks up. “You’ve done this before, then?” 

“The dying thing? Oh, yeah. More times than I can count.” 

“So, you’ve got a grasp on it. You understand it.” 

The ocean feels like it shrugs. Or maybe it’s his heart that feels that way. “I’ve picked up some knowledge along the way, sure.” 

“Great. ‘Cause I’ve got questions. Tons of ‘em.” 

“You always do,” his heart says. It sounds so affectionate. “Go ahead. I’ll tell you everything I know.” 

Ed makes a list in his head, then starts from the top. “That was… that was all real, right? I didn’t just make it up?” 

“It was real,” the voice reassures. “Look at your hand.” 

Ed looks down at his left hand, where he finds his wedding band is still sitting on his finger, dazzling amongst the sand, shining up at him like long-lost treasure. Ed is so relieved to see it that he brings it up to his chest and holds it over his heart. 

“He was real. You’re real, too. The lives you lived, the love between you, the promises you made – we couldn’t make that up even if we wanted to.” 

“Oh, thank fuck,” Ed says. He’s so overcome with relief that he lies down on his back, and turns his eyes to the sun. It’s been so long since he’s seen a blue and cloudless sky. He’s never going to take it for granted again. 

“Was moving on as scary for him as it was for me?” Ed wonders after a quiet moment. 

“Yes, it was. It was terrifying.” 

“Hmm. Did he have to go over some metaphysical waterfall, too?” 

“No, but he had to leave us. It’s his worst fear, and he must overcome it every time. And we have to overcome being left. ”

Ed reckons with this for a little while. “It always hurts, doesn’t it?” 

“Almost unbearably so, yeah. The pain’s driven us to madness a few times.”

He hums in thought. “And we always choose it?” 

“Fuck yeah, we do. There’s no other choice. It hurts, sure, but the love is so much sweeter for it. Means you’re both willing to fight. Revolutions are started to make the world a better place, right? Love’s the same.” 

Ed nods in understanding, contemplating and digesting. 

“Do you have more questions?” 

“Tons.” 

“We don’t have much time.” 

“I’ll be quick.” 

His heart feels like it grins. “Go ahead.” 

“Our last lives — why didn’t Stede and I find each other back then? What went wrong?” 

His heart thinks about its answer. “There are inevitabilities in every universe,” it explains. “The passage of time is one of them. Finding each other and falling in love is another. Death is the last inevitability. You’re destined to find each other in every life, of course, but death doesn’t care about what’s supposed to happen. It doesn’t give a fuck about inevitabilities, it only cares about doing its job. It took you before it was supposed to. To clean the slate, to start fresh, death had to take him, too.”  

“Ah. So Stede found me in the Gravy Basket instead.” 

“Your promise from a life long-since lived was enough to draw him to us. His heart knew where he was meant to be, so it put him in the right place.” 

Ed hums. “In any life.” 

The ocean says nothing, but the waves meet the sand in a way that sounds like a loving sigh. 

“Have we ever not found each other?” 

“I’ve lived thousands of lives with you,” his heart says, sounding proud. It’s a tone that smiles in place of a mouth and teeth. “I’ve been with you since your first life. And every single time, you both keep your promise. You’ve never failed.” 

Ed smiles too, feeling warm and brave. “I’ve got one more question.”

“Shoot.” 

“Stede left the Gravy Basket so long ago, but… I just saw mum. I saw her a hundred years after Stede had moved on. Does that mean that Stede’s already alive down there? Like, is he gonna be older than my mum by the time we find each other again? ‘Cause, y’know, I’m gonna love him no matter what, but it’s gonna be kinda weird to fall in love with him when I’m forty-something and he’s pushing seventy.” 

His heart feels like it laughs. “That was more than one question.”

“Shit, sorry.” 

“The simple answer is that he hasn’t moved on yet,” it answers gently. “He’s in his own elevator down, just like you, waiting for the right moment to be put into a new body.” 

“He’s just been waiting there all this time?” 

“I guess ‘waiting’ might not be the right word for it. It probably feels like only a few minutes to him, just like it does for you when you’re here.” 

Ed closes his eyes and takes a long and slow breath. “Why couldn’t we wait together?” 

“You already broke the rules of death and the afterlife once to get what you had.” The ocean hisses against the sand – a deep breath. “Every other time we’ve been in Limbo, we’ve just sailed alongside him. It was pure luck that you ended up on the same ship this time. All that luck just had to run out eventually. And as for mum, she held on for as long as she could to find you, just to tell you that she loves you. She does that almost every time we’re in the Gravy Basket. She’s down on earth now, living her life before we come into it.”  

His heart feels like it swells and tenses all at once. Ed lets himself feel it beneath his palm, which is still in place on his chest. It thumps away, diligent and steady – a sure course for a journey waiting to be embarked.

“Hmm. Okay,” Ed says at last. “I think I’ve got all the answers I wanted. You said you have a message for me?” 

“I do. It’s from me, and it’s from you – a message from a time long since passed.” 

“From a past life?”

“Kinda. It comes from all of our past lives. Starts at the top and goes all the way down. The message has been passed along so many times now, but it’s always stayed the same.”

Ed nods. “Okay, I’m listening.” 

“The message is this: ‘I love you. Don’t forget me this time.’”

“But…” he thinks about it for a little while. “Don’t I always forget you?” 

“Everyone does. It’s not your fault. You can’t help it.” 

“And you still love me anyway? Even when I keep breaking my promise to remember?” 

“I will love you as long as I am still here to pass the message along,” his heart says. It feels like it wants to reach out a gentle hand and put it on his shoulder to comfort him. “We have been together through so many lives, and I will always love you and him and the world as much as I can. After all, love is all that I am made of. You can’t help but give it away. You can’t keep your promise, no, but you always try, and I will always love you for it.”

Ed sighs, keeping his hand on his heart. “I guess that just means that I’m supposed to love as hard as I possibly can, right?” 

“Yeah, pretty much. And that includes yourself.”

Ed scrunches his face up. “That’s the hard bit.” 

His heart sounds like it hums. “Maybe. But you’ve done hard things before.”

Ed opens his eyes and looks at the sun as it begins to descend. He watches it sink toward the horizon, with his heart whispering against the shore and his hand fixed on his chest. 

“Alright,” he says as the sky changes colours. “I’ll try.” 

“I know you will. Are you ready?” 

“For life? Fuck yes, I am. Get me in there.” 

His heart laughs. “It’s gonna be hard, you know.”

Ed thinks about the one hundred years of drowning, about how he survived it twice. He thinks about his heartbreak and all his agony, and about how he made it to the other side despite it. “It’s just like you said. I’ve done hard things before.” 

His heart positively beams. Ed can feel its smiling teeth and he loves it. He thanks it for being unconditional and always, for knowing how dark it gets and still finding the light. He watches the horizon split the day in two. 

“I have one more message to pass along before you go. This one’s from him.”

Ed closes his eyes as the night takes the sky into its velvet grasp. “Hit me.” 

His heart holds him tight, gives him a loving embrace and a kiss goodbye. “You are so adored,” it tells him. “So completely and totally adored.” 

The world is plunged into a darkness deep enough to be buried in. 

“I know,” Ed says. “I’ve always known.”

He holds that love in both his gentle hands and carries it forward, no longer fearing the unknown or the life beyond it. It may be dark, it may be scary, it may be harsh and cruel, but Ed has all the love in the world in his palms. 

With it, he knows that he will be brave enough to face it. Something about colours, about caterpillars and butterflies. 

And then it’s over, as quickly as it began.

Chapter Text

Forty-eight years later.

Stede Bonnet is, if anything, a sincere man.  Some may say that he’s earnest to a fault, but he’s always said that there ought to be more love and kindness in the world, and if it’s up to him to provide it, then he’s happy to be the man for the job. 

Stede Bonnet is also a kind-hearted, well-meaning, mild-mannered individual. He’s smart enough, extraordinarily polite, sometimes a bit of a bitch. There are a lot of things that Stede Bonnet is, and only a few that he is not, and those things are as follows: 

He is not cruel, he is not a good dancer, and, right now, he is not on time. 

It’s a Friday in summer and Stede is, rather tragically, late as all hell. He told himself he’d have the shop closed by three, three-thirty at the latest, but, well, he just got so caught up in the artistry of it all because it’s been so long since he’s gotten to have so much fun at work, and, well, it’s no excuse, really, because he still would have been late even if he had closed by three–

Needless to say, he’s completely fucked. 

The time is now five-forty-eight in the evening, and he was supposed to be somewhere else an hour ago. 

And it serves him right, too. Karma really is teaching him a fine lesson today, because he’s supposed to be on the other side of town and, of course, a great big storm is currently raging. Stede glances at the sky while he’s gathering his things through the front shop window and says, “oh, for Christ’s sake,” aloud to himself. 

Now, a storm would be all well and good to a sane person who is responsible, but Stede has been lacking a little in both of those departments recently, because he finally found the courage to ask his wife for a divorce and tell her that he was moving to the other side of the damn country, and he promised not to cause her any trouble about the whole thing so he let her keep his car because he insisted that it was no problem, that he could get one when he finished moving in, anyway, and she’d need it for taking the kids everywhere and–

What that means is that Stede is currently over an hour late for a function, this is his first time weathering a Floridian storm, he currently lacks a car, and his house still hasn’t been completely unpacked so he can’t even find his raincoat. It’s such a nice raincoat, too.  

Before leaving the shop, he stands behind the glass door and watches the rain pour in torrents from a charcoal sky, watches the branches and leaves whip around in a ferocious wind, and he sighs. 

Better late than never, he thinks to himself. He tucks a parcel under his arm, leaves his shop, locks the front door tight, and begins his treacherous journey to the other side of town, through the torrential rain, on foot. 

Edward Teach, as he often does, is feeling a bit shit about his life decisions at the moment. If anyone asked him about it, he’d lie, and he’d say something along the lines of, “nah, everything’s great! I love being in this backwards fuckin’ place where everyone is old and no one looks at you and the weather is balls-up fucking insane. Feel right at home here, me.” 

And part of the problem is exactly that: no one’s asked. 

Except his mum, of course, but like hell is he going to tell her the truth. Not about this. She’s wanted to move down here for-fucking-ever (Christ knows why), but she’d always said that she had to wait for the right time, which never made much sense to Ed, but whatever. 

Then the time finally came, she said that she wanted to move, but she didn’t want to be so far away from her only son, so she asked him to come with. And, shit, after how difficult her life had been, after how much bullshit she had to endure because of Ed’s father, how the hell could he refuse? It’s not like he wanted to be too far away from her, either. He adores the shit out of his old lady. And, she is getting old. 

His mum had really sold him on the idea, too. “You’ll finally be able to open up your own flower shop, Eddie, just like you’ve always wanted,” she’d said. “It’ll be good for you to get some sun! The air here in Maine is no good for a growing boy like you.” She’d said this as though Ed weren’t already almost fifty fucking years old. 

So they moved to Florida. It was a fresh start for both of them. No more memories haunting them in places where they’d once lived, no more people that know their names. Ed was fucking sick of running into people he’d much rather forget about. Like Jack. He shivers at the mere thought of that prick. 

And Ed did open that flower shop, and it’s everything he’s ever wanted, and his mum is positively thriving in a little house that Ed bought for her up in Spring Hill, which is only a few hour’s drive away, and the weather is warm, and the people are friendly, even if most of them are ancient. 

So why, one may wonder, is Ed feeling a bit shit about all of that? 

Simply put, it’s because he is bored out of his fucking skull. And, though he’d never admit it out loud, he’s lonely as shit. Turns out moving across the country makes finding new friends a bit of a challenge. 

He keeps telling himself that it’s supposed to be a fresh start, but it’s been seven long months now. When the hell are things going to actually start… starting? 

Time feels kind of fragile here. It feels timid, somehow. Weak. Ed thinks that he’s just going to have to keep going like this, just keep trudging through it, counting down the days until something, anything happens. It feels like he’s spent his whole life waiting for that something to come along, but it’s been forty-eight years and there’s still no sign of it. 

Maybe he’s stupid for being so optimistic all the time. He supposes it’s too late to change that now. He holds onto hope like it’s a bad habit he’ll never be able to shake. 

Time, pathetic and limp, folds itself into Ed’s palm. So, he waits. 

There has been a tiny little voice in Stede’s head his whole life that’s been offering him guidance. For example, on the day he married Mary, it was shrieking warnings and telling him to go back. He ignored this advice. On the day he inherited his father’s law firm, it was pleading with him to palm it off to someone else. Stede ignored this advice, too. And while he was living a life that made him completely miserable, while he was trapped living in monotony, that little voice was telling him that it didn’t have to be like this. It told him that things could change. 

And… well, it’s clear that there was a pattern to it. 

The most unfortunate part of it all is that the little voice has always been right. It’s always steered him in the right direction, and Stede’s always chosen to pay it no heed. 

The day he found himself was the day he started listening to it. He’s never felt so free — now divorced, interstate, and working the job he’s always wanted in a business of his own. He started listening, and then he started living. 

Stede still feels like something is missing, but he’s sure he will find whatever it might be with more patience. If he keeps listening, maybe it will keep working its miracles. 

Right now, though, that little voice is begging him to take cover. It’s shrieking warnings, pleading with him to turn around and go home, to seek shelter. That little voice shouts, we’re not being taken too soon. Not again. We can’t live another life without him. And Stede’s not one for listening to absolute nonsense, so if the little voice insists on speaking only in riddles, he will have to block it out completely. 

Stede’s gotten so good at ignoring it that he thinks he can get away with ignoring it just once more. What’s the harm in that? One more time won’t kill him, and he can’t afford to turn around right now. This is important. He has somewhere to be. 

He’s marching down a completely vacant street, with his parcel tucked tightly under his arm and hair in his eyes, with the whipping wind trying to blind him. It must be sunset by now, but the sky is dark enough that it looks like he’s been dropped into the deep end of the night. No stars, no moon, no sun, just swirling clouds and rain that’s starting to feel dangerously close to knives against his cheeks. 

All the stores that line this footpath have already shut their doors for the evening. Some have signs in the windows that read things like, ‘closed due to storm! Come back tomorrow,’ or, ‘shop will reopen once storm passes!’ Which, admittedly, makes a great deal of sense. If Stede weren’t trudging through it, he wouldn’t want to be caught out in a downpour like this, either. 

So why the hell is he still walking, one may wonder? It’s simple, really. 

He made a promise. He intends to keep it. 

Stede Bonnet is many things. A quitter is not one of them. He’s also never been much of a liar, and he doesn’t plan on starting now.  

He marches on. 

Ed is behind the counter in his shop, wrapping up some extra bouquets for the following day. He was going to do it early tomorrow, but the storm’s well and truly rolled in now. No point in going anywhere for a little bit. He keeps a little sleeping bag in the storeroom for occasions exactly like this one. He may as well get some extra work done if he’s going to be stuck here for the night. 

Every now and then, he stops his work to glance out the window. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, but he can’t seem to keep his eyes focused on the task at hand. He watches the rain pour, watches the wind push and pull ceaselessly at the street, and he listens to the shivers of thunder as they ripple overhead. It would be terrifying if he was out in it, but he’s safe and warm inside his happy little florist shop, thanks very much. No nasty storm can get to him here. 

Another hour passes, and the storm’s ferocity only increases. The wind makes the windows rattle, so Ed takes a big step back from them. It’s starting to worry him, so he sends a text to his mum to make sure she’s okay. 

- Storm messing with you too bad up there? 

She responds instantly. A picture of a pool table affixed to the words: “Let’s play 8 Ball!” 

Ed snorts, then returns his phone to his pocket. She’s fine. 

He brings his attention back to the flowers, meticulously trimming the stems and stripping thorns from roses and wrapping them up in a way that would make Persephone Herself proud. He even curls the ends of all the ribbons, just to give them that extra loving touch. 

Then, something through the window catches his eye. He whips around, thinking that he’s just seen lightning. It’s so difficult to make out in the torrential rain, made harder still by the trembling windows, but Ed swears that he sees a human-fucking-being roaming around outside. He squints to hone his vision.

He hears a dangerous creak, followed by a loud splintering sound. 

There is a fucking person outside. The tree by the curb is about to snap like a damn twig, and that person is about to be crushed beneath it. 

Ed doesn’t even have time to set the flowers in his arms down. He rushes for the front door of his shop, unlocks the latch as fast as he can, swings it open and calls out into the slicing rain and gushing wind. “Hey!”  

There’s a man on the sidewalk. He looks like a drowned cat, with golden hair that’s clinging to his forehead. He’s standing directly beneath the tree, which is mere seconds away from toppling and taking his life with it. He looks scared stiff, like he’s in shock and doesn’t know what to do. 

Without thinking, Ed takes a step out of his shop, shouts over the noise as loud as he can. “In here! Quick, the tree–” 

The man rushes towards him, making a sound of mild terror as he does. He wordlessly slips past while Ed holds the door open to ensure he makes it inside, and then the tree – this damn traitorous elm – really does get torn asunder, and it begins to topple towards him at an alarming speed, so he steps back into the safety of his shop and rends the door shut as quickly as he can. The force of it is enough that the charming little welcome bell sounds like it shrieks in pain, and then it goes still and quiet for a second, like the storm is holding its breath. 

Then there’s a loud knock, a scrape, and a massive ker-THUNK! as the top half of the tree meets the sidewalk and the front of Ed’s shop, bringing the charming little sign down with it. 

Once the tree is on the ground, Ed remains in place for a long time, just breathing. His hand is still on the door handle, white-knuckled and shaking. It’s quiet in the wake of all that noise, as though the wind has died down now that it’s had its fun and gotten that cursed tree out of the way. 

“Aha!” the man behind him laughs. “Oh, wow! I almost died!” 

Ed turns, because he’d almost completely forgotten about this guy until he made his presence known by… laughing? He turns to give him an incredulous look because, quite frankly, he doesn’t think it’s all that fuckin’ funny. 

But he continues laughing, and for the first time, Ed gets a good look at him. 

He has a smile made of honey and a laugh that sounds like wind chimes. He’s beautiful in the same way that marble statues are beautiful, like he was sculpted by hands that were honoured to be assigned the task. He’s been completely drenched by the rain, but he looks as happy as a daisy that’s just found the first light of morning. He pushes his hair back, exposing the rest of his beautiful face. 

Ed stares. It’s all he can do. He wants to play it cool, but how’s he supposed to maintain composure when the sun is standing in a puddle in his humble little florist? 

“Oh, what a thrill!” the man says, still giggling a little. “I’m sorry, it’s really not funny. I shouldn’t be laughing. That was terrifying!” He says the last bit with a broad grin, like the terror is something to be stoked about. 

“You’re…” Ed swallows. When was the last time he saw someone hot enough to make him flustered? He feels like a fly caught in a trap. “You’re alright? Not hurt, are you?” 

“Not even a scratch,” the man says with a proud smile. He looks over all his limbs to confirm. He’s wearing navy blue slacks that hug his hips, and a light blue button-down shirt that hugs his chest. Which, Ed can’t help but notice, is broad. 

Then, the stranger looks up. It’s the first time he’s made eye contact with Ed since stepping inside. Must be a side effect of the adrenaline that’s still buzzing through him. Their eyes meet, and the world comes to a screeching halt. It’s like something ancient that’s been left unfulfilled just slots into its rightful place. Every missing piece and every wrong turn gets restored and corrected. Ed’s heart skips and it almost feels like it’s throwing its fists into the air. It feels like it’s gasping and cheering. 

Ed’s spent all his life waiting for something, waiting for anything to happen. He doesn’t know why, but it feels like it’s all amounted to exactly this. He’s been waiting for forever and then, just like that, forever’s shown up.

And as he’s looking at him, as the dawn of a new age and the end of the world lingers in the air between them, Ed’s heart shouts up a message. He has no idea what it could possibly mean, but it feels like one that is both intended to be heard and shared:

I know you. I’ve always known you. 

Stede looks at him. He really, truly, looks at him. 

For a second, he starts to think that he was, in fact, crushed by that damned tree outside, and that he’s gone to heaven and found an angel beyond the pearly gates. He puts a hand to his chest to make sure his heart is still there and, thankfully, finds it positively hammering beneath his palm. He’s still warm, still breathing, drenched, but still very much alive. 

Which can only mean that this man is real. He’s ethereal – Stede’s never looked at anyone so beautiful. His long salt and pepper hair has been pulled into a loose braid which hangs over his shoulder, and it’s got tiny little white flowers weaved into it, as though he’s the very essence of spring. His eyes are wide with shock, deep and dark enough to fall into, and he’s got a short but full beard around his jaw. Brown skin lovingly adorned with tattoos, shocks of silver hair spilling across his cheeks, his sturdy arms tense – in one of those tense arms, he’s gently cradling a bouquet of flowers. 

Stede suddenly forgets how to breathe. He can feel his cheeks go up in flames, but his clothes are cold enough to make him want to shiver. He doesn’t know where to put his hands. He pleads for the little voice to give him some guidance, begs for it to tell him what to say, but it’s offering him absolutely no help at the moment. It’s just chanting the same absurd thing over and over again: 

I’ve missed you. More than you could ever know, I have missed you. 

I hope I haven’t kept you waiting too long.

And that makes absolutely no sense at all, Stede has no clue what it could possibly mean, but it feels like it’s the truth. It’s like he’s always felt this way somewhere deep down. It’s just taken one look in this man’s eyes to draw the feeling out of him. 

He realises that he’s staring and saying nothing, so he makes himself cast his eyes to the floor. “I think you may have just saved my life. I don’t quite know how I could possibly thank you for that.” 

“You don’t need to thank me,” the man says, his voice soft. He sounds like he’s trying not to disturb whatever is in the air between them. “Anyone with any decency would have helped you.” 

Stede can only smile at him. He meets his gaze again, trying to ignore the way his heart feels like it’s taking flight. “Maybe. Even so, I’m glad it was you.” 

He blinks, then offers out his hand. “I’m Ed.” 

“Hey. Stede.” He accepts the handshake and as soon as their palms meet, something at the very base of the world ignites. At least, that’s how it feels. 

Ed. His name is Ed. It’s perfect for him. He looks like an ‘Ed,’ somehow. Or maybe he just looks familiar in a way that Stede can’t quite place. Either way, he’s instantly at ease. He’s as comfortable in Ed’s company as he would be in front of a warm fireplace. 

“Well, Ed,” His name rolls off Stede’s tongue as easily as a song on a breeze. “Thank you. For saving my life.” 

There is an ancient and flourishing part of Stede that tells him that this isn’t the first time. 

Ed clears his throat. “My pleasure. Here, let me get you a towel. You’ll catch your death like that.” 

“Oh, please don’t trouble yourself.” 

“S’no trouble,” Ed says kindly. “Sit tight, I just gotta get one from out the back.” 

“Alright. Thank you.” 

Ed’s only gone for a second. The moment he’s away from Stede, the world returns to its storm-swept, noisy and grim state. It’s a bit like Stede lights up the room, and Ed is a stupid moth that’s carelessly moving toward the flame. He feels drawn to him in a way that he can’t quite figure out. 

When he returns with the towel, he finds Stede leaning over his selection of fresh bouquets, standing proud in their stands by the front window. He turns as Ed enters the room and says, “you’re a florist!” 

Ed blinks at him. “Yeah, sure am. I guess you didn’t see the sign in all that rain.” 

“Couldn’t see much of anything, I’m afraid.” 

Ed walks over and hands him the towel, doing his best to ignore how warm Stede is when their fingers brush for half a second. “I reckon that tree’s ruined it now. Used to say ‘Birds of Paradise Florist’. That’s me.” 

Stede’s smile is wide. He sets down the parcel he was carrying beneath his arm on the ground and runs the towel over his drenched hair, mussing it in a way that should be fucking illegal. “How wonderful. Birds of Paradise are your favourite flowers, I suppose?” 

“Nah, actually. It’s–” Ed realises then that he’s still holding a whole bouquet in his arm. He’s had it since he found Stede wandering in the rain. He holds it out to him. “These. Carnations.” 

Stede leans in close to get a good look at them, his eyes alight and his cheeks warm. “Beautiful. I see why you like them.” 

“You, uh. You can have ‘em.” 

Stede’s eyes snap up. “Pardon?” 

Ed shrugs. “Call it a ‘you lived’ present.” 

“But… shouldn’t I be the one giving you something?” 

Ed snickers. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Take ‘em. They’re for you.” 

Stede’s brows furrow together. Ed almost starts to panic that he’s offended him somehow, he’s about to start dishing out apologies left and right, until Stede collects his parcel from the ground and holds it out in offering. “As long as you take this.” 

“It’s… a box?” 

“You’re not allergic to anything, are you?” 

Ed raises a brow. “Just penicillin.” 

Stede beams, then lifts the parcel once more. “Alright. Let’s call it a trade. You take this mystery box, and I’ll take these gorgeous carnations.” 

Ed likes him instantly. In fact, Ed likes him a lot. Stede feels like a breath of fresh air or a light turning on. It’s hard to place; he’s comforting in a distantly familiar kind of way. “Alright, you’ve got a deal.” 

Stede accepts the bouquet and Ed takes the box. He looks at the brown paper it’s wrapped in for a second, then peeks through a gap in the top to inspect the contents, and he’s fucking thrilled with what he finds. “Oh, shit. Are these from that new bakery?” 

“The one a few blocks down? Yes, they are. I hope you like red velvet.” 

“Fuck yeah, I do. I haven’t been able to get enough of this place,” Ed says with a bright smile. “They opened up, like, a week ago and I’ve been in there almost every morning since. The guy that works there must already be so sick of seeing my mug.” 

“Lucius?” 

“That’s him! You know him?” 

“Yes, I’d hope so. I certainly hired him.” 

Ed stares. “You’re his boss?” 

“That’s me. Stede Bonnet, owner of Served Sweet Bakery,” Stede says with a bright smile. He thinks for a second, and his smile drops. “Shit. Lucius hasn’t said anything horrific about me, has he?” 

“Nah, nothing bad. He keeps telling me that I should meet you. Said we’d get along. He invited me to this thing tonight, actually, ‘cause he said that you were gonna be there.” 

Stede sighs. “Oh. Yes, well, I’m supposed to be. It’s his engagement party. That’s what the cupcakes were for.” 

“And that’s why you were trudging through the storm?” 

“It is, yes.” 

“You couldn’t call an Uber?” 

Stede fishes his drenched phone out of his pocket and holds it up. The screen remains dark. “Dead, unfortunately. I moved only a few days ago, and the charger has gone missing in all my things. I keep having to borrow Lucius’s.” 

“Ah.” 

“It’s a bit miserable, all in all. I was going to try and wade my way through the storm to get there still, but it seems that the tree has well and truly blocked the door.” 

Ed’s brows shoot up. “You were gonna go back out there?” 

Stede looks through the shopfront window at the storm still waging war outside, at the splintered tree stump by the curb. “I was certainly thinking about it. I don’t like disappointing people.” 

Ed understands the feeling. He draws his mouth into a thin line, then glances at the sidewalk and the torrential rainfall on the street. “‘Kay. Let’s see what we can do about that tree, huh?” 

“I couldn’t possibly ask you for more help. Not after you quite literally saved my life and then gave me these beautiful flowers to celebrate the occasion.” 

Ed chuckles and waves a dismissive hand. “It’s worth celebrating.” He walks over to the front door and peeks through the glass at the top, where the opening hours have been lovingly hand painted by Ed himself. He peers down at the sidewalk to find that most of the tree has made itself at home right against the door, leaving about as much distance between the two as lovers in heat. Ed bites his lip. “Yeah, not looking good.” 

Stede steps into the space beside him and peers around him to inspect. “Hmm. I don’t suppose there’s a back door, is there?” 

“There is, but it’s locked. Lady in the tailor’s next door has the key, but she’d be long gone by now.” 

Stede nods in understanding, then puts his weight against the door to push. The tree doesn’t budge. Ed pushes as hard as he can as well, but the door remains steadfast and sturdy, and the tree doesn’t even so much as twitch. 

Stede, who’s still got the borrowed towel hanging around his neck, stands tall and puts his hands on his hips. “I think it’s no use.” 

“No worries, I’ll just call emergency services,” Ed says, pulling his phone from his pocket. He glances at the notifications to find that his mother has texted him a few times more, but it’s just more invitations to play virtual 8-Ball. Ed shakes his head with affection, then excuses himself to make a call. 

Ed steps into the back room again, and gently clicks the door shut behind him. Stede can hear his voice through the door, which is even and smooth and friendly. Stede is, admittedly, panicking a little bit, and wonders how Ed is remaining so calm about the whole thing. 

He’s not sure why he’s panicking, exactly. It might simply be because he feels like he’s disappointing his friends, it might be because he’s only just moved to this city and he’s already making a mess of things. He couldn’t prevent the storm, of course, but he certainly could have been better with his time management. He silently chastises himself while he waits for Ed to finish his phone call. 

In the meantime, he wanders around Birds of Paradise Florist. Stede’s always loved flowers, and he’s certainly been impressed by arrangements before, but Ed somehow turns them into art. He even incorporates things that Stede wouldn’t expect in a bouquet, like moss and dried leaves and broken twigs. Each element is strategically and perfectly placed, balanced and pristine. The colour palette of each arrangement is flawless. Stede thinks that they should be entered in competitions. Does such a thing even exist? If they do, then Ed would win. 

At last, he emerges from the back room, looking tense. He’s worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. 

“You don’t look like you’re bringing good news,” Stede observes. 

“Yeah, uh. S’not great.” 

“Uh oh,” Stede says. What he means to say is, I think if I indulge in too much of your company, I am going to become dependent on it. This might be a dangerous game that we’re playing. 

“I mean, they’re on their way.”

“Of course.”

“They’re coming as fast as they can.” 

“Naturally,” he says this time, but what he thinks is, if I am to know you for only a short while, then let it be as beautiful as you are. Let me depend on this feeling for the rest of my life. 

“But, y’know, the whole city’s being torn apart by this storm.” 

Stede blinks. “So, how long do they think they’re going to take?” And that little voice whispers, please tell me that we will get to have forever here among the roses. 

Ed’s face pinches together. “They said that they might not get here for another six hours.” 

“Six hours?” 

“At least.” 

“At least?!” His tone almost sounds like dismay, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. Stede’s voice is just barely disguising his relief. He feels greedy for wanting more time in the light of spring. 

Ed heaves a soft sigh. “I’m sorry, mate. You’ve got somewhere you’re supposed to be, and now you’re stuck in this tiny little shop.” 

“Oh, Ed, please don’t apologise,” he says. “You saved my life! It might sound crazy, but I’d much rather be alive than be nothing but a smear on a sidewalk.” 

“Sure, but–” 

“And,” Stede interjects kindly, “you’re wonderful company. Really. I just don’t want to burden you any more than I already have, is all. Honestly, I’m glad to be stuck here with you.” 

Ed’s face lights up a little, like sparks when two rocks are struck together. “Sorry your plans were ruined.” 

“It’s alright. I ruined them myself when I didn’t leave at the right time. The world is teaching me a lesson.” 

It’s at that moment that all his panic disappears. He knows that he will have to apologise to Lucius profusely when he next has the chance, and he knows that he’s already making mistakes, but it suddenly doesn’t seem to matter so much. 

Ed offers him a soft smile, and it makes Stede’s heart fall onto its face. 

“In that case, looks like we’re stuck here for a little bit.”

Stede smiles in return. “It looks that way.” 

“At least we have food,” he says, gesturing to the box of cupcakes on the counter. “We’ve got water, too.” 

“Is there a bathroom in here?” 

“Yeah, in the back.” 

“Thank Christ.” 

Ed snorts. “And we still have power. So, y’know, things could be a lot worse–” 

The lights flicker, then go out. 

They stand in the darkness for a moment, not daring to move or speak. And then, because he can’t help it, Stede begins to laugh. He tries to keep it contained, but it’s completely futile. As soon as he starts, Ed’s laughing alongside him, casting beautiful peels of mirth upwards into the dim while the windows rattle and the building shakes and the fallen tree outside shivers against the concrete. 

As he’s laughing, Stede thinks that he’d be happy being stuck with Ed for as long as it took, he’d be happy waiting in this delightful little florist until the sun came up, and then he’d happily spend the rest of the morning with him, too. 

And then he thinks, if I’m not supposed to be here, then why does this feel so right?

“I’m gonna stop talking before my shop fucking explodes,” Ed says as the last of his giggles ripple out of him. “Good thing I have candles.” 

“Oooh, how fun. We can host a seance.” 

Ed grins. “That’s your first thought?” 

“I’m often thinking about contacting ghosts.” 

“Ah, so you’re telling me that I’m stuck in here with a fuckin’ maniac.” 

“The genuine article, I’m afraid. I’ve left my axe at home today, though.” 

Ed laughs again, and Stede can’t get enough of it. He thinks he could tell a hundred jokes to hear that sound. He’d spend every day scouring corny joke books for it. 

“Okay, let’s get this place seance-ready. Wanna help with the candles?” 

Stede positively beams. “I’d be delighted.” 

Ed has to use the flashlight on his phone to find the candles, which had been stuffed in his emergency kit at the very back of a cabinet, and he’s looking for them long enough that the battery goes flat. He mourns it for only a second, then he remembers that he’s now being kept company by the most interesting man he’s ever met, and tucks it into his pocket as though he’s laying it to rest. 

They set up a modest walkway of candles from the main shop to the bathroom in the back, and light up the places where they can find water or emergency supplies, should they need them. Ed pulls out some stools from storage, which he arranges around the counter for them to sit on. Stede is the one to light a candle and put it between the two of them, like they’re sitting together and enjoying a candle-lit dinner. He arranges it perfectly in the middle, then claims his stool and puts his hands into his lap. 

They sit in silence for only a second while Ed takes his seat, too. The windows shiver as the sky heaves and the clouds swirl outside. It’s pitch-black out there now. They sit on their stools and watch the storm as it continues to rage for a little while, but it’s not an awkward silence that’s demanding to be filled. It’s such a strange feeling – so far, it feels like everyone that Ed’s met since he moved has been demanding something from him. Not Stede. It’s easy in a way that Ed’s never had with anyone else. They just sit in the static and breathe. 

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Stede says at last, his voice soft. “Now that I’m no longer about to be killed by it, the storm’s kind of beautiful, don’t you think?” 

Ed watches the droplets of rain as they come together and make tracks on his shopfront window, as the water there glistens in the candlelight. He listens to the howling wind and it reminds him of a newborn baby’s crying in the way that it wanes and shrieks and flows. The green leaves from the fallen tree sit stark against the blackness surrounding them and light up the footpath like lightning. 

It’s the first time Ed’s ever thought of a storm as beautiful. He’s only ever seen them as inconvenient. As soon as he learns to see it, it’s like unlocking a skill he never even knew he had.

It’s like finding a piece of himself that’s been missing all his life. 

“Yeah, it is,” he says at last. “Once you get over the scary side of it.” 

Stede hums in agreement. “Sometimes the most beautiful things are a little bit scary.” 

Ed looks at him, but Stede’s eyes are distant, fixed to the window and the world outside. He’s got a satisfied tilt to the corner of his eyes, like a smile is hiding inside them somewhere. Despite the conditions and his circumstances and despite the fact that he’s not where he’s supposed to be tonight, he looks content. He looks like he’s happy with where he ended up. 

Ed looks at him and thinks, your face looks like home to me. 

Would I finally feel like myself if I got the chance to kiss it?

“So,” Stede says, pulling Ed out of his own head and back into the real world. “Six hours.” 

Ed smiles. “Looks like it.”

“Shall we play a game to make the time pass faster?” 

It’s a weird thought to have, but Ed thinks, I don’t want it to pass faster. I want the world to stay exactly like this for a little while. “Thought we were gonna host a seance.” 

“Oh, it’s far too early for a seance,” Stede jokes. He points to his wrist, which is very notably not boasting a watch. “That’s an activity for hour four, at least.” 

“Ah, gotcha,” Ed says through a chuckle. “What do we do for the first three hours, then? And what about all the hours after that?” 

“I suppose we can figure it out as we go along.” 

“S’pose so. We could always make a night of it.” 

Stede perks up, like a fucking puppy. “Oh?” 

“I’ve got champagne in the back. The nice stuff. I’m sure the owner won’t notice if a few bottles go missing.” 

“Aren’t you the owner?” 

“Sure am.” 

Stede giggles. “That could be an idea, actually. The alcohol might warm me up a little bit.” 

“Shit, you’re cold?” 

“It’s just my shirt,” he admits. “Completely drenched, the stupid thing. It feels like I’m wearing an ice bath.” 

“Just take it off,” Ed suggests with a nonchalant shrug. “I can make a hanger for it out of wire, and I’ll put it up behind the counter until it dries.” 

“That’s…” Stede blinks. “That’s very sweet of you, Ed. Are you sure you don’t mind?” 

The word replays in Ed’s head like a song he can’t get enough of. Sweet. Sweet. Sweet. “No worries,” he says as he stands from his stool. “I’ll get us a bottle.” 

Stede nods and begins to undo the buttons on his shirt, and Ed thanks himself for making the decision to leave the room because he knows damn well that he wouldn’t be able to look away if he was still in his seat. Even just that glimpse of Stede’s fingers sliding those perfect buttons out of place – the picture is burned into Ed’s eyes like lingering rays of sunlight. 

He collects his prize and brings it out to the main shop, and regrets telling Stede to take his shirt off the second he lays his eyes on him because the only thing Ed’s stupid brain can think is, arms arms arms chest chest chest arms arm–

Stede’s wearing only a white sleeveless undershirt now, and he’s running the towel that Ed gave him earlier up and down his arms to rid them of moisture, and the way his biceps tense makes Ed feel like a rabid fucking animal. He swallows thickly, then marches across the room and reclaims his seat, setting down the champagne bottle on the counter between them. 

“I just realised I don’t have any glasses,” he says. “You don’t mind sharing, do you?” 

It’s hard to make out in the low light, but Ed swears that he sees Stede’s cheeks turn the warmest shade of pink. It could be a trick of the candlelight, though. “Not at all. I’ve been drinking water out of bowls for a few days, so I’m not fazed by anything anymore.” 

Ed cuts a length of wire and begins to twist it around itself, fashioning it into a hanger. “Your cups are still packed?” 

“And my spoons. I’ve been eating all my cereal with forks.” 

Ed laughs while he takes Stede’s drenched shirt and hangs it up. He’s caught off-guard by its fabric; soft and thick and pristine. If fabrics were places, this one would be a five-star resort. He feels it between his fingers for half a second before setting it aside. “Sounds kinda rough, man.” 

“It’s certainly a work in progress.” 

“Well, if you need any help, you know where to find me.” 

Stede stares at him for a second. “Ed, you quite literally saved my life, and then you gave me these beautiful flowers. Now you’re treating me to some lovely champagne, and that’s all in just one evening. I couldn’t possibly ask any more of you.” 

Ed can’t suppress his smile. “We’ll call it even for the cupcakes.” 

“‘Even’? We’re nowhere near even. I owe you a lifetime supply of those damned cupcakes.” 

“Hey, I won’t turn that down. Have you had your cupcakes? They’re fucking delicious.” 

“Thank you. They are delicious. Drop by the bakery whenever you like, everything is free of charge from now on.” 

“What? Mate, I can’t do that to you. Do you know how often I’m there? I’ll run you out of business.” 

“If my bakery goes under to repay your kindness, then it will be a worthwhile sacrifice,” Stede says, smiling like the sun. “I insist. As soon as I see Lucius, I’ll let him know, too.” 

“Awh.” Ed’s heart stumbles a thousand times. “Fine. Are we even, then?” 

“Not even close.” 

“Come on!” 

“Ed, I would be dead right now. I would be skin and bones on the concrete outside! Baked goods are nothing in comparison.” 

“All I did was open a door. I didn’t help you to get shit out of it, Stede.” 

“No, you did it because you’re a good man, but decency begets decency. The good you put out ought to be repaid tenfold.” 

Ed can’t say anything for a second. He just stares, looking at this man who smiles like the flowers and has a heart made of gold, and he wonders where he’s been. He wonders what took them so long to meet. 

This, whatever it is right now and whatever it’s about to become, feels like it should have been a part of Ed’s life since the beginning. He’s not sure how he’s gotten this far without it. 

“Alright then,” Ed says. He picks up the bottle of champagne, removes the cork as gently as possible, holds it up in a toast, and then takes a swig. He hands Stede the bottle and says, “cheers to an excellent business deal.” 

Stede grins. He holds up the bottle, takes a big swig, then says, “cheers to that.” 

He hands the bottle back, and he watches Ed closely as he takes another sip. Ed can’t help but notice the way his eyes trail down his chin, his jaw. It’s like he doesn’t even notice he’s doing it. Then, his gaze catches on the nape of Ed’s neck, and his brows come together in a frown. 

“What’s wrong?” Ed asks after he swallows his sip. “Is there a fuckin’ bug on me? You’re gonna have to get it off me, man, I don’t like bugs, they fuckin’ freak me out–” 

“No, no, it’s not a bug,” Stede says gently. He leans just the smallest bit closer. “Is that… a tattoo?” 

“Where?” Ed looks down at the one on his chest, the eagle that’s just barely exposed from the collar of his t-shirt. He points to it. “This one?” 

“Almost.” Stede stands from his stool slowly. He’s deliberately not invading Ed’s personal space, like the perfect gentleman. He’s close, but not close enough to be rude. 

Ed wishes he’d come closer. 

“It looks like a flower,” Stede says, his tone soft. “On your neck there, right at the nape. That’s lovely.” 

“Oh, that one,” Ed says, putting his fingertips to it. “It’s actually a birthmark. Cute, right? It’s like I was destined to be a florist, or something.” 

Stede’s eyes widen. “You’re kidding me.” 

“Yeah, I know, kinda unbelievable–” 

“No, I believe you,” he says. “I’ve got the same thing.” 

Ed frowns. “You’ve got a birthmark that looks like a flower too?” 

“Not quite.” Stede presents the inside of his left wrist, laying his arm down on the counter beside the candle that’s flickering between them. 

Ed spots it instantly – a small, light-brown birthmark sitting beside his pulse. He has to squint and lean closer to make out its image, but as soon as he sees it, his mouth falls open. “That’s a fucking cupcake.”

Stede nods, his eyes positively alight. “I’ve always joked that I was fated to be a baker before I could even hold a whisk,” he says, looking down fondly at the little mark on his skin.

“That’s fucking unbelievable.”  

“I know! What an insane coincidence.” 

“You’ve had this your whole life?” 

“From the day I was born.” 

“I feel like I’m being fucking pranked.” 

Stede giggles. “Me too. What are the odds?” 

“Slim to none.” Ed can’t take his eyes away from Stede’s precious little birthmark. It’s even connecting with another freckle on his arm to give the impression of a tiny little cherry atop the permanent cupcake. “Holy shit. Would you look at that.” 

Stede beams. “You know, I don’t really believe in fate, but this could very well change my mind.” 

I started believing in magic the second I looked at you, Ed thinks. What he says is, “the evidence is stacking up. Too many coincidences to be ignored, I reckon.” 

“I wonder if we share anything else,” Stede says. He takes the champagne and takes a long sip. “I suppose we’ll find out by the end of our six hours.” 

Ed hopes it doesn’t just end at hour six. Being in Stede’s company makes him feel greedy, ravenous for something he didn’t even know he craved. He wants hour twelve, hour one hundred, hour six billion. He wants his hands to always be warmed by the sun that’s found itself in his humble little shop. 

He supposes that he’s asking for forever. 

“I guess we will,” Ed says with a smile. 

In his head, he starts a timer. 

Hour One 

They find themselves on the floor after about twenty minutes at the counter. Ed tells Stede that he’s got this thing with his knee, which is why he wears a brace, and the stools they’re sitting on do him absolutely no favours. Stede suggests that they migrate to the ground, where he can stretch out his legs. They take the candles and the champagne and make themselves at home on the floor. 

Stede should be having the worst day imaginable. After all, he started his morning with yet another cereal breakfast, consumed only by fork, and his phone charger is still missing, and he can’t find his watch or most of his favourite shirts or his very nice raincoat, and he made himself late for an important function and he doesn’t have a car and he was almost crushed by a tree and now he’s cold and wearing only his undershirt. He should be feeling completely miserable about how his day has turned out. 

But sitting here, talking with Ed in the candlelight, sipping champagne straight from the bottle with a bouquet of carnations resting beside him on the ground and the rain shushing against the window, Stede thinks that this might turn out to be one of the best days in his recent memory. 

He feels so at ease with Ed, in a way he’s never experienced with anyone else before. It’s baffling and refreshing all at once. He just knows, somehow, that there’s no need to pretend with Ed. No forgery or charades, he can just be himself here. There is a silent understanding between them, like they both already know each other in a distant kind of way. 

Really, Stede feels like he’s known Ed his whole life. It’s like they’ve never been apart for even a moment. 

They sit in the dim and talk for what must be an hour, at least, but it feels like it’s been fifteen minutes. Time is positively flying by, but the two of them pay it no heed. 

Every new piece that Stede learns about Ed feels precious. Like treasure. He’s never wanted anything more than to know and understand this man completely. He learns that Ed loves music and has an extensive vinyl collection at home, and that he plays music, too. Guitar, violin, piano and cello. Honestly, the fact that Ed is this good-looking and still has the gall to be wildly talented and brilliant and remain humble about it should be a crime, in Stede’s opinion. But he’s willing to become a felon if it means he’s welcomed into Ed’s world for a little while. 

Ed loves to cook, and will often make his own pasta for dishes at home. He loves to read and wants to visit Spain someday, and his favourite animal is the otter because, in his words, “they hold hands and collect rocks. That’s fuckin’ adorable. They’re like slippery little water cats.” 

And Stede’s never been in love before, so he can’t be certain that this is what it is, or what it’s going to be, but it certainly feels like it. Stede has learned over the course of his life that love is supposed to feel glorious and terrifying all at once, that’s why they call it falling. 

Stede is housing a storm inside his chest. Beautiful and scary. 

It doesn’t take long to fall for Ed, either. If he had his watch, he’d be able to time it precisely, but it’s still missing in a box in his new apartment somewhere. He’ll just have to make do with guessing for the time being. 

He thinks that it takes about forty-eight minutes to fall in love with Ed. Truthfully, it feels like he fell in love with him the second their eyes met. 

He loved him before he even knew his name. 

Every moment after has only been adding kindling to a fire that’s already hot enough to scorch the earth. 

Forty-eight minutes. 

That’s how long it takes for Ed to fall head-over-heels in love with Stede. 

The timer in his head has been counting down the seconds he’s spent in Stede’s company, waiting for the point of no return, but Ed’s well and truly gone beyond it. The point of no return came and went the moment he pulled Stede out of the storm. 

He’s not sure what the exact moment is, because every minute spent in Stede’s company feels as hopeful and warm as all the minutes before it. 

Every time he learns something new about him, it only makes it all the more intense, too. Each new fact feels like another nail in a coffin that’s already being lowered into the ground. Like, Stede’s favourite food is strawberries and cream. Nail, meet coffin. He moved across the country because he’s been wanting this bakery all his life, and he wanted to open it in a place where the sun shone. Hammer, meet nail. He has two kids that he loves to absolute death, and he talks about his ex-wife like they’ve just spent twenty years together learning how to be best friends. He collects fancy buttons and has something called a ‘trinket cupboard’, and Ed feels like he’s shovelling the dirt into his own grave. 

No going back now. Six feet under, in love up to the chin. Ed simply closes his eyes and lets it cover him completely. 

Hour Two 

They’ve finished their bottle of champagne by the beginning of their second hour together, and Stede feels delightfully buzzed. He’s not sure if it’s the drink or Ed’s company that’s got him riding such a high. He wants to live off of this feeling for the rest of his life. 

They’re still on the floor when the bottle is emptied. Ed is the last to drink from it, and Stede can’t help but stare at his neck as he tilts his head back to swallow it. His eyes fix on his flower birthmark and he has to wrangle down the temptation to lean across the small distance between them and kiss it. 

“Tell me why you wanted to be a florist,” Stede says. 

Ed sets aside the bottle. Stede can’t look away from the way his gentle hands hold the neck. “I’m stubborn. People kept telling me I couldn’t do it, and that I’m not the type, so I proved them wrong. Well, that, and flowers are easier to understand than people.” 

“That they are,” Stede agrees with a giggle. 

“Why’d you wanna be a baker?” 

Stede thinks about it. “It’s something I’ve always wanted. A lot of my life was chosen for me, I think. Being a baker and moving away and starting fresh, those were my choices.” 

Ed gives him a look that Stede can’t really decipher, something caught between understanding and a challenge. “And are you happy with your choices?” 

I am now that I’ve met you, Stede thinks. “It’s still a work in progress, but yes. I think so.” 

Ed sucks his teeth for a second, then leans back on his palms. The candlelight makes his features dance in a hypnotising way. “Did you ever feel trapped?” 

Stede’s a little taken aback by this question. “I… yes, I did feel that way–” 

“I thought moving down here and opening up this shop would fix that, you know?” Ed picks up the bottle once more and closes one eye to peer down the neck, like he’s scanning the horizon through a looking glass. “I thought going somewhere new and doing something different would make that stupid fucking feeling go away. But it just… it’s stuck.” 

Stede stays silent for a second, understanding completely but lacking the skills to fix it. “Maybe it’s not about the place,” he says after some time. “Or about doing something different.” 

“What else is there?” 

“Well, maybe it’s about the people, too,” he suggests with a friendly half shrug. “After all, what’s a town without people to occupy it?” 

Ed sets down the empty bottle once more, then looks Stede up and down with a gaze that’s amazed. “Huh.” 

Stede tilts his head.

“I’ve never met anyone like you, that’s all,” Ed explains. “You’re different. Unique.” 

A mild panic surges behind Stede’s ribs. “Is that a good thing?” 

“Yeah, it’s a good thing.” His voice sounds as soft as the petals he’s surrounded by. “A very good thing.” 

Stede’s heart feels like it could burst. That panic dissolves so completely that his shoulders slump forward a little. 

“It’s weird, I kinda feel like I know you from somewhere,” Ed says, his dark eyes fixed on Stede’s face. “We haven’t met before, have we?” 

“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Stede admits. “If we’d ever met before, I certainly would have remembered you.” 

Ed’s cheeks darken at that, but he doesn’t comment on it. “You never visited Maine?” 

“Never in my life.” 

“Not even on a field trip?” 

“Nope. And you never visited Washington?” 

“Never.” 

“How strange,” Stede says, putting his hands into his lap. “Can I say something that might sound a little insane?” 

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

“I feel a bit like… I’ve always known you,” he says slowly. That little voice in the back of his head warns him that he may come across as completely crazy, but he decides that, right now, crazy might be the thing that they both need in their lives. Maybe they both deserve a little bit of chaos. “I just feel very comfortable with you. Is that a weird thing to say? Am I making this awkward? You can tell me to go to hell, I can go sit in the back room and wait until the emergency services show up–” 

Ed giggles, then leans forward and puts a gentle hand on Stede’s knee. It’s such an affectionate gesture, and his palm is so warm. It makes Stede feel like sugar before it melts into caramel. “S’not weird,” Ed says softly. “I’ve been feeling the same.” 

“Thank fuck.” 

He snorts this time. “Maybe we’re both insane.” 

“Possibly. It might not be so lonely to be crazy with someone else for a change.” 

Ed’s face slowly cracks open into a broad grin, which is made luminescent by the candlelight. “Hey. You wanna do something weird?” 

Hour Three

“Marco?” 

“Polo!” 

Ed turns towards Stede’s voice and takes three steps closer, his hands out in front of him to feel for obstruction. The candles have been snuffed and put up on the counter, so the only light is coming from the occasional crackle of lightning that illuminates the skies outside. 

Ed has spent most of his life disliking being in the dark. With Stede, somehow, he doesn’t feel the same dread he usually does. With Stede, the dark is different. It’s exciting. 

“Marco?” 

Stede’s voice is a little closer now, coming from his left. “Polo.” 

Ed turns towards his call, which makes him bump into one of his display stands. “Ah, fuckshit.” 

“Oh, are you alright?” 

“Ah, it’s nothin’. But now you’ve given away your position.” 

“Shit.” 

Ed laughs, then moves a few paces closer to him in the dark, and bumps into yet another display stand. This one wobbles a few times, then spills over completely. 

In the wake of the crash, it remains silent for half a second before Stede says, “ohhh no. Shall I get the candles?” 

“Huh? But I haven’t won yet.” 

“We’re going to wreck your whole shop at this point!” 

Ed shrugs, despite knowing that Stede won’t be able to see it in the dark. “Eh. Flowers, shmowers. I’ve got a game of Marco Polo to win.” 

Stede just laughs. Ed wishes he could see his smile. He’s sure that it’s probably bright enough to guide his way through the darkness. “Marco?” 

Stede’s voice has moved, now he’s somewhere to Ed’s right. “Polo!” 

It’s a weird day that Ed is having, but he hasn’t had this much fun since he moved, and he’s starting to think that there might be some truth to Stede’s theory about people, because the feeling that’s been plaguing Ed his whole life feels like it’s starting to unravel. 

It’s still dark, but at least he’s not alone anymore. 

Hour Four

Once the shop has been effectively demolished by their games of Marco Polo (Ed won three rounds, Stede won two), they decide to relight some candles in a circle on the floor and host their promised seance. 

The winds beat against the windows, making the outside world sound like it’s hissing at them. The rain hasn’t slowed for even a moment. Inside Birds of Paradise Florist, though, everything is bright and warm and calm. 

They’re sitting on the ground, cross-legged and facing each other. Stede can’t stop smiling. His cheeks are starting to ache. 

“Have you ever done this before?” Ed asks. 

“Yes, once, when I was in high school.” 

“And how did it go?” 

“About as well as you’d expect.” 

Ed snorts. “Cool. So, what do we have to do?” 

“We’d normally need a Ouija board. You don’t happen to have one, do you?” 

“Sorry, I’m fresh out of Ouija.” 

“That’s alright, the candles should be enough. Now we just have to hold hands.” 

Ed blinks. “Really?” 

“Unless you’d rather not–” 

“One hand? Or both?” 

“Both,” Stede answers gently. He holds his hands out, the palms facing up, and his heart only does one hundred flips when Ed gently puts his hands in his. As softly as possible, he curls their fingers together. 

Neither of them move for a split second too long, like they’re both too busy trying not to think about the fact that they’re holding hands. 

“Now what?” Ed is the one to ask. 

“Now we call out to the spirits,” Stede says with a playful smile. “Are you ready?” 

“Uh-huh.” 

Stede clears his throat, then calls out to the empty rooms of the shop. “If anyone is here with us, could you please give us a sign?” 

No response. Only stillness, only silence. The wind crowds in close against the front door and makes it rattle in its frame. 

“My name is Stede, and this is my friend Ed,” he calls again. He can’t ignore the gorgeous smile that pulls the corners of Ed’s mouth when he calls him his friend. He wonders what other smiles he’d give if called something sweeter. “We don’t mean you any harm, we just want to speak with you.” 

Again, no response. The window shivers. 

“If there’s a ghost here, could you make something move?” Ed asks. “Or, y’know, eat my face off, or something?” 

“Are you sure you’d be happy with a ghost eating your face off?” 

“Hell yeah, I would. A ghost eating my face would be the coolest possible way to go.” 

I’d prefer it if you kept it, Stede thinks. But I think I still would have fallen for you even if you didn’t have it. 

“Can you tell us your name?” Stede asks the darkness. “Or can you tell us what the afterlife is like?” 

Ed giggles. “Yeah, what’s beyond the pearly gates?” 

“They might not be in heaven, Ed.” 

“Ah, right. What’s hell like?” 

Stede opens his mouth to ask another question to the spirits, then stops short and faces Ed instead. “Wait, if their ghosts are still here on earth, surely that means that they’re not in heaven or hell, right?” 

“Shit, man, you tell me. You’re the self-proclaimed maniac, remember?” 

“Right, I did say that. I suppose I’m not maniac enough to be a phantom fanatic.” 

Ed bites his lip to stifle his smile for a second, then says, “maybe they’re in both. One piece of them down here, another piece in the beyond.” 

“Ooh, that’s an interesting theory. I’ve never thought of it like that before. So, which piece of them is the one that stays here?” 

Ed thinks about it for a second. “I dunno. Ghosts are supposed to be all about ‘unfinished business,’ aren’t they? Maybe the part that stays on earth is the part that keeps all the memories.” 

Stede can’t suppress the adoring smile that cracks his face apart. He wants to ask Ed a million random and improbable questions, just to hear the beautiful answers he comes up with for each of them. He thinks he’d hang on every single word. “Like the brain?” 

“Yeah, probably the brain.” 

“Then where does the heart go?” 

“That stays with you, I think,” Ed says, nodding almost like he’s starting to believe his own theory. “I reckon it’s a bit like a compass. You need it when you die, so it tells you where to go.” 

Stede thinks that, right now, the compass of his heart is pointing due north. 

Hour Five

By the fifth hour, they’re lying on their backs on the shop floor and sharing cupcakes. Ed has to suppress moans of pleasure each time he sinks his teeth into one of them. It’s almost embarrassing how good they are. They’re probably illegal in most states. 

Ed finishes his cupcake, then sets aside the wrapper and tucks his arms behind his head, sighing contentedly. Then, he says, “why shouldn’t you date a baker?” 

He doesn’t really know why he says it. He hardly even knows the punchline. He’s almost convinced he’s making the joke up on the spot, because he has no idea where else he could possibly be getting it from. 

Stede’s face is bright red. His eyes are wide. “Why shouldn’t you date a baker, Ed?” 

“‘Cause… ‘cause he’ll dessert you.” 

“Oh!” Stede tosses his head back and casts his laughter up to the ceiling. “Oh, it’s a joke! That’s a good one. You scared me for a second there.” 

Ed blinks. “I scared you?” 

“I…” he clears his throat. “I thought you were just… vocalising your thoughts, is all.” 

There is a very still and soft moment of silence that neither of them dares to fill. Ed’s brows furrow together while he processes what that might mean. 

Stede almost seemed disappointed for a second. Is Ed reading too much into it? Does that mean he’d like to go out? Should Ed ask? He’s practically already signed his heart away to this man, so much so that he almost completely forgot about the essential step of actually inviting him out on a date first. And even then, he doesn’t want to cross a boundary. After all, Stede’s just gotten a divorce and he’s in the process of moving and he’s just opened up his shop, so he must have a lot on his plate already, and Ed doesn’t want to make it worse by just dumping more shit on him, doesn’t want to come across as completely crazy by saying something like, “I know we’ve only known each other for a few hours, but I have this weird and unshakeable feeling that I’d like to spend every minute of the rest of my life inside your light.” 

“How do you kiss a florist?” Stede asks suddenly. His eyes are fixed to the dark ceiling overhead, and his face is beet-red. 

Ed’s eyes flick across his face. “I dunno. How do you kiss a florist?” 

He turns his head and smiles at him. “With tulips.” 

“Oh, come on.” Ed shakes his head and chuckles. “That’s fuckin’ terrible, man.” 

“I know, I’m so sorry, it’s the only joke about florists that I know.” 

“Have you got any others? Better ones, maybe?” 

“I’ve got tons of useless jokes rattling around up here.” Stede taps his temple. 

Ed knows that he’s going to need this for the rest of his life, so he should make that jump and just ask him out already, but there is a tiny little voice inside him that says, wait and see. Wait and see. 

He won’t ask Stede for forever just yet. 

But he’s certainly not letting this be the only night that they share. 

He fears that he’s become completely and irrevocably hooked on everything that is Stede Bonnet. 

“I wanna hear them,” Ed says, settling in for a night of laughter. “Gimme your best shot.” 

Hour Six

Stede fell in love with Edward Teach within one hour of knowing him. 

By the sixth hour, he knows that he’s going to spend the rest of his life with him. 

It isn’t something he even consciously thinks about. The revelation is as simple as blinking, and as instinctive as breathing. He’s never going to be apart from him again. 

It is simply an inevitability. 

Hour Seven

When emergency services don’t arrive by the end of the sixth hour, Ed suggests that they try and get some sleep. He pulls out his trusty sleeping bag from the back room, then offers it to Stede. “Here. All yours.” 

Stede politely holds his hands up, like a gentleman declining a drink. “Oh, absolutely not. I’ll fold up my shirt and sleep on that. You take the sleeping bag, Ed.” 

“Mate, you’re a guest in my humble little abode. You take the nice spot.” 

“I simply refuse. Besides, you’ve got to think about your knee.” 

“My knee will be fine,” Ed says, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s been through a hell of a lot worse.” 

Stede glances down at the sleeping bag in Ed’s hand, then he looks at the space on the floor. The candles have been moved aside now to make space, and they’ve since tidied the mess that they made while chasing each other around the shop. It’s open enough for both of them to sleep comfortably, it’s just about making the floor feel less like a floor. 

But Ed’s spent his fair share of nights doing it rough. He slept on enough couches and floors in his teenage years to make him invincible, he thinks. He can fall asleep anywhere now, which means that he’s more than happy to sleep on the cold concrete if it means that Stede is a little more comfortable. 

Before he can say any of this, Stede takes the sleeping bag and rolls it out on the floor. Ed is satisfied, he’s about to say something along the lines of, “see? Wasn’t so hard,” when Stede begins to unzip the sleeping bag completely. When it’s undone, he pats it down flat and looks at his handiwork with a proud grin. 

Now it’s just a big blanket that’s lying flat on the cold-ass floor. 

“There,” Stede says, standing tall and putting his hands on his hips. “If we can share champagne, then we can share a sleeping bag. You don’t mind, do you? After all, you are about to climb into bed with a maniac.” He punctuates his little joke with a playful wink. 

It makes Ed feel like he’s being plucked like a chicken. His face warms up and the back of his neck prickles. “Nope, no problems here. All good with me.” 

“You can use my shirt as a blanket,” Stede suggests, as he steps around the counter to retrieve it. “It should be dry by now.” 

“What about you? Aren’t you gonna be cold?” 

“I’ll survive,” Stede says kindly, tossing Ed his shirt. “It’ll only be for a few hours.” 

Ed looks around, trying to find something to prevent Stede from catching some deadly disease. He was the one who went wandering around in the rain, after all. His immune system is probably trying to fight away infection at this very moment. 

Ed’s eyes catch on his apron, the one that’s hanging on the hook, and looking at them both like an apparition. He fetches it from behind the counter, then tosses it to Stede with a forewarning of, “here, catch.” 

Stede looks down at the apron in his hands, then back up. “Are you sure? This is lovely, I don’t want to crease it, or anything.” 

Ed adores him. He can feel every ounce of his affection sitting plain on his face, but he’s tired enough that he doesn’t try to hide it. “Positive, mate. Don’t want you getting sick.” 

Stede softens, like a wave as it dissolves into the shore. “Alright. Thank you.” His tone is gentle. 

Ed is the first to brave lying down and making himself comfortable. He arranges Stede’s open shirt out on top of him, feeling every place where the fabric kisses his arms and neck. He’s overcome by warmth, the smell of cologne and fabric softener and storms. It’s almost a familiar smell, a familiar embrace. He doesn’t know where this memory of a memory is coming from, but it keeps knocking like an old friend that wants to come inside. 

Stede lies beside him with a quiet grunt of effort. He maintains a careful distance – not far enough to be insulting and not close enough to be impolite. Even so, from all the way on his half of the sleeping bag, Ed can still feel the heat radiating from his skin. 

He closes his eyes and transports himself to somewhere else. He finds himself in a room that’s been decorated with decadent armchairs, with a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. No, wait – two chandeliers. There’s a library, too, packed to the top with hardcovers and first editions, all in pristine condition. He’s in front of a fire that crackles away happily in its hearth. The flames there look like they’re delighted to be sharing their light, like they’re eager to tell him something. 

That’s the kind of company that Stede brings him — the kind that makes him forget that he’s cold and tired and sore. The kind of company that makes him forget all his poor choices, and makes him forget about the tree that’s blocking the door or the storm that’s still raging outside. 

The kind of company that takes the miserable white noise and turns it into something else. Turns it into something beautiful. 

And Ed knows that he’s not going to be strong enough to say goodbye to him once the sun comes up. 

Stede sighs as he makes himself comfortable. “Ahh, lovely. Feels just like home.” 

Ed chuckles, then turns his head to look at him. “Been sleeping on a mattress on the floor, huh?” 

“With one pillow,” Stede says, his voice coloured with dismay. “One pillow, Ed! I don’t think I’ll last much longer in that environment. I’m one more bad night’s sleep away from going on a rampage.” 

“Hmm. Doesn’t look like you’re getting that good night of sleep tonight. So, you’ve got that rampage pencilled in for tomorrow?” 

“Looks like I’ve got no choice. I’ll fit it in some time around noon, I think.” 

Ed laughs again. He can’t remember the last time he laughed so much in a single night. “Looking forward to it.” 

It goes silent for a second, save for the rush against the glass and the wind howling past outside. The inside of the shop is lit up by the occasional crackle of lightning, and the rhythm of the storm is kept in time by claps of thunder that shiver across the sky and tremble the street below. It’s calmer now than it had been a few hours ago, but the sounds still coalesce as one harmony. A lullaby that’s drawing them to sleep. 

Ed listens to it. Stede’s shown him how to find the beauty in it now, so he’s going to take the opportunity to find it whenever and wherever he can. 

Stede’s voice comes like a petal falling from a rose, almost as soft as a sigh. “Well,” he says. “Goodnight, Ed. Sleep well.” 

Ed doesn’t know what it is about hearing his name in that tone that makes him feel like he’s blooming. “Yeh. G’night, mate.” 

Their breathing becomes slow in tandem, and the world outside begins to quiet, too. It all dims down and becomes muddy and distant. Ed rolls onto his side as he drifts off, his half-conjured thoughts nothing more than whispers and sighs. He occasionally makes out the words, “stay,” and “please,” coming from the back of his mind, and then he’s asleep. 

He only wakes up once before the day breaks, to find that Stede has rolled over in his sleep towards him, too. Where his and Ed’s hands rest in the vacant space between them, their pinkies meet in just the slightest touch, barely more than a brush of the skin. And between the petals, the leaves, the concrete floor and the surrounding thorns, this is probably the strangest place that Ed’s ever fallen asleep. 

But with their fingers barely touching like this, it feels comfortable. It feels like home. 

It’s as easy as breathing.  

Stede’s awoken in the morning by a soft knock coming from the front door. He sits up and rubs his eyes, wondering who could possibly be knocking at his new apartment so early in the day. Maybe it’s the neighbours. Maybe there’s a fire. 

He forces his eyes to open properly, and finds himself still inside Birds of Paradise Florist, still on the sleeping bag on the floor, still with Ed sleeping soundly at his side. His brow has creased a little due to the noise, but he hasn’t stirred yet. 

Stede spots several shapes lingering outside the shop, as well as one that’s standing in front of the door. The knock comes again, and this time, Ed wakes with it. 

“Hello? You guys alright in there?” 

“Oh, yes! We’re alright,” Stede calls back. He furiously pats his hair down – he hates how it looks first thing in the morning. “We’d like to be let out now, please!” 

“It’s the emergency guys?” Ed asks blearily. 

God, he’s so endearing, so incredibly sweet. Stede has to resist the urge to lean in and kiss him good morning. “Yes, that’s them.” 

“Stupid fuckin’ tree,” he grumbles, blinking the fatigue away. 

“Shouldn’t be too long!” The man calls from behind the door. “We’ve just got to chop up the tree. Sit tight.” 

Stede sighs out his relief, and is immediately awash with anxiety. 

Once that door is opened, the night is officially over. No more flowers and cupcakes and jokes and seances. There are only consequences out there. Stede’s going to have to contact Lucius and explain himself, he still has to find his charger and his nice raincoat and his watch, he still has to find a new car and call Mary to tell her about the move and he’s still going to go home to an empty apartment where all his stuff is still trapped in boxes and, Christ, that all sounds like a fucking nightmare. 

But the night he’s waking up from, that had been like a dream. 

Stede doesn’t want it to end. 

They pack up the sleeping bag in silence, neither of them brave enough to say anything about their situation aloud. Stede hands back Ed’s apron, and Ed gives him back his shirt, which he throws over his shoulders but leaves unbuttoned. 

The people outside fire up a chainsaw and begin hacking away at the discarded tree. While they work, Ed and Stede put away the candles and return everything to its right place. 

“What time do you think it is?” Stede asks as they’re putting supplies away. “It’s got to be after six-thirty, doesn’t it?” 

“Reckon so,” Ed says. “Might be closer to seven by now. You worried about opening your shop on time?” 

“Oh, god, no. There’s not a chance in hell we’re opening today. I need to get my life sorted before setting foot into that bakery again.” 

Ed has a good chuckle at this. “Fair enough. Looks like I’m gonna be on the phone to insurance companies all day.” 

“Sounds like great fun,” Stede says dryly. 

“Hmm. Think I’d rather eat my own fingers.” 

“Comparatively, unpacking my apartment doesn’t sound quite so bad. Now I feel like a jerk for complaining about it.” 

“Why the sudden rush to unpack? Sick of drinking all your water out of bowls?” 

Stede gestures to the counter, where the bouquet of carnations Ed gave him is sitting in a vase, waiting to be taken home. “Those are too gorgeous to be displayed in a home that has nothing in it. I simply must do something about it. That, and I really need to charge my phone.” 

Ed giggles, his cheeks dark and his eyes bright. Oh, he’s just so beautiful. Some of the flowers in his hair have been crushed in his sleep, but he is still perfectly framed by silver wisps and white petals, as though life blooms wherever he goes. He’s kind and smart and charming and sweet, and Stede feels so incredibly like himself when he’s with him. Ed feels like a home that’s always had its front door unlocked, he feels like a sigh of fresh air or the first sound of birdsong in the morning. He’s new. He’s change . 

Ed’s like an angel, and Stede would be a damned fool to let him slip. Not when he wants to give him forever. Not when he wants to give him the world. 

Outside, the chainsaw that’s roaring away slows to a quiet purr, then stops. The workers out there grunt with effort as the dissected pieces of the tree are moved onto a truck. Stede peers through the window at their work to assess how much time he has left. 

Soon, he will either have to make a leap or say goodbye. He already knows that he’s going to jump, there simply isn’t another option, but that doesn’t make the height of it any less daunting. He swallows thickly as the seconds wind away. 

At last, the man that woke them knocks on the window to announce the job’s completion. Stede collects his bouquet from the counter as he and Ed move to the main shop and stand in front of the door. 

When Ed doesn’t move, Stede says, “after you.” 

Ed looks at the handle. “Yeah. Uh.” 

Stede looks at him, at the lines beside his eyes and the silver in his hair and the end of his nose. He regards him the same way he might regard a sky full of stars. “Everything alright?” 

Ed glances at him, then back at the door. He’s keeping something buried within and it’s making him tense. “Yeah, all good. Just not looking forward to… seeing the damage.” He nods towards the ruined sign on the front of his shop. 

Stede puts a gentle hand on his forearm, relishing the astonished look that Ed gives him in return. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as it sounded last night. I’ll be here with you. Ready?” 

His eyes soften, the brown in them deep and warm. If Stede could choose love’s colour, he’d choose this one. “Yeah. I’m ready.” 

Together, they open the door. 

The emergency worker is waiting for them on the footpath — a man in an orange beanie with dark skin and a bright smile that makes his eyes shine. When he sees the two of them step out of the shop, he offers them that heart-stopping smile and a warm greeting. “You guys feelin’ alright? No injuries?” 

“Right as rain, just going a bit stir-crazy,” Stede says. “Thanks for coming to our rescue.” 

“Sure. Sorry for the delay, it’s been hectic. We’ve still got a dozen more trees to get to this morning. Storm really tore the place apart.” 

Ed hums in agreement, his eyes fixed on the front of his shop. The tiles on the roof have been smashed to pieces in a large arc, and the gorgeous ornamental sign that used to sit above the main window now lies discarded on the footpath, cracked to bits. 

The emergency worker offers his condolences about the sign, and is then ushered back into the truck by his colleagues. He offers Ed and Stede final goodbyes, asks one more time if they’re alright, and finally heads off when he’s satisfied that they’re both healthy. Stede tells the man to drop by his bakery sometime, so that he can thank him properly for his hard work. 

Then, the man and his colleagues and the fallen tree are gone. Then, it’s just them on the sidewalk, standing beside a busted sign that still vaguely reads, ‘Birds of Paradise,’ and the warmth of the dawn as it spills over the skyline. Stede hears the trill of delighted birds somewhere in the distance. 

It’s quiet for a little while, still too early in the morning for the street to come alive with people. They stand side by side, saying nothing, until Stede speaks. 

“Well,” he begins, “I suppose our night of adventure has come to its conclusion.” 

“Yeah. Looks that way.” Ed looks and sounds like he’s trying to reign in his disappointment. “It’s been fun, though.” 

“It has.” 

It goes quiet again. Stede listens to the breeze and the sound that the scattered leaves make as they flick across the concrete. It feels like the world is trying to tell him something, so he listens. 

Stede talks to the little voice in his head. He asks it where to go from here, asks it to point the way forward. What should he do? Does he take that chance, does he make that leap? 

What if he messes it up? 

What if he gets it wrong?

This time, the little voice offers him no instruction. It doesn’t tell him where to go or what to do. Instead, it offers him wisdom. 

Love persists, it tells him. It always will. 

And it’s enough to give Stede the courage that he needs. He takes a deep breath, feeling brave and feeling colourful. 

“I don’t suppose you’d want to keep these good times rolling, would you?” he asks with a kind smile. “I know that might sound a bit crazy — we did just spend nearly twelve hours together, after all — but, I could really go for a coffee right now and I was wondering if you’d like to join—”

“Yes.” 

Stede blinks. “What was that?” 

Ed’s eyes are wide, his cheeks are warm. He clears his throat. “Coffee? That sounds good. I could do coffee.” 

“Great!” Stede says a little bit too loudly, with a grin that’s probably a bit too broad. 

“Just gotta… lock up.” He gestures to his shop, to the ruined sign and the scattered tiles, then he fishes a modest ring of keys from his pocket and steps toward the front door to lock it tight. Once it’s closed, he turns to Stede and twirls the keys on his finger like a jailer doing the rounds. “Best part of owning my own shop.” 

“Getting to close it?” 

“And open it,” Ed says. “I think I just like having lots of keys.” 

Oh, how Stede adores him. If his life has been a trial of errors, this is the one decision he’s made that’s made him feel like himself. Being with Ed, sharing the world with him, it makes him feel whole. 

He thinks, I’ve spent most of my life feeling incomplete. 

And then I met you. 

The sunrise is orange and gold. The dawn of a new world. 

A new life. 

As the light kisses his cheeks and the bouquet of carnations he holds close to his chest, Stede asks, “shall we?” 

And they walk into it, side by side.