ArtCave

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"We need a distraction, we won't be able to just swim up to them and just fucking board them, without being seen." Izzy gritted his teeth, staring in the direction of the british ship.

Fang and Ivan had been caught by the british just a day prior and tension was running high.

"I tell you mate, it foggy enough that some of us can row over with a dinghy and just, y'know, sneak aboard. Get our man back." Ed leaned against one of the masts, looking in the same direction as far as one could see trough the dense fog.

Izzy groaned.

"There are too fucking many men on that ship."

"So you say we sacrifice some of the crew?"

"It's not your crew. Those men are your crew, if we sacrifice some of these morons tp get them back, it won't be a big loss."

"They are my crew, excuse you very much."

Stede had been watching the back and forth for the last few minutes, brows scrunched. He wasn't going to let Iggy Handsy sacrifice some of the crew, just because he couldn't think of a better plan.

Or rather, he could. But he wouldn't. Why waste brain power, if he could get rid of some people who were not giving a damn about his authority.

"And you may find that nobody aboard this ship will follow your orders, if that involves certain death."

The first thing Edward did when he came back aboard was lock himself in Stedes - or rather now his - quarters.

He stood in the too empty room, looking at the bed they had both shared, wanting to crawl back under the covers, hoping he would catch at least some lingering scente of Stede.

He pressed one of the pillows to his face, inhaling. It smelled like Stede. But it wasn't enough, just such a small piece of fabric, no matter how hard he tried he couldn't sink into it.

Then he remembered, that secret closet, full of clothes Stede had worn. Ed dropped the pillow and hasted over to the bookshelf, pulling out book after book in a frenzy, until he finally found the one that opened the hidden door.

Inside everything was untouched, clothes hanging neatly from the hangers. He stroked, almost reverently, over linen and silk, one particulare robe catching his eye.

It was red, beautifull, hung up next to other silk and fine fabrics. He knew he needed it as close as he could get it.

He stripped down, carelessly throwing the white shirt and pants to the side. Gently, he lifted the robe, bringing it up it his face, stroking it over his now smooth face, closing his eyes, trying to catch as much of the now familiar smell as he could.

Ed pulled the robe on, grabbing the next garment, less gentle now, more feverently. He held it close and went for the next, then the next, creating a nest of soft fabric.