Where the Stars Meet the Sea - Our Flag Means Death

Chapter 6

Back in the sick bay, Edward looks anxiously over Fang's shoulder as they reexamine Stede's wound. Izzy and his old crew are long gone, and the excitement about beating him has since faded. Fang and Ivan ended up deciding to stay, which Edward is thankful for, as he doesn't trust Stede's crew to be very versed in medicine.

Stede's brown coat was thrown to the floor. He sits with his shirt unbuttoned, wincing as Fang unwraps the bled-through gauze roll from around his waist. Edward feels a pang of jealousy - but reminds himself that, if he were in Fang's shoes, he would be too busy worrying about accidentally hurting Stede to do the job properly.

"It seems it's worse than we thought." The soft-spoken man says.

"Yeah, no shit, Fang." Edward snaps, pacing back and forth in the small room. "I - sorry." He says soon after, letting out a breath.

"It's bleeding much more than it should." Stede says between gritted teeth. "Is it because...  the bullet went all the way through? But I've been stabbed all the way through, is it that much different?"

Fang shakes his head, his brows furrowed. With the wound fully opened, Edward casts his gaze away, not liking the look of blood on Stede. "It hit something. And that something is causing more bleeding."

Stede's face manages to pale even further. "The liver?"

"That doesn't-" Edward starts to scoff. "We don't even know- It's probably fine-"

"It's infected." Fang says solemnly, leant in. "It's swollen and leaking yellow."

"Fuck." Edward looks over his shoulder. "Do you know for sure?" From where he is, the wound looks like a mess of blood red colour on Stede's pasty skin, the area around the bullet hole fleshy and wet. "Doesn't look infected."

"But it must be!" Fang insists, cleaning the wound with a wet rag. Stede winces in pain. Edward goes to his side in an instant, grabbing his hand and squeezing it.

"Possibly internally." Fang says, leaning back as if stumped.

Edward's heart drops. Internal infection. Most likely of the liver.

"Well, that's the worst-case scenario, right?" Stede's weak voice shines with optimism.

"Right. Right! It could just be enraged because you've been running around instead of resting." Edward says eagerly. "You did fall to the ground."

Stede chuckles. "I did. And besides, I feel relatively fine, I'm sure my body is overreacting."

Feeling slightly relieved, Edward takes a new roll of gauze. "Thanks, Fang, I'll take it from here." With a nod of his head, Fang leaves the room.

"You're really okay?" Edward asks, unrolling the wrap.

Stede nods as Edward sits down next to him, and starts dressing the wound. "Really." His voice drops a couple of decibels and loses the over-the-top cadence it usually holds. "I'm fine, Ed."

Stede's midriff is warm to the touch, but Edward tries to avoid poking it as he wraps the gauze around and around, finally tying it off with a knot. Stede reaches his hands up to button his shirt, but Edward gets there first, his head leaning in as he works his way up.

Stede's curly hair brushes against his forehead. Reaching the top of his collar, Edward looks up, expecting a smile on his lover's face.

But Stede's eyebrows are crinkled in worry, his lips pursed. "I'll be fine, right, Ed?" Stede's voice cracks.

Edward runs his hands down from Stede's collar to his shoulders and envelops him in a hug. "You'll be fine, because you've always been fine. You're Stede!" He can't help but chuckle. Stede wraps his arms around Edward's back, tight, as if afraid he's only a projection, as if he's not really there. "You've survived being stabbed," Edward continues. "Twice! You've faked your own death. A mere bullet wound is nothing to the Gentleman Pirate."