Chapter Text
It’s a fleshwound really, barely a knick. Izzy has suffered far worse.
They’ve been raided, a small party that even this useless crew should be able to handle with little difficulty.
Izzy neatly dodges his opponents dagger… nearly. His bad foot slips, he’s still learning to compensate for that new injury. He hears Edward hiss, and looks up to see his horrified gaze locked on him where he stumbled. Edward keeps trying to talk to him about the toe thing. He doesn’t want to have that conversation, to hear those apologies. He especially doesn’t want to deal with it in the middle of combat.
His momentary lapse of attention is enough for the dagger to graze his chest, leaving a small trickle of blood running down his pec. Izzy wouldn’t have even noticed the injury, in the heat of battle, it it weren’t for the way Edward was looking at him. He snarls, and for a moment Izzy sees a glimpse of Blackbeard again as his opponent is quickly dispatched.
When the enemies are dealt with, Izzy does a quick headcount. All the men are fine, even Bonnet running a soothing hand down Edward’s back where he’s still shaking, staring at Izzy. Probably angry to see his first mate be so incompetent.
Izzy feels warm, and cold, and strange, as the adrenolyn leaves his system. The world spins, and he feels his body hit the deck. There’s yelling, then, and a blur of motion. Izzy curls into a ball, trying to get away from the sudden rush of sensory input he doesn’t understand.
***
Izzy is lying on a hard surface. He can hear voices faintly, as if from far away, another room.
Fang, he thinks, is crying. The captains’ worried voices. Roach, explaining something.
“It looked like a lot of blood,” he hears Bonnet say. Izzy’s brow furrows, eyes still closed. No one was badly injured.
“That’s not the problem.” He hears Roach dismiss that worry. “The dagger was poisoned.”
“Venemous- sorry” Bonnet unthinkingly corrects, before sounding horrified by himself.
“What poi- venom?” Edward asks, a hollow edge to his voice that Izzy hates to hear, that reminds him of when Bonnet left.
“I’m not sure yet. He’s fighting it, he’s stubborn, but... Whatever it is seems to be winning.”
Oh, Izzy thinks. I’m dying. That might be a relief, actually. He wouldn’t have to watch Edward and Bonnet be sickeningly in love anymore, wouldn’t have to be invited to tea or to hang out with the crew out of their pity.
He hears a sob, and realizes like he’s drowning that it’s Edward. Misplaced guilt, most likely. Izzy’s consciousness fades away again.
***
He doesn’t know how much time he spends in that purgatory, fading in out of awareness, hearing people talk and cry about him. Sometimes gentle hands are on him, sometimes water or food forced into his mouth. He’s so tired, but he tries to fight the warmth seeping through his veins. He looses the battle, and feels something strange and soft reach his heart. He screams.
***
Izzy opens his eyes to find Roach leaning over him.
“Ah, you’re finally awake.”
(unfortunetly) “Unfortunetly,” Izzy rasps.
“How are you feeling” he asks with what appears to be pity on his face.
Izzy bristles. (I feel like I’ve been fucking stabbed you idiot!) “Feel bad,” Izzy frowns, his tongue seeming to betray him.
Roach rolls his eyes. “No shit genius. Bad how? I need to identify what poison they used.
(Fuck off, I’m fine.) “Everyone’s fussing over me, pretending to care. I don’t like it.” Izzy tries to sit up as the words leave his lips, confused and alarmed.
Roach looks equally startled, and deep in thought.
Izzy drops back to the table with a thud.
“And how does the wound feel?” he asks, evaluating.
Izzy scowls. (It’s fine, I’ve had worse.) “Hurts…”
Roach frowns, nodding again. “You know, Dizzy Izzy, I’ve always wondered how old you are. Tell me?”
(What the fuck does that have to do with anything you fucking idiot?!) “Dunno, 50, 60? Been at sea a long time, hard to keep track.” Izzy’s breathing accelerates. What’s happening.
Roach nods, as if that confirmed some theory. “Truth serum.”
(Well Fuck.) “Well Fuck.”