#somnia writes

The sun shined brightly. A gentle breeze lessened the day's heat. The wind carried the cry’s of starlys and rookiedees. It was a nice day. Friede watched as Roy chased after a Hoppip. The pokemon seemed to be enjoying the attention. It stopped now and again to let the boy catch up. Its leaves spun in one direction and then the other to show excitement. Liko stayed back at first but joined them when a few more Hoppips appeared. A few of them approached her immediately. She backed up. Roy’s loud laugh carried in the air as the pokemon spun around him in circles. One of them sat on his head. Liko crouched and petted the nearest Hippip. It called out in delight. Liko found herself with a lapful of Hippips asking to be pet. Friede couldn't help but chuckle at the sight. 

They moved further into the forest as Roy chased the pokemon. Friede didn’t even realize how deep they had walked until the thick branches cut out the sun. The forest stopped seeming so friendly. A shiver ran down Friede’s spine. He couldn’t help but look into the forest searching for something. He was being paranoid. This was it. there wasn’t anything sinister hiding in the forest, right?

A branch snapped. Friede tensed ready for an attack. A Venonat emerged from the bushes. It looked him in the eye. They stared at each other for a moment. Then the pokemon scurried away. Friede relaxed. He shook his head. He really was becoming paranoid. They were safe.

Liko cried out. Friede looked over at the kids, sure that a pokemon had just surprised her. His blood ran cold. Two men stood before them. One of them was Friede's stature but the other was twice his size. Both wore the Explorers uniforms. 

"Give as the pedant!" The smaller one demanded.

Friede moved and stood between them and the kids. 

"No!" Liko exclaimed. She and Roy huddled closer to Friede. As if the closer they were the safer they felt. Friede liked the sentiment. But as he felt a small hand tug at his jacked, the practical part of him reminded that it would restrict his movements. On the other hand there could be more opponents hiding in the forest.

The Explorers smirked. Their  smiles made a shiver run up Friede's spine. They called out a Bisharp and Victreebel. 

"Furry cutter!" The Bisharp attacked. Pikachu dodged his cuts with easy grace. 

"Thunder punch!" The Bisharp also dodged. It readied itself for a next attack.

"Vine whip!" Victreebel's attack surprised Pikachu. Friede also didn’t expect such speed from it. Captain managed to dodge the first two attacks but the third hit its mark. Pikachu skidded on the ground but managed to stay on his paws. Two against one weren't good odds. Friede gritted his teeth.

"Double team!"

"Metal claw!"

"Leaf tornado!"

Captain somehow dodged these attacks. The hours spent training this particular move had paid off. The leaf tornado landed dangerously close to Friede and the kids. They all scrambled back from the stray leaves.

"Volt tackle!" Pikachu charged. The Bisharp couldn’t decide which way to dodge. It’s moment of indecision cost it a hard hit. It went flying into the forest.

"Leaf blade!"

Pikachu, drained from the powerful attack, wasn’t fast enough. He cried out as the leaf blade cut into his skin.

"Let's end this!" The thinner Explorer called. Friede instinctively backed away a step. 

The Victreebel used sleep powder. The attack wasn't directed neither at Pikachu nor Friede but at Liko. Friede hadn’t even noticed how far from each other they have gotten while trying to not get hit by a stray attack.

"Liko!" He called out.

Liko wasn't quick enough to dodge and slumped to the ground asleep. The bulky Explorer grabbed Liko's limp body as if it weighed nothing and ran. Friede followed him into the thick greenery. Leaves hit his face and arms. A branch caught his coat. He more heard the material rip than felt it. Panic trimming through his veins. Captain’s voice echoed somewhere in the distance. He tripped. Tried to grab something. A branch broke under his weight. He landed on his arms and knees. Barely managed to not faceplant into the mud. Something wrapped over his legs. Vine whip his mind supplied. He kicked out to get himself free. To no effect. The hold got tighter and tighter, His attempts grew more desperate. Something hit his face. He opened his eyes to stare stunned at the ceiling. His room's ceiling. Then his vision was obscured by Captain's worried face. Nightmare. It was just a nightmare. He sighed in relief. Run his hand through his hair. He sat up.

"Pika?"

"I'm fine, Captain. Just a bad dream." He petted his head. The pokemon leaned into the touch. "Thanks for waking me up." Friede still could feel his heart racing. His legs were tangled into the sheets. So this was the vine whip. He untangled himself. Straightened the sheets. Laid down with the intent of going back to sleep. When he closed his eyes he saw Liko's limp body. He opened his eyes. He took a few deep breaths. Closed his eyes again. Sat up when he was met by the same sight. He was definitely not going back to sleep. He swallowed. His tongue sat heavily in his mouth. He was thirsty. He got up.

"Pika?" 

"Just going to get some water. You go back to sleep." Captain titled his head. Looked like he wanted to argue. Might have if he wasn’t already half asleep. He curled up in the sheets. 

Friede got to the the kitchen as he told Captain he would. After drinking some water he didn't feel any calmer. He needed fresh air. The cold night breeze made him shiver. He hadn't even noticed how sweaty he was. He leaned on the railing. Sighed. The sky was beautiful tonight. With no clouds in sight the stars shone brightly. The moon showed in all its glory as it was the night of the full moon. Too bad he didn't feel like appreciating it today. His mind was still filled with the mad dash through the forest.

"Friede?" He jumped at the sound of Murdock's voice.

"Don't sneak up on me like that." He said with one hand over his heart. It was once again beating way too fast. Murdock was on today's night shift. He should have expected him.

"What are you doing up?" Murdock asked. 

Friede shrugged. "Woke up and couldn't fall back asleep." Murdock studied him. Friede felt a pang of nervousness. He didn't think to check how he looked right now. He could imagine that he was paler than normal. His hair was probably a mess.

"Bad dream?" He asked. So it was that obvious.

Friede had leaned more into the railing before he could control himself. His shoulders hunched.

"Yeah."

"Wanna talk about it?"

No. Nope. He wanted to crumple the dream and throw it into his mental trash. Right where its place was. He shook his head. Murdock seemed a bit out of his depth after that. He started to say something. Then he thought better of it. Friede clenched the railing. Anxiety rolled in his stomach.

"Wanna keep me company?" He inclined his head in the direction of the cockpit. Friede came out here to be alone but it bought him no comfort. He suddenly found that he really didn’t want to be alone right now.

"Yeah" he smiled. Some of the tension had left him.

They got to the cockpit. Murdock left the Captain's seat for him but Friede chose to sit at the console. They sat in silence for a moment. Both observing the night sky. Friede’s thoughts returned to the dream. He hoped he would never see Liko like that. How could he prevent that? He should probably train the kids more. He had let them figure some things out themselves but maybe it would be better to start teaching them some proper strategy. They should be more careful when they go out. Maybe he will start digging some information about the Explorers.

"Friede."

He started in his seat. He looked at Murdock embarrassed.

"I can hear you thinking from here. There's no way you're going back to sleep tonight if you keep it up." 

Friede set his jaw. Bounced his leg. "I know."

He did know. But he couldn't stop himself from going back to the dream. It was entirely different from nightmares about abstract situations. It felt so real. It could actually happen. 

"Do you want a distraction?" Murdock asked.

"A distraction?" Friede titled his head.

"Yeah. I will talk about something and this way you won't be thinking about whatever is keeping you awake."

"This could work actually." Friede admitted. 

"So since we're going to Galar I was thinking of trying cooking some curry. I was hoping I could buy red and yellow curry paste. They taste quite different. The red one-" 

The easy way that Murdock had started his curry monologue made Friede smile. He soon found himself relaxing in his seat as he listened to his friend. After they spent about an hour like that Friede found himself yawing.

"Ah! Success." Murdock exclaimed.

Friede couldn't help but chuckle at that.

"I guess I will be going then." 

"Go, go. It's nearly sunrise. Goodnight. Sleep tight." 

Friede waved him goodbye. He walked to his room and crawled into bed. He really was tired. His limbs felt heavy. 

"Pika pi?" Captain asked half asleep.

"Had a chat with Murdock." 

"Pika"

Izzy feels off when he wakes up. There's a tightness in his neck. It's not enough to be bothersome. It's more annoying than anything. He unfortunately knows it won't stay like this for long. He groans. They were recently becalmed. Not even a whisper of wind in three days. It meant it was also unbearably hot and humid. He should have expected it would come to this. The only blessing is that there's not much to be done on a becalmed ship. He only needs to show himself on deck, shout some orders, grumble a bit and then he can go right back to his cabin. No one should look for him. The crew will either not notice or be happy about his absence. Ed might be tricky. Or he might have been if Izzy hadn't heard something about a picnic yesterday. He's most likely going to be too engrossed in it to notice. Or he will think that Izzy is hiding from all the commotion. It wouldn't be far from the truth.

He doesn't eat breakfast. He's not hungry. The idea of food doesn't make him nauseous yet but it also doesn't sound appealing at all. He's aware that it's not a good decision. But he also watches himself do it. Like he watches himself make a lot of other bad decisions. It says a lot about him. He doesn't want to think about what exactly.

"Stop fucking flirting and get to work!" He yells. "The deck is not going to fucking swab itself!" Yelling is also one of the bad decisions. His head pounds for a moment. He wants to grimace. He does grimace but it also looks a bit like a scowl. The crew grumble. He hears only scraps.

"...crawled up his ass..."

"...looks clean to me."

"...too hot for that..."

"How is he not melting in these leathers?" He hears Lucius say. He is melting. He dreams of ending up without his shirt. But under that shirt is a lot of things he does not want them to see. He prefers them thinking he's just keeping his image. Which he is if he's honest with himself. Just not in the way they think.

He spends an hour bullying the crew. Because that is what he's doing. Not one thing he tells them to do needs to be done now. It all could wait till evening. To the relative cool. But he could not wait. He's going to be a mess by then. The annoying sensation has already turned to something demanding his attention. Rather loudly. He's not even focusing on the words coming out of his mouth. Ordering people around and insulting them is not something that he needs to delegate any brainpower to. He's feeling a bit weak, a bit wobbly on his feet. He knows he's not swaying. Not visibly at least. He needs to get inside soon. He shouts some more orders. Mutters something about going to do inventory. He slinks to his cabin.

He leans on the closed door. Sights. Slides down so he's sitting on the floor. He really should get to bed. But he doesn't want to move. It's not even that bad yet. The pain in his head isn't consuming all his senses. He just feels... He feels so exhausted. This exhaustion has nothing to do with his headache. Well maybe some. Maybe a lot actually. But it shouldn't be enough to make him sit on the floor when he has a list of things he should do in his head. The past weeks have been tiring. He doesn't want to admit it but he hasn't done much physical work on a ship in years. He's mostly been ordering people around. This crew really is useless. He's currently doing the work of several people. He doesn't know how they managed before Blackbeard's crew came on this ship. And it doesn't help that Edward is not doing anything useful either. He sighs again. Bed. Before he feels like total shit. He's definitely getting there quicker than usual. He should have lasted on deck at least till midday. But he's already here after just two hours.

He wills himself to stand. Leans against the door. He looks at the bed rather dumbly. He needs to take three steps. He also can't bring himself to take the first one. He imagines the crew laughing at his weakness. It gets him moving. He stumbles more than walks the three steps. He faceplants on the bed. That was a mistake as his head reacts with spikes in his brain. He whines. Then stiffens. He doesn't know how thick these walls are. He hopes nobody heard him. Everyone should be on deck so there's a slim chance. He realizes he hadn't undressed. He groans. Gathers his energy. He sits. He gets rid of his vest and shirt, unties the cravat with a sharp movement but is careful when he takes off the ring. He looks at it for a moment. There's an emotion clawing at his chest. An emotion that he does not have the energy to feel on a good day. Today is definitely not a good day. He wraps it in the cravat and puts it on his other clothes. He needs to rise a bit to take his pants off. He had to sit with his trousers hanging at his knees as he clutched his head. There's a moment of stabbing pain in his temples. It's weird how the pain moves when it gets stronger. It always starts at the back of his head, moves through the middle to end up in the front. He squeezes his temples. It makes the pain worse but when he stops it seems bearable for a moment. Just a moment but enough for finishing taking off his pants.

He wants to lay down. But he needs to do something first. He wets a cloth in a bowl of water. He lies down and spreads the cloth over his forehead and eyes. He sighs at the relief it brings. He tries to drift off to sleep. It does not come. He's distracted by the pounding in his head. And how sweaty he is. And how the blanket scrapes at his skin. He throws the blanket at the floor. The problem is he's cold. He considers what is worse - feeling cold or the feeling of the blanket on his skin. The silk of one of Bonnet's robes would feel so much better. Thinking hurts so he does nothing.

The pain recedes. He knows better than to be happy  about it. He knows what it will bring. He leans over the side of the bed. Makes sure the bucked is close by. He waits. The nausea hits sudden and hard. He's shocked by it even though he knew it was coming. He gags. Then he heaves. Once. Twice. He catches his breath. He waits again. He knows he's going to throw up. What he doesn't know is how many times he's going to be heaving unsuccessfully before he can get some relief. His mouth fills with saliva. Maybe whatever god is up there is merciful today. He heaves into the bucket. He fills it some. He's a shaking, snotty, crying mess when he finishes. He slumps on the bed just breathing. He relishes at the lack of pain. It soon comes back full force. He should have drunk something before it came back. He looks at the cup of water. He doesn't feel like drinking it. He knows he needs to.

Someone knocks at his door. No. No. He fucking can't. He wipes his face roughly with the cloth.

"Fuck off." He doesn't shout because he's pretty sure his head would kill him.

"Izzy?" Fucking Bonett.

"Fuck off!" His head reacts with pain so intense that he sucks in an involuntary breath. The room spins. He grinds his hands into his eyes. His palms are wet from the cloth. It has long since gone warm.

He startles when his door opens. He takes off the cloth from one of his eyes. He squints at the slightly blurry person. He should at least sit up. He doesn't. Bonett starts saying something. He doesn't quite catch it. Either way it sounds like Bonett cut himself off before he finished the sentence. He studies Izzy.

"What's wrong?" He asks.

"Nothing." He must not seem convincing since the man doesn't move. "Fuck off." He adds for good measure. Bonett looks at the door, then back at him.

Oh, for fuck's sake.

"Maybe-" Bonett starts.

"Go away." There's a plea in his voice. He hates it but it also makes Bonett walk out. He drops the warm cloth back in its place. He should wet it. The door opens again. Someone stands at the threshold. He can feel eyes on him.

"Izzy?" Edward asks. He doesn't want him here. He does want him here.

Izzy groans in answer. Long and suffering.

The floor creaks when the captain shifts his weight.

"Ed?" Fuck. He hoped Edward came alone.

Steps. Careful, unsure, so different from his usual confident walk. He stops next to the bed. Shifts his weight a bit again.

"Iz?"

Izzy again exposes one of his eyes to the torture of light again.

"Wot?" He hisses.

Ed looks weird. He heard he's unsure but it's different when he sees it. The way his shoulders are slumped, head bowed slightly, eyes wide.

"You okay there, mate?" Even his tone is careful.

"Fuckin'fine." He hisses through his teeth.

"He doesn't look good." Bonett quips. "Is that vomit?" Izzy doesn't look at him but he still sees his frown in his mind's eye. He doesn't have the energy to deal with it. He pulls the cloth back over his eyes. Pretends they are not here.

"Can you leave us alone for a moment?" Edward asks. Izzy is infinitely grateful for it. Or would be if he was capable of feeling anything beside pain.

"Of course." Bonett says. The floor creaks again. The door closes. Izzy flinches at the sound.

"Headache?" Ed whispers. A wince evident in his voice.

"Mmhmmm"

Edward shifts his weight. Again.

"Stop that." Izzy snaps.

Edward freezes for a moment . He shifts, this time with purpose. The bed dips at Izzy's side. The cloth is lifted from his face. He whines. The light hurts even through his eyelids. He throws his arm over his eyes. It helps. He breathes through the pain. Water splashes. Fingers pry his arm away. They are wet. Izzy presses it harder.

"Iz." He lets go. Light stabs his eyes again and the cloth is back at its place blissfully cool this time. He sighs.

"Water?"

He doesn't want to move.

"Did you drink anything?"

"Mmmm"

"I need words, Iz."

He swallows. His tongue is heavy. It feels like it's swollen but he's pretty sure it isn't. "No." He licks his lips. He realizes how dry his mouth is.

The bed dips in a different way. Metal scrapes on wood. A quiet splash of water. Something cold on his lips. He parts them without thinking. Chokes when water flows in his mouth and downs his throat. He sits up and coughs. The cloth lands on his lap. Something shields his eyes from light. It's warm and a bit rough and slightly wet.

"You good?"

It's Ed's hand.

He's disoriented. Izzy's hand searches. It finds Edward's shirt. Squeezes it. It grounds him.

"Yeah." He stretches out his hand, waiting. The cup is cold against his palm. Ed's fingers brushing his are hot. He brings the cup to his lips. The water slides easily down his throat. It sits coldly in his stomach. He leans into Ed's touch. The hand pushes lightly. He understands. The bed is soft against his back. The cloth vanishes from his lap and reappears onto his face. He liked the hand more. He drifts a bit after that.

He wakes up some time after. He feels slightly better after getting some sleep. Which is obviously the moment the nausea choses to reappear. He scrambles for the bucket. He remembers that Ed is here when he has to put his legs in an uncomfortable position because Ed's sitting on the bed. He heaves over the bucked. Izzy notes that it's empty now.

"Fuck." Ed says as he changes his position. Does nothing for a minute. Then he rubs his back. The touch is light, hesitant.

"Don't." Izzy grounds out between heaves. It's not that he doesn't want to be touched. It's that he can't stand to be touched at the moment. It takes everything he has to tolerate the scratch of his shirt, the way the bedsheets crumble under his palms, the warmth of Ed's leg against his. He dips with another retch.

Ed takes his hands away so fast that it annoys Izzy somehow. This whole situation annoys him. Ed's not supposed to be fucking careful with him. Sure, he currently feels like shit, but come on. It doesn't warrant this. He's not dying. It's just a headache. A headache that leaves him thinking that being stabbed hurts less but still.

He finishes. He's a mess afterwards. Again. The cloth has fallen somewhere between all the movements. He hears a splash of water. He swallows. A cup is thrust into his hands. He takes a gulp. Spits it into the bucket. Then he drowns half of the cup before he remembers that drinking so soon might not be a good idea.

"Hey." Ed calls. He holds a cloth in his outstretched hand. Izzy switches the cup for the cloth. He wipes his face. He scrunches his nose. He wants to blow it but he has no idea where he put his handkerchief. It appears near his face. He snatches it and blows his nose. Only then he registers it as Ed's. Their eyes meet.

"Lie back down." Ed encourages.

And of course Izzy does. The cloth is back on his face. No. Actually it's a different cloth. The material feels different against his skin. He realizes that earlier he had laid the not so clean cloth over his face. Has the energy to feel disgusted for exactly one second before he decides he doesn't care. He feels a light touch on his hair. It's pleasant. He hums. The touch gets firmer. The world gets fuzzy.

Izzy wakes up somewhere in the evening. His head still hurts but it's down to a bearable level. He lifts the cloth from his face, blinks a few times to clear his vision. Ed is sitting on the bed. His back is against the wall. His legs hang from the ledge. It can't be good for his knee. Izzy's legs are in his lap. Ed looks deep in thought. He must have felt Izzy's stare because he looked at him.

"Hey, feeling better?"

"Yeah." Izzy rises on his elbows. "Have you been here the whole time?"

He hums in confirmation. "You looked like someone needed to keep an eye on you."

Izzy frowns. "It was just a headache."

"You usually don't go half mute over just a headache."

Izzy clicks his tongue. "Okay, a migraine. Still not something you should waste your time over."

Stede was curious what looting a ship looks like performed by ‘real pirates’. And of course Edward was more than ready to demonstrate. But he promised to keep it less violent. Ugh. Izzy had no idea how Edward was supposed to do that. Knocking a man out was much harder than killing him. Especially if said man was trying to kill you.

It was just their luck that not two days later they encountered a ship worth looting. Edward assigned Izzy to lead the crew to the displeasure of everyone involved. Izzy did not trust them to act out his orders at all. And they needed to do that quickly and without question. Which again he didn’t see happening. Someone was going to get hurt and he hoped it would not be him.

He argued a good while with Stede if they should put up a fake flag. The twat was against it and honestly Izzy didn’t even listen to his arguments. Their quarrel was cut short when Mr. Buttons claimed his bird used it to build a nest. The first mate had to use all of the willpower he had to not strangle him. It was decided they would approach with no flag. It would be suspicious but less so than their array of pirate flags. They were weird enough to not pass as... well pirate flags. But still white markings on black would make the other ship more wary.

They sailed closer. Izzy was expecting a warning shot anytime now. A warning shot from a cannon. So when he was showered in wood shards he did not register at first that he was being shot at. He did register it when something hit his left shoulder. He stumbled back against the railing. Then he leaped for cover. Just in time. The railing was rather holey where he stood not a moment ago.

“Take cover, maroons!” he shouted. There was some scrambling on deck. And also some more shots. No one cried out or shouted so everyone should be fine. Well, beside him. He looked at his wound. There was no exit wound. This will be problematic later. He wasn’t happy with the prospect of someone fishing out a bullet out of him. Also he tried not to think about where the bullet would have landed had he not flinched away from the previous shot. He needed to focus on practical matters first. He fished out a knife and started to cut his shirt.

“Anyone got shot?!” Ed shouted. Good. He was taking over the situation so Izzy wouldn’t have to lead anymore. A chorus of no’s answered his call. And damn did some of them sound scared. Come on! They weren’t the ones who actually got shot.

“Iz?” Oh yeah, he hadn’t answered, had he? If he said the truth Edward would probably try to get to him and check out how he’s doing. To do that he would have to cross the very uncovered deck. But if he lied Ed could ask out of him something he wasn’t capable of. Which could also be a problem. What tipped the scales was Stede. He was definitely next to Ed and as much as Izzy hated it he would stop him from doing anything stupid.

“Yeah.” He answered finally. Edward cursed. He knew him enough to know which question he answered.

“Ed!” Came Stede’s alarmed voice and also some shuffling. And damn, maybe he wasn’t as good at stopping Edward as he thought. Does he have to do everything himself on this ship?

“Stay” the shuffling stopped “where the fuck you are, Edward.” It was surreal to command his captain but here he just did it. Also he should be wrapping his wound instead of worrying about Edward. He shoved his cut sleeve into the wound. Pain lit up both his shoulder and the left side of his ribcage. He grunted involuntarily.

“How bad?” Ed asked.

Izzy considered it as he tried to catch his breath. He loosened his cravat and took it off, hid the ring in his pocket.“Should be fine until we finish.”

“We’re finishing it now.” Stede decided. The crew murmured in agreement.  

“What!? No, I’m not letting the man who fucking shot me get away without  a fucking payback!” Izzy bristled.

“Izzy, you can’t be serious!?”

“I’m dead fucking serious!”

A cannonball landed somewhere close. The water splashed some of the crew and they gasped in distress.

“Well, it was Stede’s idea, so if he doesn’t want to do it anymore...” Ed said.

Aw, yeah, it was Stede’s fault he got shot.

“Edward!” Izzy objected.

“It’s a command.” And that’s all it took to convince him to back down.

“Yes, captain.” Izzy gritted out.

“Good, now stay where you are until we get to safety.”

“Yes.”

Then after a careful mix of Edward’s sailing skills and shooting at the other ship at the right moments they got out of their shooting range. As soon as that happened Ed and Stede got to Izzy. The first mate sat with his back against a crate. His face contorted into a sneer. He glared at both of them and the sun looked more blinding than usual. The world was a bit off around him. His mouth was perched. His skin felt clammy. He definitely was feeling the effects of how much blood he lost.

Edward reached out a hand. “Come on, Iz.” He considered not taking it. He was confident he could get up on his own but staying upright would be tricky. He let Edward haul him up. The deck swayed under his feet for a moment but soon it stopped.

“Mr. Roach?” Stede called. The surgeon manifested next to him. At least it looked like that to Izzy. He needed to sit down sooner than later. They ended up in the kitchen. Where else would they be keeping the medical supplies?