Chapter Text
You made heartbreak look elegant, abused me with intelligence
I could have sworn you were heaven sent
Next to you, I was crumbling, the power balance stumbling
You wrecked it all and it's sinking in
- You Need me Now?, girl in red, Sabrina Carpenter
In the past twenty-four hours, Frenchie had fully forgiven Izzy Hands for every single cruel thing he’d ever done to them. After the day he’d had, Frenchie was half convinced he would dissolve into a puddle on the floor at any second. As soon as they’d hidden Izzy away, Frenchie had received a crash course from Fang and Ivan on ship management, blundered through charting his first course, seen off Lucius and Izzy, before going through a ridiculous amount of loot, interspersed with coaxing an extremely drunk and crying Blackbeard back to bed twice.
If Frenchie was overwhelmed by one single day, while able bodied, he couldn’t begin to imagine how Izzy must have felt doing this every day for so many years. He completely understood why Izzy had gone to such extreme lengths to try and get Blackbeard back into line, however much damage he’d done in the process. By the early hours of the following morning, he finally managed to flop down on the deck, leaning against the railing, while around him an equally worn-out crew slowly continued the pack away the loot they’d decided to keep.
Yet in his deathly tiredness, one thing became very clear; this couldn’t continue.
“If Captain Bonnet’s dead, what are we going to do?” Frenchie asked.
Movement on the deck ceased for a moment.
Ivan froze, impassive, Fang winced from his place at the wheel and Archie raised her eyebrows.
“We’re assuming he’s dead.” Jim said, cautiously.
“He’s got to be. That was an obituary, right?” said Frenchie, looking to Fang for corroboration.
“It said ‘died’,” said Fang, his voice wavering on the word, “and it’s definitely from Bridgetown.”
“Does it say how he died?” asked Jim, suspiciously.
“I’m not really sure.” Fang said, “I didn’t know a lot of the words. It said he has a wife and children though!”
“He does?” asked Ivan in surprise.
“What’s the deal with this Bonnet guy, anyway?” Archie piped up. “Is anyone finally going to tell me why we can’t say his name?”
“You can’t say his name in front of Blackbeard.” Jim said, severely. “You saw how he lost his shit.”
“But why?”
“He was our captain.” said Jim, with a certain reverence, as though this would explain everything.
“And Blackbeard stole this ship from him, right?” Archie persisted.
“Sortof.” said Frenchie. “He left and Blackbeard was…” he paused remembering how unnervingly docile Blackbeard had become. “He was sad.” Frenchie said, the word sounding awkward.
“Heartbroken more like.” said Ivan.
“So that’s why he’s gone all…” Archie whistled. “Why did Bonnet leave, anyway?”
“We don’t know.” Fang said thoughtfully. “He got taken away by the Navy and Blackbeard came back all sad without him.”
“It doesn’t make sense.” Frenchie said. “The Captain seemed really happy.”
Frenchie could vividly picture the absolute delight on Stede’s face on the last day they’d seen him when Blackbeard had come back for them, the affection in his eyes when his crew had proclaimed him a ‘real pirate’, how he’d been practically floating about the deck for weeks.
“Maybe he went back to his family.” said Ivan. “Y’know, since he was there when he died.”
“Maybe that’s what Blackbeard thinks.” said Jim contemplatively. “Maybe that’s why we’re going back to Barbados.”
“To meet his family?” Fang asked, frowning.
“No, to kill them.” Jim said darkly.
“I don’t feel good about that.” said Fang, shaking his head.
“Oh Hell, no.” said Ivan, crossing his arms. “I’m not doing that.”
“I don’t want to hear a fucking word from you.” said Jim, turning to Ivan. “You made this possible.”
“I know.” said Ivan quietly, shifting his feet on the spot. “I thought he was getting back to normal, not this.”
“We’re here now.” Fang said, sounding tired. “It’s too late for regrets.”
“Yeah, and here is sort of shit.” Archie said.
“Then maybe we should do something about it.” Jim said, looking out to sea for a moment, eyes unfocused.
“Not to be a negative Nancy, but how?” said Frenchie. “Like, I’m actually asking. I mean, Blackbeard’s having a breakdown, Izzy and Lucius are gone, the rest of the crew probably starved to death and Captain Bonnet’s dead. Honestly, I’m beginning to feel a bit insecure.”
“Well,” said Jim, looking at him, disconcertingly focused. “Blackbeard was right about one thing. If the captain’s dead, nobody’s coming to save us.”
“Thanks, that’s comforting.” said Archie, rolling her eyes.
“So,” they continued. “Why don’t we do the saving? We don’t have to worry about Izzy getting hurt for it anymore, so we might as well have a go.”
“But how do we-” Frenchie began, before jumping as he heard footsteps, the others shushing him.
Everyone scrambled to pretend to be busy with something on deck, Frenchie rooting through a the nearest box and picking up an object from inside.
“Heeey!” Blackbeard said, cheerily as he strode across the deck, stopping in front of Frenchie.
Blackbeard was now fully dressed, swollen eyes cleaned of most of the kohl and a lot brighter.
“How’s the course going?” Blackbeard’s words were brisk, but his voice was rough.
He looked at Frenchie expectantly.
Frenchie lowered the strange guilt parrot figurine he’d picked up back into the box again, painfully aware of how foolish he must have looked.
“The course?” he said slowly, taking a moment to process the request.
He could see Fang frantically waving two fingers in the air at him from behind Blackbeard.
“Oh!” said Frenchie in comprehension. “We should arrive in Nassau in the next two hours or so, Captain.”
“Good.” Blackbeard said briskly.
“I was going to ask,” Frenchie said, “is there anything specific we need to get there?”
“You tell me, you’re first mate.” Blackbeard responded, smiling at him with faux joviality.
Frenchie winced.
“Um, could you give me a clue?” he asked.
Blackbeard rolled his eyes.
“Do you have the inventory, so we know what we’re missing?” he asked, impatiently.
“Yes, but I can’t read it.” Frenchie said.
Blackbeard huffed.
“I don’t know man, figure it out.” he said, making to walk away.
“How?” asked Frenchie, having no desire to face the consequences if he got this task wrong.
“Get Izzy then.” said Blackbeard, looking Frenchie directly in the eye.
Frenchie’s mouth fell open. He heard Archie and Jim stop rummaging through their box abruptly.
Blackbeard only stared back, no longer smiling, as though he hadn’t said something obviously ridiculous.
“Sorry?” Frenchie replied, convinced he’d misheard the other man.
“Get Izzy.” Blackbeard repeated, obstinate.
Frenchie’s mind raced, trying to decode what on earth Blackbeard meant. Blackbeard was prone to pretending things that he’d said or done hadn’t happened, or perhaps he forgot them. It was impossible to tell anything from his blank expression. Frenchie couldn’t imagine why he’d pretend not to remember that Frenchie was supposed to have killed Izzy, unless he knew Frenchie hadn’t and was taunting him with this knowledge, before punishing him for sport.
“Well, where the fuck is he?” Blackbeard said, a touch too loud, making Frenchie jump.
Frenchie opened his mouth, waiting for an explanation to come out, but his mind was utterly blank of anything that would satisfy the man in front of him. Thankfully, Fang came to his rescue.
“He’s gone, Captain.” said Fang, the words sounding convincingly choked up.
Blackbeard’s head snapped to look at him, scowling.
“Gone? How can he be gone?”
“Dead.” said Jim, openly glaring back at him.
“No.” said Blackbeard slowly, as though everyone around him was being deliberately obtuse.
“You shot him, remember?” Frenchie said, rearing back away from Blackbeard, when Blackbeard’s focus returned to him, “and you told me to-” Frenchie awkwardly drew a finger across his own throat, before hurriedly folding his hands in front of him.
Blackbeard didn’t respond for an agonising number of seconds, staring directly into Frenchie’s pupils as though he could see into his head.
“You killed him?” he said, slowly and softly.
“Yeah, you said-”
“No, you didn’t.” Blackbeard shook his head, eyes glittering, to Frenchie’s alarm.
“I kindof did though.” Frenchie said, clutching at his own fingers.
“You weren’t supposed to do that.” Blackbeard whispered, his mouth quirking at the corner like he was holding back a smirk, but his voice trembled.
“But you told me to.” Frenchie replied, uncomprehending.
Suddenly, he found himself bent backwards halfway over the railing of the ship, stomach lurching at the fleeting thought of the depths of the water behind him. Frenchie found he could only take shallow breaths, unable to tell whether it was from Blackbeard’s hand closing around his throat or the stale alcohol fumes rolling off of the other man.
“You weren’t supposed to do that!” Blackbeard spat.
“I don’t understand, Captain.” Frenchie protested, hands slipping as he struggled to hold onto the rail behind him.
“Just because I tell you to do something doesn’t mean you do it!” Blackbeard bellowed.
“Then why did you ask him?” Jim shouted back.
Blackbeard’s wild eyes didn’t leave Frenchie, who struggled to swallow.
“I’m not disobeying!” Frenchie yelped, squirming against his better judgement, desperate to get the man off of him. “I don’t want my toes cut off.”
Blackbeard shook his head in a frantic kind of denial, eyes darting across Frenchie’s face.
“You’re not supposed to be like that.” he said.
“Like what?” Frenchie asked, voice high-pitched.
“You just killed my oldest friend!” Blackbeard yelled, shaking him.
“You told me to!” Frenchie protested, fingernails digging into the wood of the railing to force himself to stop from pawing at Blackbeard’s hands. “He begged me to kill him! So- so I did.”
Blackbeard fell still, still holding him firmly, blinking furiously.
“No.” Blackbeard said, voice wabbling as he said it. “Not Izzy.”
“Sorry?” Frenchie wheezed.
“Izzy wouldn’t do that, not Izzy.” he said with more conviction.
“Well, he did.” said Ivan harshly. “I was there.”
Blackbeard’s hand on Frenchie loosened as he turned his head to look at Ivan in evident shock.
“Izzy’s not like that, he doesn’t give up.” Blackbeard persisted. “He’s an indestructible little fucker.”
“No,” said Ivan, resolute, “He’s a man. You tortured him and shot him, what did you expect?”
Blackbeard dropped Frenchie, focus fully shifting towards Ivan. Everyone else on deck subtly stepped away from him.
“What did you say to me?” Blackbeard said, voice low and dangerous once again.
Frenchie saw Ivan take a trembling breath, eyes darting away towards Jim and back again. Frenchie felt a brief burst of relief at escaping Blackbeard’s attention, before it was replaced by a sinking sensation as he realised Ivan was about to sign his own death warrant.
“You heard him.” said Ivan, that same foolishly proud tilt to his head that Frenchie had seen on Jim hours before. “Don’t blame Frenchie for what you did. The least you can do is grow some balls and admit it.”
Fang gasped. Archie winced. Jim frowned at Ivan, troubled. Frenchie didn’t dare to move.
“Oh, so you want to complain now?” Blackbeard challenged, advancing towards Ivan. “Didn’t see you speaking up yesterday.”
“Yeah, that’s before you shot the best sailor here. Fuck that. I didn’t sign up for this shit.” Ivan said, looking as angry as he was scared.
Blackbeard, stepped toe to toe with him, leaning into his face.
“You signed up to follow me wherever I go, even if that’s into the centre of Hell, got it?”
“No.” Fang said, causing Blackbeard’s head to snap in his direction, but Fang didn’t sound confrontational, only tired. “Ivan and I signed up with Izzy.”
“What difference does it make? He’s my first mate.” Blackbeard said.
“A lot.” Ivan replied. “I signed up with a first mate who was the best swordsman I’d ever met, who promised me a captain who was undefeated, a genius strategist, not this.” Ivan said derisively. “And you killed him.”
“I didn’t kill-” Blackbeard’s words were undercut with a whine.
“When you dragged us to this ship,” Fang interrupted, eyes soft, voice clear and passionate, “Izzy told us he was worried about your leadership. He was determined to do anything it took to keep himself and us alive. You pushed him to a point where he was begging to die.” he said, sounding choked up.
At this, Blackbeard physically recoiled, stepping away from them all.
“No.” he said, his voice suddenly small. “No, he can’t be dead, he can’t. You’re hiding him. You have to be!”
“You can search every corner of this ship.” said Jim. “He’s not here. You caused his death, own it, you fucking coward!”
Frenchie braced himself against the railing, looking away, waiting for a shot to ring out. What he hadn’t expected however, was a sob exploding out of Blackbeard and the sound of running feet as Blackbeard disappeared below deck. He exchanged shocked looks with the rest of the crew. None of them followed him.