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Izzy Hands was at the helm when they arrived at the little spit of land where they’d marooned the crew.
This was a mistake.
A mistake because he should not have been there. It was nighttime, and tonight just so happened to be Izzy’s watch. The rest of the crew, having poorly judged the distance remaining to the island, the speed of the Revenge, and the favor of the winds, had gone to bed believing that they would arrive safely while Izzy was still resting from his overnight shift tomorrow.
It was also a mistake because he should not have been there.
“What the fuck?”
Izzy knew, of course, that they were headed to the island where they’d marooned the crew. So it wasn’t a surprise to reach the island, even if he, like the rest of the crew, hadn’t expected to get there in the middle of the night. (Luckily, as an experienced helmsman, he kept them safe from running aground, unlike that damned idiot Stede fuckin’ Bonnet.)
What he was really not expecting was to find the island empty. Covered in bodies was most likely. A few survivors, possible. The whole crew, very unlikely, but technically not impossible. The island empty? Completely empty, no crew, no corpses? That made no sense to Izzy.
“What the fuck indeed,” a voice came from behind him, a voice he knew almost better than his own.
Sound travels far, on the open water, and Izzy had never been one to be quiet. With the captain’s quarters so close, and Edward sleeping so poorly lately, it seemed he’d awoken his captain, who had now come to investigate the same strange mystery confounding Izzy.
“We left them here, Edward, I promise,” Izzy swore. “You saw them, we watched as we sailed away. No one was here to pick them up.”
Izzy didn’t know why he was defending himself. Edward knew how much he'd hated that crew of imbeciles, there was no way he would think that Izzy had done anything to rescue them, would he?
“No, I was there with you, Iz, I saw it. We left them here to rot, there’s no way they should have gotten off this island alive.”
There was something off in the way Edward said rot. Something distasteful. And Izzy remembered - he may have hated that crew of imbeciles, but Edward didn’t. Blackbeard marooned them. Edward sang songs with them, planned a talent show with them. Was it possible…
“Did you rescue them, boss?”
Mindful of his toe, mindful of the danger he was approaching, he still leaned forward a little. An Edward who would have rescued that crew was an Edward who wasn’t up to hurting him the same way.
“No, I didn’t. Like I said, I left them here to rot. For all intents and purposes, I fully expected to arrive here and find them all dead.”
Again there was something in his voice.
“But you didn’t want to find that, did you?”
And this time there was something in Izzy’s voice. Something dangerous.
And then something dangerous in Blackbeard’s hand. A dagger at Izzy’s throat.
“You know, to be honest with you Iz, I kinda didn’t.” Blackbeard’s pleasant tone contrasted sharply with the cold metal pressing into Izzy’s flesh. “I was really kind of hoping to get here and find the crew somehow miraculously safe and sound and waiting for us. I was hoping that we could mend fences and that I could fix what I broke. And I really gotta be honest, Iz, I was hoping that you could be a little less of a dick about it.”
All the while he was saying this, the dagger pressed a little further into Izzy’s throat until it was pressing uncomfortably into his windpipe. Maybe the Edward who wanted to save the marooned crew and the Blackbeard capable of doing harm were the same person after all.
“So what’s it going to be, Iz? Can you be a little less of a dick? Cause I can make that happen one way or another,” Blackbeard released Izzy so he could breathe enough to answer, but flicked the dagger downwards in a very pointed manner.
“I am always on your side,” Izzy grumbled out, gasping for breath. Blackbeard mumbled something about the British, which, okay, was fair, but in his defense Izzy really thought he was doing what was best for his captain. “I will always do what I think is best for you.”
The dagger flashed back up.
“Not what you think is best for me, Iz. Do what I tell you.”
“Yes. Blackbeard. Sir. And what is it I shall be doing?”
“Well, they can’t have gotten far. Best case scenario is another ship picked them up, and we’d be able to spot them easily and I can’t see anyone willing to hold onto them if Blackbeard showed up. Worst case scenario they built a raft or something. So we work with that. Get back to the helm, head towards land.”
With one more dangerous flick of his dagger, Blackbeard ambled back off to his quarters. Izzy rubbed his aching throat once more. He may have promised to do what he was told, but he knew in his heart he would always do what he thought was best. Blackbeard was his captain, and as first mate, Izzy was here to protect him, even if it was from himself.