Chapter Text
Blackbeard had settled into a fairly comfortable routine over the past month. Typically, it went like this:
Wake up
Drink
Drink
Get up
Yell at crew
Raid
Drink
Raid
Drink
Yell at crew
Go down
Drink
Drink
Drink
Drink
Pass out
He found it pretty effective and it reduced his crying by at least 20%. More like 10%. Ok like 5%.
But he remembered the crying less the next morning.
After another day of checking all the boxes, Blackbeard decides to spice it up a bit. Break out of the box. Try something new. He was drinking on the top deck instead of below.
Fucking brilliant.
It was a regular calm night out and Ed leaned over the railing, soaking in the silence. No nagging Izzy or sad crew faces. Just Ed and the stars.
And his bottle of rum of course.
He stared down at the churning dark waters and dangled his bottle over the waves.
Every time a sudden memory of a familiar blonde idiot and Ed staring into these same waters, a large swig pushed them away again. It was hard not to indulge however. What else could Ed do except thing about him. About his perfect curls, his fancy coats, gentle hands, kind eyes. About Ste-
The bottle flipped to his mouth quickly once more and he let the thoughts burn away. He let out a sigh of content as if he had conquered some great foe. He sat up straight and steadied himself with a hand pressed to the rail. It had been a productive night of not crying and now Blackbeard was content to drink himself to sleep again.
As he ready himself for the impossible task of movement, he could almost swear he could see a spot of water whirling as if something had just flown from it.
Probably fucking dolphins or some shit his drunken mind supplied.
He breathed in one last breath of the salty air before moving away from the railing. He pressed the bottle to his lips as he walked and spared a final glance back at the view.
An unfortunate choice on his part.
The bottle fell from his hand and shattered upon the ground. The rum began pouring out onto the deck and tainted the air with the smell but it was paid no mind. Edward was frozen in placed staring and he could swear he felt the alcohol in him drain out like a sponge was taken to his stomach. Like that sponge was being rung out in the deck of the ship and that was the real reason there was rum on the floor. He was now acutely aware of how the pleasant night had gone chilly so quickly. And how no matter how hard he blinked, he could still see what was in front of him.
“Lucius?” Ed whispered into the night.
He was standing there. Him, Lucius. The very man Blackbeard had killed. Killed. And now he just leaned casually on the railing where Ed had stood only seconds before. Staring through Edward like he could see inside of him. Nothing had changed about Lucius, his hair was still neatly combed, his clothes were dry and not ruffled in the slightest, his ascot was perfectly tied, and his wooden finger was…
Gone.
His left hand hung limply to his side. Where the large wooden finger was supposed to be covering the bandaged sump left being after the reckless chop, there was instead nothing. The bandage was missing also.
And as Ed realized that, blood seemed just appear over the stump. As if the wound had suddenly bursted open at that exact second and was now dripping crimson downward. Ed’s eyes followed the drops of blood to deck below, but instead of seeing a red stain form on the ground, he saw nothing.
As if the blood was flowing nowhere.
As if there was no blood.
There was no blood.
Blackbeard’s head pulled up sharply and his mouth opened in order to spit harsh words at the scribe. But as soon as his eyes left the ground, he notice the very obvious lack of a person standing in front of him. The silence in the air was literally cut by a sword as Blackbeard pulled his cutlass out and pointed it out to the void, as if challenging it. With slow calculated steps, he slowly started to turn in a circle, squinting his eyes in the lantern light to see where the little bastard had gone.
After making a full turn around, Blackbeard quickly hurried towards the door that lead down to quarters of his crew, eager to start a man hunt as soon as possible. As soon as his hand touched the door knob however, a large wave splashed over the deck and noise caused Ed to turn back for a moment.
Another unfortunate choice on his part.
He felt the air get sucked right out of his lungs. Standing directly in front him, where Ed could see the water had splashed on, was Lucius again. Blackbeard pointed his sword directly at him, his expression dark, but his stance unsure. Lucius himself had a small smirk upon his face, as he was having a causal conversation with his mates instead of staring down a blade.
Lucius opened his mouth and let dark water fall out of his mouth. It was inky darkness flowing like a waterfall towards the deck. Along with the water came with the simple word,
“Boo”.
Edward watched as the form of Lucius seemed to change before his eyes.
His eyes went glossy and his skin lost all color quickly. His perfect clothes became soaked by the water bubble out of his mouth.
And now standing before him was a corpse. Not like the bloody corpses he’d seen strewed across wooden floors constantly. Not like the burnt bodies that crumbled like ash as flames licked around them. Lucius looked like Ed’s own father, standing upright, yet still a dead man. Neither run through by any obvious weapon but rather blue in the face after the loss of air.
Slow deaths. Painfully slow deaths.
After a few paralyzing moments (seconds? minutes? hours?), the water stopped and Lucius casually raised a hand to wipe his mouth as if he had crumbs on his face instead of because he spat a gallon of water out and onto the deck. Of course, it was his left hand too which gave Ed another view of the missing pointer finger that smeared blood on Lucius’ face.
Edward distantly could remember how well put together he thought Lucius always appeared. Of course, Ste-… HE was the most put together with his frivolous garments, but Lucius still always was well dressed and neat unlike the rest of the crew of the revenge. Now standing before Ed was a disheveled man that only wore the face of Lucius.
The other Lucius was long dead.
This fake Lucius walked forward to Ed, taking steps that made him look more like he was strutting towards him. Blackbeard mirror the steps (though in a less stupid way of walking), keeping his sword pointed forward. The sharp blade reflected the moonlight onto Blackbeard’s face, painting him in the glow. As the two met in the center, the light glinting off the sword seemed to not effect Lucius. The darkness consumed the appearance of the scribe despite the numerous lanterns also burning around them. It seemed as though all light seemed to dissipate around Lucius, as if even the glow of the world feared him, and shadows lied down at his feet like a dog. Lucius seemed unthreatened, also, by the sword, glancing down lazily at it as it was point directly at his chest. He glanced back up at Blackbeard, one eyebrow raised.
“Well?” Lucius whispered before he leaned close to Blackbeard’s face, “Go ahead”.
Blackbeard was not a man to be scared. He had seen and experienced so much pain, torture, and horror in his life. But somewhere. Somewhere deep in the pit of stomach. There was some old, worn, half alive instinct that for the first time, in what felt like 100 years, went off. Telling, screaming at him, something is not right.
He threw the sword forward, in a jerky uncoordinated movement that caused him to stumble. He was inches from Lucius’ face now. The glazed over eyes stared straight into his own. They were dead eyes Ed noticed. None of the ranges of emotions that Lucius always showed would ever reach those eyes again. They just stared, unseeing.
Ed couldn’t even tell he’d been smiling until he heard a laugh escape Lucius’s mouth. He looked down and stared down at his cutlass. It’s as certainly through Lucius.
But it was all wrong.
It was almost too perfectly placed in his chest. He stepped away, and the sword easily came with him. No blood covered his sword, not a single drop. Not wound was left in Lucius either and he was doubling over laughing now as if he’d heard the funniest joke ever.
Blackbeard brushed his own finger over the blade and found the metal to be freezing cold and easily able to draw his own blood. A cut was now visible on his pointer finger. A small thing but definitely bleeding. Unlike Lucius.
Blackbeard suddenly noticed the lack of sound and throwing his head up he saw Lucius to be missing once more. He didn’t bother with caution this time, wildly spinning around where, directly being him, he met Lucius inches from his face.
The chill seemed to grasp at Ed, wrapping its arms around him like chains. Lucius was expressionless once more. He just slowly raised his left hand, revealing his mutilated finger in all its bloody glory. Edward could feel his own bleeding finger throbbing at his side, so he raised it slowly. Same hand, same finger. Lucius stared at his hand, Ed’s hand, and then Ed’s face.
His eyes burrowed through skull and stared almost directly into his mind.
Lucius let out one final giggle before spitting a stream of water into Edward’s face. Ed’s eyes scrunched up in surprise and when he blinked them open again, he found nothing in front of him, just the door.
Blackbeard didn’t even try to search again.
He just marched forward, swung the door open, and marched down to the Captain’s quarters. He grabbed a bottle off the desk and took a long swig, trying to let the alcohol warm him up from the biting cold. He stumbled forward, slammed the bottle on to the ground, before pitching forward onto the bed.
No no no no no no n…
***
Edward shot up forward. He was panting as if he had just been running not just waking up. He turned his head sharply and instantly regretted it as the bright light that shown through the window greeted him along with a thumping headache. Blackbeard let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding.
It had been a dream.
Maybe he should take reduce his 8 drink sessions on his schedule. Or maybe increase it. He stretched upwards and hear his back crack satisfyingly. As he dropped his arms, he felt a slight pain coming from somewhere. It wasn’t the typical pain from his knee or a pain that felt like he’d been surprised stabbed. Just a little pain. Almost like a…
Edward slowly turned his hands over.
They were littered in scars. Slashes almost everywhere and the places absent of them had burn marks. Edward eyes knew exactly where to look though. At his left pointer finger where a new pinkish red line sat. And if he squinted at it hard enough, he could see where the line flicked out at the bottom of the cut.
It almost looked like an L.
Blackbeard’s head swam. Ed’s breath caught in his throat. And both could swear on their life that they could hear a faint
drip
drip
drip
from directly behind. Not sure if it was alcohol, water, or blood.
Just knowing it was fear wearing a smirk.