[It's becoming increasingly more obvious that there's a bigger picture he doesn't have here. The middle of the puzzle. Ed wipes a hand down his face; takes another couple of steps forward- right as Stede retreats, and it feels like a chase and his gut sinks to his shoes and he has to fight off a wave of nausea.
But that nasty little spark of something hopeful licks at his insides, too- it only makes sense, something fucking happened, something bad, Stede could have changed his mind or realized he was making a mistake or whatever the hell else, but then why would he look like this? Why would he be saying-]
Who?
[That's a start. That's easier to focus on, easier to ask than anything else he wants to, and Ed grabs onto it with both hands, with all the ugly parts of himself. Just for now. Just for right now.]
I'll fucking- are they out there? [For the first time he looks past Stede, half expecting to see someone still in pursuit, and when that gives him nothing, he looks Stede over. Properly. His shaking hands, the dried and fresh tear tracks, the completely uncharacteristic rumpled-ness of his entire being.
Stede could have left, he thinks, and he still would have hated him less than anyone who made him look like this.
Ed kneels, and he reaches out a hand to Stede's shoulder.]
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But that nasty little spark of something hopeful licks at his insides, too- it only makes sense, something fucking happened, something bad, Stede could have changed his mind or realized he was making a mistake or whatever the hell else, but then why would he look like this? Why would he be saying-]
Who?
[That's a start. That's easier to focus on, easier to ask than anything else he wants to, and Ed grabs onto it with both hands, with all the ugly parts of himself. Just for now. Just for right now.]
I'll fucking- are they out there? [For the first time he looks past Stede, half expecting to see someone still in pursuit, and when that gives him nothing, he looks Stede over. Properly. His shaking hands, the dried and fresh tear tracks, the completely uncharacteristic rumpled-ness of his entire being.
Stede could have left, he thinks, and he still would have hated him less than anyone who made him look like this.
Ed kneels, and he reaches out a hand to Stede's shoulder.]
What did they do to you?