Chapter Text
“In my dreams, we are the stars.
Hung up in the sky thousands of miles out of any mortal’s reach.
We form lines in between each other, connected by constellations.
Holding the stories of ancient heroes.”
“And in my dreams, we are dancers.
Where you lead, I shall follow.
We move around the floor together until we’re out of breath and our feet are sore.
Pressed together like this, I can count the freckles on your nose. Pick out each individual eyelash.”
“In my dreams, we are stray cats.
We spend our days curled around one another.
The streets have not been kind to me. I have been bitten. Torn up. My ears are chipped, and my whiskers are crooked.
That doesn’t stop you from pressing your cheek up against mine.
You purr, and the rumble of your lungs soothes the hunger in my stomach.”
“And in my dreams, you are my home.
Your embrace surrounds me. It keeps me warm when the snow begins to fall outside.
When I leave, I always return to you.
I mend your doors when the hinges start to rust. I paint the shutters on the windows. I get down on my knees and I tend to the flowers in the garden we share.
I take care of you.”
“In my dreams, I am your ship.
We are explorers. We are adventurous. We have seen the world together.
When enemies attack, I am the first line of defense. If they cannot catch me, cannot defeat me, then they cannot have you.
I keep you safe.
I’ve carried you through storms. Through peril and terror. No matter how high the waves rise above us, I do not yield to them.
I proudly wear your flag upon my breast so that the world knows who I sail for.”
“And if dreams are parallel universes
I can die happy tomorrow
Knowing that there was some world
Out there
Where you were mine.”
Stede let out a small sigh as the last lines of the poem left his lips.
It was late. Too late to be staying up, far after the rest of the crew had gone to bed. But that had never stopped Edward and Stede before.
When the sun rose, they were captains. They both had their duties to fulfill to make sure the ship ran smoothly. Orders to give, navigations to puzzle through, problems to fix.
Here, in the early hours of the morning, they didn’t have to be Blackbeard and Captain Bonnet. Just Stede and Ed. Just two men, cramped together on a small bed that wasn’t designed to fit two fully grown bodies. They could only manage it by sitting on opposite sides, Ed’s feet propped up in Stede’s lap, with Stede using Edward’s legs as a book rest for the better part of an hour.
“... I like that one,” Ed commented. “The bit about the cats was nice. And the ship.”
“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” Stede replied. He traced his finger over the words at the bottom of the poem, reading out the title of it. “Distant Worlds. Unknown author.”
“How’s that possible? Unless the poet wrote it down and left it out on a table,” said Ed, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.
“Most of the time when it says that, they mean that the author submitted their work anonymously,” Stede explained. “... though I suppose it could have also been found somewhere and hadn’t been signed. Or it might have been given as a gift to someone, and it wasn’t signed because the author was obvious.”
“Which would mean the recipient took that poem and published it,” said Ed. He followed the statement with a small irritated sound from the back of his throat. “That’s a prick move. If someone had written something like that for me, I wouldn’t let anyone else read it.”
“Well, we don’t know the details about how the poem was obtained. Maybe it’s a very old poem, and it was discovered among someone’s personal belongings long after they passed away?” Stede suggested.
“I’d have the paper buried with me. Or I’d eat it, if I didn’t have time to set up funeral arrangements. Either way it would be coming with me.”
Edward paused for a moment, the corners of his mouth ticking down like they usually did when he changed the course of a conversation on a whim.
“What did they mean by ‘parallel universes’?” he asked.
Stede let the book rest flat on top of Ed’s shins, allowing himself to get pulled further into their discussion.
“I believe they’re referring to something called ‘the multiverse theory’. It’s all very hypothetical, there’s not much research that can be done to prove it. But it is a rather interesting thought experiment,” Stede explained.
“Mmh. I bet it’s complicated.”
“Yes, and no. There’s a simple way of putting it. Imagine if you will that our entire universe is like… a ship. Sailing on an ocean.”
“Sounds like it would be pretty cramped. Not much room to move around with the whole world all on one vessel,” Ed replied, squinting as he tried to imagine it.
“It’s not just our world on there. It’s our world, and the sun, and everything in the night sky. Even Heaven and Hell,” Stede continued, gesturing to the window to accentuate his point. “All of it. But it’s a very big ship, so it can hold everything that exists in our universe without issue. That’s our reality. Only there’s not just our boat on the ocean. This is an infinite ocean, with infinite boats on it, and each one holds its own universe.”
“That’s a lot of ships. They’d probably start crashing into each other eventually.”
“Well… it’s a metaphor. So let’s assume the ocean currents run in such a way that stops that from happening,” Stede explained, moving his hands in a parallel motion to demonstrate.
“Right,” Ed said, copying the motion with his own hands. “So the ships don’t interact at all.”
“They don’t. And whatever happens on each ship is completely unique, unaffected by what is happening on all the other ships. Now. Let’s say, there’s a man on two different ships with a coin. Each man flips the coin 10 times, hoping for it to land on heads every time.”
“He’d have to be pretty lucky to get that result.”
“Exactly!” Stede exclaimed. “But then, imagine 100 men on 100 different ships trying the same thing. It’s a lot more likely that on at least one of those ships, one man managed to land on heads 10 times in a row.”
“And on an infinite amount of ships, it’d be crazy if at least one guy didn’t manage to flip a coin on heads ten times.”
“You’re getting it!”
“And what’s all that got to do with dreams?” asked Edward.
Stede thought it over for a moment, tapping his fingers on top of the pages of the book as he developed an answer.
“I believe what the author means is… If there are infinite universes, then whatever you dream about has had to have happened somewhere. Maybe not personally to you, but a parallel version of yourself,” Stede mused.
“So does that mean there is a parallel version of myself that exists in a different reality who can’t die, and has knives for hands?”
“If the theory is correct, and there is a possibility that immortality exists then… yes. I suppose that would be the case.”
“It might even be true in this universe,” said Ed, rolling one of his shoulders to release a bit of the tension that had built up there. “I haven’t died yet. Had plenty of encounters where I probably should have died.”
“And the knives?”
“That’s the easy part. Get an axe, good firm chop to the wrists, stick some knives in the stubs, there you have it. Knives for hands.”
That got a good chuckle out of Stede, eyes crinkling with mirthful humor at the absurdity of the idea.
“You’d be very effective in a fight,” Stede said.
“Exactly.”
“Might make it a little difficult to do other things. Dressing yourself would be a nightmare.”
“I pretty much only wear one outfit anyhow. It’s fine. I’ll jump in the sea with my clothes on any time I need a bath. I’ll be more efficient than ever.”
“But how would you climb the ladder back up to the deck without breaking it?” Stede asked.
“Metal ladder.”
“Ah. I see. Obvious answer.”
“You know, this also means there’s a parallel world where you’re a dog instead of a human,” Edward said.
“Are you saying you’ve had a dream like that?”
“Maybe. I might have.”
“I imagine my life would be quite different in a universe like that,” Stede replied, scratching his chin as he worked out the logistics of it in his mind.
“Not in this world. In this one you’re the dreaded mutt of the seven seas, notorious pirate captain.”
At that, Stede’s smile widened on his face.
“ Notorious pirate captain? I like the sound of that. Even if I am a dog in that world,” said Stede.
“It was actually really impressive. You ruled with an iron paw. A very tiny, very fluffy paw. I’d reckon you were about ninety percent fur, ten percent body mass-”
Stede maneuvered one of his legs out from under Edward’s so he could kick him lightly on the chest, trying to conceal his laughter at the same time.
“Now you’re just making fun of me,” said Stede.
In response, Edward placed his hand over Stede’s ankle, holding it in place.
“I’m not,” Edward said, holding eye contact with his co-captain. “If anything, I’m the one making a fool of myself here. Bringing up wild, nonsensical dreams while you’re trying to explain a real scientific study.”
“Oh, it’s not that serious,” said Stede. He relaxed further into the pillows behind his back and head, allowing Ed to keep a hold of his foot, eyes fluttering half shut as the other man ran the pad of his thumb around the producing bone of his ankle. “The idea of other universes is all just theory. Besides. When it comes to poetry, you can’t always take the contents literally.”
“Because it’s a metaphor?”
“Because it’s a metaphor. It’s more about the emotions behind it than the logistics.”
“Makes sense,” said Edward, his hand traveling as Stede’s foot slowly drifted down into Ed's lap. “Last time I checked, ships aren’t sentient. Neither are houses.”
Ed paused, brows furrowing as he considered the rest of the poem.
“I wouldn’t know if stars have feelings or not. Bit too far off to ask any of them.”
Another pause, and then-
“Would you still like me if I was a cat?” asked Edward.
“I’m sure I would. Even if I was a very small fluffy dog. I’m sure we could work something out,” Stede replied.
“What if I was a snail?”
“Snails are lovely. Very good for gardens.”
“What if-” Edward started to say, stopping himself when he realized that Stede was now fighting to stay awake. “Oh. Do you need to sleep? I can fuck off for the night if-”
“Oh, no-” Stede said, forcing his eyes back open and shaking off the fatigue. “No, I’m quite alright. I still have another half hour or so in me! Enough time for a few more poems. If you’d like that.”
Stede held the book upright once more, and began to slide his finger along the paper to turn the page.
“Next up we have-”
“Can you read the last one again?” asked Ed.
“The anonymous one?”
“Yeah. I liked it,” said Edward, shutting his eyes and relaxing back against the wooden wall behind him. “I can’t read it myself, so I’m going to try to remember all the good bits for later.”
“We can work on that one of these days,” Stede promised, smiling gently as he watched Edward settle back, goosebumps rising on his arms as Ed’s thumb slowly stroked along a bare patch of skin on Stede’s ankle. “And until then, I’ll read it out loud for you however many times you want.”
“Thanks, mate. Much appreciated.”
Stede allowed himself to watch Edward for a few more moments, then turned his gaze back down to the book in his hands.
He cleared his throat, and began to read again.
“In my dreams, we are the stars.
Hung up in the sky thousands of miles out of any mortal’s reach…”